#masterlist is coming along... fuckin finally right

[mrsbarnesblog]

meeting

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: pregnant sex with Rafe in his office

Word count: 1k

Warnings: +18 ‼️ smut, pregnant sex, unprotected sex, kinda public sex?, sweet Rafe, dirty talk

A/N: requests are open <3

When you decided to take a walk outside and visit your husband in his office, you expected to spend some time with him or possibly have lunch together. But definitely not to be placed on his table with your summer dress only slightly covering your pregnant belly while Rafe was going in and out of you at a steady pace. 

Rafe was still wearing his white, perfectly ironed shirt; his pants were just unbuckled and slightly pushed down. Your eyes tried to focus on one thing but you couldn’t decide what in him looked more attractive to you. His was big, slightly hovering over you, with that familiar smirk on his lips and mischievous glimpse in his eyes. Yeah, your hormones were crazy because of your pregnancy, but having the sexiest man alive look at you like you were the best thing ever definitely added something to it. 

Rafe actually had a planned meeting in that exact room in twenty minutes but it was one of his latest concerns. Not when his beautiful, glowing, very pregnant, and very sensitive wife was spread in front of him. 

“Rafe—people can probably hear us.” You half whispered and half moaned as he gently lifted your leg onto his shoulder, allowing his cock to sink deeper into your greedy cunt. 

“Don’t care, sweets. Let ‘em hear how good you feel.” He grumbled, moving one hand to your heavy breasts and pinching your overly sensitive nipple. “Shit, your tits look so perfect right now, princess. You know I can't resist you when you’re all round and with my baby growing inside. So fuckin’ hot, and look at that… your pussy ‘s just sucking me right back in.”

Your eyes rolled back both because of his words and the way his cock was perfectly hitting that spot inside of you. You grabbed his hand that was currently playing with your tits, too desperate to have Rafe closer, to feel his skin on yours, but you couldn’t do much because of the belly that was already way too big. 

“I need you closer, please.” You almost cried, tears gathering at your waterline, while you tried to stay quieter and not be too obvious for people outside the office.

“Sh-h, baby. You know I can’t lay on you, yeah? Gotta protect both of my girls right here.” His hand slipped lower, gently caressing your bump. “Let me fuck you nice and slow, and then we’ll snuggle the whole evening after I get home.” 

You nodded a few times, eyes locked with your husband’s as his hips gently slapped against your skin. Rafe turned his head to the side, kissing your leg that was still thrown over his shoulder. His lips curled into a smirk, noticing how hungrily you looked at him, barely able to stay focused because of his thrusts. 

“Please don’t stop, Rafe—oh god, I’m gonna cum!” You squealed, arching your back from the wooden table beneath you. One hand was wrapped around Rafe’s wrist, digging your nails into his skin, and the other one was placed over your mouth to muffle your moans.

“Mhm, that’s right, cum for me, princess.” His low moan filled the office, along with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the creak of the table. “Your sweet pussy squeezes the shit out of me. Fuck, gonna make me come too. Want me to do it inside of ya, huh?” 

“Yes-yes, please! I need it!” With the first touch of Rafe’s fingers on your clit, you had finally reached your climax. He wasn’t far behind you, spilling his load inside, while your pussy was pulsating around him and almost not letting him move even for an inch.

“That’s right, take everything.” Rafe moaned, slowly sliding inside with eyes locked on the place where you two were connected. He swore that he could’ve come again just seeing your mixed cum glistering on his cock. “I would’ve fucked a baby right into you right now if you weren’t already pregnant. Shit, you look so hot, you can’t even imagine.”

“Stop!” You smiled through the post-orgasmic fog in your head, keeping your eyes closed. He just gave you another smirk before gently placing your leg down and lowering to kiss your stomach. 

You almost jumped from your place when you heard a quiet knock on the door. Rafe immediately reached behind your back to make you sit upright so that way he could cover your almost naked body from whoever was behind the door. 

“Um— Sir? I’m really sorry to disturb you, but your meeting is in two minutes and people are already waiting here.” Rafe rolled his eyes at the voice of his assistant, who luckily had enough brains to not walk inside. 

“Oh my god, Rafe. It’s— they heard us. They know what we were doing here!” Your eyes were rounded in embarrassment, looking at your almost unbothered husband. 

“You’re pregnant with my baby, princess. I’m sure everyone has already figured out that we have sex.” Rafe smirked at you again. “Give me five minutes!” He said to his assistant before focusing back on you. He helped you get your dress back on properly, put himself away, zipped up his trousers and then sank in front of you on his knees to put your panties in their place. “Are you both feeling alright?” 

“Mhm, but I’m so tired now.” You yawned and lowered your head on Rafe’s shoulder, as he stood up and brought you closer to his chest; your eyes became too heavy to keep them open.   

“I know, baby. C'mon, my driver will get you home, and I will be there as soon as possible, okay? I love you both so much.” He gently touched your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb, then placing a kiss on your forehead, nose and, finally, on your puffy lips. 

“We love you too.” You smiled into the kiss before Rafe helped you get off the table and walked you out of his office. You were trying not to die from embarrassment from all the knowing looks thrown in your direction while your husband proudly placed his hand on your lower back, not even batting an eye at others. 

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx smut

[javiscigarette]

Ease

Javier Peña x f!reader

Requested:

requesting… daddy!javi comforting u after a stressful work day 👀 pls n thank

warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, fingering, squirting, spitting, spanking, a bit ass play (I cant resist), dirty talk, daddy!javi obviously, d/s dynamics obviously, extreme overuse of pet names and I'm not sorry, fluffy Javi deserves its own warning

w/c: 5.3k

a/n: the long overdue Javi fic is finally here lmao I wrote this very quickly and I haven't written for him in a long time so it may not be my best but I'm honestly just proud that I finally got something out :)) pls let me know if you like it!! ALSO! I reached 1.5k followers awhile ago which is just mind blowing so I just wanted to say THANK YOU to everyone who has joined me and continues to support me. This blog and all the friends I've made here have helped me through some pretty rough times and I'm forever grateful AHHH I just you all soo much!!

my masterlist

You’re not there to greet him when he opens the door. Usually you’d have a glass of whiskey in your hand for him, already a little tipsy from the glass you had for yourself earlier.

There’s a unpleasant shiver that runs down his spine as the thought of you being in some sort of danger immediately crosses his mind. But the sound of you puttering around in the kitchen gives you away. That and the haze of smoke and smell of burnt food wafting through the entire apartment. 

He kicks his shoes off and loosens his tie as he rounds the corner to the kitchen to find you standing in front of the stove, tending to what he assumes is some chicken in a pan. The exhaust fan on the range hood and the ceiling fan are working overtime, pushing the smoke out of the kitchen and through the open window. 

“Hi, bebita” Javi says as he enters the smokey kitchen. You don’t say anything in response, just give him a quick sideways glance before turning back to the stove. 

He crosses the room and moves to stand behind you. Maybe if he had seen the frown on your face, or the way your eyebrows are deeply creased in frustration, he would’ve said something very different. 

But he didn’t see. 

“Dinner smells delicious” he teases, squeezing your hips. He’s expecting a little chuckle from you, or at least an annoyed eye roll with a hidden smile. 

So he’s caught very off guard when you slam the spatula down on the counter with a loud, frustrated sigh.

“Well I’m sorry that I tried to make a nice meal. Guess I’m fuckin’ useless at that too.” 

You try to push yourself out of his grasp, but his grip only tightens. 

“Hey okay okay, easy.” Javi soothes, turning you around so you’re facing him. “What’s wrong, bebita?” he asks, his tone immediately switching from teasing to soft and tener.You puff out a heavy sigh, refusing to look up at him and staring at his white shirt stretched across his chest instead. 

All the thoughts about your horrid day at work that you’ve been trying to block out break the damn and come flooding back into your head; your boss telling you that you fucked up two different major tasks and refusing to tell you how to do them correctly, catching your coworkers gossiping about you in the breakroom, your computer dying right before you could save any of the work you had done for the day, and how you tried to come home and cook as a distraction but you clearly forgot about the chicken sitting on the stove and almost caught the house on fire. 

You hadn’t even noticed the tears welling up in your eyes until Javi is wiping away the ones that have brimmed over and slid down your cheeks. 

“Cariño…” Javi whispers, his tone drenched with concern. That’s all it takes. You instantly break down, falling forward into Javi’s chest as your whole body shakes as you sob, your tears wetting the crisp fabric of his shirt. 

You tell him everything in between wet gasps and uneven breaths, unloading everything at once. He just holds you through it, nodding along and giving you an occasional understanding hum while running his palms up and down your back until you finish talking. 

“Your boss is an asshole” is the first thing Javi says. “Your coworkers too” 

You respond with a pathetic sniffle. “I really fucked up though. And now everyone thinks I can’t do my job” 

"Bebita,” Javi starts, continuing to rub soothing circles on your back. “Everyone has tough days at work. It doesn't define your abilities or your worth. You're so much more than a single bad day."

You sniffle again, still leaning heavily against him for support. 

"It's just... I'm tired of feeling like I'm constantly failing."

Javi clicks his tongue and moves one hand to use two fingers to gently tilt your chin up, making you meet his easy gaze. 

"You're not failing, mi amor. Sometimes things don’t go as planned and that’s okay. You're learning and growing."

You wish he wasn’t so right all the time. Sometimes talking back to the false narrative that runs rampant in your head 24/7 is too much work. 

"I know”  you sigh, wiping away tears with the back of your hand. “It’s just hard not to let it get to me."

Javi's thumb brushes against your cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. 

"I understand. Just remember you're not alone in this. I’ll always be here for you, my sweet girl” 

You manage a weak smile, feeling a bit of warmth starting to seep back into your heavy heart. 

“Thank you” you whisper.

Javi smiles warmly, his eyes full of admiration and unwavering support. 

“Of course, baby. I’m here for you always. No matter what.” 

You let your head fall back to his chest and you take a deep breath. He keeps rubbing your back, physically feeling the tension leaving your body as you melt against him. Without your brain in overdrive, you finally register the smell of his faded cologne and his cigarettes sticking to his shirt, the scent immediately washing away more of the tension in your muscles. The warm feeling in your chest starts to spread all the way down to your toes, your whole body feeling 10 times lighter than it did 5 minutes ago as his embrace brings you a sense of solace you hadn’t experienced all day. 

After another silent minute or two, he places a kiss to your hairline before leaning in close, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. 

“You know, there’s another way to forget about it for a little while.”

His low voice alone already has the base of your spine tingling. You pick your head up to meet his gaze, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. 

“Yeah?” you ask, a weak smile slowly spreading across your face.

“Mhmm” he hums, his hands sliding down to your waist and slipping under the hem of your shirt, his warm fingers splaying over your skin. 

"You've had a tough day," Javi continues, his voice a sensual murmur. "And I think you deserve something to take your mind off all that stress."

His words, laden with suggestion, push all the worries out of your body, replacing it with a thrill that courses through your veins. He leans in until his face is inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Let me take care of you, bebita."

All you can do is nod dumbly. Javi grins as he pulls you in closer. His lips capture yours in a slow, tantalizing kiss, his lips soft and warm against yours, the taste of him flooding your senses. His hands slide up from your waist to your rib cage, rucking up your shirt in the process. Every touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, drawing you impossibly closer to him. He pulls away just long enough to pull it over your head before his lips capture yours again. 

He wraps one arm around you, keeping you close as his other hand cups your jaw, his fingers curling around the back of your neck as his thumb mindlessly brushes your cheek. Your hands find their way to his back, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. 

He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and you part your lips with a soft sigh, his tongue immediately sliding against yours. It’s a dance of desire and vulnerability, an unspoken promise that he’s here to take away all of your worries. The rest of the world quickly fades into a distant blur, leaving just the two of you in this electric connection.

 His lips eventually leave your mouth, his breathless chuckle fanning across your jaw at the sound of your quiet whimper. He trails wet kisses along your jaw, down to the side of your neck, each one accompanied by a soft exhale that causes goosebumps to erupt over every inch of your skin. The sensation is exquisite and maddeningly arousing, and you find yourself tilting your head back, giving him better access. 

His teeth gently graze over your pulse point, sending shiver coursing through your entire body. Your heart races as he finds a spot just below your collarbone, nipping and sucking before soothing the dark spot with his tongue. His hands roam your torso, big, warm palms exploring every inch of exposed skin. You can feel the bulge in his jeans rapidly grow against your hip and your core throbs with a dull ache in response. Everything that happened earlier is miles away as you feel yourself relaxing deeper into his embrace, losing yourself in him. 

He pulls away when you whine quietly and looks down at you, his pupils already blown with lust and desire. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear then ducks down to place a chaste kiss to your lips before whispering “Bedroom. Now.” 

You nod and turn to head out of the kitchen, letting out a small giggle when he lands a quick slap to your ass. His eyes are glued to your backside as he follows you to the bedroom, his fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt along the way

You flop down on the edge of the bed with Javi just a few steps behind you. He tosses his shirt to the corner of the room and starts working on his belt as he stalks towards you. You smirk and reach behind you, undoing the clasp of your bra and letting it slide off your arms. Javi licks his lips at the sight of you sitting there in only your soft cotton shorts, looking like he’s about to pounce on his prey. 

He crosses the room until he’s standing inches in front of you, then slips his belt out of the loops and tosses it aside. You reach out, intent on undoing the button and zipper of his jeans but he stops you by wrapping a large hand around your wrist before you can touch him. 

“Nuh uh, baby. I’m takin’ care of you tonight”  

His words send a strong pulse of excitement down your spine and your heart pounds in your chest. He lets go of your wrist and you let it fall limply back to your side as you stare at him through your lashes. 

“Take off your shorts.” 

You immediately follow his command, quickly standing and moving to slide your shorts and panties down your legs so fast that you stumble a bit when they get caught around your feet. Javi reaches out and grabs your arm to steady you as you step out of your shorts and kick them to the side. 

“Good girl” he chuckles, dropping his hand from your arm. You watch with wide eyes, saliva gathering in your mouth as he shuffles out his jeans, his hardened cock gently slapping against his lower abdomen. He catches your gaze and gives you a knowing wink before making his way onto the bed. You stand in place, patiently waiting for your next set of instructions as he props himself up against the headboard. 

“C’mere” he says softly, patting his thigh. You positively beam as you climb on the bed towards him. You face him and you’re about to straddle his lap, but he stops you with a hand on your hip. 

“Turn around, cariño.”

You listen and immediately turn around and sit down between his spread legs, pressing your back into his chest. His cock presses firmly into the small of your back, a warm and welcome presence. With a contented sigh, you lean back and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“You listen so well, baby” Javi rasps, his voice rough with arousal. You only hum in response, your lips curving into a grin as you glow under his praise. He presses a kiss to your temple and his hands find your torso once again, slowly sliding up and down your sides. But he can only resist temptation for so long. 

He uses both hands to cup your breasts and you both let out soft sighs in unison. 

“Tan bonita, princesa” he whispers, his fingers finding both of your nipples. A small noise escapes from your parted lips as he feathers the pads of his fingers over the sensitive buds, teasing you until they’re stiffened peaks. He then pinches both, gently rolling them between his thumb and fingers. 

“That feel good?” he asks softly, his lips moving against your temple. 

You nod, letting out an uneven breath as you involuntarily push your chest forward into his touch. He pinches a little harder, pulling a delicate gasp from you. His cock twitches against you in response. 

“Want you to use your words, bebita.” 

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before responding. 

“F-feels good, Javi.” 

He clicks his tongue and squeezes a little harder again. 

“And what do you call me when I’m makin’ you feel good, princesa?” he asks, his voice dangerously low in your ear. 

Your mouth goes dry and your heart skips a beat in your chest. 

Fuck. 

The stress of your day was already far in the back of your mind, but Javi was intent on erasing it completely. And he knows exactly how to do so. 

“Daddy” you correct yourself, the simple word placing you on precipice of submission “Feels really good, daddy” 

“That’s right, bebita” Javi groans softly, his cock twitching in approval. “Such a good girl for me.” 

He then hooks his chin over your shoulder while you exhale a long, shaky breath as one of his hands leaves your breast and slides down your stomach. You clit pulses in anticipation, but he avoids where you want him most and instead smooths his hand over the top of your thigh. Your chest heaves with every breath as he teases you with gentle touches, getting you all worked up just the way you both like it. 

“You want me to touch you, princessa?” Javi asks, his fingertips dancing delicately on the inside of your thigh. It tickles and you reflexively try to close your legs, but he brings his foot to the inside of your calf and pushes it to the side before placing his foot flat on the bed, keeping your leg firmly in place. “Answer me.” 

“Yes, daddy, please” you whine, your voice coming out a lot more desperate than you intended. 

“Where, baby? Tell me where you want daddy’s fingers.” 

He’s teasing you, but it serves as an excellent distraction –  the events from earlier today are the least of your concerns right now. 

“You want them here?” he asks, his fingers now just barely tracing your dripping seam. “Want me to touch your pretty little pussy? Rub that pretty little clit?” 

You nod fervently and buck your hips up without thinking, your body betraying your patience and chasing after his touch. Javi chuckles darkly and harshly pinches your nipple with his other hand, making you jump in surprise. 

“Tell me, baby. Be a good girl and tell me.” 

You whimper, a hot flush spreading across your chest and creeping up your neck. You’ve been here a thousand times with him, been in far more desperate situations too. But the butterflies still tickle your tummy and the tips of your ears burn with embarrassment. 

“Want…want you to touch my pretty little pussy, daddy.” you murmur, the last of your sentence barely audible. 

He immediately rewards you by dipping two fingers into your slippery folds, groaning softly in your ear when he feels how wet you are for him. “Mmm that’s my good girl. Always fuckin’ soaked for me, huh?” he asks, dipping the tips of his fingers into your hole, gathering your slick and dragging it up to your clit. You nod lazily, your eyes fixed on his hand between your legs. 

He starts with slow, languid circles, his cock pulsing against your back with every small noise that bubbles up out of your throat. His other hand is still occupied with pinching and rolling your nipple. Hot arousal flows through your veins, every nerve ending on fire just from his easy touches. You want it faster, you need more. But you know he won’t give it to you unless you ask. 

“Pl-please, daddy. Faster please” you huff, squirming in his lap as you try to suppress the urge to buck your hips up again. 

“Look at you, princesa. Being such a good girl asking’ nicely like that” Javi whispers, instantly picking up the pace of his fingers and adding more pressure. You let out a long, low moan, the sound of it filling the bedroom. “Sound so pretty too” he adds, pressing his lips to your temple. 

His other hand leaves your nipple and he shushes you softly when you whine at the loss. He doesn’t tease you this time, his hand immediately joining the other between your legs. He keeps his two fingers on your clit, rubbing firm circles just like you asked while his other hand finds your leaking entrance. 

He doesn’t make you ask again before he slides his middle finger inside of you, probably more out of his own desperation to feel you clenching around him. You’re absolutely soaked, you juices freely flowing out of you, down his finger and into his palm like warm honey. He wants to draw it out, slowly work you up until you’re about to snap, but he’s not feeling very patient anymore. 

He slides his finger in and out of you a few more times before adding a second, curling his fingertips. He finds the spot inside of you instantly and you reward him with a loud gasp, your whole body trembling as you relax against his chest. 

“That’s it, baby. Just relax for me” Javi coos, his voice tight and strained as he tries to contain his own excitement. He pumps his fingers inside you, his fingertips nudging against the spot that has your whole body jolting with every pass. Every inch of your skin feels on fire as he works you, lewd sounds filling the room as he plays with your slick pussy. You feel wetness on your back and quickly realize that it’s his precum leaking from his warm tip, smearing against your skin as you squirm around. 

“Mierda, princesa” Javi groans as you clench tightly around his two fingers. “You close, baby?” he asks, already knowing the answer. You answer with a high-pitched whine, throwing your head back on his shoulder. 

“Cum for me, baby” Javi grunts, moving his fingers faster, bringing you to the edge. “Cum all over my fingers and then I’ll fuck you, nice and deep just how you like it” 

His fingers are relentless, rubbing dizzying circles on your clit and punching up into your g-spot. You can’t hold back anymore, rocking your hips and grinding down on his fingers. Your chest burns with every breath you manage to suck in, the hot coil in your tummy wound tightly, threatening to burst at any moment. You open your mouth and try to tell him that you’re about to cum, but every time you try to speak, the only sounds that come out are loud gasps in-between broken moans. 

And then you finally snap. Javi groans as you clamp down around his fingers, so tight that he can hardly keep moving them. He then quickly pulls them out, his eyes wide with amazement as your juices gush out of you, drops of it landing on his leg, most of it soaking the blankets underneath you. 

 “There’s my good girl” he hisses between clenched teeth. He watches intently as you thrash around, the sight of you squirting and the sweet sounds of your moans going straight to his cock as he works you through your orgasm. He doesn’t let up until you come down, whimpering and jolting at his touch. 

You collapse backwards against his chest, your head on his shoulder as you pant and try to catch your breath. He goes back to tracing your seam, his touch featherlight once again. You let out a sigh, your limbs heavy and head fuzzy with pure ecstasy.

He eventually moves his hands away, placing them on your thighs and letting out a low whistle. 

“Did so well, princesa. Look how much you came for me” Javi rasps, nosing at the column of your neck.

You pick your head up, looking down at the aftermath of your orgasm. You laugh breathlessly at the dark spot underneath you and the liquid on Javi’s calf shining in the dim glow of the lamp on the bedside table. Javi’s chest rumbles with his own chuckle as he presses sweet kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. 

He doesn’t give you much time to recover before he taps your thighs and gives you your next command. “Hands and knees, princesa.” 

You’ve barely had time to catch your breath, but your pussy still aches in anticipation of his earlier promise. You take a deep breath and find enough strength to sit up straight. Your limbs are weak and noodly as you crawl over to a dry spot on the bed and get into position, your ass in the air with your face pressed against the soft blankets. 

You crane your neck to watch Javi who flashes you a devilish grin as he assumes his position on his knees behind you. You give him a sweet smile back and wiggle your ass. And he takes the bait, groping your cheeks with both hands before he spreads you open, putting everything on display just for him. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous, baby.” he growls before leaning over to spit. You gasp and moan softly at the feeling of the warm liquid landing on your asshole and sliding down to pool at your swollen clit. He then brings his thumb up, using the pad to gently rub his saliva against your puckered hole. “So fuckin’ gorgeous” 

“Daddyyyy” you whine pitifully, pushing your hips back into his touch. He chuckles breathlessly and wraps a hand around the base of his cock and lining himself up. 

“You’re so good, baby.” Javi starts as he slides his cock in the mess between your cheeks. “My strong, beautiful, intelligent, good girl.”

Your face heats up at the praise, the words stirring up the butterflies in your stomach yet again. 

“Thank you, daddy” you murmur, the sound muffled by the blankets. Javi just hums and continues to glide his cock through the wetness, addicted to the way whimper every time his cockhead brushes against your swollen clit and your aching entrance. You whimper and wiggle your hips again, trying to get what you want. 

“Repeat it.” Javi commands simply. “Wanna hear you say it” 

You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper again. He’s completely taken over your headspace now, forcing you into a place of submission where there’s no room to think about anything other than him and what he asks of you. This is how he takes care of you, how he can turn every bad day on its head and take away every single one of your worries until you’re a blissed out mess underneath him. And he’s really fucking good at it. 

“I’m your strong, beautiful, intelligent, girl” you choke out, a fresh wave of slick gushing out of you and onto his rock hard cock at the forced admission.

“Forgot one” he breathes, his thumb still rubbing at your tight little hole. You wrack your brain, thoughts moving slower than syrup in your head as you try to remember what he said not even 10 seconds ago. 

“Good.” you say, as soon as you remember. I’m you’re good girl, daddy.” 

“Yes you are, baby” Javi says, notching his tip at your entrance. “So fucking good for your daddy.” 

He pushes all the way in, burying himself to balls deep in your aching cunt in one smooth movement. The sounds you make are obscene as you twist your fists in the blanket underneath him. He’s so deep, you swear you can feel him somewhere near your lungs. Just like he promised. He moans roughly behind you, the feeling on your warm walls squeezing rhythmically around his neglected cock overwhelming all of his senses.

But you don’t let him catch a break. You barely give yourself time to adjust before you take matters into your own hands and start rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his cock. Javi inhales sharply, both hands finding your hips and trying to hold you in place, but you’re not having it. 

“Daddy please–oh shit– please fuck me, need it so bad” you whine as you continue to rock your hips despite Javi’s best efforts to stop you. 

Javi just growls in response, his fingertips digging into your hips as he slides out until just his tip rests inside before slamming back into you. The loud moan that he pulls from you travels as a shiver down his spine and fuels his fire. He quickly finds a steady pace, brutally slamming into you like he’s fucking the stress out right out of your body. You let all the moans and whines and whimpers float freely out of your mouth as you take what he gives you, as he fills you up and stuffs you full over and over and over again. 

“You're so good for me” Javi grunts, gripping your hips and moving them backwards to meet his every thrust. “Feel so fucking good squeezing me like that, this tight little pussy was fucking made for me” 

Your eyes roll back into your head, his words once again turning your brain into mush as he fucks you into another plane of existence. You’re already teetering on the edge of another release, your lower abdomen burning with it, your swollen, neglected clit pulsing and desperate for attention.

And Javi feels it too.

“Already gonna cum again?” Javi asks breathlessly before landing a smack to your ass. You yelp in shock and there’s another wave of your juices leaking out onto his cock. 

“Ohh you like that, don’t you baby?” Javi coos before spanking you again, this time a bit harsher. Your face scrunches in pleasure and words have completely eluded you so you just cry out against the mattress, hoping that and your clenching pussy gets the point across. 

Thankfully Javi doesn’t ask you to answer him. Instead he keeps fucking into you, delivering firmm hits to your ass, completely mesmerized with the way it jiggles as he spanks and fucks into you. He’s just as close as you are, never lasts very long if he’s inside without cumming at least once beforehand. 

He moves one hand from your hip to between your legs, his fingers tracing where you’re stretched out so nicely around his thick cock before they land on your clit once again. You sob as he starts immediately rubbing fast, harsh circles that send you speeding towards the finish line. 

“Oh fuck, daddy! Gonna cum m’gonna cum pleasssee let me cum” 

Javi sucks in a harsh breath, his eyebrows furrowing together as his cock lurches inside of you. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah, baby. Cum on this cock like a good girl” Javi grits out, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he clenches his teeth together, trying to hold himself together. Your hands scramble against the blankets as he slams into you with newfound vigor, pushing you up the bed with each thrust and making you scream in ecstasy.

“Cum and then I’ll fill you up” he grunts. “I’ll fill you up and fuck it so deep that it’ll be leaking out of you for days, just reminding you of how good you are for me. Always so fucking good baby jesus christ” 

His filthy promises send you flying over the edge. You bury your face in the blankets and scream, your legs giving out from the force of it, your hips dropping to the bed and leaving you in a prone position. And Javi doesn’t miss a beat. He presses his chest against your back, using his freehand to support the bulk of his weight as he keeps working his fingers on your clit the best he can, not letting his pace falter even once. 

The new position shoves his cock even deeper inside of you, punching against your cervix with each thrust as he rearranges your guts. Your only option is to lie there let him drag out your release for as long as possible. 

“That’s it” Javi rasps, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked now. “Sweet little pussy is fuckin’ milking my cock, cariño. You want my cum? Want me to stuff you fuckin’ full?” 

You’re too far gone to respond, reduced to nothing but putty in his hands, your trembling body limp and pliant just for him to use. He can only hold it together for a few more thrusts before he buries himself all the way inside of you, spilling his hot seed deep inside of you.

Staying true to his promise, he fucks you through it, shallowly moving his hips and pushing his cum as deep as possible. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, the sensation of it all pushing you over the edge once again, though you’re not sure if you ever came back from the last one. Javi watches in amazement as you cum again, your voice breaking on desperate sobs while you squeeze around him, truly milking him for all he’s worth.

He moves his hand from your clit once your moans start to die down and then collapses on top of you, carefully though as not to completely crush you. You welcome the weight, a comforting pressure that makes you feel so warm and safe and secure. 

He stays buried inside of you as you both come down. You can feel his heart pounding from where his chest is pressed against you, his warm breath fanning across your neck as you both try to catch your breath. The two of you stay there for a while, basking in the post coitus glow. His cock softens inside of you and he only moves when his cum starts to dribble out of you. 

You whine softly as he moves to sit up, his now soft cock slipping out of you and leaving you feeling empty. But the feeling doesn’t last too long. 

He scoots back so he’s kneeling between your legs, both hands on your cheeks and spreading you open again. You feel his eyes burning holes into your skin as he watches his cum slowly leaking out of you. He doesn’t let it fall too far though, using a finger to scoop up all that’s dribbled out and pushing it back inside. You moan softly at the sensation and it takes everything in him not to fuck you with his fingers once again. 

“Think we need to get you in a nice hot shower” he says, his tone sweet and soft once again as he removes his fingers. 

You turn your head to look at him through hooded eyes, a dopey smile plastered to your face, looking completely fucked out.

“And we’re ordering take out too” he announces, leaning over to place a sweet kiss on your cheek. Images of the burnt chicken sitting on the stove float through your head, along with fuzzy memories of the events from earlier today. But you don’t give a single fuck anymore. Javi thoroughly wiped every ounce of stress from your brain. And now anything that isn’t directly related to you and Javi at this moment, on your shared bed in the dim light of the evening sun filtering through the curtain is far, far away. 

“We’re not getting fucking chicken” is all you say and the sound of yours and Javi’s laughter rings pleasantly through the room and in your ears as content seeps deep into your bones.

I LOVE THIS MAN okay thank u for reading <333

#javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena fic #javier pena x you #javier pena #narcos #narcos fic #pedro pascal characters #javiscigarette

[laiiaaa]

MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE — CARMEN BERZATTO 1. BUTTERSCOTCH — you finally say hello to a familiar face in the city after a little girl bumps into you. (2.7k) masterlist | next | taglist

Carmen keeps track of the running grocery list in his head:

Green onions? Check. Shallots? Check. Rolled oats? Check.

“Alright,” he huffs into the phone, a stupid thing tucked snug between his shoulder and jaw.

“Carm, I’m serious—”

“Nat, I got it, alright? I’ll call the fuckin’ guy.” Strawberries? Check. Eggs? Check. “I’m at the store, ‘n I’ll be back, ‘n then I’ll call him. It’s fine.” Dino nuggets? Check. That way-too-sugary cereal Sofia likes—? Even though he wishes Richie never gave it to her—? Check, check, check, so fuckin’ checked. “Now, do you wanna talk to—”

He looks to his side, where Sofia once stood with chubby little fingers hooked on the cart, that raggedy old stuffed animal always caught in the other fist. Gone. Carmen’s heart stops and catches in his throat. 

Natalie’s voice again, much quieter now that the phone’s not at his ear. “Hello?”

He doesn’t even hear his sister, doesn’t process her words.

He turns around. “Sof?” But she’s not there.

He tries again, facing forward, a little louder. “Sofia?” Nothing. “Fuck,” he mumbles to himself, ending the call without a second thought. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—” 

He shoves his phone into his pocket, abandons the cart altogether, pokes his head into the aisle over. “Sofia.” Nothing. “Shit—”

He can’t breathe. A closed fist shoots to his chest to try and soothe the droughted ache. The ceiling’s closing in from above, every aisle looks the same, his feet are too heavy to carry him fast enough through the store.

Where’s his fuckin’ kid?

You’re spooked out of a fatigued trance by a clumsy little girl at your feet in the produce section. 

She can’t be older than four, her chubby little face framed by golden brown curls, dressed in a cute little black dress and pink tights, ballet flats to boot. By her hand is a well-loved stuffed animal: an orange tabby cat with lint fuzzies along its body, teetering on the edge of the display about to fall into the lettuce.

“Well, hello,” you start.

She peeks up at you through stray curls with a grin. “Hi.”

You do a quick scan of the immediate area but spot nothing other than a worker stocking bananas twenty feet away, another pushing a cart of mangoes. “Where’d you come from, hm?” You perch down next to her and try to offer a warm smile to keep her calm.

“I’m here with my daddy.”

“Yeah? Where’s he at?”

Her lips, shiny with drool, puff into a pout. “I…” Her little voice wobbles, and you know that fucking wobble, that precursor to something uncontrollable and wretched, and for a split second you consider letting her cry, just on the off chance her dad hears it.

But you come to your senses: it’ll take all but five, no more than ten minutes to cover the entire store ground. You graze your hand by her back and offer her the sorry excuse for a cat. “Hey, don’t worry, it’s alright. I’ll help you.”

“B-But…” Those pretty brown eyes of her turn glassy, ready for tears, and her lip quivers, her cheeks puff out.

“I’ll help you find him, okay? We’ll wait right here, and I promise he’ll find you. We won’t leave this spot til he does.”

She hesitates before she nods, gives you a warbled, “Okay.”

You give her your name—something you read or heard from word of mouth, how putting a name to your face makes you more trustworthy. “What’s yours?”

“...Sofia.”

“Sofia,” you repeat. “That’s a very pretty name.”

The dimples that come through with her smile have you swooning, your chest filling with something sweet. A supercut you’ve long since abandoned flits through one of the best and worst years you’ve endured: kisses at the door for hello and goodbye, chilly Chicago mornings spent in someone else’s sheets, serving coffee in thick handmade mugs and being thanked for it with lips pressed to your cheek. But that was a year ago, and it’s long gone. You’re better off now—occupied with work, and running a business, and trying new things, and finding comfort in the solitude of an apartment that’s filled with nothing but the smell of coffee grounds.

Your pointer finger lifts her toy’s head: “And who’s this?”

“Butterscotch,” she says, Butter sounding a whole lot like Buttah.

“Yeah? Where’d you come up with that name?”

“My daddy’s a chef, he teached it to me.”

A chef, you hum, No wonder he’s here at seven in the morning.

And you do just about everything you’d want someone to do if this were your kid: you keep her right where she is like you promised her, you listen to all her stories she has with Butterscotch, you answer the silly questions she asks while she holds your finger in a squishy hand and bears a gummy smile.

Until—

A man wrought with stress approaches. Fitted white tee, loose denim on his hips, beat up Nikes that’ve probably seen better days. Golden brown curls like the little girl’s, only thicker, darkened with age, and half-straightened, probably from the way he runs his fingers through them like he does as he walks toward you and the girl. Buff arms, built shoulders, and they’re littered with tattoos…

Not what you expected. And he looks so fucking familiar, yet you can’t put your finger on it—

“Sofia,” he huffs, and she scurries over to him in tiny yet quickened steps and jumps into his arms, his eyes closing and brows furrowing with a relief that’s palpable as he tucks his nose into her swirling hair. “What’d I tell you about comin’ to the store w’me, huh?” A veiny hand with the letters S O U inked on the fingers cups the back of her head as he sways her from side to side, failing to give her much of a stern look at all despite his frustration. “You gotta stay by my side, I told you, you’ll get lost.”

“But I wasn’t lost, Daddy,” she pouts, “I was right here, and—and I had to find Butterscotch, and you—you weren’t there—”

“Okay,” he soothes, rubbing his hand along her back before he thumbs away budding tears from her fleshy cheeks. “Okay, hon…” He props her at his hip. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You just scared me ‘s all, alright? Didn’t know where you were, had me lookin’ all over for you.”

“...I’m sorry,” she mumbles, clearly upset, nuzzling into her dad’s shoulder as he presses a sweet kiss to her head.

He looks to you, then, and you lend him a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry about her, she’s, uh…” He peeks at her, so lovingly— “She can be a handful sometimes.”

“No, don’t apologize, she was great.” Your eyes drift to his hands. They’re big, strong, like he knows what to do with them around the house, with a baby girl...with her mother, too, though you wonder where that stands. You try not to. “She’s talkative, makes for a fun conversation. A great storyteller, too.”

