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aphroditesmoon · 3 months

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'cause I love this curse on our house

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: !THIS WAS A REQUEST THAT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED! the requester wanted a fic about clarisse and reader breaking up after an argument, and after months apart from eachother, reader appears at the ares cabin at 3am because she couldn't sleep without clarisse.

warnings: sparring violence, angst, hurt/comfort, arguing, fluff at the end.

a/n: im sooo sorry I accidentally deleted ur request😭🙏 but I hope this is to your liking, and thank you for your kind words🩷🎀

wc: 3.1k

"I never learned to lose a fight, I never learned to grow upright. this is who we are."

-back to you, flowerface

----

Clarisse wondered to herself, on whether or not you'd come running to her if she were to stake this spear through her chest.

Surely, you would? Sensible, independant and stubborn you.

She knew it'd take more than some flowers and half assed apology to get you to speak to her again, and with that knowledge in her head, she isn't sure what that would mean for your relationship.

Clarisse La Rue would rather die than be caught begging for your forgiveness. She would also consider maiming herself as a last resort for any problem she's ever had.

But it has been 3 months, and everyone knows about the 3 months rule.

3 months into dating, 3 months after a breakup. And yet so far, neither of you have tried to "happy new years" your way into eachother's life again.

It is a painful observation for the girl to make. And it's more painful for her to admit that she is at least 40% in the wrong.

That is the thing about the two of you, you become abrasive everytime you're upset, and Clarisse becomes confrontational everytime she is upset. On a normal day, those traits are opposite.

The truth was, Clarisse knew deep down how flawed she is as a person, and as a lover. She is a fighter at heart.

And though she'll admit, she's one of the best out there, being the daughter of a literal war god, but sometimes it feels like that's all she's good for. Does she want to love? Yes. Does she know how to? Not really.

She loves the early hours with you before everybody wakes up, trying to convince you to stay longer in her bed before you sneak out to avoid being noticed.

She loves the intimacy of your hands instinctively intertwining in a cabin party where the music is too loud and people are brushing against you in almost every corner as they try to dance or make their way out, and no one is paying attention to how her thumb caresses your knuckles.

She loves your lips, and how they feel around her neck as you bury your head in the crook of it from behind.

And at one point in the past, she loved how easy it was to be with you. Not the deep connection or understanding, but the way you wouldn't hold it against her if she were to pretend she didn't hear say hi as you walked past her. And how you didn't mind sneaking into her bed after midnight and the darkness becomes the only witness of your loving glances and tight embraces.

But Clarisse was quick to realize later on. that she might want more than that with you. It all felt impossible. Her reputation, her need to always look the toughest and never having a visible weakspot that might be used against her in the future.

And exposing you as her Achilles' heel, would mean that everything she's worked so hard for would break down into pieces the moment the news is out.

Her father already views her as a mistake. Something that could never be his. And for that she's had to work twice as hard as any of her siblings, and still be the least worthy in his eyes.

Were you worth risking all of that? She doesn't know. She doesn't think she ever will, now that it's all over.

And what about you?

What part did you play in cutting down the fragile line of rope the two of you had stood on?

Well, you were strong, opiniated, and rational. So fucking rational that it pissed her off. While she was losing her mind watching you laughing and giggling in the corner by a tree with some random dude that looked like he was birthed by a rat hybrid during the end of year party being held in camp. You were completely fine with not being with her.

Of course she knew that whatever going on between you two was a secret, but why were you so fine with it? Are you not affected by her the way she is with you?

"I'm playing the game by your rules, this is what you wanted." You had snapped at her after she dragged you away from your boring date into a secluded part into the forest. "This isn't a game." She had blurted out in frustration.

"Isn't it? Whenever you want me, I'm there. Whenever you don't, it's like I've never existed." And you were right. This was what she wanted. Despite herself and her feelings, this was how she treated you.

"We know we're together, why does anyone else needs to know that?" Clarisse asked instead of telling you what she really wanted to.

"Are you ashamed of me, Clarisse?" She could not answer your question. I'm ashamed of myself. She thought.

Can't you see? You are the only person who's been patient enough to wait for me, to stay with me. But then I'm looking for you in every crowd just to see that you don't even notice my absence.

Oh fuck it, in the end of the day, it would've never worked. Her thoughts countered againts one another.

Clarisse La Rue was born angry, all she ever knew to be, is angry. Her shortcomings is her inability to be gentle with those she loves the most, her need to break and rip every sensitive soul that has ever pitied her enough to try and pull out that ancient rage holed up in her chest.

"You were nothing without me. I found you, I gave you something to care about, something to anchor yourself to. Cause gods, you act like you don't give a shit, but you care so much that you make yourself believe that you don't care about being tossed aside, like it doesn't hurt you when I don't look twice on your way in front of other people."

The way she looked at you as she spat each and every word onto your face, was worse than the things she had actually said.

You scoffed at her, even with tears in your eyes, you glared at her and laughed out bitterly, refusing to sob or break under her stare.

"You know what your problem is, Clarisse?" You asked, even with the cracks in your voice, her spine shivered. "Indulge me." She forced out.

"You are so miserable, that you can't stand to see anyone else that isn't. You just need me to be pissed and devestated so you could feel better about yourself. Cause Gods forbid if you don't view your self worth on how less everyone else is." Clarisse says nothing, she knew you weren't finished.

"But I don't need to fuck over anyone else's life to know that I'm good. I'm perfectly fucking fine. I was fine before you, and I'll- I'll be fine after you." And there it was. That was where it all came crashing down.

Clarisse bad one second to say fuck all, to cut down all the bullshit. To admit that for once in her life, she was tired of fighting, and she had no clue what she's doing.

But as she opened her mouth to say it all, something in the shadow of her ego had restrained her tongue from speaking at all.

And so you watched her close her lips tight, and grieved then apology she never gave, the girl she couldn’t be for you. And then you left.

Everyone steered clear from Clarisse's way, unsure of what was getting on her nerves, and not caring enough to want to know.

And that night became the last time the two of you have ever spoke to eachother.

"Clarisse." Her brother's voice snaps her out of her thoughts. He was in position with his spear.

"Aim for my chest, remember to move your feet like taught you." She instruced him, fixing her own stance. "Go."

The boy moves quickly, and just like she envisioned in her head for ten thousand times in the just a few minutes ago, her feet drags.and her hand slows down for a second- because all it took is a second for the spear to slash her chest, and slams her down on her back.

---

Growing up, you had always earned the title of the "easy" one. Compared to your step-siblings, you had caused the least problem, required the least attention, asked the least questions.

You always knew what to do. You took care of your siblings when your parent couldn't, you knew how to take care of them the way your parent would. You knew when to get things done before you were told to, you knew where the pills were whenever you weren't feeling where. And you knew which secrets were better kept to yourself.

That one doesn't need watching over, they'd say about you. Even as you're being sent over to camp quick enough before the monsters acended, you were still not worth being worried over.

Someone who takes care of others so well, sure knows how to take care of themselves, right? Right.

Of course you're self sufficient, of course even know, you know where to find medication before your sickness gets worse. Or course even now, you know just the right things to tell people so you'd be left alone.

That was the bright side of raising yourself and growing up in an environment that made you feel so alone, you get used to the silence as the company gets smaller and smaller.

But no one ever said that loneliness felt good, even as a person who's found comfort in it. Because the truth of it, is that it's the sinking feeling in your stomach that you get addicted to. It is the repetitive cycle of breaking down that feels like home, because that's the only constant thing that have prevailed in your life.

What Clarisse had given you, with her presence, her rare tenderness and welcoming touches, was something new that had altered your entire defense system. Hope. She had given you hope.

And as you stood in the house that fell all over you, surviving the damage just like you always do. You realised just how stupid you were to even think that this time it would be different.

The news of Clarisse's injury spread like wildfire. And after repressing your emotions for the longest time, you felt your chest tightening from a familiar feeling.

Clarisse have taken blows before, but never this bad, never this serious. You know that she'd heal in time, but it doesn't stop you from worrying.

How could she be so stupid and careless? Being slammed down by a younger sibling nonetheless. Even if she has no regard for her physical safety, she must have one for her pride.

She's never so easily distracted or foolish, this injury and including her little spear incident has been looked upon by others as a moment of weakness for her. They are starting to wonder if Clarisse was ever that competent in the first place, or if she has just been making it look like she is.

You tossed and turned on your bed. The sheets don't feel right against your skin. It must be the heat, you tell yourself. It must be the heat because it cannot be the deprivation of Clarisse's cold skin from yours.

Demigods do not medicate the same way mortals do, and yet without anyone knowing, you've been swallowing down melatonin almost every night to be able to fall asleep.

It's not easy to get, the last hidden stock of it from the medical room finished 3 nights ago. And if no one had noticed your sleeping problems before, they do now because of your visible under eye bags.

Your hands have been shaking, a side effect of mortal drugs. It has also been making you more jumpy, anxious.

The worst of it all is how all those symptoms only worsens your sleeping problems now. As if seasonal depression itself isn't bad enough, now you're capable of staying up all night revisiting old haunting memories.

It's easy to distract yourself in the day with all the training and learning to do.

But no one survives the cruel coldness that the night presents itself with. When your only friend is the empty ceiling staring back down at you, and the only kind of blanket you want are the ones that feels like her arms.

It was ironic, you still wanted her the way a kicked dog would still roll over if asked to.

You had left her with your head held up high. But only the gods know how low to the ground you'd kneel down to for her to look at you again the way she used to.

If she had wanted you more lenient, then she could've just asked. If she had needed you to need her more then you would've begged for her if she would've just told you.

Pushing aside the soft material of your blanket off of you, your feet barely makes a sound as you tiptoed to the door to exit your cabin.

You told yourself you don't really know where you're going. But you moved in the same way you had 3 months ago, the road is memorized, the pace is as similar, and the yearning is twice as strong.

The moom followed you from above, lightimg the way as you walked on the ground from the pavements to patches of grass.

When you found yourself in front of the Ares cabin, you truly asked yourself if you have even an ounce of shame or sense left in your head. The answer was none, all that lived inside of you was dread, ever growing. The last straw before the breaking.

The last chance that looks a little too late to be taking for.

And yet as you pull open the door ever so slightly the way you used to, you feel it being held static before a creaking noise could be made. And like memories you've seen flashing in your mind multiple times before, your eyes meet Clarisse's.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing up?"

You spoke at the same time as her. Both of you looked as surprised as the other.

As you took in eachother's appearance, Clarisse looks at you expectedly, considering that you are the one who isn't at your cabin. "I...wanted to see you."

Her expression changes slightly, as if she wasn't expecting that answer.

"Weird hour to visit." She noted. "Weird hour to be up by the door after you're slashed on the chest by a spear."

The two of you stared at eachother in silence before you notice Clarisse's chest heaving as she breathed out a low sigh. "Do you want to come in?" She whispered out to you. You nod your head once and waited for her to move aside so you could be let in.

Naturally, your hand found hers. She clasped her fingers over yours without a question as the two of you walked towards her bed.

Sitting dowm side by side, you eye the outline of her face closely in the dark, some sort of relief is released in your chest. "How bad is the damage?" You asked slowly. You almost reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face, but caught yourself.

"Could've been worse." Was her response.

"Does it hurt right now?" You inquired again. You hear her inhale sharply and wondered if breathing was hard for her. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry." You weren't sure what else to tell her. To know that she was in pain had hurt you as well, but a larger part of you did not really care for her injury. Only now do you realise how much being away from her have affected you.

Now, in much closer proximity, your breathing fans her skin, the back of her hand touching yours, and her eyes unmoving from yours, do you realise just how much you needed Clarisse La Rue.

"It doesn't hurt as much as having to watch you leave." She spoke those words in a hushed whisper, meant only for your ears. If only dhe has been a little louder. You would've been able to hear the halt in the back of her throat. "No?" You whispered back to her. "No."

"I wouldn't have left, if you would've just asked me to stay."

"I know. I know you would." She mutters it affectionately, the cold shoulder already gone. "I know you would...you've always been good to me."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and held your tears in. "Then why didn't you?"

Clarisse shrugged. "I'm never good to you."

You frowned at her reply, feeling a jolt of anger striking through you. "But you could be. Why won't you be good to me, Clarisse?" Water gathered in your eyes, your primise yo refrain from crying broken.

"I would give you anything. I would give you my life. Could you just be good to me, Clarisse?" You told yourself that you wouldn't ask this question again, no matter how much of a dog you feel like, you won't force her to give you a bone.

And so with a tear running down your cheek, you looked up at her pleadingly and thought, please, see me, want me, love me. Need me the way I need you.

Her forehead softly rests againts yours, and you hear her then, mumbling."I could be good. I could be good to you."

Her thumb finds the wet streak on your face and wipes it off. "I want to be good to you."

"Then do that. It's that easy." She shakes her head lightly, making your frown deepens. "I've had to be this person that everyone expects me to be, because of my father, and my siblings. Sometimes giving in, feels like it could be death itself. Sweet dreams before you wake up in hell. That's what it feels like trying to be the person you want me to be. Punishment worthy."

"But it isn't death, Clarisse. Not just because someone else thinks it should be.

- Not just because your father thinks so."

"I know." She answers with a more reassuring tone.

"I haven't been able to sleep without you." You tell her out of obligation. "I can tell." She joked, the both of you chuckled lightly.

Clarisse then crawled over her bed to lie down and tugged you by your sleeve to find your place in her embrace again.

Laying your head above the area her chest was struck on, her beating heart becomes your lullaby. You fell asleep soon after, with your legs tangled together under the covers. Whatever was to happen tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. Because the worst was over.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo series #pjo tv show #dior goodjohn #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson

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wongyuuu · 7 months

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crossing the line | two | kmg

pairing: mingyu x fem!reader genre: smut, angst, fluff (ish) word count: 3.7k warnings: smut (18+), minors do not interact, oral (male receiving) kissing, swearing part one

this is part of my series, seventeen as songs from lover (ts)

Mingyu ➝ Paper Rings I hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this ↳ Mingyu had always been your best friend and that line had never been crossed before, then, one day, you woke up naked ion his bed with a vivid memory of the previous night.

Ever since he was a kid, Mingyu had this sort of life motto: regret nothing and own up to the consequences of your actions. And for twenty-six entire years, he managed to do just that. Of course, there were things he wished he could have done differently. However, once something is done there is no going back. He could apologize for it, had it been a mistake, or he could just move on. And although he didn’t regret a single moment of the night he spent with you, the owning-up part was a little trickier than he had expected.

Mingyu was sure that your reaction would be bad, he knew that you’d get scared. But he thought that you would stay back so the two of you could talk. Or, at the very least, follow through with what you had said to him. Tomorrow morning, we go back to what we are, was what you said. But when morning came and Mingyu finally woke up, you were no longer in his bed. The only thing left of you was your perfume on his pillow.

He figured that he should give you time. You got scared and that was normal. He had known you for four years and he knew that you weren’t the kind of person who enjoyed changes. You loved your routines and being inside your bubble. It was a surprise that you had let him get close to you at all, even more so when both of you grew attached to the other.

Chan said that it was weird but he and Soonyoung were happy that you were finally allowing yourself to just be freer.

Mingyu wanted to be that person for you but was it so bad that he also wanted to be more than?

Truth be told, Mingyu had been interested in you since the moment you met. You, on the other hand, didn’t seem at all interested in him so he didn’t press you. When you opened up to him and allowed him to get closer to you, he was dating someone else.

It was around the same time he started to let himself be touchy with you, like he always was with all his friends, that he noticed that the way he first felt about you didn’t change or disappear.

He had been idiot enough to stay with his girlfriend, thinking that maybe he was reading too much into what you were doing. Then his girlfriend started to get uncomfortable, the fights started and they just broke up.