He smiles, and it’s hearty, with a twitch of a brow as he draws just a bit closer—it’s slight, so slight you almost think you’re imagining things. “Think so? She doesn’t usually, um…doesn’t usually wanna talk to people, y’know?” He hikes her up again, and she turns so that she’s facing you. “Get all grumpy, don’t ya, Sof? Like with your Uncle Richie?”

“But she’s nice,” she chimes in, lifting her head from his shoulder and leaving the cat’s head peeking through. “Not mean like he is.”

Again with that smile, he looks at her with raised brows, bobs her up and down as he holds her tight, like she’s his entire world. “Yeah?” He shoots you back a look, half-impressed. “You don’t wanna see him today, huh?”

“No,” she grumbles, face smushed into his tee. “Can she come to work with us instead?”

“Sof…” He scoffs, cocking his head to the side, and his eyes dart between you and his girl. “That’s not—we can’t just—”

“Pretty please, Daddy…” She pouts at him, pulls on his neck with her arms looped around it, starts trying to lean back to stir up trouble but his hands hold her firm to his torso. “You said Eva and Vivi can’t play today…”

“I—I know, hon— . . . It’s just— . . .” Kissing his teeth, he contemplates for a moment. “She probably has work to do, y’know? Just like I have to work? And how sometimes you can’t come with me?”

“Where does she work?”

“Uhhh…” In an awkward pause, he seems to realize the dilemma. The expectant glance your way is almost painful. “Shit,” he hisses, holding Sofia with one hand to run fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry, I should’ve—I should introduce myself, right?” The pained look on his face makes you think the question is genuine, and he offers his right hand to you— “I’m Carmen, but, um, most people just call me Carmy.”

It clicks: He’s Carmen Berzatto. Not just some guy or some chef in the grocery store you’ve happened to meet, but the guy. The guy who owns the fine dining joint across the street from your cafe; the guy who showed up to the city a few years ago only to revamp his family-owned sandwich shop in its entirety; the guy you’d heard so much about from the gossip around the block between vendors; the guy who left his roots to be something so much bigger than anyone could’ve imagined; the guy who came back with a reputation with none to rival and a shattered family in its shadow. The prodigal son of Chicago. You heard of him but never met.

“Y-Yeah, right, right,” you nod, stumbling for the right words. “I thought you looked kinda familiar.” You take his hand graciously as you give him your name. His handshake is firm, solid, sure of himself, with a callused palm and dry skin and cracked knuckles, an inked-on hand with a knife through its palm on the back of his hand. “You own The Bear, right?”

“I do.” Sheepish, like it’s embarrassing to be successful.

“Cool, cool, I’ve, um, I’ve heard a lot of good things about it, but I’ve never been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Something warm in your belly comes to the surface and you try to drown it. “I own the cafe across the street—? Just a, uh, a smaller place—” You shake your head as if to dismiss the thought of him even knowing about it. “I dunno if—”

“No, no, yeah, I know that one, a few doors down—” he nods, fervently— “Etta’s, right?”

You smile. He knew of it so quick, with so little detail you want to think it means something. “Yeah, that’s the one.” For fuck’s sake, the guy probably just likes to support his local businesses. Get a grip.

“My sister loves that place, goes there all the time. But I, uh…” A soft smile at his girl. “I don’t usually have much time to go myself…”

“Yeah, I can imagine you’re pretty busy with her.” Unless her mom is in the picture…?

But he doesn’t take the bait—he only smiles, hums with a subtle nod, gives Sofia a pat on the back to get her attention, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Hey, cub, guess what?”

She comes to only slightly, with pale blonde locks like angel’s hair tickling Carmen’s neck. Grumbles something akin to a Hm?

“You know those chocolate chip muffins you like? The ones your Aunt Natalie gets for you?”

Her curls are already caught in her eyelashes. “With the sparkles on top?”

He gives you a knowing look: sugar, not sparkles. “Yes, with the sparkles. Did you know our new friend here runs that shop?”

Her head perks up with a gasp. “What?” Her excitement is so soft, and she can’t even stave off a smile now, tiny teeth shining through to show the dimples in her cheeks again.

“You heard me.”

From her mouth is only a whisper, a doe-eyed look targeted right at you. “No way.”

You smile at her. “Yes way.”

She puts on those puppy dog eyes, looks at Carmen with a pout as she tugs on him again. “Daddy, can we please—”

 In one fell swoop, his hand whisks her hair out of her face. “Uh-uh. Nice try.”

Oh, but she’s a stubborn one. “But please—”

“Not today, baby, we gotta finish shopping, hm? Then go to work?” His eyes dart to meet yours in a knowing glance, a silent apology and excuse to leave. “Maybe I’ll ask Aunt Natalie to get them for you tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

She huffs and buries herself into his neck again, turning away from you now that she’s in a surly mood.

“Okay,” he sighs, smiling to himself, and you can’t deny the comfort in seeing his little girl so cozy with him, like he’s either the only parent around, or he’s really just that good of a father—and husband, or fiancé, or boyfriend, or whatever he might be. You don’t know if you should feel guilty for wanting to pry.

The conversation lulls to a hesitant stop, like neither one of you is sure how to bid farewell—or whether you want to do so at all.

“Y’know,” he starts, with a finality to his tone, “I’ve still gotta—”

“Yeah, me too—”

“And I left the cart in the other aisle—”

“Right, right, of course—”

“And they need me at the—”

“Same here, I need to, uh—”

“Right, yeah, so um—”

“Yeah—”

“I guess I should—”

“Probably—”

“And, uh—…”

“It was nice to meet you, though,” you finish, maybe a little too enthusiastic for only having just done so minutes ago.

But if it were, Carmen doesn’t show it. “Yeah, it was nice to meet you, too. I’ll, uh…I’ll see you around.”

You offer a softened smile. “Guess so.”

And he leaves you with a curt nod before he turns around with Sofia’s face smushed into his shoulder, her arms loosely wrapped around his neck to leave Butterscotch hugged to the nape of it. That’s all you see, then: just a beaten up stuffed animal and springy golden curls as Carmen rounds the corner of the aisle, your breath gone short and face gone warm by the end of it.

Half of it, you’re sure, is the simple brevity of it all: consoling a lost child, to chatting with her father, to finding out he’s a business neighbor. And against your better judgment, the other half of it is a twinge of attraction to him.  Even though he has a kid, and he may very well be married, or at least in a relationship, and by the looks of it, stressed out of his goddamn mind…

But there’s just something about him.

The way he was worried about his daughter like he’s supposed to be, the way he holds her and dotes on her and rubs her back like it’s nothing but natural to him, the heartwarming smile that reaches his eyes just by looking at his precious girl. The hard-earned strength in his hands and arms, the symbolic imagery of his tattoos that you’ve yet to dwell upon in late night hours, the awkward demeanor about him like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to talk to you—or if he even knows how. And all this, you see in a man working down the street, a man you’ve never spoken to until today, who could be the worst person in the world for all you know.

You don’t, is the thing. You don’t know his middle name, or his favorite color, or favorite food, or where he’s even worked, really, other than here in Chicago. You don’t know if Sofia’s mother is still around, or whatever happened to her if she isn’t, or if it’s a topic he breaches freely or not at all.

You don’t know enough about him yet to judge. You don’t know much at all. You don’t know if you want to, whether it’ll send you head first into a mess of pasts not unlike the one you’ve been trying to crawl out of alone for the past grueling months, if it’d upturn all the good you’ve tried to make stick.

But if there’s one thing you do know, it’s that you want to see him again. 

And that you’ll have to make a batch or two of muffins first.

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@knight4xmas @ajourneyforjoy @penguin876

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #dad!carm #jeremy allen white #carmy the bear #the bear x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fic #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx

[skele-ghost]

Baby, it’s Hot Outside: Part 4

Welcome to: (Y/N) doesn’t know anything!

MDNI, 18+, Warnings: Omegaverse, dangerous situation, crowds, allusion to r*pe/sexual harassment/assault, heats, stranger danger

Masterlist

It doesn’t take them long to figure out that (Y/N) (L/N) has no idea what courting is.

She’s a beta, sure, and betas haven’t always been courted in the same fashion as omegas or even alphas. But that had changed in the modern age—even Gaz was courted by Price, and König made it a point to give just as much attention to Gaz as Soap while he was courting into the pack.

To be completely fair, they hadn’t yet asked to court her officially. Normally there’s this sort of pre-courting process, flirting and dates and smaller gifts, almost like a hint or a heads up before the formal ask.

Even so, the flirting went right over her head. She would laugh along, joke, tease back—but when someone compliemented her, really called her beautiful—she would blush, say ‘thank you,’ clear her throat and pick up the conversation where it had left of.

They would have thought she was turning them down, if not for her genuine confusion over the courting gifts.

Soap, the good omega he is, offered her a blanket from his nest. An awfully profound gift that spoke volumes, an item from an omega’s safe and private space, doused with the scent from each pack member.

“Oh, but this is one for your favorites,” she frowns, holding the ball of fabric in her arms.

“I ken. It’s the warmest one, too,” Johnny beams at her.

“You don’t want it?” She asks, tilting her head to the side.

“I want you to have it, angel,” he insists.

“Are you sure?” She asks as if he’s a child picking out a flavor of ice cream she knows he doesn’t like. “Because you know I have that big quilt my mama made me—“

“(Y/N), come on,” he laughs nervously, tamping down his growing fear of rejection. “It’s a gift. From me to you.”

She eyes him skeptically, looking at the blanket for a moment. “Alright. But no take-backs,” she jokes. “Thanks, MacTavish!”

And then she just leaves him standing there, a slight hop in her step as she walks down the hall towards the barracks.

Ghost, who had been listening the whole time from an adjourning room, takes to Soap’s side.

“The fuck was that?”

“I ‘ave no fuckin’ clue.”

Maybe it was a bad first gift, in retrospect. Betas didn’t have the same noses as the other designations. She might not be able to smell their scents on it at all. Maybe she just didn’t understand.

They keep trying. König takes her out to lunch, only to come back disappointed because she took the opportunity to talk about her favorite TV show and he couldn’t get a single word in. Not that he had the desire to stop her when her eyes were alight with excitement.

Ghost left her one of his hoodies, draping it over her duffel—and she gave it back to him the next day, thinking he’d put it with her things by mistake.

Gaz gets her a hat with the task force’s insignia…and she looses it the next day to a windstorm. She apologizes profusely, of course, but even with his arm slung over her shoulders, even when he presses a kiss to her temple, telling her it’s no big deal—she just doesn’t get it.

The last time they tried was a month prior, two weeks before the Mexico mission. They invited her out to the pub, adamant that they’d really lay on the flirting, sure that they’d finally get her to understand.

To say it was a disaster would be an understatement.

—

You and Soap head out early, something about getting a table before the pub’s too crowded. The sun periodically casts a golden glow on the buildings when it peeks out from behind the clouds, signaling sunset as the shadows get longer.

You two hold idle conversation, talking about work, mostly. It had been a busy, hectic week, hacking into cartel servers and pinpointing locations.

Every once in a while you bump shoulders to avoid other pedestrians. It makes you realize that some people are staring. Your brow furrows as you follow their gazes, mostly focused on Soap. He does seem a little less energetic than usual. A little less talkative, considering that you were carrying the entire conversation. His cheeks are flushed, but it’s been a hot summer.

“Hey, you okay?” You ask him, head tilted up to look at him properly.

“Yeah. ‘S just hot,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“It’s just 80,” you reply, not completely convinced.

“Fahrenheit. How hot does it get back home?”

“We always get a couple of 100° days in the middle of summer—“

Someone bumps into him lightly, but it sends Soap stumbling. You catch onto his arm and stabilize him, finally noting how hot his skin is.

“Jesus! I think you’re getting heat stroke or somethin,’” you gasp, and he leans on you for support.

“I jus’ needta siddown. Pub’s there,” he points and you have no choice but to go. You try your best to ignore the stares from onlookers as you drag him along with you. They look concerned and it doesn’t help your hammering heart.

You decide that just sitting down won’t be helpful, considering that the sweltering pub isn’t even air conditioned. So you shove past strangers, muttering excuses and apologies, and take him into the women’s bathroom with you. It’s empty and there’s a lock on the inside of the door that you bolt.

“Just lean here for a sec,” you instruct him, leaning him against the wall instead of on your shoulder. You quickly take off your shirt, thankful for the tank top underneath, and soak it with cold water from the sink.

A groan of discomfort has your attention turning back to Soap, just to see him slide down the wall and onto the floor, sitting and plastering himself against the tiled wall.

“MacTavish! You have any idea how many diseases are probably on this floor?!” You curse, guiding his cheek from the wall, wiping his face with the cool cloth.

He chuckles, “yer so cute when you get that furrow in your brow.”

You just purse your lips, keeping the cloth against his jugular while you pull your phone out with your free hand, navigating to the dial pad.

He grabs your wrist. “Call Ghost.”

“I’m calling the police, you need to go to the hospital—“

“Call Simon. That’s an order,” he says, his tone serious although his eyes are half-lidded, cerulean focused on you.

You frown. Technically, he doesn’t have the authority to order you around. On the other hand, if Soap MacTavish was telling you to not call the police, then you weren’t going to.

“Fine.”

You dial the number and return to the sink, soaking it with cool water while the phone rings. It picks up on the second chime.

“What?” Ghost answers gruffly.

“Something’s wrong with Johnny,” you say, wringing out your shirt of excess water.

“What d’you mean? He alright?”

You set the phone on the edge of the sink and put it on speaker phone, kneeling next to your teammate once more.

“I-I don’t know— He all sweaty, his skin’s on fire. I think he’s got heatstroke, I should take him to the hospital—“

“Calm down. Where are you?”

“The bar, the lady’s room,” you say quickly, watching as Soap’s face contorts into anguish, tears spilling past his waterline.

“Lock the door. Do not open it for anyone, understand?”

“It’s locked—“

“Simon,” Soap whines, a whimper following a moment later. You gently shush him, wiping the tears from his face as they come.

“‘S alright, Johnny. Gonna be there soon, you’re gonna be fine,” Ghost soothes on the other end, his voice not losing its softness as he continues. “(Y/N), we’re almost there, darlin. You have somethin’ to defend yourself with?”

“I-I got mace, why?” You stammer, mind reeling with what the hell he could be talking about.

“Almost there. You use it if you need it, okay?”

“I—okay,” you agree, letting Soap pull you closer, his arm snaked around your waist.

You nearly jump out of your skin at the pounds on the door. “Hey! You can’t have him in here like that!” A man shouts on the other side.

“Don’t talk to ‘im,” Ghost instructs just as you open your mouth to speak.

The door shakes with the force of the pounding. “Hey! You hear me, you little—“

You don’t even hear the call hang up as there’s a muted thud from outside. You reach for your mace.

There’s a curt rap of knuckles on the door. “(Y/N)?” You feel your fear dissipate at the sound of Ghost’s voice, “you can open the door now, lovie.”

You have to wrench Soap’s arm off of you to get up and unlock the door. Ghost enters as soon as there’s enough room, no hesitation as he rushes past you and kneels by Soap’s side.

“He just got sick all of the sudden, I don’t know why—one minute he was fine and the next he was all hot. He was fine on the subway, I don’t understand—“ you ramble, only stopping when a hand on your shoulder startles you.

“It’s alright, (Y/N), he’ll be okay,” Gaz reassures you, his presence a comfort of its own. “You did everything right.”

You just nod, watching as Ghost lifts Soap (who seems to have calmed down quite a bit) into his arms and carries him out of the room. The back hallway of the bar is just barely large enough to fit your entire team.

König stands guard at one end but immediately abandons his post when Ghost calls for him, his eyes something dark like you’ve never seen—not that he even seems to see you. They exit the back door where a car’s already waiting in the alley.

The only thing stopping you from following is the captain, his hold on your upper arm keeping you back.

“We’re not going?” You ask, brow furrowed as you watch the door close.

“No, we’ll catch up with them later,” Price says, ushering you and Gaz out of the same back door; the car’s already gone.

“Where—they’re taking him to the hospital, right? I think he’s hyperthermic.”

“It’s just a fever, (Y/N), Johnny’ll be right as rain in a day or two,” Gaz soothes, maneuvering you to walk between him and the captain as you start down the alley.

“It’s happened before?” You ask, shocked.

“Happens four times a year,” Price informs you, a knit in his brow.

“Four tim—what, like every season? That’s so bizarre! What is it?”

“(Y/N)…He’s an omega. It’s a heat,” Price says.

“Ohhhhhh,” you say intelligently, your eyes widening. It certainly silences you, makes all of the pieces click into place—most of them.

You thought heats were only once a year. That’s what your cousin had said, at least. But it doesn’t explain why that guy at the door was so angry, or why Soap didn’t want you to call the police.

It confuses the hell out of you, but in the silence on the walk back and in the metro system, you decide it’s probably better that you don’t know.

You’ve heard some of the horror stories: how omegas used to be treated. How some of them are still treated. A knot forms in your stomach at the thought that someone would want to do that kind of harm to Johnny—at the realization that you were the only thing standing between him and cruelty.

What if the team hadn’t been there in time?

-

A/N: Hello! I hope this chapter gives more insight into the 141 + (Y/N)’s relationship before she presented. It should also explain why the boys were so angry at first when she presented—they thought that she had been lying this whole time, pretending not to know about designations and such. Furthermore, in my humble version of the Omegaverse, suppressants can take away scents and the ability to detect scents. Let me know if you have any questions!

#cod x reader #task force 141 #cod mw2 #cod omegaverse #cod ghost #cod gaz #cod price #cod soap #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #konig cod #cod konig #poly 141 #141 x reader #tf 141 #baby it’s hot outside

[pandoraslxna]

Thoughts are literally filled with Lo‘ak loving rough fucks in the lab with human reader, spanking and choking her, making her call him sir, but when she comes he’s suddenly praising her and kissing her lovingly 😩🤚🏻

⋆｡° ✮ minors dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Kinktober masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: choking, spanking, rough sex, praise

"Jesus Christ, Lo‘ak."

It’s muttered on a sharp exhale as Lo‘ak bends you over one of the desks in the labs.

He makes quick work of your skirt, hunching it over the swell of you ass, pulling your panties down to your ankles. Two fingers are pressed into your mouth and as you suck them wet, you can hear him whispering curses in Na’vi while pulling his own loincloth down enough to free his cock. He’s throbbing painfully, leaking pre-cum after being forced to spend hours watching you work, boss around the other scientists until they finally called it a day and left the two of you alone. The second the door closed behind Norms back, Lo‘ak was on you like an animal in heat.

“You’re so fuckin hot, mamas. In that skirt. Being all bossy and shit.” Lo‘ak pulls his fingers out of your mouth and unceremoniously pushes them deep inside your cunt, making you squeak at the sudden stretch. "If only they could see what a pathetic little slut you are for me. How much you enjoy being used like this. Smart girl loves getting her brain completely fucked out by a big na‘vi cock, am I right?"

You make a strangled gaspy noise when he expertly locates your g-spot and fucks you on his fingers so hard you almost come from this alone. The sound of Lo‘ak spitting into his palm is loud in the quiet labs. The groan he makes after he slicks himself up and pushes inside you is even louder.

"Say thank you, sir", he whispers lowly into your ear, and your response comes out as nothing more than a whimper. It earns you a rough smack, his hand big enough to cover your entire ass cheek with a print of his palm.

"T-Thank you", you gasp, "Fuck! Thank you, sir!"

"Hmh, that’s right, baby", he chuckles.

Lo‘aks thrusts are relentless and rough, and you find yourself on your tiptoes, fingers clawing at the edge of your desk, creaking underneath the sheer force of a grown Na‘vi pounding you against it. It’s entirely possible that your cervix will be bruised after this, considering how big he was compared to you and how hard he was slamming the tip of his cock against it on every single thrust.

When Lo‘ak wraps one arm around you and closes his fingers around your throat, pulling you back against his chest– You’re officially done. So fucking done. You almost bite through your bottom lip, a sob bubbling up your throat as your insides turn to liquid and pleasure melts out of you in a slick gush between your thighs.

"There you go, mamas. Show me how good it is, let go for me", Lo‘ak hums between what has turned from aggressive fucking into deep, lazy thrusts, long strokes to properly ride out your orgasm. "Good girl, you’re such a good girl."

The hand around your throat slowly loosens, yet he keeps it there to hold you upright. You’re still coming, with your eyes rolling back into your head and squeezing tight around his thick cock, while he plants soft kisses to your temple and along your jaw, lovingly nuzzling his nose against your cheek, until you fall slack in his arms.

#LunasKinktober2023 #loak #loak x reader smut #loak sully #loak smut #loak x female reader #loak x female reader smut #atwow loak #loak fic #loak fanfiction #loak x y/n #lo’ak x female reader #lo’ak x human reader #lo’ak x fem!reader #loak x female metkayina reader #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak x y/n #lo’ak x you #lo’ak smut #lo’ak sully #lo’ak fic #lo’ak te suli tsyeyk’itan #atwow lo’ak #lo’ak avatar #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water

[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER SEVEN - dogfight

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

Suddenly, everything is a blur of red lights and yelling and running.

Price ushers you to your room with a stern: "go go go."  You grab your pack and shove what you can into it as he guards the door, handgun firm in his grasp as he shouts orders to soldiers as they dart up and down the hallway grabbing gear.  Your heart pounds in your ears and you barely have time to zip up your rucksack before he's urging you out again.

Sandwiched between everyone with your head ducked down, you run.  Gunshots ring out over your head and under your feet, and you yelp whenever Ghost grabs your arm and yanks you away from a sniper hit just as you're leaving the building; urging you along.  Price is yelling.  Soap is yelling.  Nikolai is with your small group—sharp, Russian orders shouted over the loud buzzing of a helicopter as you're all but pushed inside.

It's off the ground the second your back hits the wall.  Suddenly, Price is in front of you again—but you can barely see him through the panic that floods your senses.

"Breathe.  Deep breaths, kid.  C'mon," he says as he coaxes a headset onto your head.  You try to help, but your hands are too shaky.  The others are yelling, and Ghost is leaning out of the side of the helicopter as it bobs and dips, returning Shadow Company fire with abandon.  The sound, as well as the raspiness of Price's voice, are both muffled by the earphones around your ears until Price's voice comes through on the comms.  "You're safe with us.  Y'hear me?"

You swallow the bile that threatens to rise in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to force your breathing to regulate.  You nod, but your hands squeeze at his sleeves anyway—knuckles white as you use his presence to ground yourself.

"Okay,"  you force out.  "Y-yeah.  I hear you."

"Good.  Keep breathin','' he looks over his shoulder to where Ghost, Soap, and Gaz are all fending off the others.  "Does anyone have a visual?"

"They've got their own helos after us, sir!"  Gaz shouts.  "Things might get ugly!"

"Helos?!"

"There's five of 'em!"  Soap clarifies, reloading his weapon.  His arm is bleeding, but he doesn't seem to notice.  "The cunt isn't fucking around this time!  It's either we go down, or they do!"

"Yeah, well, that's not fuckin' happening,"  Price all but growls, bracing you against him as the helocopter lurches to the side.  "Give 'em hell!"

"Yes, sir!"

You press yourself back against the wall, watching as everything goes to shit around you.  A line of fire dents the wall of the helo right by your head and you yelp.  "Price—"

As if on cue, there's an explosion. 

You're knocked sideways.  Your vision blanks whenever your head hits metal, a ringing in your ears exploding from your senses.  In a split second of quick thinking, your hand wraps around a metal railing as the helo tilts.  Curses and yells of surprise fill the small space as everyone scrambles to the side.

Except one.

"Soap!"

He slips with a yell and you grab his wrist before he can slip out the side opening.  You watch boxes and supplies slide out and into the snow maybe twenty stories below as the Earth below you tilts and spins.   Shocked, he looks up to meet your gaze—your eyes meeting his with nothing but sheer panic as he lifts his other arm to grab your wrist in both hands, legs flailing. 

Nikolai is quick to right the helo again and you're launched back onto the floor at Soap's side.  Disoriented, you pant as your shaky arms pull yourself upright to meet Soap's gaze.  He's shocked, eyes wide as he blinks with you—as if he really didn't expect you to save him.

He nods his thanks before Price pulls you to your feet again.

"We lost Gaz!"  Nikolai's voice explodes over the comms.

"Fuck's sake!"

"Again?!"

"We'll have to go back—"

"No time!"  Nikolai calls over his shoulder.  "You want to stay alive—no turning back.  Not now."

"Gaz,"  you huff, scrambling out of Price's hold.  "No—no we gotta go back!"

Price grabs you before you can get too close to the opening.  "There's no time, kid!"

"We can't leave him behind!"

"We have to!"

You shove yourself free just as there's a loud blast and the helo lurches again.  This time, you're too late to grab something.

There's yelling before there's silence.  A bright light and the feeling of something large knocking into you before there's nothing but blinding white and bright blue sky.  Your headset flies off your head, getting swept away in the wind as you watch the helo spin out of control from afar.

You're falling.

You're screaming, you think, but the ringing in your ears drowns out everything else.  Your body spins in the air as you flail and air rushes into your eyes and lungs.

The ground gets closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Then, your body breaks ice with a smash and everything is loud again.  The water roars as the breath is punched from your lungs.  You know you should move, flail, kick your legs—but your body doesn't respond.  You watch the bubbles fly past the dog tags around your neck as the light of the surface sinks past your fingers.  

Calm.  Quiet.  

Your body goes limp.  For the first time in weeks, the panic ebbs way to peace as the freezing cold numbs your senses. You think, maybe, you could sleep like this—silent, undisturbed, as your eyes sink shut and your nerves die.

Then, a hand grabs the front of your jacket, and you're yanked to the surface.

Simon gasps when he breaches the ice with you in his arms.  Not that it supplies him with much air to begin with; as the sopping wet cloth of his mask seems to choke him with each breath.  Waterboarding, a torture he's grown very familiar with over the years—and it sends an extra surge of adrenaline through his veins that helps him drag you up and onto the ice before climbing up beside you.

He turns on his side and it feels like the world tilts with him as he sputters and coughs up water.  The ringing in his ears is bright and loud as it seems to leak into his vision, blurring everything into smudges of white and black that are nearly incomprehensible.  Be it blind panic, or just his natural instinct to get up, keep moving—drilled into his brain after years and years of experience—but he shoves himself to his knees anyway.

He hears what sounds like coughing, gagging.  Panting.  His eyes flit over just as the sharpness in his vision returns and you're the second thing he sees: on your hands and knees, curled in on yourself at his side as you spit bile, blood, and water onto the ice with an arm curled around your stomach.  It's then that everything rushes back to him.  The alarms, the gunfire, the helo, Price's shouting, the Shadow Company.

He reaches out with a hoarse and quiet: "Kid..."

Your breathing doesn't settle.  Instead, it seems to speed up as you scramble backwards and the ice cracks underneath you.  Your movements shake, arms and legs dumb, slow, and useless as you force them to move you backwards; away from him.  Blood coats your face and your eyes are bleary and unfocussed.  He recognizes the look you give him—one of panic, confusion.  It's identical to how you looked at him whenever you first met, with a dead man's blood splattered on your clothes.

"No,"  you mutter, your breath coming in fast puffs.  "No no no no."

Simon stumbles over, grabbing your shoulder, "Easy now—"

Startled, you kick him away.  "Get off me!"

"Keep your head on, kid, it's me!"

"Fuck off!"

In a split-second decision of disparity, Simon reaches up and yanks off his mask.  He grabs your shoulders, keeping you still as you freeze—the figure of your nightmares gone and replaced, instead, by something more human.  Something sopping wet and equally as freezing.  He watches the fear in your face give way to confusion, and then the confusion give way to shock.

"It's me,"  he huffs out between breaths, the cold air stinging his skin,  "It's me."

He watches your mis-matched pupils scan over his face, the furrow in your brows smoothing over as a rivulet of blood drips down your temple from the gash on your forehead.  There’s a split on your lip, too, and all the blood mixes together as it drips off your chin.  Simon can’t imagine he looks much better as you take in his facial features for the first time.

Then, he watches your eyelids flutter as your head lulls forwards, and he catches it in his hand.

“Don’t,”  he commands, immediately shifting into action again.  “Stay with me."

“How…”  You rasp as he turns, leaning you against his geared chest to free his hands—each breath fogging up into the freezing air as he keeps you in a sitting position.  He reaches for the comm on his shoulder.  With shaky hands, he switches through channels until he gets to one that's dead silent.  He swallows thickly before he speaks.

“Watcher, this is Bravo 0-7, do you copy?”

The radio sputters.  The only thing that greets him is the silence of the snow and your shaky breathing.  He tries again, more urgently.

“Ghost to Watcher.  We fell out the helo.  Kid’s injured bad do you copy?”

Again, silence.  Ghost hears your breathing hitch and he purses his lips together.  Just as dread begins to settle deep in Ghost’s stomach—a voice comes loud and clear through the speakers.

"Watcher to Ghost.  I hear you.  Any word on Price?"  

You let out a sigh of relief at the sound of Laswell's voice.  If Ghost didn’t have a probably-broken rib, he’d do the same.

"No,"  Ghost grunts.  "We fell in a lake.  Helo is nowhere in sight."

"Are you injured?"

Ghost tastes copper in his mouth when he breathes.  "I'm upright."

"And the kid?"

You go to speak,  "I'm fine—"

"Hit and in shock,"  Ghost interrupts.  "Probably concussed."

Then, Price's out-of-breath voice cuts through the comms.  There's shuffling and other voices in the background.  “Ghost, this is Price.  You’re safe?"

This time, Ghost does let out a breath.  “Yes, sir.”

“Good.  We’ve crashed but Laswell's sent a team out to grab us.  We’re coming back for you two, you hear me?”

You grab Ghost's arm, "But Gaz—"

“Loud and clear, sir.”  Ghost breathes, “loud and clear.”

“Good man.  Get to safety, stay warm.  We'll be there A.S.A.P."

"Solid copy."

And, with that, all was silent aside for the sound of you and Ghost's combined breathing.  He places a hand on your shoulder, easing you back to look up at him.  "You still with me?"

Your eyes squeeze shut.  You shake your head as if trying to shake something out of it, your countenance flushed and dazed from the freezing cold.  He rubs your shoulders, trying to restore some warmth to your body.

“Keep talkin’.  Tell me what hurts.”

“Can't…”  You swallow thickly.  Your hands fumble to grab at your leg.  “Fuck, c-can't think…I can’t…”

“Stand?”

“Yeah.”

"You fell out of a helicopter, Mutt.  It would stand to reason if you were a bit shaken,”  he huffs, shifting into a kneeling position with his back to you.  “On my back.  We gotta keep moving.”

The shock fading a little from your system, you slowly push yourself upright enough to settle against his back.  

"Mutt?"  You question as your arms fall around his neck.  His gloved hands grab under your knees, keeping you secured to his back as he hypes himself up to stand.  

"That's what Soap called you, ain't it?"  He breathes as he stands.  "Some mutt the C.I.A. dragged in."

"Don't tell me…don't tell me that's what I'm stuck with now, after all this."

He scoffs a little, righting himself.  "What sticks, sticks, kid."

He barely takes a step forwards before his leg unexpectedly gives.  You gasp whenever he stumbles, falling to a knee in the snow.  

"Bloody hell…"

"Ghost?"  You prompt, worried, as he breathes in and out.  The world spins sound for a moment, and his eyes go dazed.  Your voice, however, pulls him out of it and your bloodied hand tugging at his ruined vest grounds him back to reality.  "Ghost if you're shot, we're fucked."

"I'm not hit,"  he wheezes, a bold-faced lie.  He's been hit in the calf in all the chaos, but it missed any major arteries so he chooses to ignore it for now.  Instead, he forces himself shakily back to his feet again.  He takes a few wobbly steps before he's walking steadily once more, his limbs feeling heavy as they waft through the freezing snow.  "Just old.  Can't take a fall like I used to."

You let out a breath that fogs up into the air, quivering from the cold as water drips from everything.

“Okay…okay, good,”  you breathe, your hold around him tightening.  “Where are we going?”

Simon looks up.  The cold bites at his bare face and he squints through the eye black and water that clings to his lashes to look up at the snow and the trees around them.  He swallows thickly, his mind cycling through S.E.A.R. training as he fights to stay focused, get to safety.

Safety.  Shelter.

You needed shelter.  

His gaze sweeps the empty forests with a newfound determination now that he has a goal to focus on; something to work towards.  His footsteps slow to a stop as he looks around, the only sound in the forest being the crunching of snow and the buzzing of a far-off A-10 that makes his stomach twist.  

But you were alive—and that’s all that mattered to him.

So, he picks up his pace.  He presses onwards.

“I don’t know,” He huffs.  “But we'll find somewhere."

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @nostalgialeech @scuftryo @0alk0msan @synthe4u @stunkbiggu @bebobeboben @enfppixie @lyd14k4y @tlkonthestr33t @raye2000 @shinchanboi 

#kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

[messrmoonyy]

Pretty little thing

Tess Servopoulos x Fem!reader

Prompt- based on a dark tess request that I lost the original prompt of but was along the lines of older Ellie and reader being friends and reader getting a crush on Tess, trying to make Tess reciprocate things until she finally gives in and fucks the reader including Dacryphilia , overstimulation, overall a more mean Tess. This also includes various other small requests that a mashed into this including face sitting and more Jackson Tess.

A/N- will say this isn’t very ‘dark!tess ‘ but you guys also requests a meaner/ rougher smut scene with Tess. So. You got it. I think. Prawn with plot. Enjoy

Warnings- 18+ || reader is a littlleeee obsessed, Tess is kinda mean. And patronising, canon compliment violence and discussions of infected, implied age gap, smut: fingering ( reader receiving ), overstimulation, degradation, dacryphillia, dumbification, choking, face sitting/ oral ( reader receiving), orgasm denial

Word count- 12.7k ( I am so sorry💀 my next one will be shorter I promise 😭)

Navigation | TLOU masterlist | AO3

Reblogs and comments appreciated and encouraged! <3

You were woken up to the sound of knocking. At first you weren’t entirely sure if you were hearing it or if it was something in your dream. That kind of far off, echoey sound to it where you were only half awake and still coming to terms with being back in the real world again. But it was real. When you fully opened your eyes the sound continued.

As your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room you first noticed you weren’t at home, your sleep disorientated brain failing to tell you exactly where you were right away. But you knew it wasn’t your home.

The knocking continued and you remembered that was why you had woken up in the first place.

“ I’m not going anywhere so open up or I’ll just come in and Joel will be pissed if he has to fix this lock again “ came a muffled voice from behind the door, an incredibly bored tone to their words. You sat up and winced as your neck ached from the funny angle you’d fallen asleep in, tired eyes adjusting to your surroundings “ I know you’re both in there one of you better open this door in the next ten seconds “

You were at Ellie’s. Sat on the floor, clearly having fallen asleep with your head lolled backwards onto the couch. The knocking continued, making you realise just how much your head was hurting. Your tired mind attempted to piece together the night before.

Drinks with Ellie. Then Dina, then Jesse.

Jesse and Dina were no longer there but Ellie was sprawled face down on the couch, snoring quite contently, clearly not even shifting at the sound of whoever was at the door. You groaned again and got to your feet as the knocking continued “ 5. 4- “

“ alright. I’m coming. Fuck “ you rubbed at your tired eyes and sighed. You didn’t even know why you felt so shitty. You’d barely even drank that much. Maybe it was lack of sleep and the absolute neck breaking angle you had somehow passed out in.

You crossed the room and cracked the door open, wincing away from the early morning light and squinting to adjust your eyes and focus on the blurry figure in front of you.

“ well hello sleeping fuckin beauty “ you were suddenly wide awake as you realised who was stood there. Arms folded and eyebrow raised as she eyed your post sleep look. You must have looked a mess. Bedraggled hair and eyes barely open, still wearing the clothes you’d been wearing the day before, but now with an odd stain on the front of your shirt that you weren’t entirely sure of the origin of.

“ oh. Tess “ she craned her head to look inside and rolled her eyes at the sight of Ellie passed out still, now mouth agape and drooling onto the cushions.

“ it’s your lucky day. You’ve been moved to pairs patrols. Get dressed. Meet me at the stables in 10. And tell Ellie she’s due out in a couple of hours too. So wake her ass up “ you tried your best to process the information as she turned and started to walk away

“ I- huh? I only do group patrols “

“ don’t make me come back and get you! “ she called as she continued to walk, not even answering your question. You closed the door and started to wake up fully, internally screaming at yourself for having stood there in front of her looking like… well. That.

Though you’d guessed she’d probably seen you worse. She’d been there the day Jesse had decided making his own moonshine was a good idea. In fact she’d been the one holding your hair back as you’d puked up said moonshine in her bathroom, rubbing soft circles into your back as you begged her not to tell Maria about it. She never had to your surprise.

You walked over to where Ellie was still dead to the world, not even having moved an inch at the sound of Tess and her knocking.

“ El. Ellie. Elliieeee. Dude come on “ you sighed, nudging at her with your knee “ Ellie. Ellie! “ she startled so suddenly she rolled off the couch, face first onto the floor.

“ what the fuck man! “ she grabbed a cushion and tossed it at you, missing completely and knocking over something on her desk instead.

“ Tess was here. I’m on patrol in 10. You’re out soon too she told me to wake you up. So. Now you’re up “ she muttered something under her breath and slowly pushed her way back up onto the couch, tipping her head back and closing her eyes again

“ my head hurts “ she groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes “ were Jesse and Dina here last night or did I make that up? “

“ no. They were here. In fact it was Jesses idea to play that stupid drinking game “ you still weren’t entirely sure on the rules and you’d damn played it. Though you did get the idea that Jesse seemed to be making them up on the spot anyway “ can I borrow a shirt? I won’t make it back to mine and to the stables in 10. And I don’t want Tess to be angry with me “

You didn’t wait for her to answer you, knowing she’d say yes anyway, and rummaged through her drawers for something clean to wear. You figured your jeans from yesterday would be fine and even though Tess had already seen you in the questionable stain shirt. You did not want her to see you in it again.

“ Tess? “

“ yeah. I just told you she was here. She said I’m on pairs patrols now “

“ that’s good. Isn’t that what you wanted? Maybe they paired you with her. That’s why she came to get you “ you could only hope. The entire reason you’d asked to be on pairs patrols in the first place was so that you could possible be partnered up with her. Though the chances were a little slim. She almost always went out with Joel.

“ she goes out with Joel “

“ Tommys back on patrols now. I bet he’s going with Joel. Ease him back into it “ Tommy had been out of rotation for a few months, taking time to help out Maria with the new baby. It couldn’t of been easy they already had one young kid, Maria definitely needed his help. You helped her out from time to time, but she had entrusted you with other things around town in her absence. Not entirely important things, you did get the feeling she was trying to make you feel needed. But it was whatever. You were happy to help.

It would make sense to pair Tommy up with Joel if he was back in rotation now. Pair him with someone he knew well, who was strong and capable, just in case he was a little rusty after a few months out.

So maybe Tess was missing a partner now. And pairing a newbie to pairs up with someone like her, someone who knew what they were doing and could do the trails with their eyes closed, would make a lot of sense.

You finished getting changed and grabbed your backpack from by the door, eager to leave even with your post sleep grogginess still clouding your head. You didn’t want to keep Tess waiting.

Ellie had flopped herself into bed now instead of the couch and you left her to it, your goodbye falling on deaf ears as she fell back into sleep again.

As you walked towards the stables the early morning air cleared your head a little and you finally were able to process what the day had in store for you. You’d been asking to be moved to pairs patrols for a while. You’d been on patrols since the day you’d hit 16 and been allowed out in the groups. You knew the regular group routes like the back of your hand, could take down infected better than some of the others could. So you had years of experience behind you now. You had truly solidified your spot on the roster.

But to your dismay. Tess was never on groups. She was always on pairs.

So you’d started talking to Maria and asking for pairs patrols. With the soul intention of being paired with Tess. Not that you’d thought it would happen. But it was always worth a shot, right? Maria was like a second mother to you, she’d taken you under her wing when your mother had taken ill and died a few years back. They’d been close since they were kids so you guessed Maria felt obliged.

So you knew in the end you’d bring her round to make her put you on pairs. And you did have the slightest of suspicions she knew why you wanted to be on pairs.

She gave you looks from time to time when she saw you both together. You did guess you weren’t exactly subtle with it.

How on earth you were supposed to survive a few hours completely alone with her? Even if that was what you’d been hoping for ever since you’d first met her. When that silly schoolgirl crush had first reared it’s head when she, Joel and Ellie had turned up in Jackson. It had only gotten stronger as you got closer to Ellie, spent more time with the three of them. You were a couple years older than Ellie but she’d stuck to you like glue almost immediately. She didn’t really seem to want to talk to anyone when she first arrived but you clearly had something going for you, cause she’d wanted to talk to you.

And you weren’t apposed to that. You loved Ellie. And it meant you got the added benefit of spending time with Tess. So what was there to dislike?

You’d gotten a little braver as you’d spent more time with Ellie over the years, finding excuses to sit close to Tess whenever you’d hang out with the family. Convincing her to dance with you at the parties Maria and Tommy threw in the tipsy bison from time to time, letting your hands wander a little too much but blaming it on the alcohol. When half of the time you hadn’t even drank a drop.

You’d practically thrown yourself at her multiple times over the years but she never quite reciprocated. But there was… something. The way she never actively stopped you immediately, would simply give you a look. Or tell you to be careful in a low tone that made butterflies swarm in your stomach.

You still thought about the last party Maria threw, when you’d made her dance with you and her face had been so incredibly close to your own. The tension between you had been so thick it was like no one else was even in the room with you, she swarmed every single one of your senses.

You’d thought she was going to kiss you that night. If only you’d had the guts to close the minuscule gap maybe she would’ve. But instead she’d dropped a light kiss to your cheek, dropped her mouth close to your ear and murmured ‘ be careful ‘ before leaving.

It had sounded almost like a warning. Like a woman on edge that was so close to snapping, a warning that you wouldn’t like what would come your way if she did snap. But you knew you would. It’s all you could think about. And knowing she was so incredibly close to giving in… maybe today might be your lucky day after all.

You didn’t know why she was holding back. At first you had thought it was because of Joel. When they first arrived in town to anyone with a working set of eyes they looked like a couple. The way they were so ridiculously in tune with the other, so much so that you’d often watched them have entire conversations without even opening their mouths. They worked and moved as one, were fiercely defensive and protective of the other.

It had been quite the surprise when you’d found out that they weren’t a thing. You’d gone over to their place to hang out with Ellie and she’d shown you around, shown you how Joel had his own room. And so did Tess.

From that point on you’d had less shame about swooning over her. Knowing she wasn’t actually with Joel. And that stupid little crush had stayed with you right though to the current day. Where it was now as strong as ever.

And seemingly finally ready to burst.

You had tried everything in your power. Even getting with occasional other person with the simple motivation of making her jealous. Nothing was working.

But you were persistent.

Tess was waiting for you by the stables leant back against the wall with her arms folded, as they always were, rolling a stone under the toe of her boot absentmindedly. It felt like an almost childlike thing from her, something innocent. A side to her that you only ever saw in those family nights at Ellie’s.

She looked up when she heard you approaching, a smile pulling at her lips.

“ right on time. I was beginning to think spending so much time with Ellie would rub off on you “ you rolled your eyes but smiled too. Ellie would be late to her own damn funeral it was true. She had zero concept of time keeping “ do you have a horse? “ she asked with a nod towards the stables behind her.

“ I usually just ride with Ellie when we go out on the group patrols “

“ are you confident enough to ride on your own? “ you were. But you stopped before you spoke, a lightbulb suddenly burning brightly in your mind. If you said you weren’t confident would she let you ride with her? Or would she just send you right back to group patrols. Was it worth the risk of saying no? Just for the chance of getting to sit close against her for a while? “ you can just ride with me if- “

“ yeah. I’ll ride with you “ you said it far too quickly. And you prayed it would just come across as you having some fear of riding alone and not that you were desperate to have some kind of physical contact with her. Of literally any kind.

The small smirk that pulled at her lips didn’t tell you which one she thought it was. If she was laughing at you for being afraid. Or was simply smirking because she knew you too well now and she knew exactly why you’d said it. Either way you didn’t really care, because the outcome was still the same.

“ alright. Let’s go “ you followed her into the stables as she checked out her horse, following closely at her side as she walked it by the reigns down towards the main gates out of town.

All of the morning patrols were waiting, Jesse up front looking far too put together for someone who had downed enough whiskey the previous night to absolutely obliterate his liver. He was reeling off the patrols and the routes they were taking, making sure everyone was present and correct.

“ we’re on a good route “ she said quietly, still looking at Jesse and feigning interest in his words “ easy as fuck. It’s why me and Joel always pick it “ she said with a small laugh “ unless you’re in the mood to fuck some shit up, then it’s not so great “

“ blowing the head off of some infected. Tried and tested stress reliever “

“ exactly “

“ so. Which route are we on? “

“ ski lodge. Nice and quiet. And the lodge is nice too, spend most of your time there because the patrol doesn’t take long. Definitely the best route to be on. Told you. It’s why Joel and I always request it. And I convinced Jesse it was a good route for a newbie so. Joel’s on the creek trails with Tommy “ she seemed quite smug with herself at the fact she’d gotten the better route.

It did sound nice though. And spending some time alone with her in the lodge? You really were winning today.

When Jesse finished giving out his orders, you mounted Tess’ horse behind her, scooching as close as humanly possible and holding onto her. You wanted to move your hands under her jacket, feel the warmth of her through the soft plaid shirt she had on. But you resisted, convinced that if you thought about it hard enough you’d feel it through the canvas material of her jacket.

You watched as the large gates out of town were opened, the wood creaking loudly.

Your family had been one of the founding members of Jackson, helping Maria and her father build it up into what it was currently. So all you’d ever really known was the town. So every time those gates opened you felt some rush of adrenaline. Excitement mixed with anxiety at leaving the safety of those walls.

Even though it was exactly the same, you always felt like the air was fresher the second you left. A cooler breeze, a warmer sun. It was nice. Summer was creeping up fast. The days were getting longer, warmer, brighter. It made you feel more awake.

Horse rides in the spring were much nicer than the winter too, the warm sun on your skin and the light speckling through the leaves of the trees. Jackson was unbelievably pretty.

Tess was quiet for a while as she rode, taking you in the opposite direction you were used to. The woods were a little denser than the routes you were usually assigned. It made the ride a little bumpy but you didn’t mind, it gave you another excuse to hold tighter to Tess. Able to use the excuse of some fear of falling off if she questioned it.

“ scared of riding or something? “ she eventually asked, a slight teasing tone to her words as she spoke.

“ not really. I’ve rode alone before but. I don’t know. I feel better with someone else. I fell off when I was younger and broke wrist. Freaked me out I guess “

“ they freaked me out at first “ she confessed “ before Jackson i’d never rode before. Joel taught me “ you wouldn’t have guessed that. She seemed a pretty confident rider right from the start. She seemed pretty confident with everything. You didn’t think you’d ever actually seen her afraid.

“ I didn’t think you were scared of anything “ she scoffed at that

“ i didn’t say scared “ she went quiet again then as you continued on. She didn’t speak again until you reached the lodge “ we’ll tie the horse here. The patrol route is just along the ridge up there, loops back around. Then down into the town down there, there’s a lookout log in one of the houses at the end of the street. Loop back up. Easy as fuck “ you nodded, squinting in the early morning sun as it cut through the gaps in the trees. Some birds were tweeting away on the branches and it felt almost peaceful.

She jumped down from the horse then turned to you

“ c’mon “ she grabbed at your waist to hoist you down, your hands falling onto her shoulders to support yourself. Your mind blanked for a moment at the feel of her hands on you, feeling as though they were burning through the material of your shirt. Something passed over her face as she looked at you, as if noticing the silent reaction you were having. But she said nothing.

She let you go and grabbed her rifle, nodding to something behind you

“ that’s the way. Follow me “ you grabbed your own gun out of your backpack as she started walking, running to catch up to her.

You trailed a little behind her as she walked, simply so you could get a better look at her. Even there when there was no one else around, no one she needed to look tough for. She still oozed confidence. The way she walked. The way she kept her head held high. No attempts to shrink away. To hide. To walk in the way Ellie had done when you first met her, like she was too afraid to take up space.

Tess wanted to take up space. She wanted people to know who she was and what she was about. She wasn’t afraid… of anything it seemed.

In fact. You knew she wasn’t.

You’d heard the stories. The rumours. The things that Ellie had told you. That Tess and Joel weren’t… good. They didn’t do good things. They hadn’t. But a twisted part of you liked that. Wanted to know more. Details. Wanted to hear about what she had done and all she was willing to do to stay and alive and to protect the people she loved.

You wanted to be one of those people. Wanted her to do sick things to protect you, to prove all she was willing to do to keep you safe.

You craved a love like that. A desperate and all consuming kind. A kind you knew she could give you.

If she would just stop holding herself back.

“ got some runners “ she said looking over the ridge to one of the towns in the distance. They were pretty far out, looking almost like little ants dashing around the place from so far away.

You watched as her hands moved into a comfortable and familiar position with her gun, pulling the trigger and taking down the strays with ease. You were fixated. On her face, the way her eyes narrowed as she aligned her shot through the scope, the way her lips parted slightly as she steadied her breath. Ammo was precious and she made every shot worth it. You watched her fingers, how long and slender they were. You wanted to melt between them. Wanted to feel what it was like to turn to mush beneath her finger tips.

You had spent many nights dreaming of how they felt. How they’d feel in your hair, trailing across your back, wrapped around your throat, curled up inside of you.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat.

“ alright. Let’s keep moving “ she snapped you out of your daydreaming as she lowered the gun, one look over now showing the little ant like runners were motionless on the ground.

“ that was impressive “ you said, clearing your throat lightly in some attempt to distract your thoughts.

“ it’s practice “ is all she said, carrying on along the track. You wondered if this was some old hiking trail or something. If people had come through there years ago, walking that same path for fun. Not to shoot infected. Though you weren’t entirely sure how anyone could find trekking through the woods fun. But maybe that was because your idea of it was so tainted.

It was pretty. You couldn’t deny that. The morning sun in the mountains and the flowers in full bloom. But you had a much better view.

As you watched her you wondered if she ever thought things like that about you. You had caught her watching you before. Many times. And she wasn’t sheepish about it either. She didn’t immediately look away if she saw you had caught her, would hold it another second or two and then look away.

It did make you think.

She came to a stop again looking out at a town slightly futher out than the last. She pulled some binoculars from her pack and looked though them for a moment.

“ wanna take ‘em? “ she asked, lowering her binoculars and looking over at you. The sun was catching her just right, enveloping her in golden light like the goddess you so often heralded her as. You were very obviously staring but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. Maybe it was because she could clearly see that you were. And were certain you saw her lips quirk into a smile. Just a subtle one. But a smile “ hello? Are you suddenly mute? “

She waved a hand in front of your face and you shrugged, not even a sliver of embarrassment in your face. You wanted her to see you. Wanted her to know you were looking.

“ my gun doesn’t have a scope “ she held out her own gun to you, swapping it with your own

“ have at em “

“ alright “ you moved to stand closer to her, looking through the scope at the small group of runners aimlessly wandering around across the way.

You were a pretty decent shot. Better than others in town for sure. But you were no one if not an opportunist. So you missed your first two shots. And then your third. Repressing your smile when you heard her slightly frustrated sigh.

“ I’m getting there im getting there “ you said, missing a fourth shot.

“ you’re wasting all my fuckin ammo that’s what you’re doing. Come here “ she moved to stand behind you, her hands falling over yours to readjust your hold, her chest pressed firmly against your back. You didn’t hold back your smile that time, unable to hold onto the giant grin that spread across your face at her closeness “ now try “ she said, stepping back but holding her hands to your shoulders.

You made the shot. Of course you did. Even if it did take a second longer than normal to steady your aim, Tess’ hands on you throwing you off.

“ that’s it “ she praised “ good girl keep that up “ that threw you again, freezing a little at the term of endearment. The praise. From her. God you were fucked.

You cleared the ridge of infected and turned your head to look at her with a beaming smile.

“ pretty good huh? “ she was much closer than you’d thought, so close you could see the individual lashes on her eyelids, the freckles that sprinkled across her nose.

“ pretty good “ she confirmed, she had a slightly quizzical look on her face as she looked at you. Her eyebrows slightly furrowed.

Then she reached for her gun and stepped back.

“ sometimes some down by the ski lift too. Then we’ll grab the horse and head into the town “ you gave a nod and followed her.

She made quick work of the couple stragglers by the ski lift before you headed back down the track towards the lodge.

“ you like watching me “ she noted as you walked, catching you slightly off guard “ you’re not subtle about it so don’t bother saying you don’t “ you wouldn’t lie to her anyway. You weren’t ashamed. And if you were as un subtle as she said? Then what was the point anyway.

“ I do “ you confirmed with a shrug “ you’re nice to look at “ she scoffed at that, her face giving nothing away on what she really thought “ you watch me too “

“ you’re nice to look at “ she echoed, teasing tones to her words and a glance in your direction. She looked you up and down for a moment before looking back at the trail in front of her.

She had looked you up and down for barely a second, but it had made your cheeks burn. One simple look from her made you crazy. That paired with the ‘good girl’ from earlier was sending you into a spin.

She had said it to you once before whilst round at Ellie’s and Ellie had teased you for days about how flustered it had made you. It often made you wonder if Ellie knew of your ever growing desire for her pseudo mom. But probably not. Ellie was incredibly clever but oblivious as all hell when it came to things like that.

She had still questioned if Dina even liked her after the first time they had kissed, still asked you from time to time if you were ‘ sure she doesn’t have a thing for Jesse? ‘ as if Dina and her weren’t practically attached at the hip.

You wondered how she’d react if she knew. How Joel would react. How anyone would. It wasn’t like the gap in your ages was huge. You weren’t some doey eyed teenage running after a grown ass adult. You were an adult. Albeit a younger adult than her. But. Still. You wondered if it would raise eyebrows.

Though a part of you kind of liked that. In fact you really liked that. You could already picture how unbelievably smug you’d feel walking around with her, how much you’d love to shove it right into the faces of the other people in town who had tried it with her- and failed quite miserably from what you had seen and heard.

It was actually quite frustrating how she batted people away and yet still managed to make you jealous when you weren’t the full centre of her attention.

You made it back down to the lodge and Tess helped you back up onto the horse, happy to have your arms back around her again as you headed down into the small town.

“ is there usually infected down here? “

“ no. They tend to stay higher up. Don’t ask why cause I don’t fuckin know “ you smiled at that, immediately knowing that Ellie and her one million and one questions about everything were probably the reason behind her immediate request for no questions “ hold tight it’s bumpy down here “ you didn’t need to be told twice for that.

“ it’s nice out here isn’t it? “ you said as you crossed a small stream “ almost romantic right? “ Tess scoffed at that

“ you don’t strike me as the romantic type sweetheart “

“ oh? And what’s that supposed to mean”

“ you know “

“ I don’t “ you feigned innocence, knowing exactly what she did mean but wanting to make her say it. That she knew about you trying to her attention. That she paid enough attention to hear about the occasional fling with townsfolk with the soul purpose of making her jealous. You needed your delusions confirmed.

“ oh. Then I guess it’s not you that’s seducing anyone that comes within ten feet of me? Funny. Could’ve sworn it was you “ she knew. She’d noticed. It had worked.

“ I think you’re a little confused Tess “ you said close to her ear, trying to suppress your smile “ now why would I do that? “ you pushed the most innocent tone you could, a picture of pure demure innocence that was as far from the truth as could be.

No sweet innocent girl would spend her time fantasising about fucking her best friends mom.

“ I told you to be careful sweetheart. Do as you’re told “ her voice had taken on that low, almost threatening sultry tone it had done in the Bison. The one warning you to stop because she would eventually break and you didn’t want her to break.

But god did you want her to.

You reached the town with the air so thick between you you felt like you could cut it with a knife but you tried to ignore it and do your job.

“ we check in the buildings? “ you asked

“ just patrol the street. House down the end there? There’s a lookout log, we mark it off and head back. Then kill time until it’s time to change. Told you this route is easy “ you nodded and jumped down from the horse, grabbing your gun again just in case.

You made your way quietly down the street, your eyes looking at every single house you passed. Anytime you came across old buildings it made you wonder who had been there before. What the towns and houses looked like before they were derelict. Where were the people now? How many of them were still alive?

“ you ever live in a place like this? “ you asked. You didn’t know a whole lot about Tess and her past. In fact you knew nothing about her before the apocalypse. Ellie had never told you anything. You knew about some of the things she got up to in the 20 years before she’d found Ellie. Tommy had told you. Ellie had mentioned things. But pre apocalyptic Tess? You knew nothing

You wondered what she had been like and how much she had changed.

“ no “ was all she said.

“ where did you live? “

“ Detroit “ she said again, simple and matter of fact “ you? “ she was deflecting the topic away from her.

“ Jackson. Jackson. And er. Jackson. I’ve never seen anywhere else. What’s Detroit like? “ she shrugged

“ fine. I don’t like cities “

“ why? “

“ you ask a whole lot of questions sweetheart “ maybe spending so much time with Ellie really was rubbing off on you.

“ I’m just interested in you “ Tess scoffed again, glancing over at you for a moment

“ really? Never would’ve fuckin guessed that “

You both went quiet again as you walked. She looked like she wanted to say something else but was too distracted. Stopping in her tracks outside one of the houses in the street.

“ you hear that? “ she whispered.

You did. The shuffling and quiet sobs and groans that could only be infected. Tess slowly reloaded her gun and nodded in the direction she wanted you to follow her. You held your gun firmly, crouching below the window ledge next to Tess.

“ we’re gonna do this nice and quietly “ she said, her voice steady and low “ knife? “ you withdrew it from where you kept it tucked in your boot and she nodded “ okay. Nice. And quiet “ you had taken down infected more times than you could count, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying each time.

One bite and you’d be a goner. That’s all it took.

Tess carefully climbed though the window, you close on her heels. Once inside the house you spotted two. Thankfully. Easy. Tess made light work of the one furthest away and you took down the other just as swiftly, quiet in your approach before plunging your knife into its skull, angling it’s head backwards so it’s teeth couldn’t grab at you.

Tess snuck through into the next room, clearly hearing something else as you carefully lay the body on the ground, wiping the blood from your knife on the remaining upholstery of the couch. She was dropping the body of another infected to the floor as you joined her.

“ I don’t hear anymore “

“ should we check upstairs? “ Tess nodded and you led the way, careful on the stairs that looked ready to collapse at any moment. Upstairs you found a dead body, one that clearly hadn’t been as strong when the infection had taken over. You were just thankful for the fact that roof was half collapsed, fresh air spilling into the room so that the spores had dispersed.

“ this one’s done “ Tess said, looking over the body. You wondered how long it had been there. You guessed a while, the floor surrounding it was covered in dried out tendrils, the legs of the person practically melting into the hardwood. It made you sad to think about anyone ending up that way “ let’s go. We need to mark this down in the log “

She left the room before you, mildly fixated on the body on the floor. You’d never want to end up that way. The second you got bit you’d shove a gun in your mouth and end it before the fungus could control your mind. No way would you end up like that.

You left the room to find Tess had already gone back downstairs. But before you could make the precarious trip back down, you heard something. You assumed it was probably another runner that you had both somehow missed and decided to take it out too. Last thing you needed was it getting out into the street.

So you snuck into the room on the opposite side of the hall, pushing open the door slowly.

But what you found was not a runner. It was far worse.

It happened too fast for you to even process exactly what was happening at first. One second you were looking at the rotting wood of the door, the next the split open face of a clicker was bearing down on you.

You were too shell shocked to even scream, simply pushing and kicking to keep the gnashing teeth of the clicker away from you. The screeches it made made your ears ring, deafening you as it desperately tried to bite. To spread.

“ Tess! “ you frantically fumbled around for your knife, not sure where it had slid off to and unable to reach down for your gun.

The screeching was only drowned out by the sound of a gunshot. Blood splattering over your face as Tess shot it in the back of the head, it still screeching and wriggling to bite you. To fill your blood with fungus and control your mind.

She appeared above you, kicking it off and shooting a further two bullets into its face until it stopped squirming. It lay twitching on the ground for a few moments before going still. You pushed yourself onto your elbows trying to catch your breath.

“ well shit “ you gasped, looking up at Tess who was watching you intently, her eyes wide in concern. And maybe shock at how that was your reaction. But what else were you supposed to say?

You felt something twisting deep in your belly, the way she had thrown herself in harms way to protect you. How she looked stood there with her stern face looking down at you. Powerful. Strong.

You’d never wanted her so badly. Which was funny to think about. You’d just nearly died. But there you were simply thinking about your knight in shining armour.

“ you okay? You gotta be more fucking careful “ she held her hand out to you, pulling you up to your feet again. She ran her hands over your arms and turned your face in her hands “ clean? “ you were lost for words and simply nodded.

You didn’t entirely know what it was. Maybe it was the fact she had protected you without a second thought, had put herself in harms way. Killed for you. Maybe it was just the adrenaline cursing through your bloodstream.

“ well, could at least say thank you sweetheart “

You couldn’t help yourself.

You dove forward, kissing her without a second thought, wrapping your fingers around her wrists that were still holding your face.

It was like she had expected it. Kissing you back in an instant, her grip on your face tightening to move you how she wanted. You had initiated it but she had the control. She took your breath away. Your lungs burning with the lack of air but you didn’t want to stop. It was a little desperate, pure adrenaline and lust and nothing more. But you didn’t mind.

You were too focussed on her. Her taste. Her lips. They were as soft as they looked, pillowy against your own. She kissed you like you were her source of air, as equally desperate as you. Which was an interesting revelation for saying how long she had been rejecting your advances.

She broke away first, leaving you gasping for air as she scanned your face with her eyes. She held you for a second longer before stepping back.

“ I think that was all of them I don’t hear anything else “ she said in a steady tone “ let’s go fill in the log. And head back “ she turned before you could answer her, question whether or not she was angry or as happy as you were. You could never tell with Tess. She was too difficult to read and it was annoying. Because she was so incredibly good at reading everyone else.

You followed on her heels as she went back downstairs and walked in purposeful strides towards the house at the end of the street, from the outside it looked like all the other abandoned ones in the town. But she lead you up the half collapsed stairs and into the bedroom at the front of the house. The log was hidden under a box in the closet, months and months worth of patrol logs written down.

You glanced over as she filled it in, noticing most of the patrols were marked by her or Joel.

You didn’t know if you should talk about what had happened. The infected or the kiss. Or both. So you decided to just say nothing, watching as she noted down the infected in the house and up on the ridge, marking it as now all clear. Though it did sting ever so slightly that she wasn’t acknowledging it. Acting as though it simply hadn’t happened.

“ okay. Let’s go “

The house was on the edge of the town, a stream running along the back. You wondered if it was the same one you’d seen earlier. Tess stopped beside it, kneeling down to cup some of the water in her hands and wash the blood that had gotten on her face. You joined her, washing away the blood from the clicker and rinsing your hands in the cool water.

“ thank you “ you said suddenly. Realising you still hadn’t said it. Tess looked up at you with a small look of confusion, drying her hands off on her jeans “ for the clicker. Saving me “ she shrugged and stood up again, nodding back up the street.

“ it’s nothing. Let’s go “ you sighed, a little frustrated that that was all she had to say about it

“ it’s not nothing “ you said as you hurried to keep up with her “ you saved my life “

“ let’s not be dramatic now sweetheart “ dramatic. You huffed in mild annoyance and followed her back to the horse. How was she so blasé about it? Yes clickers weren’t exactly a new thing. And she had killed hundreds of them before. But she had still saved you. Had still stopped one turning you into a mushrooms little puppet.

“ I don’t think me saying thank you for killing a clicker for me is being dramatic Tess “ the glance she gave you was almost amused. Like she found it funny. Like what you were saying was stupid or funny. It was annoying “ don’t look at me like that “

“ like what? “ you didn’t even bother to answer her as you both headed back up the street. You mind began drifting back to the image of her standing above you, to how concerned she had looked as she frantically checked you for bites. You’d not seen her switch up so fast before. From looking so sinister and stern to looking almost soft.

Soft Tess was rare. You saw it so very little. Only in glimpses in those nights spent at Ellies, possible cracks in her strong facade. Light leaking through the gaps and showing what she might have been like before.

Had she had a family? Spent nights frequently like those with you, Ellie and Joel? But with her husband. Or wife. Did she have kids? Had she been alone? There was so much you wanted to know but quite certain you never actually would. She was too closed off. Those parts of her buried deep deep down so that maybe even she couldn’t reach them anymore.

You had seen it in others before. Seen how much the infected world had changed them, left them a shell of who they used to be. You couldn’t help but wonder how broken Tess was. You couldn’t imagine her as someone who was happy and joyful and that was sad. Because you knew at some point she had been.

A small, cocky part of you liked to think you’d get through that hard shell eventually. You’d pick away at her until she showed you some glimpse of the past her.

No time soon though. That shell was there to stay for now. But you didn’t mind. You liked her now. You liked her tough exterior and her intimidating gaze. You liked the adrenaline she sent cursing through you blood. You thought that maybe the nice and caring type wasn’t really the person for you.

Tess was.

The ride back to the lodge was quiet, your arms wrapped back around her again with your hands resting on her stomach. You could feel the heat seeping through her shirt now. From the adrenaline of the infected no doubt, you wanted to untuck the fabric from her jeans or carefully undo the buttons. Feel how hot her skin was, how it feel against your fingertips.

You almost laughed at yourself. How quickly your mind could dart back to the ever underlying lust that constantly bubbled in your veins.

She didn’t help you off the horse this time, dismounting herself and heading into the lodge. You got the idea that the ride to the lodge had given her time to think. A tension settling in the air now.

Was she annoyed? Angry?

You guessed the only way to tackle it was head on.

“ are we gonna talk about it? “ you asked as she dropped her bag down on the table, placing her gun down beside it. She didn’t look up at you, shedding her jacket too “ Tess “

“ what do you want me to say? “

“ anything “ she scoffed and looked over at you. She had that look again. That warning. That look that was almost dangerous.

“ anything “ she echoed, mocking.

“ even if you want to pretend I didn’t- we. Didn’t. At least tell me that for fucks sake “ you said, throwing your hands up in annoyance before leaning back against the bar with a sigh. She was so frustrating at times.

“ is that what you think? Is that what you want? “

“ no of course it’s not “ she was watching with a deep intensity, focussed and determined. It made you squirm “ I’ve wanted to kiss you for months “ you confessed with some new confidence “ and I know you did too “

“ oh? You know? “ she said with a small laugh, mocking again. She’d been doing that a lot. If it had been anyone else it would have pissed you off.

“ yes. I see how close you are to cracking “ you said, eyebrow raised and some cockiness dug up from god knows where. You knew it would push her buttons deliciously. She didn’t like being challenged. She didn’t like anyone attempting to one up her, get in her head and know what she was thinking. What she did enjoy was crushing that person like an ant under her boot, kicking them two pegs back where they belonged.

“ you think you know me now? Huh? “

“ I do “ she scoffed. Again.

“ you know nothing sweetheart “ her tone was growing lower. Darker. It made butterflies burst in your stomach. It was working. You were so close you could taste it. So close to kicking down those final bricks of the wall she’d built between you both.

“ I know you want me as badly as I want you “ you pushed yourself off the bar and took a few steps forward. The air was suffocating. So thick it was almost making you feel too warm “ so what’s stopping you Tess? I’m right here “ her gaze was piercing. Burning into you so intensely that you had to fight to keep up your confident facade.

“ you never listen. Do you? “ she said calmly “ I told you to be careful “ she had. A lot. But you knew there was something else below that. Something you were so close to finally reaching “ I don’t think this is you being careful “

“ I know “ she moved towards you then, slow but purposeful. Stalking. A predator hunting prey. A fox waiting to dive onto a rabbit and tear it to pieces. Backing you up until your back hit the bar again.

“ what do you want from me? Huh? “ her voice was low, gravely. It made your heart beat fast and something twist deep in your stomach. You wondered if anyone else would be scared. Intimated. If anyone else would back down and walk away. You wouldn’t. You refused.

“ you already know “ it wasnt as confident as you wanted, lower and softer. She was in your space now. She only had an inch or so on you in height, yet you felt tiny. Small. Your breath stuttered.

She nudged her fingers under your chin, tilting your face upwards so you’d look her in the eyes.

“ everyone back in town… they think you’re so good don’t they? “ she said, her eyes burning into yours. It made your knees weak “ but look at you. Listen to you “ her words were teasing. Mocking. Like she was making fun of you but you didn’t even care. You couldn’t think straight. Not with her that close, touching you, looking at you like that “ you’re not good “

“ you’re not good “

“ no “ she confirmed without missing a beat “ I’m not good. But you like that don’t you? “ did you like that she wasn’t good? That she had done bad things and had no ounce of shame about. That she would go to those lengths for the people she loved

Yes.

You did like it.

You wanted her to do those things for you. To go to those lengths.

“ I asked you a question “

“ yes “ you answered immediately, the most confident sounding thing you’d said so far “ yes I like it “

“ does Maria know you behave like this? Think like this? Does Ellie? What would they say huh? “ her other hand came up and brushed your hair away from your face, tucking it softly behind your ear. It felt too gentle in comparison to how she was talking to you “ what would they say if they knew what went on in this pretty little head of yours, hmm? “

“ I don’t know… I don’t think they know. But I’m not subtle am I? “ you tried to joke but her intensity made your breath stutter again.

“ you’re not subtle “ she confirmed “ you’re desperate “ you nodded almost instantly. What was the point in denying it when it was so clearly obvious to her?

“ and I keep pushing you away yet… you keep coming back “

“ you don’t scare me. You can tell me to be careful as much as you like. I don’t care “ that made her smile, huffing a small laugh through her nose.

“ you know the things I’ve done? “ you nodded again “ and you like them “ another nod. She was quiet again for a few moments, eyes slowly scanning down your face and to where she had her body pressed against yours “ does it make you wet? “ she asked with a smirk, your cheeks flooding with warmth at the question “ it does “ you couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Finally “ what do you want from me? “ she asked again, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip lightly. You had to fight the urge to pull her into your mouth and trap it between your teeth.

“ you “ you said simply “ I want you. I need you “ her eyes narrowed a little, the smirk still on her face. She seemed to be thinking, milling it over in her mind and you knew it would only take one more simple thing to finally make her crack completely “ don’t you want me too? “ you asked, voice full of innocence.

She spun you around, trapping you between her and the bar, her hand gripping tightly to your chin to pull you back tightly against her and brushing her lips against the shell of your ear.

“ do you know how much I do? How much I think about this? About you? “ she murmured, her lips pressing against your exposed neck “ do you know how hard it’s been for me trying to restrain myself? With you throwing yourself at me like a bitch in fuckin heat? “ you pushed your ass back against her as an answer, pushing her to finally give in. She was so close.

Her other hand slid down over your ass, unashamedly groping at you through the worn, soft denim of your jeans.

“ then stop restraining yourself. No one’s stopping you “ you wanted to sound confident and cocky, but it came out breathy and quiet.