Though he didn’t feel nearly as heartbroken as he made it seem, Mingyu let you nurse him through his breakup. You’d sit with him for hours, his head on your lap while you played with his hair.

“I think you’d look great with long hair,” you said randomly one day.

“Why?” he looked away from the tv, eyes focused solely on you.

“You’re disgustingly handsome. I think you should try”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Mingyu started to let his hair grow and he was too lazy to get a proper cut so you were the one cutting his hair for him. I don’t want to hear a single complaint about this, you told him while he sat in the middle of your bathroom.

It was physically painful for him to hold back from touching you. Mingyu was well aware that if you got scared you’d just run away from him and there was a high chance of him never seeing you again. And that wasn’t something he wanted.

Desperate moments call for desperate measures. He needed, God help him, Soonyoung’s help.

“So, how long will you keep avoiding Mingyu?” Soonyoung asked when you set his coffee in front of him.

Your lifelong friend had asked to meet you once your shift was over, and you agreed. Much to your surprise, he had gotten there an hour early and was now just bothering you.

"Shut up and drink your coffee"

"Come on, there's no one here. Sit down and talk to me"

The problem with working at a café that had a homely feel was that your friends, honestly just Soonyoung, thought that they could just pretend that it was your own home.

"I'm working"

He rolled his eyes at you.

"At your brother's café," he tugged at your shirt "Sit down, humor me for a second"

With a sigh, you dropped your body on the couch next to his.

"He asks about you every single day, you know? He said you guys fought, so he's giving you time. But I don't think he will be able to hold himself back for much longer"

You pinched your nose, your heart suddenly aching at his works.

Truth was, you missed Mingyu. Desperately. You regretted leaving his side the moment you closed his apartment door but you also couldn't bring yourself to go back.

You figured that you should give yourself a little time to understand what happened and maybe get it sorted out in your mind. But you couldn't stop thinking about him, about the way he kissed you — so tenderly, with so much care, as if you were something precious that he would never give himself the luxury of breaking.

His touch was engraved in your body, just thinking about it made your skin electric. Mingyu was the first thing you thought about in the mornings, the last thing on your mind before you drifted off to sleep. He found ways to sneak up on you when you least expected it.

He texted you every day like he normally did, but you left all of his messages on read. You had been obsessed with your notification bar for the past three of weeks.

Though your actions said otherwise, you were scared of facing Mingyu, terrified that things between the two of you would change.

"Tell me what happened" Soonyoung nudged you with his knee "Maybe I can help. You know I always have killer advices"

There was no way you'd tell Soonyoung you slept with Mingyu.

"We just fought, it was stupid" you shook your head.

You watched in complete distress as the two working wheels inside his brain moved. Soonyoung went from furrowed eyebrows that said this fucking dumb girl to wide eyes.

"You guys fucked!"

You pressed your hands to Soonyoung's mouth, looking over your shoulder to make sure that your brother was still in the kitchen. Soonyoung kept his eyes wide open, his words muffled by your hands.

"Shut up!"

He managed to push your hands away, looking over your shoulder before leaning on the table with his forearms, his voice barely a whisper.

"You're an adult, I'm pretty sure your brother knows you have sex from time to time"

"He doesn't need to know with whom" you pushed his head back.

"Well, at least you're not denying it"

It would have been stupid to deny it when you felt as if you were walking around with a sign that said I slept with my best friend hanging over your head.

"Listen, I'll be as honest about this as I possibly can. You guys like each other, and have for a very long time. I mean everyone thinks you're dating" when you started to shake your head, Soonyoung rolled his eyes "I can count the amount of times I've hugged you in the past ten years. Twenty, if you're wondering. One for my birthday and one for yours, which I always have to force you to do"

"yn, you're not someone who's very into physical touch, which is fine. But with Mingyu? You guys touch each other the whole time, anywhere. The only time you guys weren't all over each other was when he was in a serious relationship, which mind you, you cried over"

Soonyoung was a fantastic friend, always. Despite his loud personality, at least around your group, he gave advice quietly. He never made a big deal of situations, he never went around screaming your secrets away. But in that moment you hated how much he was able to read you, like the only thing hiding your feelings was a thin glass wall.

"I didn’t cry" you sighed, dropping your head to the table.

"Sweetheart, you sobbed. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with you"

Soonyoung had laughter in his eyes, and at that moment he reminded you so much of the boy you met in high school. He had changed so much, from the way he dressed to the way he behaved. But still, somewhere inside, he was the same kid from ten years before.

"What are you afraid of?"

Of a life without Mingyu, was the only answer you had.

You met Mingyu for the first time at twenty-two, fresh out of college, scared of life. You hated your major, marketing, and hated your job too. Mingyu had been a breath of fresh air, with wide eyes and a beautiful smile.

It was always hard for you to let people close. You were just too shy and introverted but ever since Chan introduced you to Mingyu, you enjoyed his presence. He was always too much. Too tall, too large, too loud, talked too fast. But whenever he spoke to you, his voice was a little quieter, softer somehow.

Mingyu was larger than life itself and you were afraid you were too little compared to him.

He was out there with his fancy corporate job, a financial manager, while you worked at your brother's café. It was what you wanted, yes, your shit degree had some use and you got to test out recipes with your brother. It was a much simpler life than the one Mingyu wanted.

"We're too different" you whispered, blinking away your tears.

You wanted Mingyu, not just like your best friend but in all ways one can have someone. You wanted to be able to kiss him whenever and do all the romantic shit you had seen people around you do.

"You're not and even if you were, what's so wrong about that? Don't people say that opposites attract?" he patted your hand "Won't you rather regret a decision than spend your life wishing you could have done something different?"

Soonyoung's Words still echoed through Mingyu's mind hours after they spoke on the phone.

yn thinks she's not enough for you.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do with that information. How he was supposed to convince you that you were more than enough? Not just that, that you were the only one he wanted.

As soon as he ended the call with Soonyoung, Mingyu had gotten up from his desk, ready to call it a day and go after you. Everything else could wait. There was nothing more important than you to him.

It didn't seem to matter to his boss though, as he not only made Mingyu stay but also work over hours. Managers make their own schedule, my ass. It was already past midnight when he got inside his car.

It was too late to go to your place and try to talk with you. It was almost the middle of the night and Mingyu wanted to have a clear head to speak with you. He needed to be the most eloquent version of himself so that he could lay out in front of you, all of his cards, and hopefully maybe have you back in his life. Even if you were to remain just friends.

So he dragged himself home, feeling defeated once again. Three weeks of no contact with you had been pure torture. His messages were read the night before, which gave him a little bit of hope, but still, he didn't get an answer. His phone calls were obviously screened.

"Fuck" he cursed turning the lights in his living room on.

Mingyu rubbed his eyes to make sure that he wasn't imagining things. Because there you were, sleeping on his couch

In complete silence, or at least trying to be as quiet as possible, Mingyu took off his shoes and locked the door behind him. He never took his eyes off of you, scared that maybe if he looked away or even blinked you'd disappear.

He kneeled on the floor by your side, his hand immediately going to your face.

Ever since you met Mingyu, four days was the longest period of time you went without seeing each other. Six hours was the longest you went without talking. Needless to say, those three weeks had been hell, both for you and him.

You had been stubborn and Mingyu was determined to give you space. It was a lose-lose situation.

“yn” he whispered your name.

Slowly you opened your eyes. And god, how much had he missed those eyes. Mingyu found out, very early on, that your eyes held all of your truths. You went about your life thinking that no one had a single clue of what was going on through your mind — and for the most part, you managed to succeed. But there were moments when you allowed him to see all there was to you.

And maybe that wasn’t your intention but your eyes gave away your truth. You missed Mingyu, desperately so, just as much as he missed you.

“Sorry I fell asleep,” you said pushing back a yawn.

Mingyu smiled at you, his hand on your head, lightly massaging your scalp.

“It’s okay, it’s really late”

You nodded, eyes closing again.

“Can you lay with me?”

You tugged a little on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Yeah, give me just a minute”

Mingyu leaned down and kissed your hair quickly before standing up. He got out of his working clothes and grabbed whichever comfortable ones were closer to him. With a blanket in his hand, he went back into the living room.

You scooted back onto the couch, your back pressed against the couch, giving Mingyu enough space to crawl in by your side.

As soon as you felt Mingyu’s body next to yours, you wrapped your arm around his waist, getting as close to him as you possibly could.

With a content sigh, Mingyu nested your head against his neck, his lips never leaving your forehead.

It didn’t take long for him do fall asleep too.

You were the kind of person who didn’t like sleeping in places that weren’t your bed, your home. In fact, you had a really hard time sleeping in unknown places. And yet, wrapped in the warmth of Mingyu, you felt as if you had slept for the first time in weeks.

You missed Mingyu like crazy and craved his touch each waking minute of the day.

You tilted your head back a little, to look at him. How you managed to go three weeks without him was unknown to you. But now that you were in his arms again, you would never let him go again.

Even if that night had changed everything or nothing at all, you decided that you wanted Mingyu in your life in whichever way he was willing to be.

Talking with Soonyoung had helped, more than you could have imagined. He walked you home that night, going over with you through everything that you felt, and why you decided to bolt in the morning. His answer was for really smart people, both of you are dumb as fuck.

During the entire day, you built up the courage to go to Mingyu and try and see if there was anything salvageable about your friendship.

Mingyu stirred awake, his arms tightening around you, causing a small laugh to escape your lips.

“What?” he asked, voice low and raspy.

“You’re squeezing me”

It wasn’t a complaint, in any way, shape, or form. You liked the feeling of him all around you, almost way too much.

“It was intentional”

He squeezed you again, shifting on the couch and pulling you on top of him. His eyes were foggy with sleep but it was easy to spot the same thing you saw that night. The emotion you refused to acknowledge then.

Longing and adoration.

“Sorry, I left that day. I freaked out” You shook your head, pushing his hair from his forehead. You wished you could be more vocal about all of it, have prettier words for him "I thought that if I stayed our relationship would be over because I don't think I can go back to how we were before that night. I…"

You groaned and hid your face on the crock of his neck.

“I like you” you admitted quietly “I have for a really long time now”

Scared, you looked at him.

"I want it all with you, yn. I've liked you from the start. So can we, please, stop pretending that there isn't anything more than just friendship between us? We’ve had our fair share of miscommunication, missed opportunities, and unspoken feelings. Our friendship is everything to me, but I can't ignore these other feelings anymore”

His eyes never left yours. His emotions weren’t hidden in his sleeve, they were on full display for you. Everything that Mingyu was, he showed to you without any reservations.

So, instead of giving him stuttered words, you pulled his face close to yours, capturing his lips into yours.

The kiss was the same as the ones from the other night but also entirely new. That night you were friends testing the waters, entering unknown territory. In that moment, though, you were more.

“I missed you so much” you whispered against his lips, trailing soft kisses down his neck. You felt his semi-erect cock under you, his hands on your ass “So much, Gyu”

“yn?” he asked as you moved lower on his body.

“I never got a chance to do this that night”

You kept on moving down over his body, nails lightly scratching the exposed skin of his lower stomach that was uncovered by his shirt. In one swift movement, you pulled his sweats and boxers down, revealing his cock.

“I can never predict you,” he said with a laugh “Two seconds ago we were confessing, and now, look at you”

You ran the tip of your finger over the length of his cock while looking at him, trying your best to keep a neutral face.

“Do you want to talk some more?” you asked, voice sweet.

“Looking at you, all quiet and sweet, no one would ever… Jesus, fuck”

You didn’t wait for him to finish, taking him as deep as you could in your throat. You stood still for a second, eyes still on Mingyu watching his reaction. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. Slowly you started to bob your head up and down, one of your hands on his balls as the other held the base of his cock.

“Fuck, yn” he moaned.

Mingyu snaked his hand on your head, fingers gripping your hair and slightly pulling it, while forcing your head down on his cock, making you moan in exchange. You pulled your head back, licking his tip and small drops of precum. You felt him twitch as you teased his tip with your lips and tongue, your hands pumping him up and down.

Another moan left his lips, louder this time, followed by a grunt.

Abruptly he pulled you up.

“If you keep going, I’m going to cum in your mouth”

You smiled at him, which made him moan again.

“That’s what I was going for” you complained, kissing his neck, hand going between your bodies, running down once again, until you reached him.

“But I want to fuck you” he whispered against your ear, biting the sensitive skin.

Mingyu took your lips in his, his hand still on your hair. Without ever breaking the kiss, he stood from the couch with you in his arms, pushing his pants and underwear past his ankles. The pieces of clothes lost somewhere in the hallway.

“I’m going to stock this entire goddamn apartment in condoms, every single room” he grunted as he dropped you on the bed “Pants off”

“Aren’t we bossy” you teased with a laugh, but still complied “You too, shirt off”

He rolled his eyes at you, pulling his shirt over his head. How many times had you ogled his body over the years, watching the transformation of going to the gym every single day? And now he was in full display for you.

“I want to ride you” you whispered.

Mingyu didn’t complain, settling against the headboard of the bed.

“I’m all yours”

Something in the way he said it felt real, final. He was yours and you were his.

You climbed up his body and took his cock in your hand again, pumping him once, then again, before angling him under your wet pussy.

Slowly, painfully so, you lowered your body, taking every inch of him in. You moaned, feeling full of him. Mingyu reached over and pulled your shirt off too.

Lazily you started to move up and down, deliberately so.

“Baby, you have to go faster” he moaned, pulling your face close to his, nibbling on the skin of your neck. You knew he would leave a mark, and so did he, but you didn’t mind.

Mingyu suddenly grabbed your hips with both hands, firmly holding you as he started to move his hips up and down, faster than the pace you were willing to give him. You wanted to torture him, but he could do just the same to you. He smiled when you clutched onto his shoulder, head tilted back.

“Ah, Mingyu, fuck” you cried “fuck, fuck, fuck”

He moved one of his hands, his thumb pressing over your throbbing clit, mercilessly rubbing in circles.

“Ah… oh my god”

“Are you gonna cum, baby?”

He pressed harder against you, hips moving faster. The sound of his skin hitting yours was loud, dirty, and enticing.

“Cum for me, baby, all over my cock” he whispered.

With a cry, you felt your pussy clenching around his cock as your orgasms took over you. Your entire body shook as you held onto Mingyu, biting his neck while he fucked you, thrusting to the hilt, again and again, until he too found his release.

You pulled back slightly and kissed him.

“Give me two minutes and I’ll eat you out”

You laughed and pushed his face back.

“You don’t have it in you, big boy”

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fleurmiss · 1 year

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ೃ⁀➷ only you, my girl

- ,, neteyam x fem reader

- ,, you think neteyam is extremely attractive, others do too , its fine! you get it! but what happens when they cross a line ?

- ,, warnings - neteyam is head over heels for u, jealousy and the attitude that comes w it, fluff , all this happens before the events of awotw.

-‘๑’- dark red - steve lacy

Neteyam has always shown so much interest in you, and made his courting so obvious, but why do people still not get the damn hint?

Currently you are walking on a huge tree branch, high above the ground, with Lo’ak, Kiri and Spider. Neteyam isn’t here, much to your dismay, because he has “ Future Olo’eyktan duties” as Lo’ak likes to call it.

“it’s almost eclipse, let’s start heading back” Kiri mentions and for once, Lo’ak and Spider agree and make their way home without causing too much of a fuss

“woah guys, you barely even whined about having to go back home so early today, whatsup?” you question laced with sarcasm as you hear Kiri chuckle and nod in agreement with you.

“we don’t want to keep you away from your boyfriend for too long y/n, we all know how cranky my brother gets without you” Lo’ak adds and Spider cackles, thinking this is so super funny.

You shove Lo’ak and tell him to shut up, and that Neteyam’s not your boyfriend, and he doesn’t get cranky.

Your relationship with Neteyam was quite.. obvious , yet complicated. Both confused teenagers in love yet don’t know how to confess it, nothing was official, but everyone knew you were off limits, you were Neteyam’s girl.

you are clutching your stomach in pain from laughing too hard when you enter the Sully’s cave, wiping a tear from your cheek wondering how on pandora could someone be so stupid as lo’ak and spider.

You hear the laughter die down and your eyes set on a pair sitting together in the gathering room of the cave, Neteyam and Rini.

You eye both of them in confusion, so does Lo’ak, Kiri, and even Spider. You feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach but not in the good way, you don’t like how close Rini is to Neteyam.

“Guys, Rini caught me on the way back to our cave and said she wanted to hang out with everyone, hope no one minds?”

The four of you shake your heads and make your way to the pair to sit down with them. It was odd, Rini wasn’t good friends with any of you, maybe Neteyam? No, you would know. Why does she suddenly wanna hang out with us? Neteyam is often times too nice to say no, maybe he couldn’t deny her? You wonder if the others question the same, and maybe they do, judging by the looks on their faces.

“y/n” you hear your name in neteyam’s voice, he pats the spot next to him, the opposite side of where Rini is sitting, you don’t want to sit next to him, to be petty, but you oblige anyways, oblivious to the female na’vi glaring daggers at you, Neteyam gives you a bright smile, now that you got his attention, you’ll have it the rest of the night.

Neteyam embraces you in a warm hug, his hands sneaking around your waist as he whispers into your ear “missed you, you look good”

you smile shyly and open your mouth to thank him, but someone else beats you to it

“Neteyam! This cut on your arm looks terrible!! Are you okay? How’d you get it?!”

God. Her voice is annoying, why is she yelling? Neteyam is literally next to her?

You eye Kiri and she rolls her eyes at Rini, you stifle a laugh and Neteyam notices, smiling sweetly at your antics, momentarily forgetting Rini was even there, until he is bought back to his senses.

“Oh this? It’s nothing just a scratch”

“Do you want me to patch it up for you?”

Your eye twitches, you try to have a normal conversation with the other three, trying your best to ignore the two sitting right next to you, but Rini makes it unbelievably hard with her screeching voice.

“No I’m g-“

“I insist” Rini touches Neteyams shoulder and gives it a squeeze, you look at Neteyam and he knows it, you’re pissed. You stay quiet and enjoy the show infront of you.

“I’ll have y/n help me later Rini, it’s alright.”

“Oh- Oh yeah okay” she deflates, but you have a feeling deep down, this girl isn’t giving up so easily. You wonder who put her up to this. Her mother? Grandmother? Friends? Toruk Makto’s eldest son’s mate does have a nice ring to it, despite the length, but that title’s yours, she knows it.

You all are laughing at Lo’ak and Kiri arguing about who Spider likes better when Neteyam rests his head on your shoulder. You feel your stomach explode with butterflies again, the good kind.

“Tired?”

“mhm” Neteyam mumbles, you reach your hand up to the braid dangling infront of his face and move it behind his ear. Your romantic little moment is interrupted yet again by the same culprit from last time.

“Neteyammm, it’s so dark! Will you walk me to my cave?” Rini latches onto Neteyam’s arm and gives him a little tug thats powerful enough to have him pulling away from you and get him to stand up.

“Uh-“ Neteyam looks at you for approval, you’re not looking at him, instead opting the floor was a better option. Neteyam is no fool, he knows why you’re upset, he gets it too, if some random man was leeching onto you like Rini is, he’d be upset, hell, he’d be crazy. He doesn’t like that expression on your face, he doesn’t like when you’re sad, because of him too.

Neteyam look’s over to Lo’ak and Lo’ak immediately gets on it. “Bro don’t worry about it, Kiri, Spider and I will walk Rini to her cave, we know you’re tired and wanna be with your girlfriend”. Lo’ak smiles and winks at his older brother.

This throws Rini offguard.

“Thank you guys. Rini, see you around”.

“Awh Neteyam it’s a shame you couldn’t accompany me, y/n keeps snatching you away from me and if i’m correct.. she isn’t even your girlfriend.. you should spend more time with me and my friends!” Rini smiles slyly, her tone innocent but her intentions show clearly. Rini hugs Neteyam and whispers something in his ear, which you’re sure she said loud enough for you to hear on purpose.

“If you ever do need a mate that will actually commit, you know your options” she winks and pulls away from his embrace as the group starts to walk outside, irritated.

You stand up abruptly and walk past Neteyam who stood there dumbfounded.

“Y/n” He grabs your wrist to stop you from walking any further.

“Let go Neteyam, I wanna go home” You hate how wobbly your voice sounds when you speak right now.

“y/n, are you crying?” He sounds so worried it makes you even sadder

“i’m sorry baby, im sorry, i didn’t know she was gonna act like that” he pulls your head into his shoulder and strokes your back comfortingly.

“don’t call me that.. im not your girlfriend, and i don’t care how she acts” you say, though your tone and quivering lip betray your words

“y/n..” he pulls you away and cups your face with his gentle hands, afraid he would break you if he was any less gentle “cmon look at me” you meet his gaze and his eyebrows furrow at the sight of your slightly red but watery eyes

“you know you’re the only girl i ever want right? you’re so special to me y/n..why don’t you see that, i want you to be mine so bad, every morning i wake up and pray to Eywa to finally have let you see how desperate i am for you. why must you let someone like rini ruin your day?”

you sniffle, and Neteyam thinks its so cute he could kiss you right now, but he holds back.

“but i am yours nete” you say, unintentional doe eyes looking up at Neteyam that make him melt, he can’t hold himself back anymore .

Neteyam leans towards your face, held by his hands, and he stops right infront of your lips, asking for permission, waiting for disapproval “kiss me y/n” it sounds like a plead, like he’s almost begging, so you do.

you feel your head explode, his lips are so soft, so perfect against your own and you question why you didn’t do this before.

you pull away but neteyam chases after your lips and captures them again. You finally pull away and rest your forehead against his. Neteyam gives you another kiss that lasts shorter than your previous, “i see you, y/n”

you look up at him through your eyelashes and smile slowly

“say it back” he whispers against your lips and you almost give in.

“are you sure? you don’t wanna explore your other options?”

“you are the only option, ever.” you smile.

“i see you, neteyam” and you kiss him again, he whines into your mouth and you have to stop yourself from giggling at the sight of our future olo’eyktan being putty in your hands.

- you hear a sob from outside and later realize Rini stayed behind cuz she thought Neteyam would leave you and go after her but oh was she wrong

- loak kiri and spider dont even realize rini is missing and they start talking shit abt her once they do

- anytime rini saw u and neteyam after this, she would always have her fists balled up and bottom lip quivering

- she thought she still had a chance with neteyam after her eavesdropping on his confession but everytime yall hung out neteyam would be so clingy that eventually she realized he was too inlove with you

- fuck u rini hah hes mine btch

#avatar 2 #avatar x you #atwow x reader #neyetam #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x you #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #avater the way of water #avatar x reader #avatar fanfiction #avatar fandom #avatar headcanons

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the-oblivious-writer · 24 days

Text

Let The Light |7|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Seven: Tis' The Damn Season

Summary: After that eventful night at Tara's apartment, you find yourself pondering on a few things, but your banter with Tara never ceases. There is enough on your plate as it is, so when you bump into a familiar face it catches you completely off guard

Warning(s): Swearing, making out, mentions of drinking & intoxication, r has a case of bad communication, chemistry (like the actual subject 😣), compulsions, & implied anxiety

Notes: I took over a year off to cut you readers some slack, tell a friend to tell a friend - she's baackkk! 🤭 Ik you missed these stubborn little jerks, so did I. Also not this chapter being at like 10k+ words. Even then, there was a bunch more I wanted to add but I figured I'd save it for the next chapter (already plotting) I didn't wanna keep you waiting any longer than I already have

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

The box of pizza and plate of wings sat completely abandoned, forgotten, on Charlotte’s coffee table as her hands traveled to your neck. You let your own hands drop to her hips, pulling her in. Her lips felt soft, yet foreign. You ignored that thought and continued to kiss her, slipping in your tongue while she maneuvered her way onto your lap.

Everything felt hot, you could feel your face heat up as she ever so slightly played with the hem of your shirt. When you gave her the silent signal, she slipped a hand under your shirt—not too high of course, but enough to feel your hips. You felt goosebumps at her touch, suddenly feeling nervous. You once again pushed any negative thoughts to the back of your mind, continuing to kiss her.

That’s when it clicked. Why you got so nervous all of a sudden, your mind was trying to tell you something, warn you.

You separated from her lips. She looked at you, a confused expression on her face. You weren’t meeting her eye line, feeling rather timid at the moment. “Are you okay?” She asked you. You barely heard her with your heartbeat drumming so loudly in your ears.

“Um…” You cleared your throat, still not meeting her gaze. “Yeah… I just—sorry.” Charlotte’s expression stayed put as you managed to remove yourself from the couch.

“Did I do something?” She asked, moving to also stand up. She looked at you with what you could only describe as confusion and concern. You couldn’t blame her one bit—one second you’re all over each other, the next you’re pulling back like she stung you.

“No—no, no, no,” you shook your head while gesturing with your right hand. “You did nothing wrong. I um,” you finally looked to meet her gaze, “it’s just been awhile, I guess.” You could only hope she didn’t see through your lame excuse, it wasn’t completely untrue.

“Oh,” Charlotte said. “…Oh,” she then repeated when she realized what you meant. “Shit, I didn’t push you did I?”

“I promise you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been in a weird place …for a while,” you shrugged, not expecting to add that last part, your tone getting lower as you spoke those words.

“I get it,” she mustered an understanding tone.

A suffocating silence enveloped the room for a few seconds, causing you to look out the nearby window to be met with pitch darkness.

“It’s actually getting pretty late anyways and I’ve got an early shift in the morning…” You said while slowly getting your jacked that hung from the couch.

“Of course. Call me?”

“Yeah,” you briefly smiled at her while adjusting the collar of your jacket. “Sorry, again, for making things awkward,” you apologized while grabbing the last of your things.

“No, don’t worry about it. Stuff happens,” she waved you off while managing a reassuring tone.

You nodded at her before muttering, “thanks,” and finally leaving the apartment. As soon as you walked out into the crisp night air, you exhaled your own pocket of air you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

That’s when it all came crashing down; the awkwardness, stupidness, and cringyness that came from the situation all because you were scared to let your situationship see your scars.

Nice going.

You repeated words like moron, idiot, and dumbass while you walked to your car—the train of thought never breaking as you drove to your apartment. Manhattan’s late-night traffic didn’t exactly ease your frustration. You were in the middle of cursing out the car in front of you when your phone started to ring.

Still feeling ridiculously stupid, you were going to let it just ring out, but that was before you saw the contact name.

You answered the phone. “Tara?” You immediately asked with furrowed eyebrows. Why on earth is she calling you so late?

“Y/NN,” you heard her slur over the phone. Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, immediately realizing what you were about to be in for. Before you could get another word out, she interrupted you. “Have I ever told you you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts?”

Your eyes widened as heat rushed to your face, your hands nearly slipping off the wheel. The tips of your ears suddenly began to feel very warm while your mouth opened and closed a few times before you could get sound to come out.

“I—uh,” you cleared your throat before continuing. “Where are you right now?”

“Hommee. Where else?” Her answer was followed by hiccups.

“I’m coming over,” you said firmly before hanging up. Being distracted any further by her voice was the last thing you needed right now. You silently hoped nothing drastic was waiting for you at her apartment as you changed your route.

When were you going to stop jinxing things?

—

It had now been a few weeks since the night at Tara’s apartment took place. Not long after you put her to bed, you gave yourself some time to reflect on her words. And ever since that night, you have been repeating them in your head whenever you were with the Carpenter. It seems as though she was able to move on easily, at least, her silence on the topic made it appear that way. On the outside, you gave the impression that you too had moved on from that night, that it had not affected you whatsoever. But on the inside, you were in emotional turmoil. With replaying your memories, that same tightening feeling in your chest that you felt that night reappeared.

There were so many key points of that night to completely crumble over; for starters, the incident with Charlotte. You are beyond embarrassed thanks to your repulsion for emotional intimacy. You knew if she saw your scars questions would ensue, thus putting you in an uncomfortable position to spill your guts out. The last thing you needed was for that to happen, but that alone had you thinking.

You’ve been on over four dates with Charlotte now and you have no idea where you stand with her. She’s just a situation-ship as of right now, and for all you know she could be seeing this as more. But the thought of asking her where you stand with her makes you emotionally grimace and cause your stomach to churn.

If you can’t even talk to her about your relationship status, should you even continue seeing her? This question had you thinking even further. Maybe you rushed into this relationship, maybe it was far too soon. Was nearly a year too soon?

That was the last time you were in a relationship, the last time you allowed yourself any form of emotional intimacy with a partner. But that was the result of three years, three years of building trust and connection. It was going to take a lot more than just a few dates with someone you don’t truly know to recreate that. It was going to take effort.

As for the Tara part of that night, you didn’t even know where to begin. Where could you? From her compliments to her insults, the night was certainly an eventful one. And just to think, you had seen her just hours before and there hadn’t seemed to be any issues.

The coming semester is certainly going to be an interesting one.

—

You and Tara were in your apartment, huffing and groaning could be heard throughout your room. She sat cross legged at the edge of your bed while you were leaned up against the headboard. Papers sprawled all over the bed, pens and pencils scattered—almost imitating what the inside of your mind currently looked like.

“Was the first sheet you gave me—was it nine or seven?!”

You let out a huff, mixed with a long sigh, at Tara’s repeated question. After running a hand down your face, you slid closer beside her to get a better look at her paper. “This is table nine right here,” you emphasized by rapidly tapping your pencil on the spot of the paper you wanted her to focus on.

She rolled her eyes as she mumbled, “Oh my god—” She turned her head to looked at you as she huffed, “Answer my fucking question with a yes or a no; was it a yes—was it a nine or a seven?”

You muttered a few curses under your breath—curses you knew she heard because of your close proximity—before taking your pencil to her paper once again. “Alright, okay so I’m gonna circle this—”

“What the fuck—?!”

“This is—this is nine,” you glanced at her for a moment to make sure she was paying attention. All you were met with was a dumbfounded look.

“But what’s the top??”

“That’s table seven.”

There were a few seconds of her just staring at the paper and you looking between her and the paper until she said something.

“What?” Her voice indifferent.

“So I’m assuming you don’t get it…”

She turned her gaze from her paper to you, hitting you with a hard glare. “No, asshole. I don’t get it.” She then threw her pencil to the side and got up from the bed. Her arm brushes against yours as she does so but you choose not to pay any mind.

“I’m so tired of chemistry,” she all but whined before dramatically plopping back down on your bed face first.

“You’re the one that said you needed help,” you pointed out while curiously flipping through her notebook. “I remember wanting to stick with routine and work on our history project.” Her doodles are cute.

“So helpful,” she sarcastically remarked, muffled; she was still face planted on your mattress, right beside you.

“I try,” you reply in a monotone voice; you were still flipping through her notes as you talked.

Tara rolled over on her back, pushing loose strands of her raven hair away from her face. She exhaled before clearing her throat—which didn’t get your attention, so she tried again …and again, after the third time she just settled for throwing a nearby pillow at your head.

You finally turned to look at her with furrowed eyebrows and a hand to the back of your head. “Um, can I help you?”

“Can we just start on the math now?”

“You couldn’t have asked that without the pillow to my head?” You asked incredulously.