“ you don’t know what you’re asking me for “

“ I’m asking you to fuck me. Show me how badly you’ve wanted me “ she seemed to hesitate for a moment and you pushed yourself back against her again “ you think I should be scared of you. I’m not “

“ then maybe you’re stupid “

“ maybe I am “ it seemed to be enough persuasion, as her hand moved around to the front and unbuttoned your jeans with ease.

You pushed them down as far as you could reach before she could, too desperate to get them all the way off. But your confidence seemed to vanish the moment she cupped her hand over your covered cunt, palm pressing against you in a way that made you sigh softly.

“ sensitive “ she murmured seemingly to herself, tracing her finger over the outline of your pussy lips and the small wet patch that was already forming on the cotton of your underwear “ already wet for me sweetheart? “ your brain short circuited at that. All your cockiness and confidence melting away.

“ yes. Just for you “ you could feel your underwear flooding as the words left your mouth, as silky and seductive as you could muster. And it clearly worked. She hooked her fingers into your underwear and pushed them down so you could wiggle out of them. Your cheeks burned at being exposed to her. It was what you had wanted for so long. And now it was finally happening.

You pushed yourself back against her again, urging her to touch you properly. You were desperate for it.

“ such a desperate, pathetic little thing “ she said, mocking in her words. The degrading words made you squeeze your thighs together, your cheeks flushing “ ah ah. Legs apart. Be a good girl. You’ve been throwing yourself at me for months and now you try hide from me? “ you did as you were told immediately, moving your legs apart as she slipped her hand down. Her fingers ghosted over you, barely touching at first as she wrapped her fingers around your throat to keep you held back against her.

“ you feel so good “ she murmured, her fingers simply sliding between your folds, spreading you open and gathering your arousal on the pads of her fingers “ so fuckin wet for me “ you whimpered pathetically as some kind of answer, nerves buzzing at finally being touched by her “ where’s that fuckin attitude now huh? “ she teased, still avoiding your clit “ not so brave now? No? “ you were slightly embarrassed to admit the mocking tone she kept using was simply making you wetter.

You’d be lucky if you lasted ten fucking seconds.

“ please stop teasing “ you whined like some spoilt brat, you knew it would have absolutely zero effect on her but you had no shame.

“ you think you get to make demands? Hmm? That’s not how this works “ she squeezed at your throat, sending you light headed and fuzzy, effectively rendering you speechless “ so stupid you can’t even speak “ she sighed, a mock disappointment in her words that made you whimper.

Your previous confidence was obsolete. But that was what you’d expected. What you’d wanted. You knew she’d break you.

“ you don’t get to make demands do you understand? “ she said in that sultry, stern voice as she released her grip on your neck and turned you around so she could look at you.

“ yes “ you whispered

“ you’re gonna do as you’re told “ her fingers dipped between your folds again, pressing lightly at your entrance. You clenched around nothing, like some silent request for her to just push that little bit further. You needed to know what those fingers felt like inside of you, you’d spent so long staring at them. Imagining. You couldn’t wait any longer it was torture “ and I’m gonna fuck you how I want to “ you nodded frantically, no shame in your desperation for her now. You were quite sure in that moment you’d do literally anything she asked “ and you don’t come until I tell you to okay? “

The moan that escaped your parted lips was pathetic as she finally pushed past the tight muscles at your entrance, pushing as deep as she could get.

“ there we go. That’s what you wanted isn’t it? “ you couldn’t speak, eyes falling closed as you attempted to try and figure out whether or not this was all just some incredibly vivid dream.

You were certain any second you’d wake up in your bed, having dreamt the entire goddamn thing. But the way your skin was prickling with heat, the way her fingers felt as she set herself into a steady rhythm thrusting in and out of you… it had to be real.

She was speaking to you but you couldn’t focus enough. She wasn’t even really doing much. Her rhythm was steady. Her hand not even touching your clit. Yet you were on cloud nine. Pleasure trickling through every single drop of blood in your veins, the simple fact that it was actually happening making you want to explode with joy.

You had waited so long. Worked so hard. And now it was finally in action.

When she realised you weren’t exactly listening to her, she pressed the heel of her hand against your clit so hard it made you see stars.

“ silly little girl thought she could handle it “ Tess said, sucking her teeth and sighing “ barely fuckin touching you and look at the state of you “ you almost wished you could see. Wished you had a mirror to see how much she was ruining you with such little effort.

“ I can handle it “ you mumbled, forcing yourself to focus harder “ I can “

“ you can? “

“ mhm “ she took it as a challenge. Angling her fingers at a spot inside of you you could so rarely find yourself, hitting it over and over again at a relentless pace. Her palm brushing against your throbbing clit with every single movement. Your fingers wrapped around her wrist and she removed the hand still loosely holding your neck to pull your hand away instantly.

“ hands to yourself. Did I tell you could touch me? I don’t think I did “ you resorted to gripping at the worn wood of the bar as she continued back to her previous actions.

The way she was looking at you was too intense, the way she was smiling as she fucked you. Watching every little detail of your face.

You had thought about it too long and dreamt of it for too long, that you were quite sure you were gonna come any second. It had hardly been a couple minutes and you were done already? It was quite embarrassing

“ you need to come already sweetheart? Already? “ you closed your eyes, whines and moans tumbling last your lips as you gave her a small nod. She could read you so well it was scary. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment and anticipating the inevitable mocking that was coming your way “ I thought you were better than that. Do you remember what I told you? Hmm? “

“ don’t. Don’t come until you say “ you gasped, nails scratching at the hardwood as she started circling your clit “ fuck. Tess “

“ not yet. You can take some more can’t you? This is what you wanted “ your legs began to shake as she added a third finger, stretching you out around her digits. It was almost too much at first, the surprise and the overwhelming feeling of the initial burn that quickly slipped into pleasure as she squeezed at your neck again.

You could hear your pulse hammering in your ears, throbbing in your temples. The pressure back on your clit again was the final straw. You couldn’t hold on much longer

“ Tess i need to- fuck “

“ what do you say? “ she said in a calm tone, almost bored. As if what she was doing was completely normal, like you watching a movie or something else completely mundane. Not that she was fucking you in the middle of the lodge.

“ please “ you gasped “ please Tess “ you fought to stave it off, trying to angle your hips away from her in some hopes it would move her off the spot that was making you see stars. But she had you trapped and you were stuck there “ Tess “

She milled it over for a few more moments before sighing.

“ okay. Show me what you look like when you come “ you didn’t need telling twice, letting go and gripping painfully hard to the bar as your orgasm washed over you. Your legs shook as she kept up her movements, not stopping even when you went slack. You wiggled to get out of her grasp as she kept thrusting her fingers against your sensitive walls, a squeal of a moan as she pushed against your clit.

“ Tess “ she finally let you go, withdrawing her hand and making you wince “ fuck “ she gripped at your face as you tried to catch your breath, breathing heavily as she scanned your face.

“ do you come that hard for the others? “ she asked, eyes narrowing slightly as she waited for your response.

“ no “ you whispered. She looked incredibly put together still, barely breaking a sweat, her shirt still tucked in, hair still tied up. You knew it was a stark comparison to how you looked.

You wanted to make her look messy. To make her sweat. Make her moan. Wreck that stoney facade.

But she grabbed your wrist as you reached out for the buttons of her jeans.

“ no. You don’t deserve that yet “ you whined in protest but she simply sighed and gave you that mock look of pity as she pushed your hair from your face softly “ you told me you could handle this. So you’re gonna prove it. You think you get to come once and then you’re done? No “

“ I don’t know if I can “ you said with a small laugh. Not exactly wanting to tap out but your legs were jelly. You wanted to touch her even if just to give you time to regroup. To recover. To prepare for what was next.

“ yes you can “ she said without missing a beat “ you’re not done until I say you are. I thought you said you could handle it? “ she repeated her earlier statement

“ I can “ she pulled a face of mock pity, tucking her fingers under your chin so you’d look at her

“ poor baby thought she could take it “ her voice was dripping in sarcasm and you huffed in annoyance. You could “ I thought you were better than this. once and you’re done? That’s pathetic “

“ I. Can. just- fuck can we sit?” Tess grinned at your defiance, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to one of the large couches. She sat down, pulling you onto her lap so your back pressed against her chest

“ better? “ you nodded. It actually was. Your legs had felt like utter jelly “ spread your legs “ you took a moment to comply, getting your energy back. She tapped your thigh with the back of her hand “ do as you’re told “ you complied immediately with that, letting her grab at you and move you how she wanted you “ you gonna be a good girl for me? “

“ yes “ you whispered as her arm looped around your neck, her other hand groping at your chest through the thin material of your shirt. She pressed kisses to your cheek, such gentle gestures in comparison to how she was holding you.

“ gonna be such a good girl hmm? “ she cooed, still peppering your face in kisses as she groped at you “ my pretty girl huh? “ you felt like you were floating, eyes falling closed at the blissful feeling of being called hers ‘my pretty girl’. Hers. Hers. It was softer than how she had been a few moments ago“ you’re all mine now hmm? “

“ yes “ you breathed out, her hand skimming down across your stomach towards the already sticky mess between your legs “ yes im yours. That’s all I want “ you whimpered as her fingers brushed over your sensitive clit lightly

“ of course you do. You’d do anything for me wouldn’t you? So desperate for my approval. My attention “ you nodded immediately, never more certain on anything. You’d do anything and everything she asked of you. You felt her smile against your skin at your fast answer, her teeth nipping at your ear as she slipped her fingers back into you again.

A drawn out moan left your throat at the feeling of her inside of you again. You needed it constantly. Needed her that close, apart of you. You hadn’t realised just how empty you had felt once she was back inside of you again. She loosened her hold on you slightly, replacing her arm around your neck with her hand on your throat again, barely squeezing but enough to remind you she was there. That she had that power. That she was in control. As if you’d ever think any different.

You wondered if you should be concerned by it. She had your life quite literally in her hand. But you liked it. You liked how small it made you feel. Liked the power she had over you. The dizzy feeling she gave you when she squeezed. You knew Tess liked it because she liked the power. She liked the control she had over you.

Your walls were still sensitive from before, squirming in her lap as she moved her fingers inside of you expertly. It made you wonder how she was so good. How many people had she had before you? Did she call those people hers too? Or were you different? It made jealousy rise in your chest, pushing your hips down and grinding on the hand that was fucking you. Desperate to come again in some attempt to prove to yourself that you were different.

Because you were certain it wasn’t possible for anyone to feel as good as you did in that moment. She could never have made anyone else feel like that. Never.

“ oh? Greedy girl “ she said with a small laugh, pressing the heel of her hand hard against your clit the same as she had done before in a way that made your vision flash white, your fingers digging into her skin in a way that must be painful. But she said nothing.

“ I’m yours “ you whimpered, mostly to console yourself more than ask her to confirm it “ I’m yours “

“ yes. You’re all mine “ she confirmed as you rutted against her hand, chasing your next orgasm “ my girl. My special girl that I can use however I want to, isn’t that right? “ the words were almost soft. Loving. But the tone of her voice was so different to that “ keep going. Like that. Show me how desperate you are, keep fucking yourself on my fingers. That’s a good girl “

She urged you on as you continued rutting against her hand. A few minutes ago you hadn’t been sure you could take anymore. And yet now you were chasing another orgasm.

She dropped her hand from around your throat, hand slipping under your shirt to grab at your chest. You took the opportunity to look down at where you were grinding down on her hand. You were mesmerised by the way her fingers disappeared inside of you, taking her down to the knuckles.

She had nice hands, you’d always thought that. But they looked far prettier thrusting in and out of your cunt, shiny and sticky with your arousal. You liked that. You liked the possessive feeling that swelled in your chest. She was covered in you. She was holding you. Fucking you.

“ you like watching? “ Tess said lowly in your ear, nudging her lips against your burning skin “ look at that pretty cunt. All wet for me “ she grazed her teeth over the skin of your neck and you closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of her voice. The sound of the moans spilling past your lips, the lewd wet sounds of your cunt gripping to her fingers as you rolled your hips “ how long have you been thinking about this? “ she asked in a low voice, her lips brushing your ear as she spoke “ tell me”

“ ever since- ever since you arrived in Jackson “ you confessed, trying and failing to steady your breathing “ so long “

“ how many times did you touch yourself thinking about me? Hmm? How many times did you play with this pretty pussy and wish it was me? “ her crude words made you flush and you tried to focus your thoughts

“ so many times “ you whined “ so many”

“ such a pretty head with such disgusting thoughts “ You nodded frantically in agreement, orgasm so close you could practically taste it.

“ can I come? Please. Please “

“ not yet. A little longer “ you whined in response “ you held it before. Hold it again “ you focussed all your energy on ignoring how badly you wanted to come again, ignored the throbbing of your clit and the way your walls involuntarily fluttered around her fingers “ ah. Keep watching. Eyes open, watch “ she said, noticing your eyes had fallen closed.

“ please Tess “ she ignored your plea, sucking and nipping at your neck instead. There’s no way you’d be able to hide those when you went back. She was purposefully going to make it difficult for you. Of course she was “ Tess”

“ no “ it was becoming impossible to hold it off. Was she really going to make you wait until she said?

“ Tess I can’t- “

“ do. As you’re told “ she said sternly, you could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and you tried to focus on anything other than her. Of all the people you had been with, no one had ever made you feel like that. That desperate. That hungry to climax.

The mixture of her fingers curling inside of you and her lips and tongue soothing the tender skin on your neck, it was pure heaven. Like one of your dreams plucked right from your head and brought to life.

The only thing that would make it better was if she’d just fucking let you come.

She worked at your neck for another minute or so, even taking a moment to admire her work. It felt like an eternity before she finally sighed and hummed in appreciation at the bruises blossoming on your skin, before finally giving you the permission you were craving.

“ you can come now “ you felt her smile at the animalistic sound that left your throat, body shaking as you came for the second time. You tried to close your legs, trap her hand where it was but she slapped your thigh and pushed your legs apart again “ I didn’t say you could move did I “ she let her grasp on you loosen when you squirmed away from her touch, shifting onto the couch beside her and running a hand through your hair. Needing to escape the overstimulation she was trying to give.

“ oh man “ you sighed as you steadied your breathing again, dropping your head backwards and closing your eyes. You were exhausted.

You wondered how long you’d been there. How long did you have to run over your return time before someone came looking? What would they say if they saw you like that? Completely fucked out, with Tess of all people. What would Ellie say if she found out you were basically fucking her mom.

Tess’ hands gentle grabbed at your face, making you look at her again.

“ don’t go falling asleep on me now sweetheart “ you couldnt even focus on her properly. Your body ached. There was a dull throb between your legs. You wanted to go home and sleep for the rest of the day. Maybe with her. Cuddled up in her bed, in sheets that smelt like her, in her clothes.

She wouldn’t let you do such a thing though.

“ is there something more interesting to you? “ she tapped your cheek with the back of her hand, pulling your full focus back onto her again “ look at you “ she mused, a smug smile pulling at her lips and her eyes dragging over you in a way that was almost mocking “ nothing going on in that pretty little head is there? No. Dumb little thing “

“ not dumb “ you mumbled “ not “ she scoffed

“ then give me one more? “ everything was too much, your entire body buzzing and frazzled and unable to pinpoint exactly where pleasure was seeping into pain “ one more. And we can stop “ a sick, sadistic part of you didn’t even want her to stop. You wanted her to keep going on and on and on until your body gave out on you, wanted her to fuck you until you passed out. You wondered for a moment if she would. No.

You knew she would.

She was getting off on breaking you, on snapping every support you had keeping you standing, squashing you into a helpless heap on the floor. And you loved it. Craved it.

“ one more” you whispered and she smiled, shifting your legs off of where you’d draped them over her lap.

“ let me taste that pretty little pussy “ the words made you whimper, but you were more than happy to oblige to her wishes. Who were you to decline her? It might be your one and only chance.

You let her position you how she wanted , like some rag doll with no control of her limbs. Pulling you by the hips over her face and guiding you down.

You should’ve known her tongue would be just as skilful as her fingers. Strong and wet on the sensitive skin of your cunt, flicking over your clit in a way that made your veins feel as though they were filled with pure electricity. Sharp sparks running through your limbs and making your legs twitch at the overstimulating feeling.

It was almost painful. You’d never been kept going that long. You were achy. Sore. But you also didn’t want her to stop.

She was more gentle now, easing you over the bump in the road so that it simply morphed into pleasure again.

You let her hold your hips, move you how she wanted, dragging the flat of her tongue over every inch she could reach. It felt so good. So unbelievably good that tears sprung in your eyes again.

Tess noticed.

“ fuck you look so pretty when you cry. Are those tears for me sweetheart? You wanted this didn’t you? This is what you wanted “ you couldn’t give her an answer, your brain was mush. Your legs were shaking. You weren’t entirely sure how much longer you could keep yourself upright. She pulled you back down, brain fuzzy as she fucked your practically abused hole with her tongue. Her fingers still digging into your hips to urge you to move, rocking you lightly against her face.

She lapped at you like she was starved. Humming her appreciation against you, making you gasp and groan at the vibrations it sent through you.

You didn’t ask for her permission to come. Didn’t have the energy. It hit you as blindingly hard as the others, your body shaking and pathetic squealing moans leaving your throat as she held you in place. She didn’t let up in her movements, her tongue still frantic and nose brushing your clit every time you squirmed. She held you there even when you tried to move away, vision blurring as she dragged her tongue over your oversensitive cunt until you were certain you were going to fall.

And at the last moment she let you go, letting you move away as you attempted to catch your breath. You were cautious that you might be slightly crushing her and attempted to stand and move only to give up and slump in a heap on the floor, head lolling back onto the couch.

You felt broken. Completely and utterly ruined. Your bones were liquid, muscles as useful as a newborn baby’s. A smile crept its way onto your face though. You had gotten exactly what you’d wanted. You heard Tess moving around behind you before her hands grabbed at you, tugging at you so you were cradled in her arms as she sat next to you on the floor.

“ you did so well “ she cooed “ I’m impressed “ you nudged your face against her neck and smiled again, she smelt like sweat and the pine soap from the store in town. It was soothing.

“ was i worth the waiting? “ you whispered, your cockiness returning. It made her chuckle

“ what do you think? “ you wondered how this would change things. You hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead. Would this just be a one time thing? Would she go back to avoiding you now? You didn’t know. But you guessed even if she did, at least you’d had this.

#tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos #the last of us #tlou #Anna torv #Tess servopoulos smut #tlou tess #Ellie Williams #maria miller #she’s in it for like. 10 seconds but she’s there #joel miller is mentioned lmao #smut #x you #x reader

[whiskeynwriting]

Recovery

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones” 

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Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Trauma, physical therapy, some reader descriptions (strong/muscles), dirty talk, size kink, grinding/dry humping, mentions of male masturbation, spanking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of smoking, tattoos.

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A/N: Hope y’all aren’t getting sick of Ghost x Bones because they’re not leaving anytime soon lol. Also this gif has my HEART, baby has some makeup in his eye lol

ALSO also, thank you to @thesleepingmusicneek for honestly just being an amazing fucking friend but for helping me SO much with my writing 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

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Nothing but scribbles stumble across the page, now disfigured with angry wrinkles. And the writer, no more frustrated than he is stubborn, sitting with the pencil’s tip just at the paper’s edge. What’s worse than watching him struggle, is knowing there’s little to nothing you can do about it. This journey is up to him; his progress, his growth, his recovery, it’s all in his hands. 

“This is bullocks.” Finally, he tosses the pencil down with an aggressive huff. “Never even was a lefty.”

“That’s not the point.”

Looking away with a frown, he mumbles, “I know.”

Simon’s physical therapist tries his best, he really does, but his patient is stubborn, and these injuries are unforgiving. Having you here is the main thing that keeps Simon going, out of both pride and general encouragement. In the therapist’s eyes, your open sass doesn’t help. But hey, it’s how the two of you bond. 

“Try it this way, Ghost.” He then offers, speaking into the growing silence. 

“I’ve already tried it that way. Fuckin’ hurts!” His left hand wasn’t ever his strongest or most favored out of the two, but practicing his writing skills is a step in the right direction in regard to his healing. 

Sometimes, this was embarrassing for him, having you watch him struggle. But even through the bad days, and the really bad days, he insisted that you come. Your support meant more to him than anything, and you were glad to tag along. He found great offense in the mere offer of you leaving, which was suggested many times by his therapist. They claimed he’d focus better without you there. A fucking distraction. 

“She’s my doctor,” He’d state firmly, eyes burning holes into his PT. “Not you.”

And this was true. Price had allowed you to be Simon’s main physician, figuring there really wasn’t anyone better. You had both personal and professional reason to be here. So, Simon’s physical therapist can suck it. 

“Perhaps if we had some privacy, maybe -”

“This again?!” Ghost shouts, and you try your best to hide your chuckle. He should’ve known better than to bring this up now, when Simon is most frustrated. “Bloody fuckin’ hell, how many times do I have to tell you?!”

“Hey,” Laying a hand on his forearm, you request gently, “Take a breath.”

Regardless of his deep inhale, Simon’s dark eyes continue to glare at the physician. Though, as irritated as he may seem now, Ghost truly has come a long way. He’s gotten a lot of feeling back in his feet and legs, and can even wiggle his toes and feel pain. On this area of his body, the therapist has moved onto moving his entire foot. 

“Why don’t we try the lower extremities?” 

“‘S difficult, too.” Glancing away, Simon focuses on the view past the windowpane. It’s a sunny day, soon to rain but nice enough now. 

The soft rub of your thumb on his forearm is what pulls him back, nodding with a sigh. “Alright, fine.”

Redirecting his focus to his feet, Simon concentrates, determined to do… something. He’s been instructed to wiggle his toes, which he does successfully. And the gentle squeeze you give him offers the slightest bit of encouragement. 

“Alright, now let’s try your ankle. Start with the right one.” 

“Rotate it fully?” Scoffing, he raises a brow.

His therapist shrugs. “Any movement at all.”

Narrowing his eyes, Simon zones in on his right foot, doing anything he can to make it move. A twitch, a wiggle, anything. But by his quick yet shallow breaths, his small grunts, you can tell he’s becoming agitated again. 

“Be patient with your body.”

“My body can do so much more than this.” He spits out in return. 

“Yeah?” You return, not one to take his sass. “Then show me.” 

There was nothing more motivating than your snarky remarks, always ready to challenge the man you love. And wouldn't you know it, a small shudder runs through his ankle. The way Simon’s head immediately snaps up toward you makes you grin, his eyes wide with little crinkles on the side, evidence of his eager smile. It's like he himself was surprised by it, and to say you’re proud of him would be an understatement. 

“Way to go, big boy.” With the widest grin, you congratulate him. “You’re making progress.”

And even though he doesn’t respond, he keeps his smile. He’s proud of himself, too.

*

*

*

Subtle glances, small brushes or touches, cheeky grins and flirtatious laughs, that’s what accounts for your interactions. And while your exchanges have been sweet, they’ve also been dulled, in a way. The fire doesn’t seem to be there anymore. Your love still grows, is still everlasting, but the desire you had for one another, it’s faded.

Or at least, it seems that way. 

The first few months of Simon’s recovery were the most difficult. Getting him stable was more important than anything, and you were by his side through it all. You weren’t thinking sexually, those thoughts weren’t anywhere near your headspace, not when you were so worried. But the more Simon healed, the more touchy he should be, right? It makes sense in your head. Going so long without so much as kissing or even hugging you, you’d assumed he’d want to put his hands on you as soon as he got the chance. 

The injuries on Ghost’s face and head have healed, externally, at least. So, he’s been lifting his mask more around you, but only to the tip of his nose. And you wonder if he regrets showing himself to you. But even with that thought lingering heavily in your head, you also wonder, why hasn’t he kissed me yet? Why hasn’t he initiated anything? A small hug? A peck on the lips? Anything? Honestly, it feels like you’re losing him all over again.

Simon has shown his love for you through his actions and words. The two of you don’t often say it, but it comes up every now and then. His physical intentions, though, those were much more prominent. They came in the form of voicing his requests for you to stay, whether it be at his therapy sessions or just throughout the day. He wasn’t shy about that. Occasionally, he’d compliment you, call you smart and sweet, call you his doctor, his girl. But nothing more, nothing even remotely sexual. And it’s strange because Simon used to be so sexual. Even when he couldn't do much with you, couldn't he have said something to express his physical interest? 

On the other end, Ghost’s worrying about this topic just as much as you. While you’ve been waiting for him to make a move, he’s been waiting on you. His body has always been scarred, mutilated with cuts that ran deep and marred with burns over his flesh. But he wasn’t insecure about any of that, not until these recent injuries. He knows he looks different, especially on his left arm and legs, even his face a little bit. Simon hasn’t felt truly insecure in decades, but that rotten feeling has now been clawing at the insides of his chest, breaking free and wreaking havoc on his mind. 

Simon wanted to give you space, give you the option of turning away. He wouldn’t blame you, this wasn’t exactly part of the package. Besides, you can’t help it if you’re not attracted to him anymore because of these injuries. He’d understand it. It’d crush his entire being, but he’d understand. 

And so, he waits, wondering if the day will come where you’ll make a move, where you’ll show him that you’re still attracted to him. But he refuses to bring it up to you, he doesn’t want to push. 

“‘M sorry,” Simon grumbles quietly, somberly. 

“You don’t have to be.” His regret is obvious, and you appreciate the gesture of him apologizing. But you’re used to his attitude during those sessions, and you honestly don’t blame him one bit. You can’t imagine how frustrating this situation would be if it were you personally. 

Moving about the room, you clean up your station, sorting notes into files and wiping down the desk. And Simon watches you with thoughtful eyes, hoping for a chance to reconnect. You’re the most precious and special thing he’s ever had the pleasure of possessing. But not possess in a way of dominance, possess in a way like his own soul possesses his body. Natural, connected, at peace. 

“How was your day?” He asks, voice low and muddled by the rain tapping against the windowpane. 

Without turning, you respond with, “Normal. Nothing too crazy.” 

“What was your favorite part?” Simon pries gently, not wanting the conversation to end.

Now, you do turn. Leaning back against the edge of your desk, you grin. “Spending it with you.”

And it’s true. Regardless of the worries slowly but surely consuming you, it was nice to be with him. 

Swallowing, his pulse becomes thunderous in his ears, heart beating against his chest. He wants you, wants to feel you next to him. So, with great hesitancy, he requests, “C’mere.”

Excitement shoots through your limbs as you all too quickly prance over to him, ecstatic that he’s even asked. And your eagerness makes him smirk beneath the mask. Sitting yourself down on one of those round, swiveling chairs, you rest beside his left arm. Out of curiosity, you look down, eyeing his decorated forearm. His tattoos no longer look the same, some of them having changed with the healing of his stitches. 

“Bunch of bullshit.” Ghost murmurs, glancing down, too. “Paid good money for those.”

Laughing, you give your head a single shake. “They still look hot as hell.”

Eyes widening, he speaks before he can stop himself. “Really?”

With you being so close to him again, and now complimenting him, he feels like he’s soaring. 

“Fuck yeah.” You respond, as if it were obvious. To you, it is.

Impulsively, you lay a hand over his forearm, fingers brushing the black and white ink. And for a split second, it feels electric on his skin. But you’re quick to flinch away, wide eyes staring up at him. “I’m so sorry, did that hurt?”

But all he does is shrug. “Not at all. Stitches are healed, love.” 

Love. You swoon. 

“So, I can touch you?” It obviously isn’t meant to come off dirty, but Ghost’s brain registers it as that, anyway. 

“Of course you can.” He nearly blurts out, his tone hopeful and welcoming. And immediately, you’re wrapping both hands around his sleeve. The small hum he exudes prompts you to glance up, grinning at the sight. Ghost has closed his eyes, chest releasing a relaxing breath. 

“Feels nice.”

“Just this?” Humored doubt laces your tone. 

“Feels like ages since you’ve touched me.” 

His words twist the thoughts collecting in your head into something new. Has he… he’s wanted me to touch him?

“I know…” The way you say it expresses your sadness, your regret. “Just need you to heal, ya know?”

Because of what he’s now said, you feel the need to explain yourself, explain why you haven’t fulfilled his expectations. Throughout this entire healing process, you focused mostly on his physical health. You never once thought to tend to his emotional wellbeing. It’s a failure, on your end. 

“Does it,” Inhaling a motivating breath, he finishes with, “Does it bother you?”

“What?”

Lifting his arm slightly, he gestures to himself. “These stitches, the injuries.” 

Twisting your face in confusion, you lean back a bit. “Um… no? Why would they?”

“Just… missed your touch, is all.” He’s mumbling, quiet and very obviously insecure. “Missed you.”

“Baby… I’m so sorry.” All at once, regret hits you like a truck. He’s been suffering, and you’ve done nothing. “I’m sorry I haven’t done more for you.”

“You’ve done everything you needed to.”

“No, I haven’t. How could I let you feel this way?” 

An abrupt knock on the door dissipates your conversation into seemingly nothing. Instantly, you pull your hands away from him, turning in your chair to greet whoever’s about to approach. And to your delight, it’s Johnny.

“Hey Lt.” He grins, walking in and giving you a nod. “Lovely Bones.”

There’s that flirtatious nature again. As always, Ghost knew it meant nothing, not really. But now that he feels like you’re falling through his fingers, he wants to tighten his grasp now more than ever, wants to pull you back into his chest and never let you go, whisper all the sweet things he’s been dying to tell you. Especially when another man compliments you.

“How’ve ya been?” Striding forward, Johnny takes a seat opposite of Ghost’s bed. Spreading his legs and leaning in on his knees, he flashes that cheeky smile, giving Simon his full attention.

“I’ve been fine, Johnny. Nothing new.” Simon answers simply, almost in a kind of brain fog. Switching conversations so quickly is difficult for him, still trying to regain his focus from the incident. 

“See your scars are healin’ up nicely.” Pointing to his forearm, he nods. “That’s good to see.”

“Yeah, messed up my bloody ink, though.”

“Ah,” Soap waves a hand, “Looks better that way.” 

The team visited Simon fairly frequently. And since you’re by his side for ninety-five percent of the day, you get to see the guys every time they come by. Oftentimes, they’d bring him little treats, a snack from the cafeteria or his favorite energy drink. And while Ghost knew they had the best intentions, their pity disgusted him. Sometimes he wished they would just leave him alone. Especially now, considering the two of you were in the middle of a rather important discussion. 

“Oh!” Johnny then says, startling you. Reaching into his back pocket, he retrieves a small package. Tossing it Simon’s way, Soap says, “Know you like these.”

Catching it easily, Simon reads the wrapping. A Snickers, he can’t remember the last time he had one of these. And that was mainly due to his brain injury. 

“Thanks, Johnny.”

“I know all this can’t be easy, Si. I’m for you, ya know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ghost sighs, staring down at the candy bar. Johnny rarely called him Si, and it tugs at his heartstrings. 

Soap can feel something is off in the room, the energy is just weird. He’s been wanting to ask about your relationship, but hasn’t had the balls to. He doesn’t want to make either of you uncomfortable and hasn’t had the chance to be alone with Simon or you. 

“Well, I’ll let you lovebirds be.” Smiling cheekily, he stands. “I’ll visit again soon, yeah, Lt.?”

“‘Course, Johnny.” 

Before Johnny leaves, he offers you a hug, strong arms embracing you fully. And you rest against him, leaning into his sturdy frame. He’s been a great part of your support system since all of this happened; Simon’s injuries have only brought you and Johnny closer together. 

“It’ll be alright, yeah, sweetheart?” He sighs quietly against your head. Nodding, you take in a steadying breath.

“Yeah, it’ll be alright.” 

Another knock, another groan from your end. “Come in.”

Opening the door is the other half of the medical team assigned to Ghost, making their way in so they can clean. Their tasks were to change the sheets, wash Simon and his clothes, wipe down surfaces and mop the floor, the list goes on. And while you were more than happy to do these things, Simon wouldn't allow it. Ghost’s recovery prompted new boundaries to arise in your relationship, lines that he was firm on setting. The first regarding this exact circumstance; you already cared for him medically and he refused for you to do anymore, he didn’t want you to be his full time caregiver. He would never want to burden you with that, and he knows it would cause nothing but strife in your relationship. Besides, the mere thought of you changing his bedpan and regularly washing his sheets was humiliating. So, whenever it was time for those types of tasks, you left, fulfilling other duties. 

But why did they have to come now? 

“I’ll, um…” Turning back to Simon, you see he’s already looking toward you with a pleading gaze. Stay. 

All you want to do is stay. 

But at the same time, Simon doesn’t want you to see him this way. 

“I’ll… see you later, Si.”

Swallowing, Simon’s rough voice then appears. “Babe,”

Immediately, your eyes widen, if only ever so slightly. For him to call you that in the presence of others speaks volumes. Sure, Price had you sign those HR papers about workplace relationships, but you hadn’t exactly made it known to others after that. The two of you favored your privacy. But right now, that simple word is speaking louder than anything else he could’ve said.

“C’mere for a sec.” Grunting, he does his best to reach out to you, using his left arm. And as soon as he does it, Johnny is letting you go, wanting you to meet Simon’s gentle plea.

Leaving the sergeant’s arms, you do just that, stepping over to Simon’s bedside. Placing both of your hands in his left, you grin, looking into those deep, warm eyes of his. 

“You’ll come back, yeah?” Ghost asks quietly, your team beginning to work around him.

“Of course, I will.”

“Eh, won’t be long.” Johnny chimes in, “She can come hangout with me and the boys, get a game of pool in.”

“Sounds lovely.” You return with a murmur, eyes not leaving Simon’s. “I’ll be back later, baby.” And that, coupled with the kiss you give his palm, is shocking to your team. Though it sends waves of butterflies through Simon’s stomach. 

These public displays of affection are entirely foreign to your relationship, but you’re both basking in the sweetness of it. And maybe this is the perfect time for you to explore it, for you to outwardly show your love and attraction for him just when he needs it most. 

On your way out, Johnny doesn’t mention the way every single person’s eyes widen in the room when your affectionate nicknames are exchanged, or the way a few heads turn. He chooses to stay silent, smiling to himself while leading you out of the room. 

*

*

*

Returning to a sleeping Simon is bittersweet. You’re glad he’s resting, but you’d do anything to finish your earlier conversation. But it’s late, and you figure at this point, you’ll have to wait until morning.

The rainfall makes you tired, too, yawning as you walk further in. It was only three days into Simon’s recovery that you started sleeping in his room, bringing a small, foldable cot for you to curl up on. His bed wasn’t big enough for the two of you, and besides, you’re pretty sure Price would light a fire up both your asses if he caught you snoozing next to him. 

As quietly as you can, you unfold your small bed and bring it to the side of his. It sits lower, but Simon often made up for that by dropping his arm, letting you hold onto his hand throughout the night. But with him asleep, you don’t think you’ll get that luxury tonight. Nevertheless, you curl up in your blanket, resting only in your underclothes as you doze off beside him. 

“Miss you.”

That rumbling voice almost scares you in the near silence, your body jolting ever so slightly. When did he wake up? Still, those two simple words make your insides burn bright. 

Lips curling happily, you mutter, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Quietly, you then ask, “Want me to come up there?” It’s happened once or twice before, but only for some cuddles. Simon’s grown quite accustomed to your touch. 

With a heavy sigh, he gives in. “You know I do.”

Absolutely thrilled with his request, you pop right up, situating yourself on the right side of his bed. Simon likes it best when you curl up on this side, allowing him to wrap his good arm around you. Cuddling into him, you revel in the closeness - you haven’t done this in weeks. He’s resting on his back, the same position he always sleeps in. And with you by his side, he turns his head in your direction, releasing a contented breath. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” He says to you sweetly, fondly, covered lips pressing to the top of your head. 