“Do you have this, like, mental illness that prevents you from properly answering ‘yes or no’ questions—”

“Get your other notes out before I change my mind.”

Tara scrambled over to the side of the bed, reaching over to grab her bag that sat beside your bed. She quickly wiped off a giddy smile as she took out her needed papers. You were neatly setting her previous papers to the side as she did so.

“Alright, what do you got for me, Carpenter?” You inquired while she scooted back next to you; you’re both sitting side by side, leaning against your bed’s headboard as you looked at the page of notes she was showing you.

“This is basically everything that's going to be on my exam next week,” her stress regarding her exams was evident from her tone. “Some topics I’m good with, other’s I’m okay with, and a few I’m struggling with.” She turned to look at you, eyes practically burning holes in the side of your head with a pleading look. Pleading for you to help her.

After a moment of silence—of you intently staring at the paper—you hummed to yourself, nodding, as you finally returned Tara’s gaze before speaking. “I have highlighters; I want you to circle the ones you’re okay with in orange, and the one’s you’re struggling with in red,” you told her while reaching into the drawer of your nightstand for the highlighters.

All you got was a brief, “Mhm,” while you blindly thrashed your hand around for the highlighters. When you finally got the right colors, you handed them to her before getting up from your bed which earned you a confused look from the other girl.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom. Don’t miss me too much,” you couldn't help but smirk at the girl, leaving before she had the chance to counteract. You weren’t sure if you were smirking because of your own remark, or if it was thought Tara was missing you. It definitely left a warm feeling inside of you.

She doesn’t miss you. She wants less of you, remember? Your head reminded you, causing that familiar feeling of your chest tightening. Your breathing was still a bit hollow from the feeling as you finished up in the bathroom and walked back to your bedroom.

“You finished?” You asked Tara while returning to your previous seat beside her.

“Yes but I have a proposition for you,” Tara responded almost immediately. You stopped your movements, eyeing her with a suspicious look.

“Lay it on me,” you said.

“We can continue doing all this,” she gestured to her notes, “—but instead we can do it in a place with food.”

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate, please.”

“I want to go to the diner nearby, and finish studying there. I’m tired and starving—and you haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks so I already know there’s not much to find in your fridge.”

“Wait, how do you know the last time I went shopping?”

Tara ignored your question, instead continuing to look at you with those doe eyes of hers as she continued to plead. “Pleeeaaase, Y/N?”

You looked at her, feigning a reluctant look before letting out a sigh. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Thank goodness. My stomach was starting to make noises I’ve never heard before,” she said as she was gathering her papers.

—

“Done!” Tara announced in a cheery tone. You looked up from your book as she slid over the sheet of loose leaf she was just working on. “I put a star next to number three; I was having trouble with that one the most,” she told you before sipping her half drunken milkshake.

You nodded her way as your eyes skimmed her paper. “All these are correct—including number three. Was there a specific reason you didn’t fully understand it?”

“Mainly the order of the steps,” she answered.

“I see. Well you were correct. But if you continue to have trouble with the memorization stuff, flashcards are great memorization tools. Especially colored ones. I can lend you some of you want,” you offered her while giving her back the piece of paper.

“Oh—yeah. Totally,” she chuckled before loudly clearing her throat and practically shoving the straw in her milkshake into her mouth. There was something that washed over her—possibly embarrassment? You couldn’t be too sure. But why would she be embarrassed? Sometimes you wish you could hear her thoughts, just so you could get some insight on what was going through her head during certain moments.

Tara stared down at her straw, subconsciously refusing to pick up her head until she felt less flushed. That was so embarrassing, she kept thinking to herself. ToTalLy! Goodness, Tara, she just offered you some flash cards—not her hand in marriage. Her cheeks got even warmer at the idea.

“You good, Tar?” You just had to ask with that painfully soft voice you get when you’re concerned. Oh, and why did you have to call her Tar? She still remembers when you called her Tar for the first time—you and her were in her bedroom after the incident at the halloween party. She felt her knees physically grow weak as heat rushed to her ears, and now she’s found herself in that same predicament due to you opening your stupid, occasionally sweet, mouth.

“Hm? Great!”

“Um,” you let out a short, awkward, and airy laugh. “Okay, good, yeah.” Your eyes subconsciously took a quick scan around the diner due to Tara’s sudden volume change. “So anyways, from the looks of those problems, you’re gonna nail your exam. Just try not to overthink your answers too much.”

Tara hummed before returning to her milkshake just to realize she was all out. Guess she’s going to have to find another thing to distract her eyes from you.

You, on the other hand, were still confused. Did you say something? Why did she seem so timid all of a sudden? Did the flashcards somehow cross a line? If so, in what way did it? Tara was being a little too silent for your liking, which is really saying something considering how much you value your quiet time.

You were about to do one of the hardest things you have ever done. Attempt small talk.

You cleared your throat, “So. How’s—how are you and uh Chad?” This finally got Tara to look up. She eyed you with a confused expression. “Like, dating and stuff,” you awkwardly added. Your palms were already growing sweaty as your leg began to bounce.

“Me and Chad? Dating?” That’s when she bursted out laughing, handing over her mouth and everything. You suddenly felt like a total dumbass but you weren’t sure as to why. Were they no longer dating? Well obviously, if you had to take anything from her reaction. But you weren’t doing a lot of laughing when you and your ex-girlfriend broke up.

“Oh—I’m sorry, let me catch my breath for a second.” She literally wiped away a tear from how hard she was laughing before speaking up again. “Y/N, Me and Chad are not together.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. And we never will be, never ever ever.”

“Never ever?”

“Never ever.”

You couldn’t help the sudden wave of relief that washed over you, but you weren’t sure where it came from.

“But I saw you two kissing at a party,” you told her.

“Right …that. Yeah, I try not to think about that night if I’m being honest. It was honestly super embarrassing; I was completely drunk, so drunk to the point where I thought he was… someone else,” her voice grew a little quieter towards the end as she sank a little in her booth.

“Oh.” Was all you said. You didn’t know what else to say. What could you? That night was a misunderstanding, and judging by Tara’s words and reaction to the accusation of her and Chad dating—that relationship is long from happening. Yet another feeling of relief washed over you as you had that thought.

“Yeah,” Tara shrugged. That’s when something clicked in her head …she could use this awkward discussion to her advantage. “Since we’re on the topic of dating, how are you and Charlotte? You haven’t mentioned her in a while.” And good riddance for that, she silently thought to herself.

“I kinda ended that,” you nonchalantly answered before shoving a fry in your mouth.

“Oh that sucks,” she feigned a sympathetic tone. “It seemed like you two were really hitting it off.”

“I guess.”

Tara wanted to leave it that, really she did, but she just couldn’t help but pry. “Something happened?” She asked you.

“Nope. Just fizzled, I guess. situation-ships do that sometimes, not surprising.”

“Wait, ‘situation-ship’? What do you mean by that?” Her question and her tone of interest had you looking at her with raised eyebrows, utterly confused for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“Like, it wasn’t serious. I wouldn't call her my girlfriend, doubt she’d call me hers. Nothing more than a casual relationship,” you responded, for some reason you felt the need to tread lightly.

“Didn’t you go on like five dates? If you go on multiple dates, that means you’re dating. Thus the word dating being an extension to date,” she sternly replied.

“Alright, I understand the responsibility of a verb—why are you getting upset over this?”

“I’m not upset.” The pout she wore as she defensively crossed her arms with slumped shoulders told you otherwise. “I just—I don’t know. I want pie.”

“Okay. I’ll get you pie, but could we please switch to a different subject?”

“Fine,” she mumbled; her gaze may have been directed toward her napkin, but it threatened to meet you every second.

—

“I can’t believe you finally watched it!” You exclaimed to Tara. The both of you were headed back to your apartment; it was dark out as it lightly snowed. You were holding the bag of leftovers, walking on the street-side of the sidewalk as Tara kept her hands firmly placed in her jacket pockets, protecting them from what felt like sub-zero temperature.

“I only avoided it for so long because of you!” She laughed.

“Wow, so you’ve been missing out on one of the greatest shows of all time due to pettiness?”

“Okay, okay—I said it was good, not great.”

“Ah, but you wanna say great. It’s that darn pettiness holding you back, once again,” you said as your smile never broke.

“Did you just say ‘darn’?”

“Yeah, what?”

Tara only laughed as she shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Oh! You should watch the extended cut—if you thought it was funny before, you're gonna love the superfan episodes.”

“I’ll give them a shot,” she truthfully responded. She would say anything to keep you talking like this. One of the things she loved listening to was you geeking out over something you were passionate about. Maybe it was the sound of your voice, maybe it was how you lit up, maybe it was how animated you were while talking.

“Definitely do—” You were cut off by a body colliding into you, causing you to drop the bag of leftovers you were carrying. You muttered a “sorry” before crouching down to pick it up. Tara was about to help until your eyes met with the other person’s.

“Y/N?” The stranger asked.

“Olivia?” You mirrored a confused look.

What was your highschool sweetheart from Woodsborro doing in the middle of Manhattan?

“Oh my gosh—it really is you.” Olivia laughed a bit as the realization set in. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit too.

“Yeah—yeah, and it’s you.” You responded before she came in for a hug. Your movement stuttered for a second before welcoming her hug. She was still as warm as the day you met, her dark hair still holding its shine it did since the last time you saw her.

The hug was understandably awkward, but for once you didn’t mind awkward. “What are you doin’ in New York?” You finally asked her.

“I’m here for this documentary thing I’m working on,” she said.

“That’s right—your documentaries. I’m glad you’re still doing those,” you told her with a genuine tone.

She grew a smile at the words you spoke. “Thanks… that means a lot.”

“Oh—uh, you remember Tara, right?” You turned and briefly pointed at the Carpenter who slightly waved.

“Yeah, I do. Hey,” Olivia said with no bitterness. She took a few steps and held out her hand to Tara, which the other girl took.

“Hey,” Tara nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“I’m surprised you two are out in public together,” Olivia joked. You and Tara both laughed awkwardly at your dynamic being brought up.

“Me too,” you joked back. “So uh—you staying long?” You asked, purposely deflecting to a different topic.

“It’s currently indefinite, I’m crashing at a friend’s place right now.” There was a glint in your eye that Olivia picked up. “Would you like to grab coffee sometime? I’d love to catch up.”

“Yeah, that sounds cool,” you replied; you were trying your best to hide your eagerness.

“Awesome,” she grinned at you. “So, see you around?”

“See you around,” you said. You instantly began to cringe at yourself as she started walking away, but she didn’t leave without giving you one last look. As soon as she left ear shot, you let out a long awaited sigh.

“Geez.” The sound of Tara’s voice caused you to flinch, you completely forgot she was standing right there. “That was hard to watch,” she remarked.

“No one asked,” you said with an eye roll as the two of you began to walk again.

“Someone’s bitter,” she replied. “Hey—” She put the back of her hand on your chest to stop you from walking as she turned to look at you, “Let’s go to my place instead.”

“Why?”

“I wanna finish these leftovers on the roof,” she answered.

“My apartment has a roof,” you told her.

“Not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

“It's just not. Now come on before our food gets even colder and more destroyed.”

“I guess I’m following you,” you mumbled while trailing behind Tara.

—

You and Tara were sitting on white patio chairs; the same ones you recall from the last few times you’ve been up on the roof. The wind had calmed down since your walkover, snow still lightly falling from the sky. You were eating your fries as Tara was eating what was left of her pie.

“I’m just saying, I could totally take down a bear.”

“Not in a million years, Tara. You, a 5 foot gremlin, versus a big furry thing with claws that could rip you to shreds? Be serious,” you deadpanned.

“First of all, I’m 5 foot 1, second of all, you’re really underestimating me here. If I can take down a sociopath while crippled—”

Tara didn’t talk about Woodsboro a whole lot, really the only time she’s talked about it—with you at least—was the night it happened, the party at Henry’s house, and just now if that even counted. She never seemed to name-drop anyone connected to that night. But you understood. You don’t remember the last time you said Dewey’s name out loud.

“A sociopath? Yes. But last I checked, the said sociopath didn’t have the same physical traits as a bear—therefore, your argument holds no power.” You shoved a few fries in your mouth before silently offering her some, in which she accepted.

You glanced over at her to see her expression—she looked kind of disappointed. You sighed, thinking for a moment, before speaking again. “Okay, I’m not saying you have no chance. You’d still do some damage—and I guess it’s not impossible to beat a bear.” You hated the instant flip in your stomach from seeing the way she lit up, it was subtle but you’re grateful you noticed.

She smiled, almost grinning but she resisted. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“Jump on its back, put it in a headlock,” you added with your own little smile.

“Exactly. You get me,” she absentmindedly said right before taking another bite of her pie.

“What a mad world we live in,” you joked while reaching beside your chair for your milkshake. Tara wasn’t sure what you meant by that, but she just decided to ignore it rather than dwell on it—at least for the moment. She looked over to see you sipping your milkshake and a sly smile appeared on her face as she began to lean closer to you, her elbows resting on her chair’s armrest and expression never faltering.

“You want something, Tar?”

“That’s an awfully tasty looking milkshake you have there,” she commented; she feigned an innocent tone.

You glanced at her from your peripheral vision—she was on your left side—as you played with the straw in your milkshake. “Tara…” You all but sang. She hummed in response, her position still the same. “Would you like my milkshake?” You asked, but your tone hinted that you already knew what her answer was going to be.

“Well, I guess since you’re offering. Who would I be to pass up a perfectly good milkshake?”

“You’re a piece of work,” you remarked with a broad smile that Tara could describe as gleaming.

“You’re the sucker who gave me her milkshake,” she sneered before taking a sip from said milkshake.

“I’d watch my tone if I were you, ‘cause this sucker could easily take it back,” you threatened, lightly laughing along with the other girl.

She scoffed and waved her free hand, “Yeah right. I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, yeah?” You get up from your chair, eyes never leaving Tara. “I bet I could take it back from you, no sweat.”

A smirk grew on Tara’s face as she also got up from her chair. “Okay, okay, you’re on then. Winner takes all—all being the milkshake.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

“Okay then let’s do this, come on bring it,” Tara’s grin was just too strong to fight off as she lifted up her elbows; one, to use as a shield for her milkshake, and two, to use as her weapon.

You let out a laugh when you saw a defense mechanism. “That’s pathetic,” you quipped.

“Oh, really?” She said with raised eyebrows. She then shoved her elbows towards you, both of you laughing during all this.

“Oh!” You took that as a chance to grab her from behind and wrap your arms around her waist, holding her in place as she attempted to break loose; in her defense, it wasn’t as easy to do so while she was flushed against you, her face heating up from both the action and her ceaseless laughter.

The milkshake dropped to the floor, but neither of you paid any mind. You lifted her up a bit as you spoke, “Not much of a fighter now, huh?” You quipped in a smug tone.

“You are so playing dirty right now!” She said; her shirt rose a little bit and her hands were loosely holding onto your forearms.

“I don’t remember seeing a rule book. Just surrender and I’ll put you down,” you told her as if it was the simplest thing ever; for anyone else, it would have been.

“No way!” At her response you lifted her higher at which she started rapidly patting arm.

“You finally surrender?”

“Never in a bazillion years!” Just as Tara said that, she felt a drop of water on her forehead. She furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up at the night sky. “Shit—I think it’s raining.”

“Yeah right, you just don’t wanna be the one to surrender,” you accused while adjusting your hold on Tara.

“I actually felt—” Before Tara could finish her sentence, a loud grumble could be heard as it started to abruptly pour. “I told you!”

“Shit,” you cursed as you put Tara down.

“We need to get inside.”

“Incredible observation. Thought of being a detective?” You quipped.

“Shut up. It’s freezing, let’s just get inside.” Tara was visibly shivering, wrapping her arms around each other while hugging them close to her torso.

“Okay, come on.”

Tara barely let you finish speaking as she started rushing towards the door. “Wait—! Tara, don't run! You could slip!” You tried to match her speed without breaking your neck in the process. You nearly sighed in relief when she slowed down.

She looked at you with an inpatient look as she waited for you to catch up. You were in the process of taking off your jacket as you caught up to her. “If you’re going to slow me down, at least walk a little faster. I’m getting drenched, and this outfit isn’t exactly water resistant—I’m not water resistant!”

“Geez, alright. Quit complaining.” You caught up to her, trailing behind her as you wrapped your jacket around her. “Stop looking at me funny, just open the door,” you said in response to the lost expression she gave you.

She mumbled something incoherent while reaching for the door’s handle and turning.

As soon as you stepped inside, you let out a long exhale while rubbing your hands together. You looked beside you to see Tara attempting to shake off the water she was drenched in; of course, as a result, she ended up spraying you in the process. “Do you have to do that near me?”

“Where else am I doing it?” She tightened your jacket around her, holding it impossibly close to keep herself warm.

“Whatever, I gotta get home anyway. Picked up a few extra shifts,” you said while double checking your phone’s dryness.

“I thought the cafe gave you off on Saturdays.”

“Uh, yeah. I do. I’m—covering for a coworker, I owe them so,” you trailed off with a shrug; you batted your eyes away from Tara, suddenly finding your drenched jeans very interesting. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you,” Tara responded; you made your way down the stairs but not before sparing a small smile.

—

It was the next day, 8:52 am on a Saturday. You had woken up around 4:00 since you had to get in around 7:00 to help set up and open at 8:00. Exhaustion was hitting you back and forth, the only thing that was keeping you awake, barely, was your few hours old coffee you had brought from home. Staying out late with Tara was really biting you in the ass, but you were usually tired these days so it wasn’t much of a difference.

Although it was slow since the day had just begun for many, you still found yourself dealing with incompetence so early in the morning. Truly, it was too early for this. If one more person asked about Halloween stuff, Thanksgiving stuff—any other thing they should’ve gotten months prior, you are going to bash your head into a wall.

Why are people asking their barista about stupid out of season decorations? It’s simple, the cafe wasn’t paying you enough; attending college and living off campus wasn’t getting any cheaper and you needed a reliable job. So when you saw that Target was hiring, you applied. That’s how you came to balance two jobs and some of the most insufferable customers you have ever had the displeasure of conversing with.

“I’m sorry miss, but we stopped selling that after October. But if you’d like, I can show you to the candy aisle—”

“No, listen to me, these are what I want,” she snarled while shoving her phone in your face; her phone showed a picture of the Halloween candy she wanted. “I don’t want regular sour patch, I don't want regular m&m’s, I don’t want regular reese’s pieces—I want Hal-lo-ween candy.”

“I know that, but miss—”

“Can you just go check in the back? Please? My son has been driving me insane and I need to at least do this one thing right,” she begged.

You let out a silent sigh, “Of course. I’ll go check in the back to see if we have anything left.”

“See, now that wasn’t so hard,” she said as you made your way to the storage room. You rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore her statement. It really was too early for this.

You went into the storage and sat down on a nearby box; you just stared at the ceiling, zoning out for about a minute before heading back.

“I apologize, we don’t have what you're looking for. Is there anything else I can help with?”

She scoffed at you, clutching her purse as she did so. “No, I do not need your help because clearly it is no use. Your manager will be hearing from me,” she angrily said before strutting away.

“I’m sure he’ll love that,” you remark out loud to yourself. Once she’s out of your eye line, you let out an aggravated sigh. Working in retail is not for the weak.

You walked back to the end of the aisle and began to restock the shelves again, the thing you were previously doing before being interrupted. You picked up one of the boxes of cereal when your hand accidentally knocked something out of your pocket. It fell by your feet, you glanced at it for a moment before looking back at the shelf—but that’s when it registered what it was. You immediately placed down the box then kneeled down to pick up what you dropped.

It was a folded piece of paper. You slightly furrowed your eyebrows as you unfolded it before you traded your confusion for a smile. You looked at the doodles that covered the paper, the doodles drawn by Tara. Her name was even signed at the corner; sometimes she draws her name in different fonts to pass the time. Over the years, you noticed her favorite font to draw is graffiti lettering. You were now standing up, still smiling down at the piece of paper. You always admired the way she wrote—

—Suddenly somebody clears their throat. You jumped, blinking rapidly while attempting to shove the paper back into your pocket. You turn your head around to see your co-worker, Avery, crossing her arms while giving you a look you couldn’t quite read. “Secret admirer?” She remarked with a smirk.

“No, it’s just—it’s nothing. Scraps, really if you could even call it that,” you stammered while trying to nonchalantly lean against the shelves. It wasn’t a total failure, you guess.

“...Right,” she narrowed her eyes at her, clearly not believing your crappy save, but dropped it nevertheless. “Anyways, me, Vicky and a few of the others are gonna go out for a drink tonight; can I count you in?”

You stopped leaning on the shelves as you thought for a moment. You usually weren’t one for going out, but it’s been a long few months. With that thought, everything that’s happened in the past year flashes through your mind. It’s been nothing but motion sickness, and maybe you could go for a drink or two.

“You know what—yeah, I’m in,” you nodded at her before returning to the boxes of cereals that sat in the cart beside you.

“Wait, really? You never wanna come to these things …damn it, I owe Vicky like 20 bucks,” Avery silently moped as she walked away. You laughed a bit at her comment as you continued stocking the shelves.

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

—

When you got home that day, you made sure to take a nap before it was time to leave for the bar. When you got there, you stood at the doorway for a few seconds, honestly not sure what your next move was but luckily you caught Avery’s eye and she waved you over. You walked over to where she and the others sat at—the bar—you sat down on the stool beside Avery who was sat next to Vicky. You were surprised they weren’t sitting on the same stool with how tangled with each other they were.

“You made it!!” Avery shouted in a cheery voice that made you wince as she pumped her fists in the air. “Look, Vicky! Y/N’s here!” Vicky nodded at the girl while trying to subtly ground her by rubbing her lower back.

She looked over at you with an apologetic look. “Sorry, she gets kinda loud and hyper when she’s drunk.”

You chuckled a little, giving her a reassuring shake with your head. “Don’t worry about it, I’m a pretty embarrassing drunk anyways so I couldn’t talk. Probably why I don’t do it much,” you told her while your arms rested on the table.

“Gosh, I can’t wait to see you drunk,” she said while adjusting her arm as Avery was now resting her head on Vicky’s shoulder.

“That’s never gonna happen—just a club soda for me. At most I’ll do some watered down beer, but that’s really it,” you said.

“Wow.”

“I know, I’m a party animal,” you quipped with sarcasm laced in your voice.

“Total rebel,” she added as you both laughed. “So, other than the fact that you’re a total bad boy—how are you liking New York?” She asked with Avery still wrapped around her who had snuggled up closer to her.

“It’s fine. Hasn’t changed much since the last time I lived here.”

“Yeah? Did you live in Manhattan before or someplace else?”

“Brooklyn. I was born there, and lived there until …I didn’t,” you answered with your train of thought trailing off with your answer. So much has changed since you moved. What if you didn’t move? What if you never moved back? What if you lived in Woodsboro first? What if—

“—Did your family move around a lot?” She asked another question out of pure curiosity.

“Uh…” You picked at the wood surface in front of you, suddenly feeling drained and exhausted. “ No. Just one time.”

“Cool, my family moved around a few times. It’s a pretty hard thing to go through, even if it’s just once,” she said in an understanding tone. She looked back to Avery, smiling to herself as she stared admirably at the half-a-sleep girl nuzzled up against her.

You glanced over at the adorable site before asking, “How long have you two been dating?”

“A couple months, but we’ve known each other for ten years,” she responded while pushing back loose strands of hair that covered Avery’s eyes.

“That’s a long time,” was all you could think to say.

“Yeah, she’s literally my other half. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” After letting herself stare at Avery for another moment, Vicky turned her gaze back to you. “How about you—you seeing anyone?”

“Eh.”

“Eh?”

“I was uh, sort of seeing someone? But broke that off recently. Too close for comfort,” you elaborated for her while silently deciding if you should drink tonight.

“Your casual relationship get too intimate?” She raised an eyebrow before you responded with a tiny nod, she probably would have missed it if she blinked in the same moment. “Yeah, I used to be like that before Avery.”

“Guess I just gotta wait for my Avery,” you half-joked, earning a laugh from Vicky.

“I hope you do, she’s definitely a keeper,” she said fondly. She looked at you—your head now resting on your folded arms—and saw the distraught expression you wore, it looked as if you were silently having a debate with yourself.

“Something up?”

You did a double-take at her, lifting up your head before sparing her a meek smile. “Just thinking, you know?”

Vicky nodded before adding on. “You need advice? I’ve always been told I give great advice.” Her voice was kind and held nothing but honesty.

“Sure…” You were hesitant to accept but you were also on the verge of digging yourself into a hole just to avoid decision making. To be fair, you often think about barricading yourself to avoid dealing with your problems—and oftentimes, you have actually done it. “So last night I bumped into my ex,” you reluctantly began, “and we briefly talked, and she mentioned meeting up sometime to catch up.”

“I’m assuming you’re nervous about the catching up part?”

You confirmed with a hum.

“Are you nervous about being the first to reach out, the catching up part overall, or both?”

“Yes.”

She let out a tiny laugh, not unkindly, before telling you that advice she told you about not long ago. “This was all last night, right? I say, wait a couple more days, then reach out if you’re up to it, and then once you get that part out of the way the rest will build itself.”

“You really think so?”

“Promise, I really don’t think you should stress too much on this. And listen, if you’re really not ready to meet up with her yet, I think she’d understand. Either way, it’s your choice,” she told you before sipping her drink.

“That’s… really good advice. Thank you,” you complimented.

“You’re welcome, anytime. I did mention that I give great advice.”

“I said good, not great,” you said in a tone that hinted you were just teasing.

“Yeah, okay whatever.” Vicky playfully rolled her eyes as you smiled at your own taunting.

Maybe this was not as bad as you were making it out to be, maybe everything would be okay. Maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to look up.

—

Things were awful. You could never have been so wrong in your life. It was one thing after another. First with the text; you had to just hope Olivia didn’t change her number as you looked for her contact—which you had to look for by number since your removed her name and photo right after your breakup out of pure pettiness—and it took you about half an hour to think of the right words to send, and as soon as you sent them you immediately regretted it.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Next was when she actually responded.

Y/N (4:42 pm) Hey, it’s Y/N. Catching up sounds cool, so if the offer still stands I’d love to take you up on it

(XXX) XXX-XXXX (4:56 pm) Hi, yeah offer still stands. I’m actually free tonight if that works? I know that’s short notice so I completely understand if you’re unable to

You were in the middle of revising your notes at the kitchen counter when you heard the ding from the couch. Your head immediately shot up, and as soon as it processed what that ding was—you ran to it, hopping over the back of the couch and grabbing your phone.

You read the message over to yourself exactly seven times before impulsively reacting to her message with a thumbs up. After your response, you got another text from Olivia and the two of you made a decision of when and where to meet.

Oh, how deeply you regretted your impulsiveness as you stared at the same outfit over and over again. That’s what came right after the communication part; what exactly you were going to wear. You felt ridiculous, you’re usually not like this—but that happens to be a reminder of all the different things Olivia brings out in you. Good and bad. It was like you were 17 again.

Eventually you decided on something comfortable, casual, it’s not like you were going someplace fancy. The air in your apartment suddenly grew to be suffocating the closer it got to the time you had to leave. You gathered your belongings; you gathered your wallet, keys, phone, headphones, and lighter, shoving a few of them into your pockets. Just before leaving you stood still for a second.

What could I be missing? There has to be something. There has to be something. Damn it, there has to be something!

Your eyes wandered around your apartment for a good minute before you called it in. You patted yourself down while muttering the names of the items you felt in your pockets before finally leaving. You locked up behind you and let out a long sigh as you ran your hand down your face.

When you got to the bakery, your heart was beating in your ears and you felt your ears warm up when you made eye contact with Olivia from just a few tables away. She waved at you and you waved back as you subtly gulped. On the way towards the table, you silently hoped she didn’t pick up on the urge you had to perish right then and there.

“Hey,” you said. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hug her or shake her hand, something, so you just stuck with sending a small but simple smile her way.

“Hi,” she responded. She returned your smile as she looked you up and down. “You look good—I mean, you look yeah,” she awkwardly laughed, flustered from her stammering.

You returned a short laugh, feeling a tiny bit of the tension beginning to ease but not entirely, “You look good too,” your smile grew softer as you spoke. You noticed her eyes still wandering. “Didn’t get a good look last time?” You quipped in a teasing tone.

She shook her head as she tried to fight off the bright smile that painted her face. “I see you haven’t changed much,” she said.

“Well, me and change have never mixed well.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” she made her tone less monotone to ease the weight of her words. But that didn’t make you oblivious to their meaning.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your posture while you folded your hands and dropped them to your lap. “So, how’s the documentary going?”

“Just fine,” she said positively. “Still in the early stages, and you know how that can be.” You nodded along to her words. It suddenly became awkwardly quiet.

You picked at your cuticles, pressing harder and harder for that sweet sensation you craved, your gaze everywhere but at Olivia. That tension you felt before started to settle in your chest again, and you didn’t know how to cope. You just wanted out. You regretted agreeing to this. You wish you never bumped into her. You wish you never agreed to dinner with Tara because then this wouldn't be happening.

Of course it goes back to Tara. It always seems to.

“You still do that thing with your fingers?” She asked out of the blue.

“Huh?” You furrowed your eyebrows, looking down at your lap to where your hands rested.

“I don’t have to look to know. We dated for three years, Y/N,” she said.

“Oh.”

“And I can hear you picking at them from under the table.”

You suddenly felt small, slumping in your chair, and continuing to avoid eye contact with the woman who sat across from you. However, Olivia did not return this treatment. She sat up in her chair, placing her own hands on the table before turning them over to expose her palms. “Let me see your hands.”

“What?”

“Show. Me. Your. Hands.”

It didn’t seem like she was asking. There was definitely not a question mark in there. You rolled your eyes, letting out a small sigh that held aggravation. Reluctantly, you complied with her commands. She took your hands in hers and began to examine them, her fingers tracing down and softly rubbing against yours—you forgot how soft her hands were. As soon as her hands made contact with yours, you felt your joints grow weak and your cheeks felt too warm. You don’t remember the last time you held hands with her but it was certainly having an affect on you.

“Have you been using these as a chew toy?” She rhetorically asked, referring to your fingers whilst still examining them.

“Okay, they’re not that bad.”

“Yes. Yes they are,” she said with no hesitation.

She finally stopped looking at your fingers and instead at you. When you saw the worried expression that painted her face, you knew a line of questioning was approaching. “Are you okay?” She inquired in an unbearably gentle voice.

“I’m fine.”

“Which means you’re not fine.”

“Putting words into my mouth, as always,” you said in a low tone as you pulled your hands away from her.

“You really want to go there?” She let out a short exasperated laugh with her question, raising her eyebrows as she spoke.

“When I say I’m fine—I’m fine,” you said while leaning in and emphasizing your words by pressing on the table with your index finger; you leaned back against your chair when you finished speaking.

“Oh my God. You are literally so unbelievable—do you even hear yourself?” She looked at you with pure disbelief which only confused you further.

“What are you even talking about? All I said is that when I say I’m fine, I mean those words. How am I wrong here? I genuinely don’t understand,” you expressed in both frustration and genuine confusion.

“And what I am trying to say is you’re still the exact same person I was arguing with right before we broke up.”