“Hm…” Sighing happily, you twine your legs between his much bulkier appendages, draping an arm across his abdomen. You’re so happy he still wants this, wants you and this relationship. 

“Cozy?” He chuckles, eyes closed as he grins. 

“Mhm,” Snuggling further into him, he can feel your smile press against his bare skin. Ghost usually slept nearly naked, only black boxers hugging his body. And you liked it best this way, for multiple reasons. One being that you’re able to see more of his tattoos. He has some on his chest, one reaching up to his collarbones and neck. And you just love them, found them incredibly interesting and undeniably sexy.

“Love this…” Tracing a particularly larger tat, your smile becomes brighter than ever. “Love the way you feel.” 

“Yeah? Even when I’m like this?” His tone expresses the dry humor he’s far too familiar with, the same dry humor that covers up his emotions. 

“Big teddy bear.” And that makes him fully laugh. “Strong.”

“Don’t feel too strong.”

Simon was never one to be insecure of his body, of the multitude of scars on it. Cuts that dug deep, burns that marred his skin, none of it bothered him, not even when he showed himself to you like this. What did bother him, though, was the fact that he looked weak. He couldn't stand it, and to say his ego was taking a hit would be an understatement. 

“Baby,” With a heavy breath, you shake your head lightly beneath him. “You’re so fucking hard on yourself.”

All he does is grunt in response, becoming quite pensive. Though, he tries not to be. Getting lost in his thoughts wasn’t something Simon liked doing. Lucky for him, your hand serves as a distraction. Running your palm down his torso, you take this opportunity to feel the muscles along his stomach and ribs, the v-line leading down to his pelvis. And it makes him shiver with anticipation. 

You’re not sure how to start this conversation again, mainly because of how distracted you’ve become. Feeling Simon’s naked body always made you feel excited inside, always made you feel eager and lustful. But you want to care for him emotionally, too. 

“I hope you know how much I still love you.” Continuing to lower your hand, you suddenly feel Simon’s chest dip, releasing a heated breath. “How much I love your body…”

“Hm…” The further you get, the more interested he becomes. The fact that you still find him appealing, even like this, it’s repairing his ego bit by bit. Truthfully, it’s everything he’s needed. “Miss you touchin’ me…” 

“Do you miss this, too?” Lightly, ever so lightly, you cup him over his clothes. And the gentle stimulation is more than enough to arouse him.

The intimacy you share with Simon is addicting, and the withdrawal has been a bitch. But just like that, as soon as you get the tiniest taste, you’re hooked all over again. 

“Fuck, yes.” Groaning in frustration, he forces out a breath. And fuck you’ve missed that, hearing the eager roughness to his tone. “Been so long since I’ve had you.” 

Feeling your hand on his crotch like that, it lights a fire inside him. All over again, he wants you, wants to throw you down on this bed and take you. Shove himself inside until you’re fluttering, spurting with cum before he releases his own. Hold you down and make you take it, for however long he likes. Rub his face over your chest, down the valley between your breasts, sucking on their soft flesh. Haul your leg up over his waist and grab a fistful of your ass, spanking it until the pain turns into something irresistibly sweet. 

But he can’t. He physically can’t. 

The arm holding you tightens against your body, against your own strong muscles. Irritation courses through his veins, knowing he can’t do much but god damn if he won’t try to do what he can. Turning his head, he ducks down, pressing his covered lips to your own with a forceful breath. Easily, wholeheartedly, you embrace him, hand lifting to cup his jaw. Your mouth presses to the shape of his lips, the covered kiss far too teasing for the current moment. 

“Baby, can we? Please?” Sliding down ever so slightly, your fingertips graze the edge of his mask, wanting desperately to see him; any part of him.

“I… I want to, B.” The hesitancy in his voice is worrying. “But it just… it won’t be the same.” 

Even through the mask, you can feel his breath, experiencing the humid touch of it against your face. 

“I don’t care how it is, I just want it. I want you, Simon. I’ve missed you so fucking much.” Impatiently, you tug on his mask, leaning up against to press your mouth to his skull covering. It’s needy, it’s wanting, so openly throwing yourself at him he honestly can’t believe it. He hasn’t seen you like this in far too long, and he’d be an idiot to let this opportunity go, especially when it’s all he’s fucking thought about.

The way your tongue slides out, pressing against the white and black fabric, it makes him growl with passion. Quickly, yet shakily, his left hand rises, flipping the edge of his mask up before grabbing onto your jaw. Squishing your cheeks a bit he brings you in, bare lips crashing into your own. Open mouths press together, wet and warm and familiar. And those thick fingers dig into the fabric along your hip, wishing it were bare skin. 

“Baby,” With your fingernails scraping down his chest, you have to stop yourself from digging in too deeply. But it’s difficult when he’s kissing you like this, when he’s shoving his tongue inside your mouth so he can map it out all over again. “How could you ever think I’m not attracted to you?” 

The air leaving your chest is instantly sucked back in, your chest rising and falling as you feel Simon’s hand glide down your waist. He’s bringing you in even closer, pressing your body to his, feeling your warmth. 

“Don’t you know how fucking sexy you are, Simon?”

“Get up here,” That gruff voice suddenly demands, “On my lap, B.” 

He doesn’t have to ask you twice, your eager movements are evidence of that. Slipping your shorts and panties down your legs, you leave them on the cot as you slide easily on top of him. Your thighs encase his hips as you make yourself comfortable on him, center lowered right onto his. And your lips don’t even leave, he wouldn’t allow it.

“That’s so good…” Both of Simon’s hands now fall to your hips, holding onto you firmly. 

The way his teeth nip at your lips makes you sigh, little whines spilling from your mouth when they turn into bites. And all at once, his hands are roaming your body, sliding up beneath your shirt to feel your bare stomach, the skin of your hips and sides. The way you’re embracing each other is so lustful, so impassioned and fervent. It’s like it’s the first time all over again.

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” His words make you laugh, but he’s insistent. “Every goddamn day, whether you’re working or not, even on that bloody mission, you’re stunning, B.” 

“Simon,” You begin to protest, but he continues, mouthing at your lips as he bursts with praise for you. 

“Such a pretty girl for me,” Your lover says, hips beginning to grind up against you. “Always so pretty…” 

“Ugh, I fucking missed you. I need you, Si. I need this.” Holding his face with both hands, you lean in, resting your forehead over his own as you begin to meet his gentle thrusts. “I don’t give a shit how many scars you have, how many injuries I have to see through. I’m here, Simon. I’m here and I’m not fucking leaving you.”

“I love you.” He suddenly blurts out, as if he’d been dying to say it this entire time. “I can’t lose you, B. Never opened myself up to anyone but you.” 

“I know, baby. I know… and I love everything you’ve given me. Everything you are.”

“Not everything.” Giving his head a quick shake, hands guiding the sway of your hips over him. 

“Everything.” 

Your correction prompts Simon’s direct eye contact, a small pause in this heated moment. Flickering between your irises, Ghost’s own pupils widen, filled with something akin to adoration, something made of lust and absolute devotion. 

“Simon,” Whining quietly, you resume your subtle shifts over his lap, his own hips easily resuming their pace, too. “Please, I need you again, baby.” 

“I, I just… it won’t be the same, Bones.” But he’s still kissing you, still grinding up against your sensitive core and breathing the air puffing past your lips. And you can feel him, having fully hardened and sitting firm between your legs. 

“I don’t fucking care, Simon. If you want this, tell me. And I’ll make it happen.”

“Yeah? And what’ll you do?” He asks, grinning while lifting his good hand to the back of your head.

“Ride you,” Panting, you grind yourself over the thickness of the erection rising steadily in his briefs. “Just like I used to.”

Betraying his rotten inner emotions, the ones that had convinced him you no longer saw him with the same desire in your eyes, a smirk forms on those smooth lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Devouring him, your tongue slides into his mouth, swallowing his moan while dragging the wet muscle over his own. But he quickly takes the lead, using the hand on your head to move you how he likes. He takes great pleasure in this, in having some semblance of control while you’re like this. 

“Fuck, do it.” He finally decides, his entire body shuddering with desire. “Fucking do it.”

Instantly, you’re dropping one hand from his face and reaching for his boxers. You find him easily, pulling aside the fabric and watching as he practically jumps into your hand. 

“Christ,” Red and leaking, throbbing, Simon’s cock weighs heavy in your hand.

“Excited?” Grinning wildly, you lean in, running the tip of your nose over his cheek. 

“Very.” Evidenced by the liquid warmth drooling from his cockhead, he’s correct. 

Running your thumb over his slit, you take great pride in watching him twitch. “Don - Don’t tease. Just put it in.”

It’s too damn easy for you to listen to him, to follow his every command. Lifting yourself, your eyes fall to the sight you’ve so dearly missed. And with both of you watching, you line him up with your entrance, licking your lower lip with anticipation. 

“C’mon, come down now…” His hands are pulling on your hips, becoming impatient. “Put the tip of my cock against that pretty little hole.”

Fuck, you missed this, the way he talked to you during times like this. He was always so good with it.

“Mm…” Slowly, you sink down, inch by thick inch. The whine that slips past your lips is shrill, feeling his head spread you open. But Simon is quick to hush you, bringing you in for a bruising kiss. 

“You can do it, just like before.” He says to you through sweet, wet kisses. 

“Simon…”

“Just like that, just like that, princess.” His hands continue to urge you on, pulling you down onto him. “What happened, huh? Get a little tighter without me around?”

“F-Fuck,” Dropping your head onto his shoulder boosts his confidence incredibly; your submissive side is coming out again, and it’s making him feel dominant. 

“Oh, just look at the way it stretches for me, Christ…��� Feeling your velvety inside envelope his tip, it’s almost too much for him. “Such a good pussy.”

“Baby…” Turning your head, you press a flurry of fervent kisses to his mask. “I’ve needed you for so long, you don’t know how bad I’ve missed this.” 

“I know, trust me.” Releasing a dry laugh, Simon’s eyes raise with awareness. 

Clinging to his shoulders, you gasp when he finally bottoms out inside you, sitting entirely over his pelvis. And with your ass flush against his lap, he throbs violently against your walls, every thick vein pulsing beneath your core’s hot squeeze.

“Sweetheart,” Taking in a lungful of air, he says, “You know how many times I’ve thought about this? Thought about fuckin’ you again? Thought about this sweet ass on my lap, about the way this pretty pussy grips me…” 

 “Tell me,” Clinging to his shoulders, your nails dig into him once again, lips pressing to his neck. “Please tell me.”

Wrapping his right arm around your back, he pulls you flush against his chest. The sudden movement knocks you away from his neck, with Simon’s lips returning to yours all over again. The embrace is sweet and smooth, his talented lips captivating your attention. 

“Whenever you weren’t here… I took every goddamn opportunity. Fucked my fist to the thought of you, B. But, ngh…” Feeling you wiggle over his lap, he grunts. “It’s never the same. Not even bloody close.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Using those broad shoulders as leverage, you lift yourself, setting a steady pace over him. 

“Christ,” Head lolling back, his eyes follow. “Didn’t, fuck… didn’t want to pressure you.”

“I like when you do that to me. Make me feel small, and needed.” 

The stride you continue with over Simon’s lap is baffling to him, riddling his body with overstimulation. Every time you meet his pelvis, you grind down onto him, onto the grown-out hairs surrounding his base. 

“You’re always needed.” He whispers to you, kissing your cheek as it rests beside him. “Fucking hell, princess, I can feel you dripping down my shaft.” 

The sound your wetness creates resonates throughout the room, prompting a bashfulness to rise hotly in your cheeks. Dropping your forehead to his shoulder, you moan openly into his ear, feeling both of those broad hands lower to your cheeks. Summoning every ounce of strength he has, he bounces you down onto his lap, punching himself into your depths. And every thrust he gives shoves him even deeper inside, his tip nudging your most sensitive skin. 

“No,” He then seethes, moving his head in your direction. “Don’t hide yourself from me, not now. Not when I finally have you again.”

But when he turns his head to the side, his mask shifts, a bout of frustration rising within him. “Fucking, ngh.”

It’s a quick decision, one he makes out of genuine love for you. 

Reaching up, Simon tears his mask from his head, tossing it to the floor and grabbing your face again. Before you can get a good look at him, his mouth is on you, the hand he used on his mask now pawing at your breasts. 

“Take it off, love. Take this off for me.” 

But you’re still processing the fact that he just took off his mask, and you want to see him. He doesn’t let you, though, he’s too busy tugging at the ends of your shirt. So, you oblige him, leaning back to lift it from your torso. Just as it leaves your head, Simon is lifting his chin up to your chest, mouth enveloping your left nipple. 

“Baby, let me,” Hands holding his head, your own tips back, mouth falling agape with a graceful moan. 

Ghost’s mouth sucks on you fervently, tongue flicking over the delicate peak before biting at it ever so gently. 

“Please let me see you.”

Insecurity overtakes him then, now that you’ve fully asked. And you can tell - he practically curls in on himself. 

“You don’t want me to?” And with that gentle inquiry, he’s taking in a steadying breath, eyes beginning to lift. 

From beneath his brow, those dark eyes lift to yours, chin following soon after. And for the first time since this horrid incident, you’re seeing him, fully seeing him. 

“No,” Giving his head a light shake, he stares into your dazzling orbs. “Don’t stop, babe. Please, don’t.” 

And you want to listen, want to give him what he wants but it’s hard when you’re witnessing the beauty of Simon’s face. The scars, the cuts and curves, his nose and jawline, all of his features coming together as one, once again. The memory of his face was once a painful thought, but now… it can be replaced. 

“It’s so nice to see you again, baby.” 

The strength of his arms and hands continues your movement, pushing you forward onto his chest. Here, he nuzzles into you, arms securing themselves around your midsection. Simon’s nose rubs against your neck, committing your scent, your feel, to memory. 

“Only for you.” He murmurs, placing a tender kiss. “Can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.” 

“You’re everything I need.” Grinding up into your center, he forces a gasp from your chest, spreading your cheeks until slight pain begins to bloom. “Christ, I’m not going to last long like this, not with these gorgeous fucking tits pressed against me like this.”

“Baby, we need this more… can we please? Please?”

“Every chance we get.” Nipping at your ear, the low groan he exudes sends a shiver right through you. 

The pleasurable waves flowing through your hips are nothing compared to the sharp jolts of ecstasy every thrust of his hips gives. At times, you think about how foolish he is to think that his strength has left him, what with the way his muscles bend and ripple with every firm grab, every harsh slap he now delivers. 

“Look at me.” Ghost demands in that deep, rough tone. “Look at me, and listen well.”

Lifting your head, you do just that, memorizing every feature of his face. Subconsciously, your hand lifts, cupping his clean jawline with your thumb stroking his cheek. 

“You’re mine, understand? Mine to fucking keep. And there’ll be no more misunderstandings between us.”

“No more,” Shaking your head, you hold his gaze, lips parting from his continued movements. “F-Fuck.”

“You gonna cum for me, huh? Just like you used to? Back when you first cared for me, back when we’d smoke in the Jeep…”

“Yes,” You don’t want to look away from him, but your head drops regardless. The pleasure flowing through your thighs turns every muscle you have to jelly, the wetness growing beneath you evidence of this. “I miss it.”

“Then give it to me, before I give mine to you.” 

The way he phrases it has you falling apart in his arms, still strong enough to keep you together on his chest. His body, thick and bulky, holds you tightly against him, feeling your limbs quiver above him. His fingers continue to dig into the softness of your cheeks before landing another harsh smack, listening to your shrill cry while you shake on his lap. It’s all-consuming, blinding, the euphoria bursting inside your body. 

“Goddamn,” Simon huffs out, his voice tense and strained. 

The grip he has on you turns bruising, his body curling around you as he releases. And his teeth bite into your shoulder as he does, the muscles in his abdomen flinching with every milky rope that leaves him. 

You can feel it, the evidence of his pleasure washing your insides white. The way he throbs against your walls, swollen and pulsing, his entire body releasing. Every ounce of worry and stress, any bit of anxiety, it’s flushed away with the help of your reassurance, of your devotion and unwavering passion. 

Fully wrapping your arms around his neck, you rest flush against him, mouth pressing to his stubbled cheek over and over again. And the next sound to delight your ears is Simon’s laugh. 

“Mm…” His groan sounds… content, relaxed. “You make me happy, B. Happier than I’ve been in… a long time.” 

“Happier than you’ve ever been,” You correct him cheekily, shuddering slightly as you come down from the pleasure he so wonderfully brings. “You can say it, baby.” 

Rolling his eyes, he gives your backside a light tap. “Don’t get cocky with it, now.” 

“Simon,” Inhaling a deep breath, you allow yourself to be fully vulnerable with him. “I don’t ever want to be that far from you again.”

And he knows what you mean. Ghost was never known as an emotional man, and likely never will be. But with you, it’s a different story. 

“You won’t be.” He reassures you quietly, calmly. “We’re here, everything’s just like it should be.”

“Mhm,” Nodding, you keep your arms around him, not wanting to let go. 

“It’s just you and me, B.” 

#Simon Riley #I love you baby #you're everything I need #Simon “Ghost” Riley #Simon Riley x you #Simon Riley x reader #Simon Riley x female reader #Simon Riley smut #Simon Riley fluff #so many fluffies #Call of Duty #cod #cod mw2 #Call of Duty fanfiction

[dckweed]

NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

in which gator tillman and his arranged bride figure out life and each other and what a real relationship means to them.

warnings: mentions and depictions of abuse, mentions of bruises, arranged marriages, romance, humor, dead parents, slow burn relationship (not completely but not not), basically we know the tillman men are asswipes so i 100% see Roy forcing gator into this kind of situation for money for his militia, eventual smut with kinks such as thigh riding, gun play, choking, spanking, lots of marking and possible spit play.

okay don't ask how i got this out so fast, im literally so fuckin obsesessed with this series right now.

series masterlist here, series playlist here.

PART THREE: the weekend

thursday.

“What in the hell did you put me up to?” Gator’s voice rings out across the barn a couple of hours later. You wince, hearing the anger swirling under the tense tone as his footsteps thunk closer to you across the wooden floor. You’re still facing Bubbles, trying to get her untacked but it’s not easy when you don’t have a step ladder, you didn’t check if there was one in the trailer when you left and you didn’t feel right going snooping around the Tillman barn, afraid it might get you in trouble. 

“It’s just a few days,” You roll your eyes, grateful that he can’t see you because something tells you that the Tillman didn’t take kindly to bratty behavior like eye rolling. Not married yet or not, you were pretty much belonged to Gator now in the eyes of society in Stark County, nobody would bat an eye if he reprimanded you for it. “And i put us up to it, genius.” 

“Well gee, Pearl, you could have fuckin’ consulted me first, dontcha think?” He’s right next you in the stall now, his much larger hands moving yours out of the way as he could actually see over the top of your horse to undo all of her stuff. “Why the hell would i want to spend my weekend babysitting my sisters?” 

You scoff, turning to face him with your hands on your hips. You roll your eyes again and you know he sees you as his eyes narrow. “Ya know what asshole, you’re fuckin’ right!” You say, not going to put up with any of his damn attitude. “I shoulda slid right off my horse, left your daddy right out there in the field and come find you just to ask if it was okay.” He opens his mouth to retaliate, or maybe to tell you off for cursing at him or getting cross with him. “I may be younger than you but i’m still an adult, Gator, i’m gonna be your wife not your fuckin’ kid, don’t ever expect me to wait and ask your fuckin’ permission to do shit unless it’s necessary. That isn’t how this is goin’ to work.” 

He doesn’t say anything but pulls the saddle off of the horse with a huff and you turn on your heel, leading her out of the stall and out to the trailer. Gator stands in the stall for a moment after you’ve gone, listening to the clip clop of the horses hooves as you guys go. He closes his eyes for a second, readjusting the weight of your heavy ass saddle before guiltily following you along. You weren’t wrong, he was being an asshole. He hated being wrong, and he hated apologizing even more but he couldn’t let you go around stomping your feet and being mad at him all damn weekend, something told him that probably wasn’t in his best interest. And besides, he did actually feel bad for snapping at you like that, you didn’t deserve it. He did like seeing you get all riled up like that though, the storm that started brewing in your eyes..it was a nice change from your normally friendly and people pleasing personality. He liked that you obviously knew how to stand up for yourself too.  

The door of the trailer was open by the time he had finally meandered his way out of the barn, and he can hear you getting the horse settled into it. He makes quick work of putting the saddle into the back of your Jeep, closing the door and making his way to the trailer. He watches you, one arm braced against the metal door as his eyes follow your movements. You pat your horse on her long nose and then turn around, hands on your hips as you step down onto the ground of the driveway. 

You’re staring up at him expectantly, chewing your plump bottom lip with your hands on your hips. It took all the will power he never knew he had not to put his thumb on your fucking mouth, stopping you from what you surely couldn’t have realized was a surprisingly sinful act. He licks his chapped lips, looking off to the side before sighing. “I’m sorry for bein’ an asshole.” He says quietly, brown eyes searching your face for any sort of reaction. “I shouldn’t have snapped at ya like that..” 

Your face softens and something close to a smile graces the corners of your mouth as you push his chest lightly, your hands no longer defensively on your hips. “Apology accepted.” You say, meaning it. You had forgiven him the moment you had snapped at him too, you knew he was just as new to this whole situation as you were, you guys were still learning one another, that wasn’t any excuse to be yelling at each other but it was a reason to never let it happen again without at least trying to talk first. “But i’m not sorry for snappin’ back at you. You deserved it.” 

He laughs, a genuine, hearty sound coming from his throat and brings a hand up to muss your hair as he helps you close up and lock the trailer. “Alright..suppose we better go get that lunch you were talkin’ about earlier and then go pack up your stuff for the weekend.” The sun was fully up now, and even though it was only nine thirty in the morning, and he had all of an hour and a half of sleep under his belt, he was ready for lunch with you, and he was ready to get his dad and his wife out of the fuckin’ house so he could maybe relax just a little bit, maybe get a few more hours of sleep..

After a small squabble about who’s going to drive the Jeep you’re pulling up to the curb of Gator’s favorite diner in town, and he’s letting out a breath of relieved air as he steps foot on the ground. 

“Oh stop bein’ so dramatic!” You laugh walking side by side with him up to the door of the busy diner. He had spent the whole ten minute drive with one hand braced on the back of your seat and the other braced on the dash, telling you to slow down or to not hit your brakes so damn hard or to stop taking corners so fast and sharp with a damn horse trailer attached to you. You rolled your eyes after every comment, but found them more and more endearing as you heard the actual fear in his voice. That wasn’t the first time a boy had been scared to be in your passenger seat before. 

“Stop bein’ such a bad fuckin’ driver!” He retaliates, brown eyes wide as he holds open the door of the diner for you, you cackle and duck under his arm, breathing in his cologne and the smell of that damn fruity ass vape that he keeps puffing on. “You’re a menace to the road, Pearl, i swear!” 

He hears you mocking him and pushes the back of your head gently as the two of you find an empty space in the busy restaurant, a booth in the back corner next to windows where the light shines in. He insists on taking the side of the booth that faces the rest of the diner, wanting to have a good view of any potential danger (though he doesn't tell you that). 

A friendly waitress sidles up to the table as the two of you settle, you giggling after he mutters something more about your driving. “Mornin’ Gator, miss.” She says, nodding at the two of you. She’s plump and motherly, her hair brown and curly. You can tell from the smile on her face that she clearly knows the boy across the table from you. “Coffee for you, hon?” 

“Yes Ma’am,” Gator nods, one of the friendliest looks you’d seen in your whole short time of knowing him on his face as he looked up at her, his brown eyes filled with warmth you hadn’t seen towards anyone before. “And..i’m feeling lunchy today, how about a patty melt and fries, please?” You realized he must come here pretty often if the waitress knew his coffee order, and he didn’t need a menu to order. 

“You got it Gator,” She says warmly, turning to you next. “And for your..friend?” 

“Fiance, actually.” He says before you have the chance to speak, you’re stunned for a moment and so is the woman. This is the first time anyone outside of your families and the people directly involved with the wedding planning had been told that you guys were technically engaged, your face flushes as the realization and the weight of the title actually being out in the open for the first time. 

You can tell that she wants to ask more questions by the furrow in her brow and the hesitation before she clears her throat, but she thankfully doesn’t pry any farther. “And for your fiance?” 

You give a sheepish smile, that quickly turns to a deep rooted frown when the friendly woman tells you that they don’t stock flavored coffee creamers, or serve iced coffee. “Dr. Pepper then,” You say, the smile returning back to your face as Gator makes a mental note to stop by the local coffee shop for you on the way back to the Augastine ranch. “And I’ll do chicken tenders, with fries please!” 

She gives a smile and says she’ll be back soon, as soon as she gone Gator cracks up laughing at you. “What?” You pout, and he only shakes his head at you, causing your pout to deepen. “It’s not nice to laugh at people, is there dirt on my face? Gator!” The way you whined his name struck a different kind of chord in him and he quickly stopped laughing, shaking his head as he situated himself in his seat. 

He knew most men would have found the whining annoying but it was clear you didn’t do it on purpose, and it sent a tingle down his spine when you said his name like that. “Flavored coffee creamer?” You roll your eyes and kick him under the table, which only makes him laugh more. 

You had to admit, you liked how young and happy it made his face look when he laughed, and you wished he would do more of it. 

A couple of hours tick by as the two of you sit in your cozy little booth in the diner, eating and bickering and laughing at each other as customers come and go around you. He was sweet in his own rugged, rough way, your own personal diamond in the rough. You didn’t mind, it just meant you could have fun chipping away at him and softening him up around the edges. The more you got to know him over the past week, the more you started to think that maybe this marriage thing wouldn’t be so horrible. You could both learn to love each other over the years, and who knows, maybe you would fall in love in the way that all those people in the movies did. You had always wanted a silver screen romance..

Gator pays for the both of you before you can even dig your credit card out of your stupid little purse, which causes you to pout. “Hey, I was the one that asked you to come eat!” You argued and boy just sighs, giving you a pointed look that clearly said to shut the fuck up. You pout but don’t push on the matter, letting him steal the Jeep keys off of the table top as you slide off of your fluffy, overstuffed bench. 

“Alright, lets go pick up your stuff for the weekend and drop your trailer off,” He had work tonight again and he was hoping to get a couple extra hours of sleep in before his father left. The nights were always longer when he was tired, but he wasn’t going to complain. Gator loved his job. 

You follow him through the crowded diner, staying right underfoot. You hadn’t realized before but people were staring at the two of you, it made your cheeks flush when eyes bored into you as you walked and nervously, you grab onto the back of his shirt. He stiffens beneath your touch, and cranes his neck to look at you, eyebrows furrowed under the brim of his hat. “People are staring.” You whisper, he purses his lips and looks around before shrugging as you get closer to the door. “Why are they staring?” You weren’t used to attention like that, and you were afraid that somehow it would get back to Boyd that you were here with Gator and you would somehow get in trouble for it, fiance or not. 

“Because i’m the Sheriff’s son, and this is the first time i’ve been out in public with my fiance.” He says, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Sherry probably went and spread the word while we were eating, it’s no big deal Pearlie, the whole town was gonna find out one way or another.” He pushes the door of the diner open with one hand, and with the other he grabs your hand off the back of his shirt, using his grip to push you in front of him out the door. 

“I figured they would have done an announcement in the paper or somethin’ by now.” You mutter, hands in your pockets as you walk side by side to the jeep with him. You don’t argue when he opens the passenger side door for you, but you do give him a shit eating grin as you step up onto the running boards to climb in. 

“Yeah, well, they’re probably leaving that up to us too.” He mutters as he closes your door and quickly walks around the front end. You thought it was rather sweet of him, opening the doors for you, but you wouldn’t say anything, you didn’t want to freak him out. He wastes no time in pulling away from the diner, casually driving your car with one hand while the other rested on the gear shift on the center console. 

You studied his hand, how much bigger than the gear shift knob it was, you could barely fit your own around it but his smothered it, leaving no trace of it under his palm. His thick fingers tensing and untensing around it, as if he were squeezing it like a stress ball. You bite your lip, looking up as the car comes to a stop and he throws it in park. “What are we doing?” You ask, noticing him lifting his ass out of the seat out of the corner of his eye, shoving his hand in his pocket. 

“You ask a lot of questions, you know?” He quips, grabbing a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet holding it out towards you. You simply stare at it, and then lift your big ass, curious eyes to stare at him. He sighs, sagging against the seat. “Go in and get your damned flavored coffee, felt bad they didn’t have it at the diner..” 

You feel your cheeks start to flush, and though you were tempted to argue and tell him he didn’t need to stop, you felt yourself unbuckling your seatbelt because that was just too damn sweet. You start to get out of the car, grabbing your purse when he clicks his tongue at you, shoving his hand at you again. You decide it’s best not to argue, you don’t want to annoy him anymore than you clearly already do without meaning to, you take it, using the grip on his hand to pull him across the console. You kiss his cheek sweetly, pulling away with a smile. “Thank you..” You say, turning and jumping from the Jeep as quickly as you could without hurting yourself. 

Gator is stunned by the show of affection, his neck flushed red from the interaction. He shakes his head, fighting back the smile on his face by putting his vape to his mouth as he watches you happily skip into the fucking coffee shop. “She’s gonna be the death of me..” He grumbles to himself, running a hand down his face after breathing out the fruity flavored vape that he filled his lungs with. 

You’re grateful that he’s with you when you go home because you can sense Boyd’s mood before you can see him, the house is still and quiet, the girls off at school for the day, the nanny is not needed until this afternoon. You walk through the front door with Gator laughing about the way he had narrowly avoided a hoof to his head when he was walking with Bubbles, you giggle at him as he exaggerates the scene that you had had your back turned to, shaking your head as you start for the stairs. 

“Where have you been?” His voice is cold and sends a shiver down your spine. You stop in your tracks, one hand on the bannister and turn to face him. You don’t dare look at him, but you put a complacent smile on your face nonetheless. You can feel Gator behind you, his hands sliding into his pockets much like they were on the first time he had been to your so-called home. 

“I was on that ride with Roy,” You say, calling Gator’s father by his name, he tenses behind you at the mention of the man, and you’re tempted to glance up at him and offer him a comforting smile. “And we got to talking about the wedding and what not and how i would like his girls to be in it, and he thought it would be a great idea,” You’re starting to babble, and you begin to worry that your words aren’t making any sense because of the way that his face changes. “So now Gator and I are here to pack up a bag for me because we’re going to be watching his sisters while their parents are gone for the weekend..” 

“We stopped and got an early lunch first,” Gator steps in, you feel his hand on your lower back and it brings a sense of calmness to you for some strange reason. “She was hungry..sorry, i shoulda had her call you or somethin’ didn’t mean to make you worry, Sir..” 

Boyd is quiet for a long beat, his jaw ticking like it does when he’s angry and trying not to show it. You swallow back your fear knowing that you’re safe with Gator here. 

“When will you be back?” He narrows his cold eyes at you, they hold no emotion other than the contempt that you know he feels for you, and that makes you nervous for what you’ll endure when you come home Monday afternoon, but grateful for the time you’ll have away. 

“I’ll be back Monday afternoon, after his parents come home.” You say, tired of the conversation and no longer wanting to be involved. You turn and start heading up the stairs, knocking Gator’s hand from your back as you leave without being dismissed, something you’re sure you’ll hear about next week. “See you then.” 

Gator is quick to follow behind, giving your step father a friendly smile as he clambers up the stairs behind you. “What was that all about?” He asks in a hushed voice as he follows onto the second floor landing. 

You shake your head and walk past your sisters’ room and farther on to yours, locking the door behind you. You don’t notice the way Gator’s eyebrows pinch when he notices you’ve barricaded yourselves in the room by locking it. 

“He’s an asshole.” Is all you say, shrugging off the encounter before heading to your closet to find your suitcase. 

When you come out you see Gator with his hands in his pockets again, looking around your bedroom, the one area of the house that was completely and utterly you. Pink and red accents, white frilly lace..teddy bears and fluffy pillows and blankets..the room was so..you. He had gotten his attention caught to a smattering of photo frames on your big white dresser, all of them held you in them, smiling that big beautiful smile of yours (sometimes it would be reaching your eyes, lighting them up happily, but most times it wasn’t), all of them held different people, your sisters mostly, and whom he assumed was a friend from school, a tall brunette with killer legs in a bikini with her arms around you. There was another guy in the photo too that he tried not to be jealous of, but he had his arm around your waist and was grinning down at the two of you as you guys stood on a dock in front of a boat. He loved how happy you looked there in that moment, like your mind wasn’t laden with such heavy burdens like planning a wedding you were legally bound to, or dealing with a clearly tense situation with your step father. His favorite picture though, was one of you and an older woman, your mama, he assumed. You were laughing in the photo a mess of birthday cake frosting smeared across your cheek and some pink tinsel in your hair. The silver balloons behind you said ‘15’. 

“That’s my mama..” You said, sliding up behind him. He jumps, slightly scared. “That’s the only picture i have left of her..Boyd has all the rest, wont let me see ‘em. I think they’re up in the attic somewhere.” You sniff a little, trying not to cry as you turn away, hands on your hips. “Right, lets get this stuff together.” 

After about an hour or so you’ve stuffed the whole suitcase with more clothes than you really need for an entire weekend, Gator had lightened the mood by teasing you when you tried to hide your panties and bras as you packed them, telling you it’s not like he hadn’t seen any before, and he would be seeing yours for the foreseeable future, and then making you laugh at his genuine confusion at your array of shampoos and body washes in the your shower. 

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re one of those 3 in 1 off the shelf at the grocery store kinda guys..” You laugh, looking at him looking at the four different bottles of soaps in his hands. “Please tell me you use something that costs more than ten dollars on your hair! It’s too pretty not to use cheap crap!” You hadn’t really meant to call his hair pretty out loud, but it really was pretty, you couldn’t deny it.

He doesn’t mention it though and instead looks up at you bewildered. “Are you tellin’ me you spent more than twenty dollars on all this crap combined?” He asks, completely in awe. “Oh my god Pearlie, please tell me you’re not gonna be breakin’ my bank on fuckin’ shampoo- it’s shampoo!” 

The two of you burst out in laughter after a moment and you deemed it best not to tell him how much you spent on hair care quite yet, afraid that he would have an aneurysm if you did. He’s gentlemanly enough to help you carry the suitcase back out to the Jeep. 

He even carries it into his daddy’s house for you, and up the stairs where he shows you his bedroom. He tosses the case unceremoniously onto his bed, where it bounces. You look around for a moment, eyebrows raised as you take in the scenery. It was messier than you had imagined, but it smelled so much like him and his damn vape that you couldn’t help but to take a deep breath of air. The room wasn’t too big, and his queen sized bed took up most of the space, the rest of it littered with his clothes on the floor and posters on the wall..you noticed some trophies on a shelf that you would have to ask about later. 

“It’s not much, and it’s usually not so messy..” He says, you think he might be a little embarrassed by the red flush of his cheeks. “I’m sorry you have to sleep in here with me, but it’s better than the couch or crashing on the floor in the girls’ room..” 

“I don’t mind, Gator..” You say, giving him a little smile as you turn to face him. “It’s a fuckin’ pig stye though.” You laugh and he follows suit, nodding along with you. You had a pretty good idea of what you would be doing to keep yourself busy while Jessica and Maude were at school tomorrow, or until they would come home this afternoon. 

The rest of the early afternoon was spent with Karen giving you a run down of the girls’ schedules and how to feed them and dress them. Something about the woman irritated you to your core, maybe it was the way she clearly held nothing but disdain for her step son, or maybe it as the way that she spoke to you like you were stupid and couldn’t possibly be capable of taking care of her children, either way, it made your eye start to twitch the more you thought about it. 