“What?”

“You never want to talk! Listen, baby, I get you’re grieving—but you can’t just shut me out like this. It’s apparent that you need help! You don’t have to rush into it, but eventually—”

“Whether I talk or not is my choice! And I’m not seeing some stupid grief counselor, okay? Just because I don’t wanna talk to you about certain things, doesn’t mean I’m shutting you out—and I don’t need help! I’m fine. I’m just—damn it, I’m just processing. Can’t you let me do that at least?”

“You have been ‘processing’ for months! It’s time to—”

“Time to what? Move one?”

“That’s not what I was going to say!”

“But you’re thinking it. You’re thinking it just like everyone else is; my mom, my brothers, everyone at school—just leave me alone, all right!”

“Y/N, nobody is—”

“No! Everyone is thinking! Just stop, okay! I don’t need your bullshit sweet nothings, I don’t need some therapist, I don't need to talk about it—I’m fine!”

You and her could not even go five minutes without your conversation, or lack of, forming into an argument. And it was your fault. You were the problem. You couldn’t answer a simple question. Maybe you were hiding behind the fact that you didn’t know how to answer that question, or that you're trying to hide the answer from others. Either way, you always find yourself forming emotional barricades around you, no one in and no one out.

“Hey, come back,” Olivia’s voice rang. You were pulled from your thoughts, blinking rapidly as if it would wipe away the memories you tried so hard to erase. She leaned in, her irritated expression replaced with a comforting one. “I know how mean that voice in your head can be, I know what it does to you—but I just want you to be okay.”

You met her gaze, your expression equivalent to the look of a lost puppy. “Thank you, Olivia,” you simply said. It was not much, but it still weighed in emotion.

The rest of the night was less intense. She asked about Blackmore and how it’s going, which inevitably opened the door to her questioning you about seeing you with Tara the other night, and you found out more about her documentary. The night was long and tiring, but as much as you hate to admit it, you’re glad you agreed to catch up with Olivia. And you would be a bold faced liar if you said you didn’t miss her. The wound is still arguably fresh, but it’s beginning to heal.

You walked into the apartment, looking forward to changing into a pair of pajamas and binge watching some TV on the couch until you passed out. You have been studying non-stop for exams for the past four weeks, so why not give yourself a treat? Plus, this upcoming school week, you will officially be exactly one week from exams so you will be locked in. What does that mean? You do what you usually do but multiply that by a million, anyone who has known you long enough knows they’re going to hear less and less from you the closer you get to exams. It’s as if you completely shut down from the outside—actually, that’s exactly what happens.

As you walked inside, you yawned and rubbed your tired eyes. But as they begin to focus again, you notice a few blobs sitting in your living room. When your eyes are fully focused, that’s when you see them.

“Are you shitting me,” you expressed in a monotone voice while turning the locks on the door before throwing your keys to the side.

“No—no whining!” Anika immediately said. “You knew they were coming over.”

“I thought you canceled,” you said.

“Uncanceled.”

“What a miracle,” you remarked as you took off your jacket.

“How come whenever I have people over you have a problem with it as if this isn't a shared apartment?”

“Y/N being an inconsiderate jackass? What a revolation,” Tara pitched in with a smirk. You looked over to deadpan at her and she was already staring back at you.

“Says the woman who still owes me a milkshake,” you wiggled a finger at her. You both smiled at each other before you turned back around to kick off your shoes. “You know what, Nik, it’s fine. I’m just kind of grumpy right now.”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for not giving you an update,” she said, matching your own apoplectic tone. “You wanna join us? We were gonna play some Uno then watch a movie.”

“Uh, I don’t know—”

“Yeah, probably 'cause you’re gonna get all embarrassed when I wipe the floor with your ass in Uno,” the younger Carpenter knowingly instigated.

“Oh, excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m the reigning champ in my family—don’t start something you can’t finish, princess,” you instigated back.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Alright,” your gaze stayed on Tara for a moment before switching back to Anika, “I’ll join you.”

—

“Tara is totally looking at my cards!” Chad shouted while shoving his cards to his chest like an elderly woman clutching her pearls.

“I am not! You’re the one who keeps leaning on my side!” Tara whined back with just as much passion, if not more.

“Okay—no one looks at anyone's cards!” Anika cut in. “Alright, babe, it’s your turn.”

Mindy wore a devious smirk, slowly picking a card from her deck for dramatic effect.

“Boom, suck on that!” Everyone leaned in to look at the plus four Mindy slammed down on the pile of cards. Chad instantly groaned, immediately feeling a sense of regret for wasting his last plus four. He sulked while taking four more cards.

Now it was your turn. Tara was right after you, you had the chance to make her life a living hell. All you had to do was place the three plus four from your deck and you would double Tara’s deck in size and be one more card away from Uno.

You made a decision.

“Plus four,” you gloated regarding the single plus four you placed down.

“Damn it!” Tara made sure to glare at you while she picked up her four cards. “Just wait, you’ll see. I’m going to make my comeback.”

“Whatever you say,” you said in a doubtful tone. As Tara silently cursed to herself while flipping through her deck in frustration, you couldn’t help but stare fondly at the girl. She always had a competitiveness to her that you couldn’t help but respect. It was kind of cute.

After another seven minutes, it came down to just two people; you and Tara. You sat from across each other, debating your next play while one taunted the other.

“You know you’re going down, right?”

Tara laughed at your words. “You have at least ten cards, I just have two more turns and I’ll be following through with wiping the floor with your ass.”

“Oh, yeah?” You said, unintentionally with a come hither voice. You leaned in, your voice lowering but the tone still the same as you spoke to her. “You keep that energy, Carpenter.”

Tara's face suddenly grew warm, her stomach enveloping with butterflies as your voice crashed against her ears. You leaned back against the couch, looking at your own cards as it was Tara’s turn now.

Shit, you were in her head now. You totally did that on purpose, you had to. And what a dick you were for that, you knew what you were doing—again, you had to be aware of your actions. You must know the stupid feeling you give her, the way her stomach flips, how her legs turn to jello when you call for her. No. Focus. Come on, Tara. Lock in. Wipe the floor.

She cleared her throat, blinking down at her cards while processing them. It took a moment for it to click before she tapped back into her competitiveness and slammed down a card. “Uno! Plus four—suck on that!” Now she had just one card remaining in her hand, just one more turn and she would be victorious.

You smiled at her, your head tilted a bit as your eyes lit at the sign of her celebrating. She calmed herself down, feigning a calm demeanor. “Alright, it's your turn.”

You sighed. Well it was fun while it lasted, you enjoyed playing with Tara. It was entertaining. It’s nice playing with someone who can handle your competitiveness. “Uno, uno out,” you said while putting down your entire deck. You sat in your spot, looking at Tara with a shit-eating smirk with your hands folded together as Tara sat there dumbfounded.

“That’s—what, no, wait,” she furrowed her eyebrows as she rummaged through the cards you just placed. They were all green sevens. All of them. “How’d you—”

“Chin up, honey,” you teased, winking at her

“Oh you’re a real piece of work.” She shot up from her seat as she rushed over to a nearby closet. Your eyes followed her movements as you raised your eyebrows at her sudden actions.

“You two finally finished?” Mindy asked but was ignored by the other girl. “What are you doing with that—can you like stop ignoring me?” Tara returned with a box of Jenga in her hand and the others trailing behind her.

“I’m too tired to play Jenga,” Chad said.

“Good thing you’re not.” She now looked to address you, “You, me, Jenga—now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” was all you said as she immediately began setting everything up.

“What’s this about?” Anika asked you.

“Oh, I beat her ass in Uno—graciously so—and she’s being petty about it,” you shrugged.

“I am not being petty, I am unsatisfied. Seriously—how do you win with all green sevens?! Ugh, never mind that. We’re playing this and I’m going to hold out on my promise.”

“Of wiping the floor with my ass?”

“Exactly.”

“Woman of her word,” you say while getting comfortable in your spot.

Mindy, Anika, and Chad watched from the sidelines as you and Tara went at it in Jenga. There were many, many close calls, and few times where the other nearly flipped a table. You both tried to get into the other’s head while the other was sliding out their pieces, but so far no mistakes. But the tower was growing wobbly, it was getting late, and it was only a matter of time before that tower fell over. Now, it was simply a matter of who would make it come to that.

It was Tara’s turn, and there were not many places left for her to take from so she was forced to resort to an incredibly risky spot. You took this as another opportunity to mess with her. “Hey, Tar?”

“Kind of busy here,” she said—the block just halfway out.

“Will you marry me?” You casually inquired.

Tara’s eyes widened and her eyebrows jumped in surprise. Her hand immediately faltered, dropping her piece as the tower came crashing down. Her mouth opened and closed, her stare averting back and forth from you and the fallen tower; she didn't even know where to begin.

The others just remained on the sidelines, completely entertained by what was unfolding in front of them.

“Is that… a no?” Your eyes were almost pleading as you continued to taunt the girl, your millionth smirk that night threatened to show itself.

“I’m going to kill you,” Tara responded as she squeezed her eyes shut, still processing what just happened.

“Not before the honeymoon,” you quipped. Chad, Mindy, and Anika could now be heard laughing, no longer able to hold it in.

“You can’t just—” She shut her mouth out of frustration, settling for narrowing her eyes at you.

“I can’t just what, sweetie? Come on, use your words.” Oh, this was fun.

Suddenly you got a pillow to the face which only made it funnier, to you at least. “You owe me a rematch, cheater!”

“Excuse me, I didn’t cheat. You messed up on your own devices,” you said while patting down the pillow and putting it to the side.

“You know what you did,” she said with bitterness laced in her voice.

“I don’t, so how about you tell me? Tell me how exactly my words affected you; you know, so I can prevent myself from accidentally cheating next time.” You never broke eye contact with Tara; you enjoyed how much she was squirming thanks to you, maybe you enjoyed it a little too much.

“Next time?”

“You wanna rematch, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do.” This whole interaction had Tara blushing; she needed to leave, like right now. “How about I get back to you in 5-7 business days? Sounds good? Cool. Well, it’s late and Chad’s my ride so we should probably head home, right Chad?” Her words were rushed which made you raise an eyebrow at the sudden change.

“Hm? Oh sure, I’ll just get my keys and stuff and we can go,” Chad said before going to get his belongings.

“So, I’ll see you around—buddy,” she awkwardly punched your arm in a playful manner.

“Um, yeah, buddy. See you around,” you chuckled at her awkwardness.

“I’m still expecting an answer though!” You called out as she made her way to the front door.

“5-7 business days!” She repeated back to you.

“I’m holding you to that!”

-----------

A/N: well that escalated, gosh, keep it in your pants R! 😦

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax@andsoigotabutterfly @ajortga

#let the light in au #tara carpenter #tara x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter scream #tara carpenter x fem!reader #scream x you #scream x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #scream fanfic

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undercoverpena · 4 months

Text

under the stars

joel miller x f!reader | masterlist

summary: joel finds that you become a thing of unnatural order, all ethereal as the moonlight kisses your curves.

wordcount: 3.7k warnings: post outbreak. smut. oral sex (m receiving). tying joel up with rope. cutting joel free with a knife. p in v. jo's spelling. feelings, but joel-feelings. softer!joel an: i've had this in my head for so long, getting it down on a page has been the whole wonderful, exciting and exhausting thing. i could sing forever about the moon. thank you to the most wonderful, and amazing @swiftispunk who i threw this at last night and made me feel like i am a goddess of the moon.

Joel had learnt early on that you liked the night.

You’d handed it to him in puzzle pieces—flecks of information that he’d eventually be able to make a portrait out of. First, you’d handed him a story, then a statement and then a feeling.

The only times you didn’t like the night was when it was silent.

No wind in the trees, each branch crunching sounding for miles. You didn’t tell him with your words, but rather your body—frame closer, practically against him.

When he’d seen the abandoned train yard coming into view, he’d already considered it. The night had been closing in, the last embers of daylight casting shadows larger shadows across the tall, wiry grass.

“Ever stayed in a train?”

“Can’t say I have.”

He wonders a lot about the things you haven’t done. If you had a list of things you had hoped to tick off from a list before the world went to shit. Whether you had made a new one when you woke up one day and realised it was kill or be killed.

In another life, he wonders if you’d have been a nurse, a doctor, a baker or a typist—because there’s something about your hands. A soothingness about them wasted on holding a gun or slitting a hole in a person from jaw to pelvis. It’s something which passes over you more when the sun goes down. The sharpness in you fading, as though you truly become the thing you were always supposed to be when shrouded in night and the moon comes out to greet you.

He supposes the night is the constant. The unchanged force that arrived and vanished each day—a fixed point, a welcomed relief. Things don’t appear any more threatening in the dark, no more than the world was before.

Yet, Joel finds that you become a thing of unnatural order, all ethereal as the moonlight kisses your curves. It highlights the lines that bend, and illuminates the sheen which coats your skin as you stare back at him in gratitude, as though the way he makes you feel good can make up for all you were robbed of. He hopes to, not by being the thing you lie next to, but the thing which keeps you safe. A protector, a wall of muscle, bone and flesh that would rip if it meant keeping you whole.

It wouldn’t even matter if it were day or night.

Before it all happened, he’d never have considered that the night was more alive than the day. But he’d witnessed how it was. How the darkness provided by the sky was a gift, the moon licking shadows that added an illusion of safety, one he had used to his advantage.

Your words coaxing him, whispered, all hushed, we can take them—won’t even see us coming. You had been right. Staring up at the sky as you caught your breath, stars inside your eyes and a soul full of darkness.

As he glances over, you’re doing it now.

Peering up through the open hatch of the train roof, cross-legged, dragging his jacket further around your body as you stare, and stare, and stare.

Transfixed, lost. Kidnapped by memories, most likely, ones he won’t rip you from just yet.

He wonders if you had ever wished on them, ever stared up at them with hopefulness swimming in your eyes—their twinkle swirling in the pools of your gaze. Joel wonders whether you’d pleaded for something so hard under the night sky that your nails cut into your palms, only for everything to be robbed from you all the same. Had you ever seen a shooting star, and had you prayed on it for a future that included a white dress or a picket fence?

“Don’t they look so pretty, Joel?”

It falls from you like a whisper, almost innocent—far removed from the killer he knows you can be. From the gutless, powerful soul he sees rip through people when they make you spill crimson and try to take what isn’t theirs.

It’s almost easy, he thinks, to tell you that there’s something prettier next to him. Someone who could rival the prettiest of nights and the most gorgeous of days. Something that could have been fragile, but instead is strong, chaos imagined, all wrapped inside eyes he sees when he dreams.

Head tilting, you meet his gaze, and it’s too much—too strong. It's intoxicating. Feeling drunk off it—that feeling of normalcy you make him want.

“You ever had your cock sucked under the stars?”

You know he has.

Know that under leafless branches and an almost full moon you’d taken him in your mouth. All warm, welcoming—his fingers knotted on the back of your head, biting back each hiss, each grunt as he felt teardrops on the crease of his thighs and hips.

It doesn’t matter what his answer is, you’re already facing him, knees digging into the train floor. Your fingers already working his belt—a glimmer in your eye that has him half-hard already.

Because if lust had a look, he swears it would be you.

That look in your eyes always does something to him. It’s more than just being alive, it’s a glint, a spark of something that he swears would have had rows of people to their knees. Right now, it’s all for him. Only his.

A possessiveness rings through him at the thought; rising up in him when he lingers on it, that he has this with you—has this unlabelled thing where he sees all the shards of you, has met each part which makes you whole.

“I want you to try not touching,” you say, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, mouth close to his.

He wants to taste your request. Breathe it in. Have it merge with his insides, all because of the look that accompanies it. One that makes his jaw tighten, almost tick.

“You think you can do it, Miller? Think you can refrain from touching me until I say so.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Sure.”

The latter catches on his teeth as the cool air brushes over his weeping cock once you free him from his clothing. Your head tilting, holding his stare as you lick a stripe up your palm, before wrapping it around him, pumping him. Tightening your fingers, murmuring about how hard he is for you, how thick he feels in your hand.

“We’ll see,” you smirk, pausing your ministrations, and lowering your head. "Fuck, your cock is perfect, Miller."

A retort brewed, ready to fire, shoot, land. Then, your mouth wraps around him.

Just the tip at first, pausing, all tentative. Your lashes close to your brows as you stare up at him—the moon painting you in a light which he swears he never thought possible. Because it only highlights the appetite you have for him, the starvation to take more of him.

It makes his fingers twitch at his side. Forces his thighs to tense under the need to grasp the back of your head. He refrains, even if it’s a battle he’s prepared to lose. In time.

For now, he wants more of this. Enjoy more of you licking the head of his cock, from humming around him, testing yourself as you try to take more of him, and more, and more—

A groan vibrates around him, making his eyes flutter closed. The battle having appeared sooner, slammed into him as you took more of him. Moaning sweetly around him, tongue swirling around the head when you come up before the tip hits the back of your throat all over again.

Joel doesn’t think of consequences, he just thinks of the need to feel himself in your throat. Letting his fingers move, slide around, brushing up your neck as you take as much of him as you can, mouth so stuffed—

“Hands, Miller.”

He groans, your tongue sliding up the base of him, lips hovering at the head before you trace your lips with him—those perfect, fucking lips—wiping him over you, smearing him.

“I’ll tie your hands down.”

His cock twitches, and you must notice from the way your brow arches, lifting up from him, bottom lip smothered in spit.

Joel finds most of the time, you have heavenly eyes and a hellish smile. A thing which shouldn’t remain, should have been stolen, ripped from you. Right now, you’re nothing but wickedness and darkness.

“Oh, Miller,” you say, voice lower, his name falling like silk. “Do you want me to tie you down? Stop you from touching me.”

He does.

A thing he doesn’t dare deny. His own eyes having caught sight of some frayed rope earlier, pointing it out, instructing—watching in awe as you move swiftly, boots hammering against the train floor, thudding and thudding until you’re on your knees either side of his, holding in both palms.

“Lie down.”

Your instruction carries weight, your body shifting as he lies down, your body crawling up him.

“Do it like—”

“You showed me?” you smirk. “I know how to keep you down, Miller.”

You lean back onto your knees, jean-covered cunt on his chest. Fuck what he’d do to move his hands from waiting for the circles of the knot you’re going to make—and pull you down to his mouth. Lets his breath puff warm air into the worn fabric, forcing it against your likely soaked core. Watch your lashes flutter as you try to make your identical loops, and see if you can think of overlapping them—whether you even make the knot, or let it fall to the wayside as you plead for his mouth, his tongue, his fucking teeth, before he manages to wriggle your clothing down your thighs.

He doesn’t find out, because he doesn’t move. Shadows disguise your expression, all except your smirk as you slide his wrists through the old rope—the frays tickling, brushing over his skin and hair, before with a pull, you tighten it—applying traction.

“Above your head,” you instruct.

You hinge at the hips, falling into the line of the moonlight. And, there’s a little gruffness to your voice, matching the pools of lust currently trying to swallow him whole—readying themselves to consume him, devour him. He doesn’t mind. He never fucking does.

Joel would willingly die in your eyes if he could—in the pair which sees him, all of him. Not afraid of the way he’s worn, the grief he carries, and the array of stories left in scars.

Best looking man I’ve ever killed for.

Only man you’ve killed for.

Fine. Best looking man I’ve laid my eyes on.

He’d succumb to you if you asked. More so, when you slide back down. The seam of your jeans brushing down his cock—the friction pleasant, warranted, needed.

He’s about to ask you to remove them. To bring yourself back up, allow him a taste, something to tide him over, reward you. He’d maybe even beg.

But, he swears your mouth is heaven. That he must have died mere moments ago. Each scrape of your teeth makes him hiss; each hollowing of your cheek makes him want to coat your tongue in his release. His fingers knot around the rope which binds him, hearing it trying to snap under the weight of his own frustration.

It cutting, grazing into flesh, especially as you take so much of him—further than you did before. Barely two fingers worth of him not down your throat, your eyes staring at him, holding his gaze, almost commanding it.

He pulls instinctually, wanting to grab the back of your head, hold you, stroke your neck, cheek—

But, then he ruts his hips into your mouth. Forcing a gag, a cough to arise from your perfect mouth.

“Careful,” he warns, as if it wasn't his doing. His eyes spot them, little streaks of tears which stain your cheeks, all quickly, tumbling and falling to his thighs. “Y’good for me. Fuckin’ perfect, in fact. But, be careful.”

Your tongue licks up the length of him, balls tightening as you graze your teeth over the underside—before he’s enveloped by you again, all warm, inviting, and then your throat squeezes around him.

He’s falling into it, the pool of pleasure—swimming it, bathed to the neck in it under stars and an almost full moon.

He’s sure your mouth is the meaning behind paradise and torture—both perfect and vicious—and he groans, at it. At the way, you swallow around him.

And he can’t take it.

Can’t handle it—

Wants nothing more than to come down your throat and make you taste him until morning.

Cause this is different than last time, and not because it's not a trunk his back is against. But, rather, because you're moon-soaked, kissed by the night. You're a thing he swears glows in the dark, leads a man to shore from choppy waters or could force a man to walk off a cliff.

You're pretty.

It's why he also wants to bury his cock inside you. Wants to feel you squeeze him, grasp for him, whine for him. You make him want, make him desire to possess you. Even if he'll never try to cage you, never tie you down, the thought, the wish, the desire is there. Just the same as how he wants to have you on top of him, under him, even bent over for him. Anything. Everything. All of it, all of you, all—

Mouth lifting off, your eyes glimmer, something there, growing behind your eyes. Spit tying you to him, a bead beginning at the tip of his leaking cock and ending at your swollen, puffed bottom lip.

Then you sneer. Devilishly, all fucking cunningly. “What did you think earlier, Miller?”

Hand taking him, wrapping it around as it moves in fluid motions. Grip how he likes it, a teasing speed that leaves him hovering there, so close to seeing a galaxy of his own and covering your face in his gratitude.

“Miller,” you mutter. "What, did you, think earlier?"

His throat goes dry, bone dry. Like those times when he hadn’t drunk for hours. And he pulls at the rope, wishing to tear himself free and silence your questioning by pushing you down, cheek to the side, sliding his cock inside you until you’re drunk on him, unable to think, ask.

He can feel his skin bruising, marks lacerating against flesh as he grunts at your knot. One he taught you, made you practice—something he knows you must remember from the wink you suddenly shoot him. And he knows from the smirk that cuts across your beautiful face, that the only way he’s going to get any release—is by telling you. Spilling the thing which should die in his throat, blacken, melt down into other things he’ll maybe one day tell you.

“If you want to come—“

Jaw gritting, he swears he could grind his teeth to dust.

Your hand remains poised, but not moving. His name leaves like a spell, but he knows it's draped in poison. Can tell from how it contaminates the air and makes him curse under its potency.

"Joel."

“Fine. I thought—thought y’prettier than the stars. Prettiest—fuck—” Your head dips, sliding the tip of your tongue along his slit, “—thing I’ve ever seen.”

Lifting up from him, bottom lip sliding across your upper lip—painting that in a mixture of his pre-come and your spit too—you slowly smile. “Wasn’t so hard now was it?”

Gritting his teeth, your breath ghosting over his mouth, eyes locked on him. Burying something light, warm, fucking lovely in his soul.

“Cut. Me. Free.”

Tilting your head, he sees your brow lift.

“Now.”

You blink, a thousand universes swirling in your eyes before you move for your knife. “Now?”

“Fuckin’ now, baby.”

You don't blink at the name, you just press the blade against his skin, so close to veins. Yet, he trusts you. More than he thought he would another person, another soul that wasn’t bound to his by blood.

Each slice of the blade against the rope cut through the air, his strangled breaths fading, even as his cock twitched, pleading for release. His eyes just remained on you—the maths of how he’d move you already calculated—watching the vein in your neck, the way spidery shadows cast on your face from your tear-stained lashes.

He felt the rope go slack before your knife stopped, moving in a flash, knife clattering as he flipped you onto your back. Hovering above, likely lit up by the stars and the moon—leering down on you, watching your chest rise and fall.

“So, you think I’m pretty?”

He growls, the button popped on your jeans before he rips them down as much as he can, moving enough to let you kick yourself free, before he plunges his tongue in your open mouth. Tasting, taking, robbing you of the words that you just spoke, the ones which made you cocky. Even if they were true.

But, he wasn’t good—was an animal, a thing carved from grief and the end of days. But then, you were in your own right too. Something that gnashed, scratched, and buried the softer parts of you deep under layers that had taken him months to unearth. To even find, locate.

The animal in you is what made him want to devour, but it was the softness that made him stand in front of you when branches crunched. It was the latter that made him want to pin you down against stiff surfaces and have you feel good, feel adored.

Taking his cock in hand, he drags the head against your soaked folds. Your slick coating him, sliding up and down, watching you, studying you—a sight full of stars, twinkling, pleading. Nails digging into his hips, an order, a demand.

In one thrust, he slides deep into you. Makes you his, like he does whenever you ask him to, when he can, each chance he can get. Never tiring of it, of you.

A thing he could say, fill your pretty little head with it and then fuck it outta you.

“Thinking about how much you like me, Miller?” you whisper, fingers moving up to scratch at his curls, to wrap them around your fingers. “Or, is it more than like, is that what it is?”

A tug, a swallowed groan. His mouth is on yours again—different than before.

A change, a thing the two of you never used to do, but one you do more frequently. Another thing he doesn’t hate. The change happened, and he realised he didn’t want to go back to the time before it. Not when your tongue plunged in his mouth feels good. When you lick at the back of his teeth, flooding his mouth with the taste of salt and remnants of the canned food from earlier.

“Thinking about how y’the most frustrating thing I’ve ever had under me.”

“Would you have it any other way?”

Buried to the hilt, fingers clasped around the space just above your collarbone, he stares into your eyes—wondering if the stars are ever jealous they never get to live in them.

No, he growls.

Your mouth falling open, a moan there, building on your tongue as he hits that spot—knows it, can tell from the way you lightly gasped. It is further evidenced by the way you grasp his hips, almost pinching when he drops onto his forearm above your head, freeing a hand.

“I do like fuckin’ y’under the stars.”

What began as a narrowing of your eyes, ended with a widening. The way it plays out could make him surrender to you every time, render him useless, even heal a shard of him that he thought was long since ruined.

Then, your mouth drops open, a moan emerging—rearing its head in an almost whine-filled cry, as he sticks a finger in, rolling it over your tongue, coating the pad of him in your spit before he slides his hand between your bodies.

And he knows you won’t last long. Not from the way you're clamping down, from the sounds you make—all beautiful, each rich, and fucking sweet. It’s why he drops his voice low, mouth to your ear, grunting your name, that you’re perfect, prettier than a sky full of stars—all the while drawing quick circles on your bundle of nerves, his hips maintaining a constant speed.

“Close, m’close,” you cry out, back arched into him, fingers finding refuge in his hair, face pinned by your forearms.

I know, he thinks, feeling you reach your pinnacle, hovering, hanging, before he delivers one quick thrust and you’re hurtling, spasming. Your body twists as your walls clench around him, coming on his cock, unravelling entirely as he picks up his speed, as he removes his hand from between you for leverage as he fucks into you. Just a few more, knees throbbing even through the pleasure, before his hips stutter, and he’s spilling inside of you, your name cutting into the air, scratching into it, marking it with each letter that makes it up.

Even before he collapses beside you, before breaths are caught, and your head finds that spot on his shoulder, that it’s coming. A look or your tone, that hint of gentleness you otherwise keep bottled up.

So he waits. Listen to the way your heart calms in your chest and your head feels heavy on his bone.

“Your secret is safe with me, Miller,” you whisper, not turning to look at him, just staring through the open hole of the train. “I won’t tell a soul you have a heart.”

Snorting, he swallows. “No one would believe ya if y’did.”

You hum, letting out a gentle breath.

And he just swallows the good he had almost whispered. Because if no one knows, it’s a thing people won’t try to take. And he can’t let you lose another thing, not when he’s sure the whole part of what remains of his heart, belongs to you.

an: hope you liked this. i am a whore for the moon and the stars.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #tlou fanfic #hbo the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader

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yourwinchesterbros · 7 months

Text

THE TWO OF US

Paring – Joel Miller x Fem reader / 10.3K Words

Summary – You find Joel taking care of you yet again, but not in the way you want. Tonight, you decide to address it.

A/N - I couldn’t stop thinking about this, so I decided to write it. Inspired by Episode 3 of the last of us, takes place in the clearing that Joel and Ellie settle in for the night but this time, it’s Joel and you.

Warnings – Minors, do not interact. This fic is 18+ only

The filthiest thing I’ve written so far, and I put all the blame on Joel Miller. He makes me absolutely feral!

Smut with little plot. Poor girl gets edged for way too long, teasing, masturbation for both, daddy kink, pet names - pretty girl, brat, sweetheart etc. (Joel calls reader whore once) Dirty talk, thigh riding, reader humps her sleeping bag, cursing, soft/dom Joel. Mentions of murder, blood, and wounds and weapons – knives, gun. (Reader has a small cut). Joel is in his fifties; readers age is not specified but absolutely over the age of 20. Please Let me know if I’ve missed anything! Enjoy!

“We’re stopping here f’ the night.”

Joel accelerates the Chevy S-10 ranger off the familiar pavement and onto the rough prairie towards the forest line. The uneven earth below you causes the truck to wobble, you grip the handle mounted above you to stay steady.

The sun is on its way to set and reveal the sky she has in mind for this evening. You hope it’s another blue and pink one, when the clouds blend it becomes a milky mauve and it’s Joel's favourite kind of sunset. Which naturally, and secretly, is the very reason why it’s become your favourite too.

You roll down the passenger window with the manual hand crank, wincing at the sore residing across your collarbone. A souvenir from earlier endeavors. Well, early as in this very morning.

When you and Joel came across what seemed like a stationed FEDRA stop, relief washed over when it was revealed to be just a band of yahoos. You quickly learned they were as nervous as you. Ironically enough, that’s an advantage, as your travelling partner was unlike the lot of you all. Joel possesses a different mindset than others. A different perspective that was always so solidified. Certain.

As the air in the environment shifted, it became hostile. This was a group with no good intentions. Not for the two of you anyhow. Yet you saw the fear grow in their eyes when Joel charged, surging forward, letting survival take over. The thing is, Joel also has a different sense of fear. Such as fear of getting off track while trying to find his brother, among a fear of running out of coffee and most impending, the fear of getting old. That one makes you laugh.

Therefore, when the two of you approached the group of three men and a lady, fear didn’t have a seat at Joel's table. So, your morning kerfuffle was exactly that – a mere kerfuffle that ended with 3 dead and one spared with a worn-out map. She won’t make it far though. Not on her own.

You initially tried to kill her yourself. An opportunity that was seconds away when you were straddling her chest, your knife hovered above her sternum, promising a fatal strike but you were viciously flung off by Joel with a quick “We don’t kill women” as he returned to bludgeon some poor guy’s face. The woman however had survival rules of her own. Taught by the men she traveled with; her version of death didn’t discriminate.