You were grateful when Roy seemed to have finally had enough of hanging around after he had dutifully packed their bags into his old chevy and got a little snappy with his wife, who quickly scurried out of the door. He gave you a friendly squeezed of your shoulder, his giant hand engulfing your shoulder, before mentioning something to Gator in hushed tones that seemed to only upset the boy as his voice turned tense and cold and his back stiffened like it did earlier in the day. 

The house was quiet once the door shut, creepily quiet once the old Chevy had meandered it’s way out of the gates of the house and down the road of the ranch. You stood in the doorway of the kitchen, not quite sure what to do with yourself as you kept your eyes on your fiance. He’s watching out the windows next to the door, his back muscles still tense. You wondered if he would be upset with you if you asked what his father had said, if you asked if he was okay. You decide against it though. “Gator?” You ask, your voice soft, small and quiet. He hums in response, hands on his hips as he glances back at you. “Shouldn’t we go pick up the girls?” You noticed it was nearing time for school for your own sisters  to be out, and while Gator’s went to a private christian school you figured they probably had the same start and out times as your sisters’ school. “It’s almost three..” 

“Yeah..” He runs a hand down his face, clearing his throat. “Yeah, let’s get going.” 

taglist:

@ruth-barnes @justherebecausesafarisucks @daisy-is-a-writer @xxbookdrunkdemigodxx @girlwiththerubyslippers @keerygal @lilllbabyyy @boa-hemian @sweetdazequeen @emilyj444 @whisperingwillowxox @babyqnn @lou-la-lou @aestheticaltcow @finalmoondragon @boxofsmittens @pollyspocketdimension @kassy-munson @frostandflamesfanfic @mysticalstar30 @totally-bogus-timelady @nerdypinupcrystal @emmiecrush5-blog @witchcovenboys @starksbabie @marrowfrog00 @boop369 @lelenikki @xmalfoyweasleyx @girlwiththerubyslippers

#kara writes #gator tillman #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tilman x y/n #joe keery #fargo season 5 #fargo s5

[winniethewife]

Hush-hush, stand there and don't you say a word (Steven Grant x F!reader)

Prompt: sex pollen

Warning: Dub-con, Smut under the cut, love marks, PinV sex, rough sex, drugged, overstimulation, dumbification, degregation

Minors DNI

Words: 507

Steven stumbles into the door of her flat, his eyes glazed over as he searches for her, his mind fuzzy from the weird substance he encountered while out the night before as Mr. Knight. The Powdery substance his foe had thrown in his face made him feel, odd, and all he could think about is her. He needed her…now His half lidded gaze finally finds her sitting on the end of her bed half-dressed getting ready for her day. She looks up to see him, his suit obviously roughed up, his hair a mess.

“Darling what happened to you?” She stands up quickly and closes the distance, her eyes full of concern and her hands gently on his shoulders. He scent is intoxicating he feels his arousal heighten. He grabs her tight around the waist and shoves her down on the bed.

“S’ Sorry Love, C-ant…gotta…Need you. Now.” He says his speech slurred as his hands roamed her body. She was surprised. Steven was hardly ever like this, never so demanding.

“Steven, what has gotten-Oh gods” She groans as his mouth attacks her neck, sucking and dragging his teeth along her sensitive skin. His body pressed against her, pinning her down as he grinds his hips against hers, seeking that glorious friction. “F-fuck Steven…” She groans as he takes and takes. His hands roaming her body tearing her clothes off her body, nothing stopping him. He yanks down his pants letting his rigid cock spring from its confines, he’s so focused, so in need he just keeps her hands pinned above her head as he rubs his length against her thigh.

“That’s it, lemme, lemme use you. I need this, Need you. So good f’me. So fuckin’ good.” He whimpers and whines as he presses against her, Steven thrusts against her again and again before finally managing a way in. The sting of him stretching her open causes her to clench her fists and a soft gasp to escape her lips.

“Steven, please.” She pleads with him, hoping he would be gentler. But her soft cry goes unheard as he picks up the pace, slotting his lips over her in an attempt to keep her quiet, his hips moving faster, chasing his release like its life or death. He licks into her mouth and growls softly, he needs this, needs it bad, and he needs it now.  His movements grow sloppy as he moves faster getting closer and closer to his release. He pulls his lips away and an animalistic sound comes ripping from his throat as he looks into her eyes, his eyes dark and filled with lust as he takes what he needs, painting her insides again and again. This goes on and on, she isn’t at all sure what caused sweet Steven to loose himself but as she reaches her own climax again and again her mind goes blank, so overstimulated she can’t even think. And it feels…oh so good.

“Shhh…atta girl..so good, such a good little slut. My little… fuck toy…that right…you’re…you’re mine”

Bingo Masterlist

Tag: @moonknight-events @juneknight @spacecowboyhotch

#moon knight #x reader #steven grant #steven grant x reader #moonknightevents #moon boys #moon knight x reader #Spotify #drabble #steven with a v #steven grant smut #x reader smut

[gg-pedro]

can you hear the music (ch. 3) - joel miller x reader

masterlist

summary: everyone in jackson is trying to distract themselves from something. you teach ellie piano and find yourself trying to help more than one miller settle into their new world.

chapter 3: today, it would be sarah's 34th birthday. but today, tomorrow, and every other day, joel needs you.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, joel x reader, AFAB!reader, platonic!ellie x reader, implied age gap, smoochin', gropin', mentions of death, joel grieves, joel sings, arguing/fighting (kinda), mental health discussions, lewdness, angst, heavy feelings (and there's more where that come from!)

words: 3.4k

a/n: man. can u tell I rewatched episode 1? i’m proud of this one. also, I hope this reaches my fleetwood mac lovers.

-

Joel, while in the middle of hauling a bag of horse feed over his good shoulder (and ‘good’ was being generous), realized he was getting old. This was the tenth revelation of the day, give or take. From when he forced himself out of bed onto aching joints, to when he hadn’t heard Ellie come up behind him in the kitchen, and most notably, to when he realized Sarah’s 34th birthday would’ve been today. 

It didn’t sting anymore. Not after this long, not after 20 years. It didn’t even hurt. 

It just ached. 

He sloughed the feed into the trough, stepping back to catch his breath. He glided his hand over the pretty little mare that he usually took out. She seemed too small to not be a pony, but hey, equine standards had flown out the window 20 years ago along with everything else. 

Tommy knew, too. He never forgot. Maybe that's why he patted Joel on the back at breakfast that morning and told him to go ‘take a ride’. Clear his head. They still had work to do today. The Earth never stopped spinning. Joel thought that by now, it should’ve.

To be fair, the date could’ve been a little off, but the air was that same lukewarm cold and the sun shone blinding in a clear blue sky the same way it did on the day Sarah was born. Winter was melting into a tepid spring in Wyoming, and Joel was still here to fucking see it.

For a second he wondered if his vision was going, too, having to do a double-take when he noticed you leaning against the wooden beam of the stall entrance.

“Jesus,” he mumbled. “Y’ever heard of knocking?”

You rolled your eyes. “Must’ve missed the door.”

“How’d you find me?” He asked, finally turning to really look at you. Irritatingly beautiful.

“Ellie,” you answered. “Said you were going for a joy ride.”

He sighed, coming over to wrap his arms just below the dip of your spine. “Kid couldn’t keep a secret if her fuckin’ life depended on it,” he grumbled, pausing afterwards to give you a slow kiss.

“I like the honesty. She’s got nothing to hide, especially if it has anything to do with you.” You grinned and fell right into his little ploy. 

“Mmh. Lucky me.”

He had you backed against the wooden railing in an instant, his hand creeping up below your shirt and onto the soft skin of your waist. The touch raised goosebumps all over your body. You placed two hands on either side of his neck, gently, enjoying the way he was feeling you up with his lips glued to yours.

“Now? Right here?” You asked once you had the chance to break away from his mouth. “A little risky, Miller. Don’t forget, I’m still your worst kept secret,” you chided.

“No, not right here. And fuck you.” He pulled away until all but one hand was still stroking your side through your shirt.

“Likewise.”

And Joel loved you. Maybe not in the same way he loved Tommy or Ellie or Sarah, but still, he did. He loved your smart mouth, the way you blazed like a fire in bed with him, your natural talent, the way you made it all ache less. 

And you did– make it ache less. That was reason enough. 

He gestured to the horse that was a few feet away, still eating its breakfast. “You wanna join?”

“Can’t say no,” you said. “What’s the occasion? I thought they were strict about leaving for non-essential reasons.”

Joel was looking at you until he wasn’t, his gaze going right through you. He could tell you. He knew he could. You knew about his daughter and you still never brought it up. You’d lost people too, he knew that. He could tell you and you would bring him into your arms and say something like, I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m here. I’m here if you need me. 

He would tell you. But not today.

He shrugged and pressed a kiss into your hairline. “Just another day. I want you to come.”

“Alright, then.” You nodded towards the guitar sitting in the corner of the stall. Dark stained wood around the edges fading into a lighter mahogany. It was beautiful. “Bringing that, too?”

“Yeah, why not. Here, let me help.” He grabbed it and lifted it over your head, situating it so that the body of the guitar was resting against your back. “You ever played?”

You shook your head. “No. Good thing you do.”

He brought the horse out into the open, making sure he still had everything important– a gun in his pocket and a broken watch on his wrist. He helped you up onto the saddle, sitting behind him and flush with his back. 

Outside the walls, It was a beautiful day. The sun had melted away the heavy snow on the peaks of the rolling hills, the first kiss of spring. New life, grass that had started to green. You had your arms wrapped tightly around Joel’s middle, face pressed against the back of his shoulder. The fields seemed boundless. You hadn’t realized just how infinitesimally small your world had grown since being in Jackson. 

“Are there usually infected around here?” You asked. 

“Not really. The valley helps. We’ll stay out in the open, don’t worry, baby.”

You didn’t even have to ask. The little tour he was giving you around the east end of the fields was mostly an effort to case the surrounding area, his senses on high alert for anything dangerous. The truth was, this place was secure. Still, Joel would move mountains to keep you safe. Would do anything. He’d made mistakes in the past that he wouldn’t let happen again. Couldn’t.

After a loop around the outer wall, riding with a mixture of the horse's friendly canter and Joel intentionally speeding her up to scare the shit out of you and make you hold on tighter to him, he settled on a plateau at the top of a hill, a few steps away from the thick evergreen forest.

After helping you off the mare and spreading out the woven blanket he had rolled up on the back of the saddle, Joel sat down with a heavy sigh. You tied the lead to a low tree branch where the horse seemed content to roam. After, you pulled the guitar over your head and handed it to him.

It was still early in the day, and the sun was barely cresting over the hilltops from this view. 10:42 AM. That’s when his daughter was born. He looked down at the broken face of his watch out of habit, even though the thing had been broken for years at this point. 

You dropped down next to him and your head immediately connected with his shoulder. Looking over at him, his eyes were far away and glassy. “What’re you thinking about?”

Joel shook his head and pressed a slow kiss into your forehead. “Nothin’. Just wondering what I should play.” He brought the guitar into his lap and strummed it a little, pausing to tune the top string down half a step. “Feel like I gotta impress you.”

You huffed a laugh and shook your head. “You don’t have to. Who’d you used to listen to?”

“Oh, Jesus…” he had sort of let go of the fond memories he had of old music. With you, though, he was starting to miss it. “Some Zeppelin, some Billy Joel, Pearl Jam… Nirvana was just gettin’ good, too. Lots of Chet Atkins when I was younger.”

You just smiled, moving your hand to stroke his knee. “None of that surprises me.”

“You like Fleetwood Mac?” he asked after a while. “Stevie Nicks, always one of my favorites. My daughter’s, too.”

Your heart hurt a little at that. Joel had never brought up the daughter he’d lost with you. You kissed his shoulder as he started picking the strings to the tune of Landslide, that gentle back and forth that you hadn’t heard in more than 20 years. 

“That's a good one, baby.”

You still remembered the lyrics. He did, too. 

I took my love, I took it down

I climbed a mountain and I turned around

And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills,

‘Til the landslide brought me down

Joel’s playing wasn’t perfect. He’d picked the guitar up again a few times in the last couple weeks, but before that, it had been a lifetime ago. On that radio station in Austin, The Best Of The ‘70’s, this one would come on all the time. Sarah would grin and sing her best rendition, as loudly as possible, always egging Joel on to join in too. Sometimes he would, but not always. He regretted that. 

He thought your voice was beautiful. Clear and bright. His voice was probably an octave below yours, gravelly and out of practice. The two of you mixed together like honey into whiskey. 

Oh, mirror in the sky,

What is love?

Can the child in my heart rise above?

Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

He would’ve liked to scoff at that. There's nothing to do but handle it. Push forward and deal. He didn’t die on September 26th, 2003, despite his best efforts and no matter how much he wanted to. He was here with you. Singing with you, laughing through the verses, watching the sun light up your eyes. And for that? A part of him had to consider himself a lucky son of a bitch.

He couldn’t stop himself from wanting to make a life with you. The extent to which he could see that to fruition, he wasn’t sure. Everything was uncertain. He didn’t even deserve it. Nothing he had done over the past 20 years was worthy of you. But fuck, he could be good. If he tried, maybe, he could be good for you. And trying? It’d be worth it. 

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’

‘Cause I’ve built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I’m getting older, too

Joel had to stop singing. Tears were swelling in his dark brown eyes and one wrong move would break the entire dam of emotions. He kept playing, though, into the second chorus, happy to listen to you.

Well, I’ve been afraid of–

“Joel?”

You turned away from the landscape to look at his face. Tears were streaking his cheeks, his eyes staring straight ahead of him. You didn’t say anything– you took the guitar out of his arms and brought him into yours instead. You rubbed slow circles into his flannel-clad back, holding him tight as his shoulders sagged and shuddered with every shaky inhalation. 

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry," he managed to say.

“It’s okay, Joel. You’re okay. It’s just me, you know I don’t mind. I got you, come on, just get it out.”

You had your own guesses as to what was getting to him so bad. You told yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t pry. He wouldn’t tell you like that, anyway. He had to do it himself. 

After a few pregnant moments passed with the two of you like that, his breathing finally evened out enough for him to speak clearly. He pulled away from you, taking your face into his hands so you couldn’t look away. His eyes were reddened and puffy, his cheeks wet.

“I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you. D’you understand that? Nothin’. I’m gonna take care of you. Keep you safe. Keep you happy.” He tucked your hair behind your ears before gliding his thumbs over the skin just below your eye. “I will. You just gotta let me.”

You gently pried his hands away from your face, taking them into your own and pressing a kiss into his knuckles. “Okay, baby. I’ll let you. I’ll let you,” you repeated. “I’m safe with you, I know.”

He pulled you in suddenly, practically squeezing all of the air out of your lungs with the grip he had on you. “I promise you. I promise.”

He promised you, and you believed him. 

And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills,

Well, the landslide bring it down

Oh, the landslide bring it down

-

At your lesson with Ellie, she seemed more motivated than you did. Sooner or later, she was going to exhaust the entire Star Wars: A Beginner’s Score sheet music book that you had found a few years back. 

After successfully sight reading the first few bars of The Imperial March and promptly declaring that she had had enough ‘piano-ing’ for the day, Ellie gave you a look.

You furrowed your brows. “What?”

“Nothin’,” she said flippantly, looking away from you. “Just– are you and Joel, like, together?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Ellie turned, looking exasperated. “Pft. You know exactly what I mean.”

You rolled your eyes and jokingly shoved her away from you by the forehead. “We’re getting married next week, actually,” you said, laughing. “Mhm, we’re running away with each other. Gonna buy a big white house with a big picket fence down south– you know, to keep you out.”

“Oh, fuck you, dude.” She giggled too, punching your shoulder in return hard enough to push you down the piano bench. “I have a right to know! And besides, I don’t have anyone to tell. I can keep a secret.”

“I disagree, but– if you memorize your F# minor scale by Tuesday, I’ll tell you all about it. Has to be perfect, though,” you qualified.

“Fine,” she said with stubborn resolve. “And… there's one more thing.” Her eyes cast downwards and her shoulders drooped a little as she gave a long exhale.

“What is it?”

She looked back up at you through her dark lashes. “Did you hear about the guy who got hit in the head with a can of soda?”

“The– the who?”

With a completely straight face, she said, “Yeah. He’s lucky it was a soft drink.”

Ellie’s laughter could barely be heard over your exaggerated groaning. You had your head dropped into your hands and Ellie in tears when Joel walked in through the front door.

Ellie, sighing and wiping her eyes, said: “I told her the ol’ soda-can-to-the-head one. Pretty good, right?”

“Jesus…” you heard Joel mutter.

Shiny-eyed and smiling, you pointed to the door. “Out of my house. Both of you. And don’t bother coming back.”

Ellie grabbed her coat and was out the door before Joel could even open his mouth. “See you Tuesday!”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”

-

Later that day, in the hot and unusually busy Tipsy Bison, Joel was too drunk.

It was the perfect conclusion to the most bittersweet day he’d had in a while. Had the morning with you, finished up a roofing project just after dinner, and against his better judgment, asked if you wanted drinks. You arrived as a pair, undoubtedly eliciting new whisperings from your fellow Jackson residents, but Joel was starting not to care.

You’d mentioned going out together in passing to him after he had told you about the bar scene when he was younger, commenting on how you wished you’d gotten to experience that. And yeah, maybe this felt more like playing pretend to him than anything, but he wanted to give you good days. Good memories. A real life, where you could experience things with him and not have to worry about how long the happiness would last.

Tonight, it backfired. A year ago today, he would’ve been mixing whiskey and oxycodone to forget it was Sarah’s birthday. But now, he was too drunk with Tommy, and you were watching all of it, and he wished he still had a handful of pills to knock him out. 

“She your girlfriend now, brother?” Tommy slurred, clapping him on the shoulder. 

Joel grabbed you roughly by the waist from his seat at the bar, tucking you in close to him. “Yeah, she’s my girl,” he cooed. “Ain’t that right, pretty baby?”

Tommy chuckled, slamming his glass down onto the counter. “Same way Tessa was your girl? Or different this time?”

Joel wanted to be sick. “The fuck’s wrong with you, asshole?”

You, a little tipsy yourself by this point, smoothed a hand over Joel’s curls in an effort to de-escalate this conversation. “Joel, hey. He’s your brother. Don’t start a fight.”

Tommy shook his head and patted you on the arm. “It’s okay, baby, let him speak.”

Drunkenly, Joel stood up, pointing an accusatory finger at his brother. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be saddled with all this shit,” he started. “Always chasin’ your sorry ass. Halfway across the fuckin’ country this time. If it weren’t for you, Tess’d be here.”

This was an old argument, but they were drunk, and it seemed like the perfect time to rehash it. 

Tommy stood up to meet his eyes. “Oh yeah? Really? If it weren’t for me, Joel, you’da had a bullet in your head by now. Oh, y’haven't told her? Your girl? Go on, tell her. Tell her all about Sarah. Happy fuckin’ birthday to her.”

“Keep her name out your motherfuckin’ mouth, you– bastard–”

You had your arm interlinked with Joel’s, but he flung you off of him in an instant. He swung at Tommy, but his aim was a little diluted from the gin and Tommy ducked anyway. He only got one attempt in before five different people were pulling them away from each other to opposite ends of the bar.

You followed Joel, thanking the two men who were restraining him as he shouted strings of profanities and nobody, assuring them that you could take it from here. 

“Joel, you gotta calm down. Hey. Hey, Miller, I’m fucking talking to you.” You grabbed his face in your hands and forced him to look at you. “Take a breath. Just take a breath.”

He did as he was told, but his eyes were still darting rapidly around the room. “Tommy…” he breathed out. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to, I swear. Did I hurt him? I hurt him, didn’t I?”

“No, baby. You– uh, you missed.”

“Ah,  fuck.”

Maybe narcotics wouldn’t have fixed this, either.

Joel let you drag him back to your place without putting up much of a fight. Sarah. She would’ve been ashamed of him. There was a mounting list of things that Sarah would’ve hated him for, and this was just the icing on the cake.

Back on your couch, lying on his back, he wanted today to be over. 

“I was s’pposed to be doin’ good for you,” he said quietly. “Bein’ better for you.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, your voice straining with the force it took to tug off his left boot.

“I’m no good for you.”

“Joel–”

“I ain’t, babydoll. I ain’t. Not for you, not for Ellie, not for Tommy, not for Tessa, and not for Sarah,” he mumbled. “It’s her birthday.”

“I know.”

“I miss her,” he swallowed. “Real bad.”

“I know, Joel.”

There was a lump in his throat and a tightness in his chest. Landslide was still stuck in his head.

… saw my reflection… snow covered hills …

He shut his eyes. “Is Ellie alright?”

“Mhm. She’s asleep down the street,” you said, tracing lazy shapes into his stomach.

“She’s a good kid,” he mumbled. “Tough kid.”

“She is,” you agreed. “She relies on you– cares about you. Lots of people care about you.”

… time makes y’bolder, children get… older …

Joel hummed in response. “I still need you.”

… I’m gettin’ older, too … 

You bit your lip. You should really get back up, make sure Joel had a glass of water and painkillers near him for when he woke up. Maybe even a bowl from the kitchen. But your body felt like it was being weighed down by lead, and the infrequency at which you actually drank alcohol was making you unfathomably tired.

You laid down on top of him, head pressed against his chest. His breathing was slow and even and his heart rate was calm. 

“I need you, too.”

-

#joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #thou hbo #Ellie miller #Joel miller tlou #the last of us fic #tlou fanficiton #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #Pedro pascal fic #joel miller x y/n #Joel miller smut #Pedro pascal smut #pedrito #tlou hbo

[nolita-fairytale]

make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter six: monday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, references to sex, no use of y/n, second person pov

word count: 3.4k

summary: it's your last full day in chicago and you and carmy talk about the future of your relationship.

a/n: wow can you believe we're in the home stretch? i have one more chapter for all of you that are reading about our loveable kitchen idiots, but i'm definitely not done with these two.

read: part five | masterlist

Monday 

“What’re you doing?” he asks, his morning voice gruff with sleep, his comment making you laugh. 

“You haven’t even opened your eyes. You don’t know if I’m doing shit,” you reply. 

“Yes, I do. I can feel you,” he shoots back, peeking one eye open. 

You’re tracing your fingertips along his little tattoos that run along his right arm, propped up on your side: the angels below his elbow, the little fish on the inside of his forearm, the snail right above his wrist, then finally, his chef’s knife-hand tattoo on the back of his hand.

“Stop, ‘s creepy,” Carmy groans, throwing one of his hands over his eyes. 

“What?”

“You’re watching me sleep,” he grumbles, earning a laugh from you. 

It’s the third morning in a row that you’ve woken up together, and as the morning light floods into his bedroom once again, he doesn’t have the heart to ask you to close the curtains. He can’t bear the idea of you getting out of bed and leaving his side. He makes a mental note to close the damn curtains better next time. 

You giggle at his comment, beginning to to leave soft kisses up his arm, around his shoulder, across his chest, until he’s pulling you on top of him, a sleepy smile on his face. 

He could get fuckin’ used to this.

“It’s not creepy,” you protest softly, in between kisses.

Instead of coming up with a smartass reply, all he says is:

“Morning.”

“Morning,” you answer, leaning down to kiss him. 

You snuggle into him your legs wrapping around his hip as you rest your head on one side of his chest, curled up to his side. 

“What do you want to do today?” he asks, rubbing his eyes, accepting that he’s going to have to get up eventually.

“Hmm.. well, you promised me a true Chicago date,” you prompt him. 

“I did.” 

You reach over, intertwining your fingers with his opposite hand this time, as you bring it up to your lips to kiss each letter tattooed on his knuckles: S, O, U. 

Sense of urgency.

“This is new,” he says, holding your hand up to the light, taking a look at your most recent tattoo. It starts at your wrist and extends all the way down your forearm, stopping just underneath the crease of your elbow. 

“Yeah, you don’t get to be the only cool one with ink,” you hit back, playfully. “I also have a new little one on my rib cage.”

“Yeah, I-, I noticed that,” he says, his lips curling into a smirk, knowing that he’s only seen it because he’s seen you naked. 

“Oh you did, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He waits a beat before returning to the topic at hand. He turns his head towards you, your face only inches away from his now.

“Thought we could take a walking dumpling tour of Chinatown. You know… like we used to do,” he suggests.

Memories of your adventures up and down Mott St. and Bowery come flooding back to you and you can’t help but grin. You’re honestly glad he remembers. 

“Sounds incredible.”

You wait a beat as the sobering reality of the day – your last day in Chicago – hits you. 

“We should get up and shower,” you sigh, reluctantly.

If you weren’t such an overthinker, you’d stay in Chicago forever. Pay rent to Pete and Sugar on your airbnb till you could find a place. If this were a movie, or a fantasy, you wouldn’t even think twice. Hell, you wouldn’t even go back for your stuff in New York. As long as you could stay here, in this bed with this beautiful man, who needed a fuckin’ IKEA dresser?

But your brain is quickly flooded with questions, logistics, ‘what ifs’ that hold you back from your desire to be impulsive. You’re also freaking out. This feels so good – too good – it’s near terrifying. You can feel your self-saboteur creeping up within you, but you’re quick to squash that little voice in your head that takes your doubts too far. 

“Yeah, we should,” he agrees. “You go ahead. I just wanna lay here for a second.”

“Meet me in there?” you ask, as you sit up for a quick peck on the lips. 

He nods in response as you begin to move. 

You groan as you force yourself up and out of bed, wearing only an old Original Beef Chicagoland t-shirt. You’d found it in the laundry basket with a bunch of other clean, yet unfolded clothes he hadn’t put away. The cold air hits your skin as you hiss at the impact. Carmy watches your every move, still convinced this is all a dream. You know exactly what you’re doing as you strip the t-shirt off, revealing your bare body underneath, tossing it on the floor and making your way to the bathroom. 

“But don’t keep me waiting for too long.”

Carmy hears the sound of the water running and he shakes his head. You’re a piece of work – he’ll give you that. He sits up, wondering how any of this could be real.

*

You spend the rest of the day exploring Chicago and Carmy realizes it’s been quite some time since he explored the city he grew up in. So much has changed…. You’d taken a twenty five minute bus ride from River North down to Chinatown, and had allowed yourself just to roam. You had missed these grand adventures with him: from stops for pork dumplings, to arguing over who gets to pay the bill, to returning back to a community botanical garden you’d passed earlier. 

“Wait. You’re not kidding?!” you exclaim at the outrageous statement he’s just made. “Noooo, no, no, no.Take it back!”

“Nope. No! I’m not taking it back,” he protests, stubbornly.

“Okay, don’t get me wrong,” you clarify. “Because the pork buns were good. But you can’t possibly think that there’s a better pork bun than… what was it called?”

“You can’t even remember the name,” Carmy scoffs, playfully. “How can it be that good then?”

“Oh fuck off. It was the place we liked, right next to that uh, that pharmacy with the green awning. Oh! And the menu was always printed on neon green paper taped in the window – no English, just pictures. You don’t remember?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He certainly remembers, but he’s enjoying giving you a hard time. 

“I’m just saying. I think they might be the best pork buns in the country.”

He shakes his head, sighing out your name. 

“I don’t know. I think the entire population of San Francisco would take offense to that statement,” he challenges you.

“Well, we’re not talking about San Francisco, Carmen,” you point out, using his full name just to one up him. 

“Hey uh. I don’t know if you noticed but… San Francisco is actually a part of this country,” he pushes back, being a smartass. 

“Oh it is?” you reply back, sarcastically. “I had no idea. Thank you so much for enlightening me.”

The banter between the two of you is your favorite kind of foreplay. You’ve missed this.

He pauses, redirecting his attention to Chicago. 

“So what?” he teases. “You're gonna come into my city and insult it like that? Okay. I see how it is.”

He holds the cigarette that’s previously been in between his index finger and middle finger back into his mouth now. You watch as it sits between his lips, deciding to push his buttons a little further. 

“Jesus Christ,” you shake your head, playfully scoffing. “I can’t believe you’re smoking in a freakin’ community garden, Carmen.”

“What? We’re outside. I didn’t see a no-smoking sign when we came in. Shit…” he groans, somehow managing to keep the cigarette in between his lips. 

“You gonna put it out?” you shoot back. 

“No.”

“Well, fine. Then give me some,” you say, reaching for it. 

“I thought you were trying to quit,” Carmy’s quick to rebut you, grabbing it out of his mouth and holding it above your head. He’s not that much taller than you, but you can tell he’s having a little too much fun with this game of keepaway. 

“Carmy!” you exclaim with a laugh, pulling his arm down.

“No! You said you were trying to quit.”

“I never said that!” “Yes you did. You looked at me and you said, ‘I’m trying to cut back, Car.’”

“That doesn’t mean-. That’s not the same!”

“Yes, it is.”

“No it’s-, fuck you.”

He laughs, shaking his head before turning to you, almost as a challenge. He raises his eyebrows before asking:

“You really want to spend our last full day together arguing?”

“Well, when we’re so good at it…” you banter back, flirtatiously. 

Finally… finally, he leans in to kiss you. You can taste the cigarette on his breath that you’d fought him so hard for. The both of you stop in the middle of the walkway, earning a few looks from a few people passing by. Carmy’s tries to fight the surprise he’s feeling – still trying to adjust to the fact that someone, let alone you, would want to kiss him in broad daylight.

You laugh, pulling away from the kiss before grabbing his arm as the two of you continue your walk along the carved out pathway. 

He doesn’t want this to end. 

He never wants this to end. 

But his own words echo in his head – about this being your last day with him. Your week in Chicago is coming to an end, sending panic all throughout his body if he thinks about it for too long. He knows that all he has to do is say something – ask you to stay – and he’s not sure what he’s fucking waiting for. The words have built up within him, gotten stuck in his throat, and he’s swallowed them, scared absolutely shitless. 

He can hear Mikey’s voice in his head as the words are on the tip of his tongue. 

Let it rip. 

Don’t be a fuckin’ idiot. You can’t let her go!

 Let it rip, Carm.

With your fingers so gently intertwined between his, he can feel his hand getting clammy as he contemplates what he’s about to say. 

“I don’t want this to be the end,” he blurts out, catching you off guard. 

You stop. You’re not sure why you’re so surprised. You’ve been thinking about it too, afterall, but you half expected that you’d have to be the one to bring this up. 

“I don’t want this to be the end either,” you confess, your voice soft as you lose yourself in the way he’s looking at you right now. 

He’s relieved, almost surprised. 

“You don’t?”

You shake your head, chuckling at his reaction. 

“No, of course not! This is-, these past few days have been….”

“Yeah,” he agrees, a small smile threatening the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah.”

You exchange glances, and how much you care for each other is evident in each others’ eyes.

“It’s just that-. Well. Do you-, do you want to… sit?” you suggest, gesturing towards one of the park benches. 

He’s not sure why, but his stomach drops as he anticipates what you’re about to say. You seem serious… uncertain… even after what you both just said. 

“Yeah, of… ‘course,” he stammers, following you as you lead him towards a park bench. 

You take a seat, sitting side by side as you stare at the ground. His eyes are on you and he wonders why you’re avoiding his gaze. He rubs his palms together, feeling just how clammy they’ve gotten. He’s so fucking nervous he feels like he could jump out of his skin.

“I think. Well, I think that maybe we-. Well, I won’t speak for you but, I think maybe I’ve felt this way for you for a long time,” you begin, finally meeting his gaze with yours. 

It’s just, if you look at him for too long, you may not say what you need to say. 

“I think maybe… we were ignoring a lot of things. You know? Back in New York,” you continue, trying your best to articulate where your head's at. 

“I don’t-, I really thought for a while we could just be friends. And I was okay with that. But then we slept together… and when you left New York, I guess I just realized how much of a space in my life you were filling for me… you know… the kind of space…” you pause, suddenly afraid to say the word, as if it’s going to send him running for the hills. 

“... the kind of space a boyfriend would fill up, you know?”

Boyfriend. 

Right. 

“Woah,” Carmy sounds, hearing it out loud for the first time. 

“Yeah. It feels just as weird to say.”

And suddenly, you feel shy.

You both take a beat. Carmy’s still hung up on the whole ‘boyfriend’ part, and you’re trying to figure out how best to proceed.

“I mean, am I just fucking crazy to think that-, I don’t know. That after one week of… and it’s only been a couple of days, of us, you know… doing this,” you stammer through.

“No, you’re not-, it’s not crazy for thinking that-,” he starts, before stopping again. 

He wants you to say it: that you’ll stay. God, does he want you to say it. 

And he also knows that he hasn’t asked you yet. Hell, he’s still reeling from you bringing up the word ‘boyfriend.’ It’s not like you can read his mind – know that he wants nothing more than to be your boyfriend. 

“I want to make this clear first. I’m just-, I really want to be with you,” you say, speaking plainly enough, leaving no room for a misunderstanding. “But I don’t want to be presumptuous that you also-.”

“No I-.”

The words feel like boulders, falling out of his mouth. 

“I want… that too.”

Let it rip, buddy. 

Carmy’s opening his mouth to say something else, but you’ve beat him to the punch as you continue with,

“But… right now, we live in different cities and… I know long distance can be a lot of work.”

Were you having second thoughts?

“This is all just happening so fast and it’s a lot of change-. Dating is one thing but moving is a whole other thing for me to wrap my head around. It would be a lot of change for me if I-,” you try to explain. You let out a laugh before allowing yourself to be vulnerable – hoping it wouldn’t discourage him at all.

“I’m just kind of freaking out here, Car,” you confess. “And I also am kinda wondering where your head’s at too.”

And it feels like a weight’s been lifted off of the both of you. He laughs in relief along with you, shaking his head. 

“Thank god,” he sighs, and it’s liberating. 

“You too?”

“Yeah I-. Fuck yeah I’m freaking out,” Carmy reassures you, glad that you’re both on the same page. 

You both exchange a look, sharing a hopeless laugh, and in that moment, neither of you need words to understand how you feel about each other. You’re both head over fuckin’ heels for each other. You reach over, giving his hand a squeeze, satisfied with that as an answer. 

You settle into a comfortable silence with each other, watching the power walkers, the parents pushing their kids in strollers, the jogger running with their dog. While you’re glad you’ve gotten that out of the way, Carmy still has yet to tell you where he’s at. He repeats the words he’s had in his head, over and over again. 

He doesn’t want to scare you, but they’re eating at him, like if he doesn’t let it out, he’ll implode. 

You listening to me, Bear? 

Can you hear me?

C’mon man. Let it rip. 

“You could stay. If you wanted to. Just so you know,” Carmy blurts out, grabbing your attention. 

Okay. Okay. Try not to fucking panic, you remind yourself. 

Now that he’s said the words out loud… now that they exist between the two of you – that they could be a reality. 

While you’d love nothing more than to say yes, you’re terrified, and all the change is terrifying. Like what if you said no and he decided to call the whole thing off? Even though you’re screaming internally, you try to approach it from a logical perspective. 

“How-, how would that work?” you ask, teetering the line between hesitation and curiosity. 

He shrugs, feeling incredibly naked all over again, “You heard everyone the other day. I don’t think anyone would… hate you stickin’ around.”

“And Marcus. He’s learned so much from you in just a week. You guys could… I don’t know… he can’t do it all by himself. We’re gonna have to hire someone else to help out, anyways….” 

“Well, it’s Marcus’ domain. I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you reply. 

“No, I know! I-, well I’d have to talk to him first but I’m sure he’d be… more than happy to hear that you’d be-.”

You’re quiet as you let his words land, your thoughts running a mile a minute. 

“I’m not saying that… I haven’t made a decision yet,” you preface, wanting to be as clear as day here. “But if I decided to… you know. Well… I’d have to get my own apartment.”

“‘Course, yeah, of- of course,” he says, rushing to eliminate any thought that he’d have that expectation. 

As he hurries to squash the idea, he wonders why he feels a small pang of disappointment, like a pit in his stomach. It’s not like he expected that you’d just move in together, but he’s gotten used to waking up to you the last few days. 

You take another beat, letting yourself work through the thoughts you're having. 

“It’d be a lot of change, Carm. And I think I just need a second to like, wrap my fuckin’ head around it. Can I think about it?” you finally ask, hopeful that he’ll understand. 

It’s not him at all. You just need a fucking minute to catch up – to wrap your head around this relationship, and the possibility of moving here.

Because what if you move your whole life to Chicago for him, and it didn’t work out? You’d be crushed. 

Carmy is quiet, still reeling from the fact that he blurted out those words. 

“I’m-, I'm gonna have to go back to New York anyways. Tie up some loose ends. Tell the restaurant I’m not coming back. I got shit in storage too, and a lease I gotta figure out what to do with…”

“Yeah,” he finally says with a curt nod. 

There’s a part of him screaming at him to burn it all down. If he sabotages it now, it’ll save him the anxiety and the grief of waiting for your response… of the possibility that you could say ‘no’ and decide not to come back. And there’s another part of him that doesn’t want to let you go back to New York at all because what if you do say no? What if you never come back? What if, after this, you change your mind and he never sees you again? 

He snaps himself out of his doomsday ‘what if’ scenario and says, gaining a little more confidence, “No, yeah. Take-, take all the time you need.”

You’ve always been this way anyways. It’s just your M.O. You’ve always needed to think through things before making a decision, he reminds himself.

“Thank you for understanding, Carm.”

“I-,” you open your mouth to say something else, but nothing comes out because all you have left to say is:

I love you. 

But it feels too soon – even if you’ve felt this way about him for a long time. 

“I mean it,” he reinforces, even if he is faking some of his confidence. “You don’t have to thank me. Take all the time you need.”

You listen, choosing to be optimistic about the whole situation, like you know that you’re going to figure it out together.

“Besides, New York’s not so far away,” you offer up, taking a lighter tone this time. “And.. we both have phones. We can call each other, text… have phone sex.” 

He laughs. 

“We’re gonna figure it out. If you want to, at least,” you offer up, pausing once more. “You know. With me?”

He nods, shooting you his best reassuring look. 

He really does. 

He really would like nothing more than to figure it out with you.

read: part seven (epilogue)

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #the bear marcus #sydney adamu #the bear tina #richie jerimovich #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader

[yellowharrington]

jaded -- chapter 3, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen “carmy” berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: smoking as usual. angsty!!! minors dni with this story please.

word count: 2k

a/n: sorry for the kinda late posting, was at the lake this weekend hehe. v angsty chapter but i hope u love it!!

summary: feelings get involved.

masterlist | chapter 2 | chapter 4

When the morning light filters through your curtains that morning, it’s disappointing to see that he’s not there laying with you. Not an abnormal offence, sure, but it was beginning to hurt more and more when he would sneak off in the middle of the night. The closer you got with him, the more it hurt to wake up alone, knowing he didn’t want to spend the night with you afterwards. 

When you finally did make it out of bed, you opened your bedroom door to a very not-empty kitchen. Carmy had his back turned, slightly hunched over the stove with a two pans on the burners, soft sizzling coming from his general direction. You were surprised to see him there, dipping a spoon in the sauce he was making before turning around and seeing you standing there. “Good morning. Did I wake you?”

This was certainly becoming something else entirely.

“No, not at all. Hi.” He looked a little disheveled and sleepy still, white t-shirt now pulled over his chest, slightly riding up in the front and exposing his lower stomach. You did make a mental note that he hadn’t worn his boxers to bed last night. “Hi,” he does a little skip out of the kitchen, coming towards you, leaning in for a warm kiss planted right on your lips. He tasted of butter and slightly of toothpaste. “I made you an omelette,” he goes back to his pan and grabs you a plate, but not before looking through a few cupboards to find where the plates actually are. He puts up a perfect orange-yellow French omelette, sprinkling a few fresh chives overtop. “What has gotten into you?” you laugh, taking the breakfast from him and cutting off a small piece. He looked a little flustered, watching you take the first bite. “Good?” He asked excitedly. “Delicious. Don’t dodge the question. Why are you being like this? What… happened?” 

He seemed a little nervous, before leaning over the counter across from you and clasping his hands together. “I’m bad at this,” he starts, drawing his eyes down and attempting not to make eye contact with you. “I’m so bad at all of this shit, and, I feel fuckin’… I feel bad.” your heart sank a little, as you placed the fork on the side of your plate and listened. “Y’know, I was with Claire for a little while, as you, well, as you know it didn’t end well, so I’m kinda scared of all this shit.” You nodded along, not being able to avoid taking another small bite of the food in front of you. Shit, he really did know how to fuckin’ cook.

“But I like you. And I kept leaving in the middle of the night because I was scared you were gonna wake up and regret it, and regret me, and all this,” he’s so awkwardly sincere, it almost makes your stomach hurt. “But at the restaurant yesterday, and last night, I just felt…” he stops for a moment, trying so hard not to self-sabotage for once, “I felt like you just really wanted me here. And I haven’t felt like that maybe, maybe fuckin’, maybe ever.” the silence that was laid over the kitchen was loud as you let yourself stare at him a little. “Please say something,” he pleaded, his smirk curling up on the left corner of his mouth. 

“Carmen, every second I get to be with you is fucking… awesome,” you start, getting up from your seat and letting your hands press against his chest. “I don’t know how to do this either. I just… I’m really happy you’re here too.” 

“And, well, I just feel, just fucking stop me if I’m being insane-” you let your lips attach to his then, closing the gap between you two and forcing him to just be in the moment. “Shut up,” and it’s eager against his lips. “Don’t burn your hollandaise.” And when he pulls away to turn the heat off on the pans, he laughs at his own clumsiness. 

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

—

The only problem now is that there is a secret looming over everyone at The Bear. It’s like the mood shifted when you walked into work on Monday morning, and not just because you had a little pep in your step, but it almost felt like everyone knew.

You’re sure they didn’t, there was no way to know, truly, but it felt like it. There wasn’t even really anything to know, because you hadn’t done a lot of talking about anything after that morning, and instead had chosen to spend the day tangled up in your sheets and trying new recipes in the kitchen. There was no label, no conversation, no anything, so there was really nothing to know.

But it felt like everyone knew.

So when Carmy waltzed in at noon and put his bag away in his locker, hanging up his wool jacket that now smelled of your vanilla perfume, it took every bone in your body not to act like he was your boyfriend. Or, whatever this was now.

But he breezed by you easily, barely even giving you a nod of acknowledgment, and you guess it kinda made sense. Workplace relationships were generally frowned upon by, well, everyone, and the mess that Carmy had gotten into with Claire certainly didn’t paint him as the nicest person to be involved with. He was always going a mile a minute at work anyways, back and forth from office to prep to expo, and you knew he wouldn’t be giving you any special treatment.

What you weren’t expecting was his completed ignorance of your presence, as if you weren’t even in the building. He didn’t want to make anything obvious, sure, but he was at the point where it was honestly kind of funny how much he had switched up.

“Is Carmy mad at you or something?” Sydney asked, pulling you out of your coconut macaroon trance. “I don’t think so, why?” She leaned against your station and watched as he fingered through paper in the office, making a few small notes into a notebook. He was oblivious to the fact that Sydney was staring daggers at him. “He just seems like, annoyed, I guess.” “Isn’t Carmy always annoyed?” she giggled a little at that. “Yeah. He is. I heard Claire was trying to get a hold of him, from Richie,” she whispered. “Like a few nights ago. I guess she wants to give it another chance and like, forgave him or whatever.” You felt your cheeks start to get hot. “Oh, yeah? She, uh, - she told him that?”

She looked at you, seemingly right through your eyes and into your soul. “Does that mean something to you if she did?” You suddenly felt very on the spot, not knowing what to say. “Look, you’re not the first person to have a little crush on your boss okay? But don’t… don’t do it with him. He’s got something going on with Claire that’s just… something else. That’s old family shit, you don’t wanna get involved with that. He’s never gonna get over her.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Syd,” and it all felt a little wrong because now your mouth was dry and your head was spinning a little, because deep down, maybe there was some truth to that. Maybe if Claire was gonna come running back and forgive Carmy, maybe you didn’t stand a chance.

So you made your macaroons, and iced your cakes, and tried not to think about it.

- 

It’s the beginning of the end when he starts just coming over to your place after work, instead of asking. 

It’s a routine now - you’d stay late together, watching every last one of them leave, before hopping into Carmy’s passenger side and letting his rough hands find the top of your thigh as he drove the familiar way back to your place. You’d share a bowl of chips and salsa, or sometimes a grilled cheese if you were feeling particularly fancy. On Sundays, if he hadn’t stayed the night before, you’d order takeout and watch each other’s favourite movies, no matter how many times you’d seen them before. 

It was becoming harder to ignore the looming cloud of Claire. You knew you needed to ask, like, what the fuck was going on, because the problem with dating Carmy and no one knowing was that you were still in on all of the kitchen gossip. Richie was the perpetrator of it all, which made it mostly questionable, but it had some merit nonetheless.

“I heard she called him crying on the phone and was begging for him back, and he was all like, “Claire no, you’re drunk, you’ll regret calling me, or some shit,” Richie had started, and your interest was piqued. “I doubt that happened,” Sydney added, talking just loud enough for you to eavesdrop. “He’s just never gonna get over what an ass wipe he is, beat himself up about it forever, and never properly love again. I think.” And even though the small giggles that erupted from the group were low and gentle, it didn’t hurt any less that everyone seemed to collectively agree that Carmy had fucked her over so bad that he would probably be broken forever. Ergo, you were just a rebound. Nothing more.

When you’re being eerily silent on the couch one night, he seems to notice. “What’s up?” He’s so innocent when he asks, eyes still on the TV in front of him, a spoon stuck into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in his lap. “What really happened with you and Claire, anyways? What’s the story?”

He looked a little jarred by the question, suddenly feeling like the room was too small and the breeze was too cold and it all felt a little weird. 

“What do you wanna know? Like, from the beginning?”

“Yeah. Whatever you wanna tell me. However deep this goes.”

He can tell you’ve already overthought this to shit, and this was something he would have to navigate fairly carefully, lest there be a landmine.

“Uh, well, um, she was - like a family friend, while we are growin’ up, y’know. And I had a big crush on her then and I, um, well I didn’t see her for a long time and then she was just, like, in the grocery store that day, when I was buying veal stock?”

You nodded along attentively, watching as he slid his palms down his clothed thighs nervously.

“And uh, we started talking after that, rekindling old shit and just reminiscing, y’know? And it felt really nice. I hadn’t really had like, a real girlfriend before that, like a few hookups in New York and whatever but not like a partner,” he let his tongue dart in between his lips, a pause. “I guess I’m kinda outing myself as a loser, first real girlfriend at this age, but, I trusted her a lot and it felt kinda right.”

You don’t know if you were prepared for this conversation, but it was too late to take back the question.

“So we went out for a bit, and I really liked her, I guess I loved her, I don’t know. But when I was locked in the fridge on opening night and shit was going wrong I just, went on this tirade about how much I regretted being with her and spending so much time and energy on her when I should’ve been dealing with my fuckin’ restaurant. And shit was falling apart and I was so upset about it all, and I just broke.” The silence was palpable.

“And she called me a few nights ago and she was drunk and yelling at me, and I never intended to be such a fucking asshole but I was. And then I kinda heard through the grapevine that she wanted to talk to me again, and explain, but I just felt… like I can’t fix it. So what’s the point, ya know? And- and she told me that she wanted to fix it, and she would forgive me, and stuff, but it’ll never be the same.”

“Would you fix it with her if you could? If it could go back to the way it was?”

There’s silence, again. And this time, there’s an answer hidden under it, one that is better left unsaid. Suddenly there’s an awkwardness, and Carmy’s looking at you with his usually warm blue eyes, but they look icy tonight. You know he feels bad, but not bad enough to be over her completely, and the blanket of sadness that is laid over the room suddenly feels rather overwhelming.

The words hang on the tip of his tongue, as you grab the dishes in front of you and step over him to go to the kitchen, putting them in the sink to soak. You let the hot water run over the porcelain, letting a few small tears fall from the sides of your eyes, into the murky water below. The long sleeve you’re wearing gets pulled up over your hands to wipe the tears away, taking a few shallow breaths to hopefully stop them from staining your cheeks.

He’s beside you in the kitchen now, an apologetic look on his face, watching as you turn to face him. “Maybe you should just go home tonight,” you finally say. “I could use a night to myself.” “Don’t, I didn’t mean-“ “It’s okay, Carmen, really. I’d just rather be alone.” He looks down at his socked feet on your kitchen floor, nodded silently before grabbing his keys and his coat, slipping on his shoes, and walking out.

You watch him from the front window, arms crossed over your chest. He lets a fist hit the roof of his car, and you can hear his “Fuck!” Ring out into the night sky. The orange tip of his cigarette creates a faint glow by his face as he gets in. The tears well up in your eyes as he drives off, leaving you alone in your apartment, before you turn away and let yourself collapse into bed.

#carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto fanfic #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x you #the bear fx fanfic #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fanfic

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Word Count: 5,200 Warnings: Some male skeeviness lol.

Part 1: The Game Begins

Two months ago…

You and M.M. continued to pour over all the records that the CIA had been able to pull on Soldier Boy.

This had been your life for the past month: locked in one hotel room after the next, up to your eyeballs in research. Or pounding the pavement in the sweltering summer of Brazil, on any whisper of Soldier Boy.

Right now it was the former. You all were piled into M.M.’s room, as it was the only one with a kitchen.

You smiled at Frenchie and thanked him when he offered you a steaming mug. At least you would finally get to experience Brazilian coffee.

You hiked a foot on the table where you and M.M. were working and sipped carefully; the mug was filled to the brim. Your companion eyed your pajama-clad leg, which only encroached an inch or two into his space.

“Excuse the fuck outta me,” said M.M. “Can you not?”

You briefly looked up from the (completely fabricated) biopic you were reading on Soldier Boy. “Hmm?”

M.M. gestured to your bare foot on the table. “Hello? What, were you raised in a fucking barn?”

With an amused smile, you lowered your leg. “I’m cramping up. We’ve been at this for six hours.”

“And counting,” Hughie said with a tired sigh. He and Annie had just come from scoping the local tourist spots and dive bars in the city. It wasn’t for pleasure though. You all had arrived in Brazil last night on a rumor that Soldier Boy had been spotted at a club a couple of days ago. 

Annie heaved a sigh as she dropped into the seat next to you. She stole your paper fan on the table and tried to dry the sweat on her face and neck. You smiled and passed her your bottled water as well.

You and Annie had been “work friendly” at Supe Affairs. Now you felt like she had accepted you the most readily into the group. She seemed genuinely interested in who you were as a person as well.

Though you tried not to give too many personal details about your life, she had a way of disarming you, getting you to open up with her genuine willingness to listen. 

You were friendly enough with Hughie and Kimiko as well, and you could also admit, you liked M.M. He was a straightforward man (and fun to tease with his anal idiosyncrasies). You got the most done with M.M. by your side. And watching him with Frenchie was pure entertainment. 

Overall, you felt respected by them, even if you knew you weren’t as close as the rest of them seemed to be. You just hadn’t been on the team long enough. 

The only one who mostly ignored you was Billy Butcher.

Butcher didn’t want you on the team. He’d made that pretty clear from the beginning.

What had his words been? Oh, yeah.

She’s a fucking amateur. Won’t last thirty seconds if, heavens for-fuckin’-bid, she encounters an A-lister like Soldier Boy. 

You knew he considered you dead weight. But as Grace had told him, her track record speaks for itself. 

No, you weren’t former SAS, like Butcher. You weren’t CIA, or any other military alphabet soup. But if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was tracking people down.

You were currently flitting through Soldier Boy’s sham career: the shitty music videos, the starlets, the ticker tape parades, and what precious little there was about his beginnings: about “Ben.” 

You did find out that his family was from Hartford, Connecticut, and stupidly rich too. You found his parents’ names to go along with that. 

And then it was a hop, skip, and a jump to him being unveiled as Soldier Boy.  

“That is curious,” you murmured. 

“Curious about the world’s most infamous granny fucker?” Butcher remarked. You slid him a wry look. 

The fact that he tried to erase his past is interesting,” you said. “The details that aren’t here are just as important as the ones that are.”

Butcher hesitated a second, an ice-cold beer poised to his lips. He tipped it toward you in acknowledgement. “On that, we actually agree.”

“What do we know about his real life? Before he became Soldier Boy,” you asked.

Butcher sat down across from you and shaded in the details he knew, mostly about a disappointed father. 

“Didn’t get enough hugs as a lad,” he surmised. 

You suspected he was understating the truth. If there weren’t that many recorded accounts, pictures, or footage of Soldier Boy’s parents and home life, then he didn’t want people to know. 

Interesting, you thought. Eventually Butcher got up to run down another lead that came in via text from Grace. Frenchie came back from the kitchen and saw how intently you were staring at your computer screen, eyes rapidly scanning. 

“Ah,” Frenchie said, gesturing between you and the departed Butcher with a hand that held three alfajores cookies. “I see the same anal tenacity that fuels Monsieur Charcutier.”

You raised a brow. “My tenacity is for the case, not Soldier Boy.”

This wasn’t a vendetta for you. This was just business.

“For money,” M.M. correctly guessed, but his eyes held no judgment. “Been there.”

You sighed, smiling a little. Yes, you were doing this for money. They didn’t need to know anything more than that. 

You liked this team well enough, but this was a job. The way you protected your family, and yourself, was by not talking about them.

That night, Frenchie’s ordered “package” arrived, courtesy of Grace. It was a healthy dose of Novichok gas—perhaps one of the only substances on Earth that could put Soldier Boy into a peaceful sleep. 

Well, you didn’t know if it was peaceful, exactly. But he’d be asleep. That was all any of you cared about.

“At least it’s in proper containment this time,” M.M. said, examining the large cannister. Annie peered at it over his shoulder. 

“I don’t know. My shitty perfume case seemed to hold it just fine,” she quipped. 

You smiled from your usual seat at your computer. Annie came over with a sandwich for both of you. It was from the café down the street, and you’d been meaning to try it. Every time you stood out on your hotel room’s balcony, you could smell fresh bread and smoked meats coming from the café. 

“Oh, yeah. How’s your sister?” Annie asked around a mouthful of sandwich. “She’s in college now, right?”

She had a good memory. Annie had heard you on the phone with your sister before you all left last month. You’d said one last goodbye, knowing it wouldn’t be safe to talk once you were locked into this mission.

While you were reluctant to answer Annie’s question, the others seemed distracted in the kitchen, fighting over who ordered chorizo and who ordered steak on their sandwich. 

Still, you lowered your voice, even as a proud smile graced your lips. “She got into Julliard.”

Annie grinned and set her food down to give a little clap. 

“She starts in the fall, so a few months,” you added.

“Aww, you’re glowing with pride,” Annie teased. And you laughed, but it was true. You wouldn’t hide that you were very proud of your little sister’s accomplishments. 

“She’s worked hard, and she deserves it,” you said. Though your eyes dimmed. “I just wish I could help her celebrate…she’s on my case for taking this job.”       

Quite simply, she worried about you. You were good at your job, but you were still human. She’d seen you come home banged up and bruised more often than you cared to admit…

Annie gave you a knowing look. “If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to. I’m sure you can get other jobs—”

“Getting into school is just the beginning,” you said. “She’s got four years to go. Then her master’s. Hell, her doctorate if she wants.”

“There are scholarships…”

“It’s not enough,” you said with a sigh. It’s never enough.

“All right, lads,” Butcher said. He wiped his mouth with a napkin as he read off his phone. “The new Strongest Cunt in the World has been spotted. Suit up.” 

“Where’re we going?” you asked, closing up your laptop. 

Butcher shot you a wink. “Colombia.”

While on the private plane, you were the only one still awake as you continued to watch the archival footage with your Airpods in. Reel after motherfucking reel of Soldier Boy. 

You really were starting to get sick of his smug face. He was clearly a good actor, if nothing else. 

Then you came across the Russia files. 

Part of you didn’t want to watch. You knew exactly what they were, and you didn’t want to see anything that would make you sympathize with him in your mind…

And yet, your father’s training was ingrained in you—like fingerprints on your skin. Like a vice grip around your throat. 

Everything is relevant, always. Even if it isn’t.

…That, and maybe your own insatiable curiosity won out. 

So you steeled yourself with a breath, and you hit the play button. 

Gradually, your eyes widened. 

You had seen awful things—as a private investigator at your father’s firm, and at Vought. 

You had filled your quota of blood and death. And you had already seen the footage of Soldier Boy blasting a tower full of people in New York with the nuclear power now housed in his chest. 

You also knew what he did to M.M.’s family. But after watching several minutes of Soldier Boy's torture, hearing his struggle, his outbursts of rage, the ragged gasps for breath, the clawing, traumatized sounds...

It was like stereo between your ears, and it was...too familiar. Too much.

So you finally turned it off, closing your laptop with an unsettled breath of your own. 

And you were unable to sleep that night.

When you all finally arrived in Colombia, you and the team surveyed the wreckage in the casino.

It was a fucking blood bath.

As you stepped carefully through the wreckage of bodies and gambling chips, you looked for clues. Anything that might tell you about what Soldier Boy was doing here (though you could guess), and however unlikely, where he might go next. 

You were disheartened to find the body of a young woman. Her big blue eyes were vacant, her blonde hair caked with blood from a head shot. On further inspection, you found a small room key in her hand. 

With a sigh and a gloved hand, you took the key. You also closed the girl’s eyes. 

You kept looking while the others had fanned out in the opposite direction. When you came across a small table that wasn’t turned over or splintered into fragments, you raised a brow. There was a napkin pinned to the top with a steak knife. 

You yanked it out and examined the flimsy napkin. Noticing that you’d found something, Butcher came over to your side. He was much taller than you, fairly looming over your shoulder. You angled the note toward him. 

Try harder.

S.B.

It was more than just a taunt. 

It was the beginning of a game. And it made you smile. 

“What the hell’re you smiling about?” Butcher asked. 

“I like it when they’re cocky,” you replied. Butcher shot you a sideways glance, one that said you were maybe more deranged than even him.

“All supes are cocky bastards.”

You eyed him with a teasing grin. “On that, we actually agree.”

True to Grace’s word, she provided you all with the full extent of the CIA’s resources. While Butcher tracked down the hotel of the room key you found, you and M.M. were able to tap into any and all local street cameras and map out the likely points Soldier Boy had hit in this city—and where he could be going next.  

According to the hotel manager, Soldier Boy had paid for a month’s stay, but hadn’t checked out after coming back for some of his belongings. The security cameras had caught him leaving his hotel room with a few men—armed ex-military types, and possibly his new entourage. 

But the trail ended there. 

Over the next two months, Soldier Boy continued to be one step ahead of you in the chase. 

Though his movements were calculated (disappearing like a coil of smoke whenever you caught his scent), he seemed to be taking an extended vacation surrounding strip clubs, casinos, and other likely destinations for sex, drugs, and money. 

And he’d evaded capture after hitting at least three banks on his way out of the U.S. alone.

At the current crap motel of the week, you shared the couch with Kimiko and Hughie while you surveyed traffic cameras.

“What’s the likelihood that he’s even still in Colombia? In South America, even?” Hughie asked. It was a good goddamn question.

“We have agents covering every major port and air hanger,” M.M. said. “If he wants to escape the continent, he’s gonna have to fight his way out, or rent a dingy and float his motherfuckin’ ass across the Atlantic.” 

“I wouldn’t put anything past him,” you remarked. “What connections does he have?”

It wasn’t the first time you’d asked that question, but it was the first time you got a straightforward answer. 

“Who knows,” said M.M. “He’s an ancient fuck.”

“Who killed all his old friends,” Hughie supplied.

“Well, his team, to be fair. I don’t think he ever had friends,” Annie said. “...Plus his old girlfriend.”

“What a spectacular bonfire that was,” Butcher dryly quipped. 

Nice, you thought, heavy on the sarcasm. 

You sighed. Clearly, you all would have to be prepared for anything.

When you weren’t pouring through surveillance, you took to the streets with Annie, playing the part of American tourists. 

“Soldier Boy don’t know who the fuck you are,” Butcher had reasoned. He’d then pointed at Annie.

“Her fame as Starlight can get you two into whatever bar, club, or fuckhole that might’ve let him in. She’ll park it at a table, attracting attention. Meanwhile, you’ll circle around and look for him.”

It was actually a sound plan, and you could be a decent actor yourself. This wasn’t the first time you’d adopted a role to find your target, and on this mission, it probably wouldn’t be the last.    

Well, a week later, the plan worked. You and Annie encountered a woman at a bar who waited tables at a nearby club, in Medellin. She’d served Soldier Boy just last night. 

Medellin was considered the party city of Colombia, and for good reason. 

Butcher had cleverly found your “disguise” for tonight, though you hadn’t liked the smirk on his bearded face when he gave you the shopping bag. 

It turned out to be a semi-legal black leather dress, along with thigh-high boots possessing a sharp heel. Annie’s dress was just as short, and gold. With her blonde hair and shimmering makeup contrasting your black dress and smokey makeup, the two of you looked like night and day. Light and dark. 

While Hughie manned surveillance in a rented van, parked outside the club, the rest of the team had found strategic points to cover in the club: M.M. was at the bar. Frenchie and Kimiko had found a table to watch the area in front of the stage, while Butcher was somewhere clinging to the shadows. 

You followed Annie into the club. Once they’d recognized her as Starlight, they’d let her right in, and you by association. You didn’t envy her fame, but you could admit, it had some perks.

Inside, the club was dark and loud, and packed with people and streams of colorful light bouncing off the walls. This isn’t going to be easy. 

Both of you scoped the area subtly before joining M.M. at the bar. 

Well, you two found your own opening further down. Sitting next to him would be too obvious.   

You subtly pressed a finger to the communicator in your ear while Annie ordered drinks. 

“It’s gonna be hard to find my own ass in here,” you said to the team. You scanned the place and noticed an entire second and third floor. “This place is huge.” 

“Then get crackin’, love,” Butcher’s voice reached you. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, but you did take the vodka martini Annie offered you. 

“Ah, you beat me to it,” a man said, his richly accented voice hovering near your ear. You turned your head and had to lean back a bit. You were met with blue eyes, tan skin, and an attractive smile. The man tipped an imaginary hat, letting his shoulder-length dark hair dip into his eyes. 

“Good evening, mi vida,” he said. “I was gonna buy you a drink, but I see you’ve got one. Mind if I finish my beer with you?”

Inwardly you wanted to sigh, but you gave a flirtatious smile to keep up appearances. “Sure.”

“Where are you from?” he asked, and with a more teasing smile. “I’m having a hard time placing your accent.” 

You affected a giggle. “Oh, really? You mean I don’t have a massive, neon sign over my head that says, ‘American Tourist?’”

“Well, maybe not neon,” he joked. “I’m Antonio.”

“I’m Jess,” you lied, shaking his hand. He turned it over and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Annie raised a brow behind you, but she sipped her drink.

Antonio must’ve been a local. His dark blue buttoned-down shirt, jeans, and boots were more casual than the obvious tourists with their flashing finery. And by his accent, you could guess that he was at least Latino. Colombian, most likely.

You were able to subtly dodge the question of exactly where you were from. And the two of you flirted for a few minutes while you continued to survey the people passing by, scanning the gaps between bodies.

When Antonio finally asked you to dance, you agreed. It would get you further into the club with a better excuse than walking around aimlessly. You turned to Annie.

“Catch you later?” you asked. She tossed you a wink.

“Yeah, girl. Have fun!”

You smiled and let Antonio lead you to the dance floor. You discreetly used every movement to your advantage, looking beyond your dancing partner to continue your search. If Soldier Boy was here, you would find him.

“He’s not here,” said Antonio. It actually managed to jerk you out of your focus.

“Who?” you asked, feigning confusion.

“Whoever you’re looking for that isn’t me,” he said, injecting a fair bit of charm into his voice. 

You actually felt your face warming up at that. The way he was looking at you now, there was very little doubt as to what he wanted. His grip on your hips tightened. 

Part of you was getting impatient with this part of the game, but at the very least, he was a good dancer. He pulled you effortlessly through the cumbia, Colombian salsa dancing, even if he was starting to sweat on you. 

Now, you could almost swear someone was watching. Though it might’ve been the sweat dripping down your spine, you felt that strange prickle on the back of your neck.

Well, besides Annie. You knew she was keeping an eye on you from the bar, as were Frenchie and Kimiko as they joined a poker game in the far corner, away from the dance floor.

Your gaze continued to flit through every corner of the room between spins and the movements of your feet and your hips. 

When Antonio’s hands started get a bit too familiar with the curve of your ass, you took his hands and used them to spin yourself. He brought you back in tight. A bit too tight.

“Come on, baby…” he whispered in your ear.

And you felt his hand slide up the inside of your thigh. He even had the audacity to try and slip past the lacey front of your underwear.

That’s when your patience snapped. 

You grabbed his wrist and “accidentally” drove your heel into his foot. With precision you felt it land between two vertebrae. 

The girlish yelp he made brought a flicker of a smile to your lips, but you covered it with a doe-eyed look and many bumbling apologies. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

He all but shoved you as he limped away, cursing you in Spanish. You’d taken four years of it in high school, and you still only caught half of it.  

Hiding your smile, you walked away and pressed a discreet finger to the comm in your ear. 

“The stage front is clear. Scoping the back.”

“Wait for me,” Annie said. She was still sitting at the bar. “I think you broke that guy’s foot.”

“He had tenacity,” Frenchie remarked.

“All balls and no brains, as usual,” you muttered. “Stay there and look shiny, Annie. He’s less likely to recognize me, but he might come out to play if he spots a familiar face at the bar.”

“She’s right,” Butcher said to Annie. “Stay where you are.”    

You made your way to the bathroom and scoped the hall. There in the privacy of the shadows, you adjusted the gun holster on your thigh. It was a miracle Antonio hadn’t felt it. 

Not that a gun would do much against Soldier Boy, but you didn’t feel right without it. 

Then you kept moving and dodged various couples making out (and more) on your way upstairs.

“Going up,” you informed the team quietly. The second floor was a series of rooms, none of which you wanted to pop in on without an invitation.

After you made it to the end of the hall, you turned a corner and noticed a door hung open a crack. Sliding it open, you found a wall of music there to greet you.

And that wasn’t all.

Inside was a room of people drinking and drugging and generally doing things to one another. You didn’t want to go in, but you wouldn’t put it past Soldier Boy to get caught up in a mass orgy. 

You walked through the room, only taking in what you needed to with your eyes. 

Focusing on the far wall, you saw a leather chair by the window, with a still smoking cigar laid to rest in an ash tray on a small table. Your head tilting with interest, you went over to the table and found another hand-written note. 

Once again, you sighed. “He’s not here, guys. He bounced.”

Once you all regrouped with Hughie outside the club, you handed the note to Butcher with a grimace.

“You have a love letter,” you said. And Hughie too.

With a wry brow raise, Butcher looked down at the scrap of paper.

Butcher, you’ll die first. Then the cum-guzzler. 

S.B.

That night at the hotel, after you'd showered and peeled off that ridiculous dress, you poured over the Soldier Boy files again.

You hadn’t touched the Russia ones since that first night, but you knew you were missing far too much. In order to anticipate his moves, you needed to understand how he thought.

You couldn’t do that if you didn’t even have the full picture of who he was. And the movies, the silly music videos, even the exploded skyscraper and Homelander’s death—none of it told the full story of Ben. 

It didn’t tell you what he wanted. What he cared about. Why he was playing cat and mouse instead of just taking his stand, like his soldier persona would’ve demanded of his pride.

Or maybe that pride's just like everything else: a well-crafted costume.

A knock at your door jolted you out of your thoughts. 

You got up to your feet, briefly looking down to make sure you were decently dressed (you supposed pajama shorts, a bra, and a tank top would suffice). You grabbed your gun and checked the peephole before you answered the door with a smile.

It was M.M. with a mug of tea for you. “I knew you’d still be up, killin’ those files. It’s almost morning, you know.”

You accepted the mug with a warmer smile.  

“Aw, you do care,” you quipped. He rolled his eyes. 

You laughed a little. “Seriously, thank you.”

He pointed at you.

“Go to sleep,” he said. You raised two fingers to your temple in salute. 

“Sir. Yes, sir!” you joked. Really, you appreciated his concern. After hearing many a story about his daughter Jennine, and seeing how the rest of the team respected him, you knew that he was a good man. 

And thanks to him and Annie, you were actually starting to feel like part of this team.

After you wished him goodnight (or good morning, at this rate), you closed the door to your hotel room, followed closely by your laptop. 

You took out your phone, silently contemplating what time it would be in New York right now.

Well, it would be very early in the morning. Still, you thought it was worth a try, since you had the time.

You dialed your sister, Luisa. While it rang, you remembered just how thin these hotel walls were. So you stepped out to the rickety balcony. Jeez, hope it holds my weight throughout this call.

When your sister eventually answered, she murmured your name sleepily in confusion.

“Hey, sorry for waking you up,” you said, feeling bad. 

“It’s okay.” She yawned. “I should be up soon anyway. Got 8 am classes Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“Ech. Screw that shit,” you teased. 

“You’re the one sweating balls in South America.”

“I’d rather be drowning in my own sweat than listening to some old bag drone on for eight hours,” you volleyed back, and leaned against the balcony’s railing, even as it creaked suspiciously with your weight. 

“You, my friend, are uninspired. You mean to tell me mosquitoes and drug cartels are better than Mozart?” your sister asked incredulously. Her sleepy voice was starting to lose some of its gravel as you two fell into familiar bickering. 

“Wow, way to type cast. Not all of South America is about drug-running,” you pointed out. 

“Aren’t there, like, entire shows about people shoving cocaine up their ass to get from Colombia to Miami?” Luisa asked. 

“…Yes, but that’s not the point,” you said with a giggle. “And good guess. I’m actually in Medellin right now.”

“Are you supposed to tell me that?”

“Not really, no, but I don’t think you’ll sell me out to the cartels,” you joked. Or to the Russians, your mind added. That thought made your lips twist sourly. 

“Anyway, are you okay? How’s school, really?”

“It’s good, sis. You know I’m good. I’m worried about you,” she countered, and you could hear the concern in her voice.

“You know me. I’m always good,” you replied with good humor. The silence on the other line told you that you hadn’t been quite convincing enough. 

“When do you think you’ll come home?” she asked.

For what seemed like the hundredth time that night (or morning), you sighed. “That’s hard to say.”

The answering silence told you even more about your sister’s thoughts, and you felt guilty for it. 

“I’m happy just knowing you’re doing so well. With school, starting your adult life, doing your thing,” you added.  

“You need to start thinking about yourself,” she told you.

“What do you mean, Lou? I’m fine.”

It was Louisa’s turn to sigh.

“You know, I was so proud of you when you decided to leave Vought," she said. "When you finally got out from under Dad. When you started working at Supe Affairs…you seemed happy, like you were finally proud of yourself too.”

Emotion started to burn behind your eyes. Part of it was probably sleep deprivation, but you heard the sincerity in your sister’s voice.

She just knew you so well. And she wasn’t lying there—what she’d said was all true of you. However, after the joke that was Victoria Neuman running Supe Affairs, you didn’t know what you could trust anymore. 

Maybe not even your own judgment. 

“But I really wish that you’d consider more than just your work,” Luisa said. “Like a hobby. Take a painting class. Go to karaoke, like we used to do in grade school after Choir practice. You have such a beautiful voice! Like Grandma’s was.”

“I’ll leave the performing to you, Lou,” you said with a chuckle. She was serious, however.

“Work isn’t everything,” she reminded you. Now her voice was firm. “You should go out with your friends. Go out with Annie! Rub shoulders with her celebrity friends.”  

“Right.” You huffed a laugh. You’d been around plenty of famous supes while at Vought. You’d ran down the leads and tracked down the criminals, just for the supes to swoop in and “save the day.” You did the grunt work, and they claimed the credit. 

You’d had enough of “celebrities” to last you a lifetime. 

“Maybe then you’ll—and let me not shock you here—meet someone,” Louisa said. “And finally put an end to that goddamn dry spell. What's it been, like three years?” 

“All right, all right.” You held up a hand of surrender, even if she couldn’t see it. You were grateful she couldn’t catch you blushing. “That’s enough about my non-life, thanks.” 

You shook your head. Embarrassment actually clawed inside your belly. 

Yes, it had been a while since you’d actually been with anyone, relationship or otherwise. You just didn’t have time to have a life, you’d reasoned. Working at Vought had been grueling, and your hours at the S.A., while better, were still demanding.

…Still, you could appreciate that your work-life balance left much to be desired. And that was on you. 

Case in point, you were on this job.

You tipped your face heavenward, letting the sunrise spill some warmth on your face. 

“But…I hear you, okay?” you replied with your eyes closed. 

“You do?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yeah. When I get back, I…I’ll work on it, okay?” you said. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sis. I should probably get going, but…please be safe.”

“Always,” you promised.

After you hung up, you finally opened your eyes. 

That prickly feeling was back, almost like you were being watched.

You scanned around, but your human eyes didn’t find anything out of the ordinary in the sunshine pouring in between the rows of buildings. 

In fact, you didn’t see a damn thing that wasn’t supposed to be there.

So you clutched your phone to your chest, letting out a deep breath. Then you headed back inside.

But mere feet above you, if you had only looked up to the roof, you would’ve seen a hunter lazily eyeing his prey.

AN: Ok! So a little bit slow in this chapter, but it’s all important setup.

In the next chapter, the reader meets Soldier Boy:

You laid a hand on his chest, fingers spreading between the open buttons, and felt his warm skin. 

He glanced up at you with another challenging tilt to his head. What are you gonna do now?

You met that challenge, boldly leaning down to press a kiss against his lips.

Keep Reading: PART 2

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Soldier Boy Masterlist

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#the game begins #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #billy butcher #hughie campbell #annie january #mother's milk #frenchie #kimiko #the boys amazon #break me down #part 1 #zepskies writes

[hier--soir]

under the night | six

pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] language, being held captive, angst, serious violence, torture, injury, blood, discussions of murder, threat of sexual assault [DOES NOT HAPPEN], very brief discussion of religion/the bible, idk if you think i missed anything please let me know word count: 6k part five | series masterlist | main masterlist

Clink, clink.

Maria was drinking a cup of earl grey tea. The bergamot has a calming effect, she’d said, would you like a cup? Her spoon swirled in the teacup, bumping against the china every so often as she mixed in a sugar cube. The cup was pretty, a cream colour with pale pink gerbera flowers painted along the porcelain. Clink, clink; the spoon knocked the side of it again, the woman still unsatisfied by the granules of sugar visible in the dark liquid. It was the only sound in the room, bar the soft pattering of rain on the roof, as the four of them sat silently around Maria and Tommy’s dinner table.

Joel huffed in frustration as she finally lifted the spoon from the liquid and placed it gingerly on the saucer, before raising the cup to her mouth and taking her first sip. She sighed happily, relaxing in her chair as she savoured the taste.

“Okay,” she murmured, looking around the table.

“Oh, we can talk now?” Joel snapped, his exhaustion getting the better of him. “You’ve got your fuckin’ tea and now you’re ready?”

“Joel,” Tommy warned his brother quietly. “We’re all on the same side here.”

“Well, she could’ve fuckin’ fooled me,” he said spitefully in the woman’s direction. “It’s been days, and you haven’t ordered any searches, haven’t questioned anyone.”

Maria raised her hand to stop him, “It’s a delicate situation.”

“No, Joel’s right,” Cal spoke up. The bags under his eyes were heavy, hair greasy and slicked back off his forehead; the appearance of a man who hadn’t slept in days. “You run things here, and I always thought you did a damn good job of it too. But she’s gone missing, and you’re just sitting back and waiting? For what?” 

“Things are returning to normal here,” she said lowly. “People are calming down, and I don’t want to raise any alarm bells if I don’t need to.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Joel all but snarled.

“It means that I wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to leave,” she levelled at him, one eyebrow raised accusatorially. Clink, clink. He flinched as she dipped her spoon back into the cup, tapping it against the rim. “Ellie told me.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, his hand forming a fist below the table. “Told you what exactly?” 

Maria gave him a conspiratorial look. “She told me about being strangled, Joel. She came here a few days ago, upset after hearing the news, and we talked. Ellie worries that she might have left out of guilt… and I must admit, I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.”

“Wait,” Cal’s eyebrows raised in alarm, eyes darting between Maria and Joel. “What the fuck are you talki-“

“No one was fuckin’ strangled,” Joel ground out, doing his best to stay calm. “Ellie wasn’t hurt. And she wouldn’t fuckin’ leave us; there’s no god damn way she’d even think to go outside those gates alone.”

Joel’s mouth twisted into a pained grimace at Maria’s insinuation, shaking his head jerkily. The last conversation he’d had with you played on his head in a constant loop, the image of your face distorted in despair, the feeling of your guilty tears on his neck – it tormented him. Kept him awake all night, and on edge all day. The idea that you might have decided to leave, out of a misplaced sense of guilt, or fear, or… or because of something he’d said. His chest tightened at the thought. He’d told you not to stay at the house if he wasn’t there, hadn’t he? That’s why you’d gone home alone that night, instead of coming back to him. It won’t happen again, is what you said. Joel mulled the words over in his mind endlessly, searching for a hidden meaning in your tone that he might have missed; a plan to leave him.

Tommy watched the three of them silently, the corners of his mouth downturned in dismay. To see Joel be so distraught was hard for him. Ellie had confided in Tommy that Joel had hardly spoken for the past three days. That he wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating. She kept a close eye on him and didn’t pry; simply sat quietly in whatever room he resided in, and just kept a watchful eye on him. Tommy couldn’t thank her enough for it. He’d watched his brother experience so much loss, so much heartache, and he cringed to realise they were witnessing it happen to him all over again.

“She wouldn’t leave me,” Cal broke the silence, his voice cracking on the last word. He reached up hastily to wipe the corner of his eye. “We made an agreement when we first got here. If either one of us decides we aren’t happy, then we leave – together. No questions asked. She wouldn’t break a promise.”

Joel glanced at the younger man, absorbing his words with a blank expression. It still unnerved him sometimes; to gain further insights into the tightknit bond between you and Cal, but he pushed all negative feelings down, knowing the he was right.

“She’s still in Jackson,” Joel said with a tone of finality, straightening his shoulders.

“So what do you suggest we do?” Maria asked. “I’ve already asked so much of our community, I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here.”

“Some fuckin’ community it is,” he muttered. “Women gettin’ stolen out of their god damn homes.”

Tommy gave him a look that said, not helpful. Joel ignored him.

“We question them – all of them,” he asserted. “Ransack every fuckin’ house in this town if we have to. She’s here somewhere – whoever’s doin’ this can’t keep her hidden for long.”

Maria nodded slowly, sparing a short glance in her husband’s direction. “We’ll question people then. If we go to the right ones, someone is bound to spill something.”

Tommy stared at his brother, taking in the way he stared intensely at the woman. “You can’t be a part of it though,” he said softly. Joel’s head snapped in his direction, eyes narrowing.

“Tommy,” he glared, only to be quickly interrupted.

“You’re too high strung, both of you are,” Tommy said, glancing between Joel and Cal. “If you’re out there knockin’ down doors, you’re just gonna scare people off, and somebody will get hurt. We can’t risk you two causing a scene.”

“We can’t just sit around and do nothing,” Cal grunted, hand smacking down on the table.

“You won’t be,” Maria said firmly. “Someone needs to be waiting if she shows up. So wait. If she shows up at either of your homes, you’ll be there.”

“You’re fuckin’ delusional if you thin-“

“Stop,” Maria interrupted softly. “Have either of you taken a moment to consider it might already be too late? It’s been three days… Do you really want to be the ones to find her if she’s…. I’m trying to keep you both separated from this, for your sakes.”

“I’m not fuckin’ listenin’ to this,” Joel grunted, pushing his chair from the table and stalking towards the front door. With his hand gripping the doorknob, he turned his head to the side, staring back at them from the corner of a tear-filled eye.

“She is out there somewhere, alive, puttin’ up a goddamn fight. And when I find her,” he spoke with his back to them, voice dangerously quiet. “I’m going to kill everyone who had anything to do with this. And you two won’t be able to stop me.”

Joel didn’t need to look at him to know that Cal agreed.

The curtains were always the first thing you saw. When your eyelids managed to crack open, to break through the dried blood that crusted over your eyelashes, you would always notice them first. Large, bundled drapes that reached the floor, covering the walls, concealing the windows and any potential natural light. It was so dark all of the time, and so time had lost meaning. You couldn’t tell how many hours, or days, had passed. All you knew was that the curtains, made from a dark fabric, with pictures of small birds sewn onto them, were the first thing you saw every time you opened your eyes.

Sparrows, the thought whispered through your mind. Little sparrows sewn into the curtains.

A small metal table was positioned in the corner opposite to where you laid on a thin mattress, arms tied to a pipe protruding from the wall. Sometimes your eyes flickered to it, trying to glean what was on it, but it was futile because of the distance. Candles were placed sporadically around the edges of the room, providing a vague yellow light to the space which allowed you see these things. But no natural light meant not knowing when the sun rose and fell., so you learned to rely on a different schedule. Twice a day he would bring a meal into the room, and you did your best to note the time passing, but even that provided little relief. Dehydration and pain had you dropping in and out of consciousness, and you rejoiced in the respite that sleep brought. Sleep brought quiet. Waking, however, brought with it a stark reminder of where you were.

An unpleasant stretching sensation resided in your arms. The muscles burned from hyperextension from constantly stretching behind you to the wall, your hands numb from a lack of blood flow due to how taught the rope around your wrist was pulled. But no matter how uncomfortable, you never turned your back to the door. That way he couldn’t enter the room without you seeing him immediately.

The throbbing in your foot, and the smell of metal was always what you noticed next. Blood stained the lower half of the mattress, and you did your best not to look down. But the smell was overwhelming, and you knew you had to see how much blood you’d lost. Your right foot was caked in dried blood, and the sight of one of your toes missing was enough to make your stomach curl every time, as waves of violent nausea rolled through you.

“That’s fine,” you whispered hoarsely, attempting to convince yourself. “Never used that one anyway, can live without it.”

Talking to yourself helped. Although your thoughts were often delirious and half-baked, hearing your own voice out loud brought a certain sense of calm.

And you’d formed a routine. Where every time you woke, you calmed your breathing, and forced yourself to decide how you were going to behave. How to survive another encounter with him. You’d chosen violence the first time, and you came to sorely regret it.

He’d been watching you that first day; waiting for you to stir. It had been dark, but you still saw him instantly. Cross-legged on the floor beside the mattress you laid on, dark beady eyes bearing down on your skin like weights. The itchy burn of rope against your wrists wasn’t as noticeable at first, for you were distracted by the thick wad of material in your mouth, placed there to keep you silent. When your brain had fully woken up, you’d glared at him in a wide-eyed panic, moaning urgently against the cloth between your teeth, tears brimming in your eyes. No, no, no, no.

“Shh,” Lincoln had murmured, brushing the hair out of your eyes. “It’s okay, shh.”

Tentatively, he reached down and tugged the cloth out of your mouth. You sucked in sharp panicked breaths, staring up at him as the feeling of white-hot terror spread through your veins, all the way from your neck down to your feet. It was him. All along, all the women, it had been him. This embarrassing, weak man, who’d had you fucking fooled. You’d thought him a creep, but not this. Never this.

“Breathe,” he’d whispered, stroking your cheek with his fingers. Heaving sighs tore out of your mouth, and you turned your head in his hold, brushing your nose along the palm of his hand. His eyes shone with appreciation at the gesture, and he smiled. “You’re here with me now. It’s just you and me.”

Holding his gaze for a split second longer, you sank your teeth into the flesh of his hand. He shouted in pain, attempted to pull back, but you bit him harder, deeper. The taste of metal filled hit your tongue, but you didn’t let go until his other hand struck you across the face, knocking you back.

He'd hit your left side, and the all-too-familiar buzzing soared through your ear, exacerbating the pounding in your skull. “You cunt,” he spat, rising to his feet. He glared down at you, cradling his wounded hand against his chest.

And then his foot was slamming into your ribcage. “You stupid,” kick “fucking” kick “cunt” kick. The breath left your body, and you curled in on yourself on the thin mattress, wheezing, until he gave up.

“You won’t do that again,” his reedy voice called out from behind you. “Do you understand?”

Your back was to him, eyes clamped shut as you tried desperately to regulate your breathing. A stabbing pain burned in your right side, flaring every time your chest expanded with a breath. His hand came down on your shoulder, flattening you on the mattress.

“Speak,” he had snarled. “You will answer me when I talk to you, SPEAK.”

Your bloody lips stayed sealed in defiance, glaring up at him. Slowly, the corners of his mouth began to turn upward, lips stretching open to reveal a faded set of crooked teeth until he was grinning down at you. “Okay,” he nodded, reaching into his pocket and walking to the end of the mattress. “You want to see what happens when you disobey me in my house? I’ll show you what happens.”

It had been quick.

Flashes of it were burnt into your memory, but the feeling of the moment evaded you when you thought back on it. Him kneeling on your shins, saying “Do as I say, or I’ll clip your wings, little bird.” Pliers in his hand. The feeling of the cold metal on your foot. The smell of iron. A pinkie toe on the floor, by the mattress, in a crimson puddle.

Your hoarse, tormented wails had filled the room so suddenly that Lincoln was cursing while he stuffed the rag back between your lips, muttering something about people hearing you.

He had loomed over you, torso pressed against yours, gritting his teeth and laughing. Put his hands around your neck and whispered of the stories he’d heard about you, that he’d wondered about you since the day Tommy introduced him to you. “I think that was the moment I decided,” he said. “The moment I knew you were going to be mine – it was the very first time I saw you.”

“I wanted to know what he saw in you,” he’d jeered, breath hot against your neck. His hand gripped your throat, squeezing your windpipe intermittently, only ever letting up when your eyes started to roll back and the pressure inside your skull from a lack of oxygen started to become unbearable, only to increase the pressure again once you’d had a few seconds to breathe. “I’d always thought you must be a good lay, if you’ve got big bad Joel Miller whipped like a dog. Realised pretty damn quick I’d have to find out for myself.” Your arms fought tirelessly against the ropes that bound you to the wall, limbs thrashing beneath him, trying to inflict any sort of pain on him.

You frantically mouthed the word no around the rag, lungs heaving in search of oxygen. The last thing you saw before you passed out was his haunting grin.

And you were smarter after that.

Lincoln was hard to read. When he came to the room next, he acted as though the altercation had never happened. And so you followed suit. You listened when he spoke, and answered accordingly. You ate the food he slid across the floor to you. You held in a disgusted reaction when he gestured to the candles around the room one time, and said, “Romantic isn’t it? Candlelit dinner for two?”  

In the quiet moments, your mind would float away, and you’d allow yourself brief moments of respite, imagining that you were somewhere, anywhere, else. In your dreams, you were with Joel. Safe in his home, in his bed, playing scrabble with Ellie on his porch while he kept score. You tried to remember the way his laugh sounded, or the way his hands felt on your skin. But everything was warped, the memories unclear. Your brain lacked clarity, and the pain distracted you. And Lincoln could tell where your thoughts went in those moments; you almost feared he could read your mind. As if your brain was splayed open before him, and he was pecking at it in curiosity.

“No one will find you,” he’d say softly. Never nastily, but in a tone that was matter of fact. “They aren’t coming for you. It’s just you and me now, sweet girl.”

You would blink away the tears in your eyes and try not to let him see how afraid you were that he was right. Your memories with Joel felt so hazy, and the last time you’d seen him he had been devastated. He feared what you’d almost done to Ellie, feared how out of his control it had been. Maybe it’s for the best, the thought raced through your brain. Maybe they’ll be happier without you.

Those thoughts were the hardest to shake. And they cut deeper than any injury Lincoln could ever inflict.

One night, when it felt like almost a week had passed, Lincoln entered the room holding two plates.

“Dinner time,” his thin voiced called, and a chill ran down your spine. Slowly, you pushed yourself into a seated position, cringing as pain shot through your side.

He placed a plate beside the mattress before tenderly undoing the rope around your left wrist.

“Eat up,” he murmured, taking a few steps back before settling onto the ground and picking up his fork.

You gazed down at the raw red marks around your wrist, basking in your favourite moment of the day – just a few sweet minutes of ‘freedom’. With an aching chest, you saw what rested on the plate. A kind of dark meat, and a small serving of parsnips.

Oh, Joel.

Sucking your lips into you mouth, you willed the tears in your eyes to dry up, desperate not to let him see any sign of weakness.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Lincoln reaching out across the space between you, and then he placed his thumb and forefinger over the big toe on your right foot, squeezing it once in a silent threat. Your throat tightened, and you resisted the urge to pull away. Speak.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered hoarsely, staring at the food.

“It’s dinner time, when else would I feed you?” he attempted to joke, hand leaving your foot to pick his fork up again. When you didn’t respond the smile slipped off his face. “You’re in a bad mood today,” he decided. “I suppose I understand.”

He watched you like a hawk, eyes raking over your features, your bloodstained clothes, the way you gazed despondently at the plate before you. “Surely you can appreciate though… I mean, it’s just… delightful, don’t you see? To see someone be brought down to their basest human form. No sunlight, minimal human interaction. You rely on me for water, for food, for company. I am all you have anymore, and it is simply… delicious.”

“You’re a fucking sadist,” you shuddered involuntarily, his words making goosebumps break out across your skin. 

“I think so,” Lincoln nodded contemplatively. “It’s not inherently sexual though, I’ll have you know.” You stared, and he let out a low chuckle, hands raising defensively. “Not entirely, at least.”

“You’ll get caught,” you sneered, ignoring the way a cut on your upper lip reopened when your mouth pulled open to reveal your teeth. “You’ll slip up and someone will notice. Joel will notice.”

“Only time will tell,” he mused around a mouthful of food. “Never been caught before though, have I? Not with Milena, or any of the others before you. Not even with my wife; although it was certainly easier to get away with it in those days. The world had gone to shit – everyone was going missing; assumed to be dead or infected. It was so easy. Our girls never had a clue. They trusted me, you see? My beautiful little birds. Believed me when I told them she was lost, that she must’ve been infected. I think that’s what I adore the most – the trust. It was hard to come by here, in Jackson. People were so wary, I had to build up their confidence in me. Really ease into things, you know? But some of these women, they just saw what they wanted to see. A few kind smiles, some silly jokes, and they were mine.” Lincoln sighed wistfully, gazing absentmindedly at the curtains. “Do you like them?” he changed the subject suddenly. “They’re sparrows. Sewed them on myself.” Good God, he was still so fucking chatty.

Nausea twisted in your abdomen. Acidic bile burned in the back of your throat, threatening to bring up the pathetic contents of your stomach. “And your daughters?” you hesitated, wary of angering him. “I… I remember you saying they died.”

He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, and you noticed one of his eyebrows twitch at the mention of his late children. “I let them go quickly,” he exhaled with a shrug. “Painlessly. It didn’t make sense to make them endure this world anymore. It was a mercy, if anything.”

“Fresh out of mercy then?” you asked bitterly. “If you’re so kind, and so fucking merciful, then why the are you dragging this out? Why won’t you just fucking end it?”

Fork dropping onto his plate with a loud clang, Lincoln murmured your name kindly. “Please understand,” he said. “I don’t know when I’ll get the chance again. You might be my last for a few months… so I’m trying to savour every minute I have with you.”

You stared at him, blinking slowly as you absorbed his words. How long could you possibly survive down here in these conditions? But the truth was, you knew the answer to that. You knew because you’d survived for years out in the open, with less food and less water than this. Here you had shelter, warmth, food, and water. He could keep you alive for as long as he wanted you.

Realising it had been some time since you responded to him you offered a meek smile and said, “Tell me more about the sparrows.”

Lincoln looked at you curiously. Trying not to appear uncertain, you reached forward and scooped some food from the plate with your free hand and began to eat. The action alone reminded you of Cal. Of dark nights, huddled together in dusty broken-down buildings, eating whatever food you’d been able to find out of the palms of your hands. You sniffled pathetically and tried not to think about him again.

“Good girl,” he murmured almost inaudibly, and you fought off a shiver. Swallowing made your chest ache. Based on the swelling around the middle of your torso, you assumed at least one of your ribs was broken. Even inhaling brought a sharp pain to your right side, but swallowing? That was a whole other world of pain.

Lincoln spoke about the birds, told you how they symbolised joy and simplicity, and your eyes flitted around the room, taking in as much as you could in the dim yellow light. And then suddenly, he was turning his head fully to stare at the curtains. His back was almost entirely to you, and your heart stuttered painfully at the opportunity that had presented itself. From this angle, you were sure he wouldn’t be able to see you in his peripheral vision. Was this on purpose? Was it a test? Heart pounding, you worked silently to push the remaining food off your ceramic plate and onto the floor. Eyes focused on him, you waited for him to turn back, to check in on you, to do anything – but he didn’t.

“You know in the bible,” he said thoughtfully. “Sparrows represented God’s love and care for his creations.”

You hummed in response, gripping the plate in your hand and edging forward. Sweat tickled your forward, made your skin itch. You wanted to wipe away the fresh blood that had oozed from your lip onto your chin, but you refrained. No sudden movements. He was so close now, and this chance would not be wasted on you.

Do not be afraid, you thought.

Blood rushed in your ears as you propelled yourself forward, smashing the plate down upon the crown of his skull.

Lincoln pitched forward, his face knocking against the cold ground with a sickening thwack. He howled a ragged, guttural noise of pain, but his movements were sluggish, his reaction time too slow. A fiery pain roared in your side from the movement and you whimpered, dropping the jagged shard of the plate that remained in your hand. Gripping his ankle, you cried out at the strength required to tug his body toward you. He was writhing on the ground, trying to fight against the fog in his brain no doubt, but you pulled him still, until he was perfectly close.

He mumbled your name, and you brought your fist down over his nose, effectively shutting him up.

“Stop fucking saying my name,” you growled, angrily swiping perspiration off your upper lip. This was it. If this didn’t work out, if he regained the upper hand, you’d be dead, no questions asked. You’d started this, and now would certainly be your only chance to finish it. God, your ribs were on fire. You hastily dragged a fragment of the plate in a sawing movement across the rope keeping your other wrist tied, and when it broke away, you heaved a painful sigh of relief.

Planting your knees on either side of his body, you straddled his chest, trapping his arms to his torso. You patted down his body, searching his pockets until you found what you were looking for. The pliers were cold and heavy in your hand. Lincoln blinked lazily, gazing past your shoulder at the roof.

You reached down and gripped the sides of his head. “Look at me,” you seethed, before slamming his head back into the ground. He groaned loudly, but his eyes focused on your face. Blood poured from his nose, spilling into his open mouth and filling the gaps between tooth and gum.

“You won’t kill me,” he garbled out around the crimson liquid. “My little bird… I know you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Stop talking,” you moved to be beside his body and pressed your knee onto his left arm.

“You won’t,” he was speaking incessantly now, rambling. “I know you, you’re good. You’re so good, you sweet girl. You wouldn’t kill, and that’s why I like you. I could see it in you. You’re too good for this world, I’m trying to help you, don’t you see?”

“Shut up,” you snarled, pushing the pliers down until they were positioned around his pinkie finger. “You think you fucking know me? You have no idea of the things I’ve done.”

His eyes blinked lazily, trying listlessly to focus. His free hand reached sluggishly towards your face, and you batted it down roughly. Gripping the pliers in both hands, you pressed down. The sound of his screams filled the room as his pinkie finger rolled across the floor.

“You want me to come into my home,” you sneered. “Take me, hide me away, and then kill me?” Positioning the tool over his ring finger, you cut him slowly, revelling in the pained sounds leaving his body, the way his blood spilled onto your hands as you worked. “Oh, Lincoln. You’ll have to try harder than this.”

Again and again, you worked with a gruellingly slow pace, removing all five digits. You didn’t notice that his free hand was gripping your arm so tightly that his nails had drawn blood. Bile rose in your throat, but you swallowed it down. Do not be afraid.

“Please,” he was sobbing, his mouth wide open like a sore on his face, jagged teeth exposed through thin bloody lips.

And yet as he begged, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel remorse, because through the tears, and the snot, and the blood, it wasn’t just Lincoln that you saw. It was that boy, from a decade ago. That boy that climbed on top of you and laughed. Who enjoyed your fear. Who held you down that night, and every night after, plaguing you in your sleep for years. The boy you couldn’t fight. The boy you couldn’t kill. You wouldn’t let it happen again. Never again.

A memory flitted through your mind so quickly it almost didn’t register. But his voice was clear in your head. Joel, and the words you’d shared in front of the fireplace at your home so many weeks beforehand.

“I want to be strong, Joel.”

“You are strong.”

You refocused on Lincoln’s face.

“You want to be in control?” you sputtered, vaguely aware of how deranged your shrill voice sounded. “You want women to be quiet little toys for you to play with in this sick game you’ve created? I’m a fucking person! I’m real!” your voice cracked. “You want to kill me, Lincoln? Let’s see you do it without your fucking fingers.” You realised then that you were crying. Soundless tears streaked down your cheeks, leaving clear trails in the dirt and blood that stained your face.  

He looked on the verge of passing out, and you tore his hand off your arm, stumbling away from his body. You stepped awkwardly on your right foot and yelped in pain, grimacing at the bloody footprint that followed behind you when you walked. Wrapping an arm around your torso, against your ribs, you struggled to breathe. Running on pure adrenaline, your eyes drifted toward the table in the corner. A pocketknife and a lighter laid serenely on the top of it, and you stumbled toward it slowly.  

But a heavy blow landed on the back of your knee, stopping you in your tracks. Your arms flailed as you fell forward, and when you hit the ground, the table came toppling down with you.

“S-stop,” Lincoln was speaking, his speech slurred and disjointed. His bloodied hands clawed at your legs, pulling your body towards him while you thrashed against his hold. Your leg kicked backward desperately and connected with his face, and you screamed at the throbbing pain that shot through your foot.

Neither of you noticed how the table had knocked over multiple candles, or the way fire blazed along the bottom of the curtains. Little sparrows, turning to ash as flames snaked their way up the drapes, slowly engulfing the walls of the room in vibrant red.

You fumbled for the pocketknife on the floor, rolling onto your back just as his weight landed on top of you. His heavy breaths hit your face, blood dripping from his nose and splashing onto your skin.

“Little bird,” he whimpered brokenly. “Why would you ruin this?”

The temperature in the room had risen exponentially, and the pair of you were so close to the wall that it was impossible to ignore now. Wild flames licked at the bare skin of your arm, but you paid the burn no mind, pushing against his face, his neck, trying to get as much distance between you as possible.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” he howled, landing a heavy blow across your face. You coughed roughly, blood spitting up from your mouth onto your chin.

You gave up on pushing him back, instead using your hands to fumble with the knife. Lincoln’s good hand gripped your throat, his remaining fingers pressing down on your windpipe. Blood roared in your ears, and you were sweating, and god it was so hot. The air thickened with smoke, making it harder to breathe than it already was. Your hands were so slick with blood that it was difficult to unhook the small blade, but after a few moments you did it. Gasping for air as he bore his entire weight against your neck, you plunged the knife into his side.

A choked sound of surprise fell from his mouth, and then air was rushing into your lungs, and you were coughing harshly, watching as his body collapsed to the side of you.

He was still alive when you crawled on top of him, eyes bulging as he gripped the handle of the blade lodged in his side. You slammed your fist against his broken nose, and both of you cried out in pain. By this point, the fire was roaring through the room, the four walls covered in a beautiful mix of orange and red flames. The heat was sweltering, and so so close that sweat dripped from your nose and chin.

A deafening bang reverberated through the room and you covered your face instinctively. Shattered glass from the windows rained through the air and covered the ground, and moonlight streamed into the room.

Distantly, you thought you could hear voices, or the sound of a door opening, but you ignored it. Impossible. Your fingers wrapped around Lincoln’s spindly neck, and you positioned your thumbs over his windpipe, before pressing downward with all of the strength in your body. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, but you pushed through it, gathering blood and spit in your mouth and releasing it in a spray onto his face. He flinched back at the sensation, and you grinned messily.

You imagined briefly what you must look like; covered in a mix of blood and dirt, hair matted to your head, straddling this man, and grinning down at him.

“Are you afraid?” you whispered.

You could see the light slowly fading from his eyes, and you pressed harder, arms burning with the effort. A burning sensation exploded in your left thigh, but you ignored it, digging your elbows into his chest for leverage and pushing. In the second you realised it was about to be over, there were hands on you. Gripping you, wrapping around your waist, wrenching you away from him.

The foreign hands were pulling you back, tugging you towards the door, but your eyes were trained on Lincoln, as he gasped for air on the floor, alive. You could hear shouting, male voices yelling so closely, but the words were indecipherable. And then suddenly, you were enveloped by cold, winter air. You were outside.

Hyperventilating, you dropped to your knees on the ground, burying your red hands in the wet grass, and wailed. Thick tears blurred your vision and rolled down your face in hot rivulets.

The relief was short lived though, as those hands returned to your body. Gliding over your back, squeezing your shoulders, touching your face. Your stomach rolled violently.

“Don’t touch me,” you begged, your voice an unfamiliar shriek as it ripped from somewhere deep inside your body. “Get your fucking hands off me, don’t fucking touch me, don-“

“Darlin’, it’s me, it’s me,” you could hear, but you just fought harder, beating against the solid wall of brick in front of you, pounding your fists against his chest.

“I’ll fucking,” you gasped for air, eyes clamped tightly shut. “I’ll fucking kill you, get away from me.”

But familiar hands were gripping your face, holding you tightly, forcing you to look, and when you did, it’s like your body went limp. All the fight in you disappeared.

You mumbled his name, and he nodded furiously, those brown eyes you loved gazing into yours, panic and concern evident in the harsh lines across his forehead, in that deep frown you knew so well.

“It’s me, baby, I’ve got you,” his voice was like a song in your ears, and you closed your eyes and let him hold you, listening to the desperate apologies he whispered into your ear. “You’re safe, I’m so sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I’ve got you now, it’s over, it’s over.”

part seven

tag list &lt;3

@huffle-punk @n7cje @ghostofjoharvelle @nrmnie @sarahhxx03 @casa-boiardi @leeeesahhh @missgurrl

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #my writing #under the night

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hello, I hope you are feeling better <3 I had an x reader fic request which is a little spicy; basically reader is very quiet and not loud so matt kind of ties her hands (with consent and even something soft) and for every noise she makes he rewards her and it keeps going thank you so much btw for all your lovely fics :)

hii! you're so sweet!! and yes I am, thank you! very sorry this is so late. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

reward

Matt Murdock x f reader

wc || 0.8k

warnings || 18+ only sexually explicit content (light bondage, praise) minors dni

also sorry it’s been so long since a Matt fic

masterlist + rules

taglist

Matt hasn't been home from work long, but he already had you right where he wanted you, laid naked under him with his fingers pushed up inside you. His head hung low next to your ear, whispering praises about how warm and good you feel and how pretty you smell. 

His fingers curl upwards, rubbing against the favoured spongey spot inside you, working in a come hither motion while pecks light kisses down the side of your throat. "God, do that again," he whispers, halting when he reaches the underside of your jaw.

"Do what?" you quietly question, melting into his delicate touch.

"That noise, that little moan... please do it again,"

"I didn't moan," you shakily protest, running your hand up his bare back, lightly grazing along the skin.

"You did... it was so hot," he praises, working over the same area, trying to get the same reaction from you once more. "Please keep doing that."

During your intimate encounters, Matt heavily relied on you to be vocal in expressing your interest so that he knew you were enjoying yourself as much as him. He knew you weren't particularly loud during your shared moments; he just wanted to see if he could coax out a few noises, even if that entailed light bondage and rewards.

So as the thought finalises in his brain, he slowly drags his fingers from you to reach over into the nightstand, searching for one of your scrunchies. He peppers the nape of your neck in soft, delicate kisses as he laces his hands in yours, slowly lifting them above your head. "Here's an idea," he starts, parting from your lips, grinning against them. "Every time you make those sweet, pretty sounds... I keep going," he whispers below your ear, smirking against the skin. "Every time you stay quiet... I stop. That sound good?"

Nodding in approval.

His head cocks, brows playfully furrowed. "What'd I just say?"

"Yes, sorry— yeah," you laugh. "That sounds good."

"Good, thank you," he whispers, slipping your wrists into the scrunchie, twisting behind the headboard. "If you don't like it... tell me right away, okay?"

"I will," you breathlessly reply, leaning into his soft touch.

Sitting on his knees between your legs, caressing your goosebumped thighs. "Good girl," he whispers in praise. "That's my good girl," stroking over the head of his cock with one hand while the other parts your folds.

He guides himself closer, his tip meer centimetres away as if he was taunting you. He slides his head through your dripping lips to lubricate his aching dick, teasing himself through your slick. Gripping at his base, he steadily pushes his head into you, going slow to allow you a moment to adjust. Keeping himself still before finally sinking further into you.

"Fu—“ he mutters, lids hung low. He desperately clasps under your jaw as he peppers wet, sloppy, needy kisses along it, gingerly grinding his hips into you. Massaging inside of you in the just way you both needed.

His head drops into the crook of your neck, mumbling incoherently as his hands roam your body, grasping and squeezing your skin as he slowly fucks into you. “You feel so good," he soft groans, clutching his hand around your throat, slinking his fingers back and behind, locking into a small fistful of hair and gently tugging. “So, fuckin good.”

Now that you are fully adjusted to his size, he starts to speed up, sliding in and out of you at the pace you need and crave. Hitting all of your perfect spots with the slight curve of his cock, giving you everything you could ever want and then some. His breathing grows heavy against your neck, strained and strangled as if he's holding himself off while his fingers entangle into tighter locks of your hair.

His movements grow more precise and urgent when he hears your perfect little whimpers in his ear, the desperation in your moans only egging him on more and more as he fucks you. "Such pretty sounds," he says, barely audible against your skin. Panting. "You feel so good around me— you feel so good." 

Your hands lace together, clutching your fingers with pure need, desperately wanting something to grip as you feel the wave build within.

You feel him start to twitch and pulsate inside you which immediately sets you off. Tightening and clamping around his cock with your release, instinctively grinding against him as you ride out the engulfing feeling. Your spasming movements sparked his own release, softly grunting under your jaw as he drags himself from you, spilling ropes of cum over your lower abdomen.

He litters your face in quick sweet kisses before removing the scrunchie from your wrists, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you with him. Holding you to his chest as he flops back against the mattress, readjusting you both as he pecks your cheek tenderly.

 Stroking down your bare back as he speaks low and soft. "Never stop making those sounds, sweetheart... that was— that was,"

"Incredible," you finish his sentence, snuggling tighter into his chest.

Softly chuckling. "Yeah,"

@mattymurdock1021 @v1ntage-daydr3am @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @redecoratestan @kpopgirlbtssvt @scarletsloveletter @princess-pebbles-things @messymissy @schneeflocky @readerhead @thegreengoop @charmedkim

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