She was quick to retrieve her blade you’d tossed moments ago. Before you knew it, she was on top of you faster than you could gather yourself. She now had the high ground, the advantage and with no one to stop her, she swung the sharp steel across your skin with purpose. She aimed for your neck, but thankfully you were faster, your reactions saved you and you were rewarded a swift cut to the collarbone instead. You had reached for her jaw, throwing her off balance as you shoved her face upwards. Joel had then come to your rescue, pulling her to the side by her neck before putting the fear of God into her.

It could’ve been worse for you, but a part of you was relieved as you didn’t have to encounter the grief that weighs on one’s soul when they take a life. You’ve never killed before, but that doesn’t mean you won't. You’ve accepted the fact that it’s only a matter of time, but it’s an event you’re not eager to attend.

As much as you reamed out Joel for letting her go, for letting you nearly die at her hands, you really only chastised to keep hearing his apologies in that low southern drawl. It was a record you could keep on replay for all eternity. Joel saying sorry? What a sound.

With a tender touch, you press against the damp blue material covering your wound. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, but a bit had still seeped through. Joel had given you some gauze which clung to the wound tightly as the blood hardened, like a scab. You figure it’ll have to be changed soon.

You gaze out the window, appreciating the cool breeze whistling across your features. You can smell the soil underneath the green grass as the truck tires roll over them.

To your surprise Joel continues past the trees, into the forest itself. A sliver of anxiety burst in your chest.

“We’re not camping by the tree line?” You question as your eyes frantically scour each gap between the lush evergreen trees.

“Not safe enough” he barely utters to you as he himself scans the earthy environment. “Less chance for surprises deep in here”.

“Mmmkay …” you hum, feeling a wave of sadness as you realize watching golden hour wouldn’t be in the cards tonight. Nature in this area is overgrown, and rich. The trees are abundant, dense, and evade the sky above you.

With a light squeal, the truck comes to a halt, and when the engine dies you know this is home for the night.

You pull out of the passenger seat and groan as you stretch your body, raising your hands above your head.

“Today was a long one hey? How many hours were we on the road?” You question as you glance around your new surroundings.

“You should know, you’re the one who told me you were gunna start observin’ more” He raises a brow, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he unlocked the tailgate. “Guess it’s hard t’ count when you’re nappin’ half the ride.”

“Okay let’s not get carried away there, I don’t plan on being on your level of analysis, Miller.” You smirk at him as you help him unload the sleeping bags and the worn-out Coleman’s barbeque.

With a thud of the bags against the ground he turns to you.

“What’d I say ‘bout usin’ my last name?” His brows are drawn tightly now. His brown eyes dark like char, focus on yours. He places one of his hands, palm side down against the body of the truck, the other gripping his hip.

You raise your own hands in surrender as he scoffs with a shake of his head but continues unpacking. It’s something you tend to poke and prod him with from time to time. But only from time to time. Well, in the short time that you’ve known him anyway.

For some reason, it really does tick Joel off when you say his surname but that’s precisely why you enjoy using it when he least expects it. Because if he knows it’s coming, he won’t let it slide and you’re left talking to yourself for the remainder of the day, sometimes two. So, you use it when you want to be momentarily scolded, but you say it as if it’s an accident. A habit not quite beaten out of the inner brat in you.

You hear him mumbling to himself again as he splays the sleeping bags out, readying the grill for whatever canned goods are left. Sounds something like “You’re gunna learn one f’ these days” but you pay no further attention as you skip to the driver’s side of the truck, leaning into the center console to grab the cheap lantern. You won’t need it yet, but darkness tends to creep in much faster when you’re in the woods. You want it close by as you’ve not been granted access to firearms. No matter how many times you’ve pleaded Joel, it wasn’t up for discussion. Therefore, you’re left with your trusty blade and ‘works half-of-the-time’ lantern.

Joel heats up two cans, one possessing creamed corn and the other, ravioli. You prefer corn, but you don’t miss the smile that briefly dances in Joel’s eyes when he gets to take the ravioli for himself. Another mental note you’ve made about Joel. He likes his Chef Boyardee.

As the night crawls on, Joel summons you over with a sharp whistle to the tailgate where he’s standing.

“Hey, c’mere,” he pats the hard plastic of the trunk.

“Joel, I just got comfy. I’m finally warm in my little cocoon,” you pause as you wait for his mercy. None was served as he snaps his middle finger against his thumb to you again, motioning the truck with his forefinger as he continues unzipping a little red bag with the other.

“Get over here,” he demands but not in a mean way, his voice was softer than before.

“You’re not the boss of me,” you whisper under your breath as you make your way over to him, shuffling the sleeping bag off your feet.

“Heard that,” he grunts.

“Good,” you chirp back as you stand next to him.

“Up” he says, once again motioning his forefinger upwards to the tailgate.

With a roll of your eyes, you turn your back to the truck and hoist your bottom from beneath you up onto the bench. You sit there quietly, swaying your legs while watching Joel prod through the medical bandages and wipes with his large fingers in that small, little bag. A ping of jealousy rises in your chest as you wished you could have his fingers explore your –

“Quit thinkin ’so loud,” Joel interrupts your thoughts as he tears open a small white package between his teeth. An action that makes you bite your bottom lip involuntarily.

It’s no secret you struggle around Joel. Maybe it’s the long-term effects of the apocalypse, causing so many to lose the common sense of touch with one another. Creating incredibly touch-starved individuals, especially you.

Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been properly touched by a man, and you think Joel would know how, you think of it far too often. Or maybe it’s simply because a man like Joel emits sexuality with his entire being. It’s like he releases a pheromone that makes those around him go feral for his manhood. At least that’s how you feel anyways.

Your eyes tend to linger longer than you’d like when you watch Joel grip his rifle, his strong hand cupping the neck of the gun. The way his fingers trace lightly on the trigger, teasing the bullet inside to erupt. The way he narrows his sight into the scope, his breath held before exhaling in the most sensual way. The way his broad shoulders rise and fall before he makes his kill. Hell, you could watch this man paint and still be in a pool of your own arousal.

Maybe it’s just because Joel is the most masculine man you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, becoming partners with, in the coworker sense of course. He possesses the knowledge, the experience, the determination, the patience, and strength… of survival. But you’ve always wondered if those same factors come into play when he likes to…play.

Joel has always noticed when you’re thinking, the way you zone out on his lips or his large fingers. Your eyelids become hooded as he watches the filthy gears turn inside your mind. It’s something you do without even realizing and he fucking loves it. It makes his heartbeat fonder; his ego grow bigger and without fail, each time, it makes his cock twitch in his jeans. Which is the final action that brings him back to reality to snap your dirty little naïve mind out of it.

He understands the effect he has on women, how they would stare at him back at the QZ. Crawl to him with need, begging to be put out of their misery. It’s a quality he doesn’t mind as it makes it easy to find release but when it comes to you, he scolds himself for ever letting his mind drift into those delicious, curious, devilish thoughts. Your innocence is a hidden treasure in this corrupt world, and Joel simply won’t corrupt that too.

He recognizes the way you stray close to him as if he's shelter. The way you look at him with wide eyes when he senses danger, how you shuffle so tight into him, because you know he’ll protect you. And he will. He quietly prides himself in being your gatekeeper. How you give him complete control over your life, a feeling he’s only ever had once before.

He pictures you as a small ornament made of thin glass. So precious, yet so fragile and it sits so nicely in his roughed up, deadly, deleterious hands. He could shatter it so easily. Let the pieces fall at his feet and walk away before the fear of failure seeps in, had he done that in the start, his feelings would be protected.

But the problem is, he’s gotten attached to his little ornament. Therefore, he’ll watch every move he makes, to be sure not to flinch and accidently crack it. He dreads the weight that comes with the stiffness of protecting you, how it makes his body and mind ache, but he knew. He knew the moment he took you out of the QZ and into the unknown, that he would ache till the day he takes his last breath. He made his choice that very night, that he's responsible for you. He just didn’t realize how much he would care. How much you’ve impacted him. How much of you has molded into him and the things he recognizes in you that you’ve gained from him. His little ornament, he vows to keep safe because the eternal hell that comes with defeat, he simply won’t go through again.

He stares down at you, looking at your eyes still trained on his mouth that has just ripped open the white plastic. He wondered if it reminded you of the memories that creeped into his. If you've ever seen one before. A type of rubber that used to sit in his wallet pre apocalypse when he travelled to seedy bars.

“Take your shirt off” You snap your eyes from his lips to meet his brown ones. They’re still dark from the “Miller” comment you made earlier but this time there’s a twinkle you can’t quite read.

“You, y- you want me to take it off?” You speak so softly but in such a needy way Joel has to forcefully repress the groan that’s stuck in his throat. Instead, he smirks at you.

“Need t’ see the cut”. You blush at his words, feeling silly for assuming he’d want anything otherwise. God you were so lost in your train of thoughts, you’d briefly forgotten what you were sitting here for.

Joel catches sight of your blush by the low light of the lantern sitting next to the med bag. He knows he can’t give into you, or let himself ponder on you for too long, but that doesn't mean he can’t have a little fun teasing you.

You grab the hem of your sweater, peeling it up and over your head, leaving you in your white tank top. One that had been stained from dirt and blood, but you’ve washed it in rivers in between travels. The stains never come out, no matter how hard you try.

You hear his breath hitch as you pluck the sweater off, bundling it to your side and it only fuels the ache in between your legs that much more.

You slip in and out of your trance, feeling so vulnerable yet powerful in the hands of Joel. Waiting for his next move. You watch his eyes examine your cut, as he chews on the inside on his cheek.

“S’not too bad, but could get infected, especially when we’re out here,” he explains, opening the wet cloth that was inside the package and before he brings it to your wound, he raises a finger lightly over your shoulder.

“Just... gunna move this out f’ the way” his voice velvet as he softly shifts your tank strap away from your wound to the edge of your shoulder, enough for it to fall down your arm on its own. The motion of it all raising a shiver up your tailbone. You then see his eyes grow heavy, his tongue dipping out to wet his bottom lip.

The touch of his calloused fingers against your skin, the way the strap falls from his grasp, how his eyes briefly drop to your chest before seeing the red blotches form across his neck, all these things have your buds growing hard against the fabric of your shirt.

You groan when he removes the old gauze and finally applies the alcohol-soaked cloth against your cut. The sting somehow adding to your arousal. You can’t help but let a small pornographic moan slip from your lips resulting in a hiss from Joel.

“Jesus” He mutters, more to himself than you. His other hand palms his crotch to briefly adjust the growing hard on beneath the zipper. He thought he was subtle in the dark, but you still saw, and it drove you wild.

His touch shocks you as his hand gently grips your neck, holding you still as he dabs your sore some more. You see the wrinkles forming on his forehead as he bends down, leaning in close to inspect the cut further. You could roll your eyes in pure ecstasy just from the way he has you in his grasp. The way his head is ducked down beneath yours, so closely to your chest, you can nearly feel his hot breath kissing your nipples.

You feel your dignity slipping away. You want nothing more than to submit to him, let him take what he wants. You’ve seen the signs, surely, he’s thought about it too.

His big thumb lightly caresses your sensitive skin as he focuses on wiping up the rest of the smeared mess that stained your collar bone. In between his shuffling, you spread your legs open some more, hoping he’ll come closer.

You peer down, watching his eyes flicker to yours, a warning resides within them. He knows what you’re doing, and he isn’t going to take bait. He’s in trouble enough as it is. You bite down on your lip, trying to suppress the guttural want inside you. But your mouth falls agape when his glare falls back to your neck, tracing slowly back to your wound before looking down lower to your breasts poking through your thin shirt. He inhales deeply through his nose, his eyes closing as if he’s praying for restraint. You hope none delivers.

In one motion, he regathers himself in such a Joel manner, you know he’s done playing. He tosses the crimson-stained wet fabric back into the red bag, zipping it up in such aggression you thought it might just break.

“Just keep it covered, should heal fine,” He orders, not once looking your way.

“Joel” you mewl to him, your hands having a mind of their own as they reach for his jacket.

“No” he says bluntly, his eyes on the med kit. He’s trying to be cold, but you can hear the quiver that laces his voice.

He tosses the bag further into the trunk, he jaws clenching so hard you think his teeth might shatter.

“Joel” you cry again softly, biting your lip. Your arousal is becoming unbearable, downright painful. At this point, you can care less about how pathetic you sound. You just need relief, but this time from him.

“I said no,” He growls, “It’s bedtime.”

Joel then, in one movement reaches one arm under yours, supporting your back and the other hand gripping your waist.

You clutch the collar of his jacket, panting feverishly, your heart racing from his touch. His head had leaned down close enough, you thought he might just kiss you.

But then you realize what's really happening as he picks you up off the tailgate and plants you on your feet to the ground. You don’t miss the way his hand lingers before letting you go.

“I’ve got first watch, get into your sleepin’ bag,” He commands as he picks up his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder.

“I’m not tired” you whine, desperation seeping out of your pores.

“M’ don’t care, we have a long day tomorrow n’ you need rest, so get rested.” His voice is strained as his teeth grit at the end of his sentence. He putters around, putting the lantern next to your bag, closing the lid to the barbeque, not once looking in your direction.

And you know why. He’s trying to hide his desire from you, the evidence sticking out in his jeans. Trying to distract himself from the utter temptation that hangs in the air. Trying to be the good guy that is strictly business and most days his virtuous behavior warms you, but tonight it’s pissing you right off.

“I can’t sleep like this Joel, I, I- I’m uncomfortable” you whimper, your arms at your side as you admit defeat.

“That’s enough” he spits your name “M’ not saying it again.”

Your perk up when he turns, striding towards you but it’s quickly followed by a groan when he passes you to go to the truck. He grabs your sweater, before slamming up the tailgate with force. The sexual frustration radiant in his demeanor.

You watch him come closer; his knuckles white from gripping the fabric of your top. Your breath catches when you meet his eyes, his glare so intense you think you might become a meal, you hope you will.

He raises his fist to your chest; you look down at the blue material.

“Put this on, it’ll protect your wound. I’m checking the perimeters then I’ll be back” he says lowly, peering down at you without tilting his head. When he does this, it makes you feel incredibly small, more than you normally feel around him. Which you like. You frown at his back as he strides away, towards the trees.

“Joel, please” you whine again. “I – I need – “ Tears begin pricking at your eyes, you’ve never felt this needy in your life, and all you want is Joel. He’s the only one that can help.

He stands still, before turning his head to the side, his knee popping out in his stance. He stays that way for a moment before you hear him sigh loudly. He turns to face you, hand gripping his jaw as his eyes scans your figure, weeping in front of him.

“Sweetheart, I know what you need,” His nickname shocks and spurs you on all at the same time.

“Do what you need to do, I’m goin’ to do rounds, I’ll be back when you’re done okay?” His tone shifts from frustrated to understanding, his face somber but riddled with want. You glance down at his jeans, his bulge sticking out so loudly. You feel yourself start salivating.

“Can’t you do it Joel?” You mewl “Help me feel better?”

This time he groans, one so low and gravelly you think you might cum right there.

“Baby girl I can’t” his palm rests on his forehead before he runs his thick fingers through his salt and pepper locks.

“You know I can’t” His voice is getting rougher in between his pants. “I need you to crawl into bed and touch yourself, okay? I know you can do it” He points his index at your sleeping bag and with a sigh he walks off before you can say anything else.

And just like that he disappears into the darkness. You know he won’t stray far, but enough to grant you privacy. You groan to yourself, hoping it wasn’t going to end like this, but it is progress. You had touched yourself before, but always in secret. In worry Joel might get upset or confused, or worse - mad as to why you would need to relieve yourself around him. You always feared he’d find you weak or pathetic if he caught you, so you always waited until he was on patrol in the dark, or settled in his own room in whatever housing the two of you would find.

The fact that Joel now knows, and understands, and is urging you to, is incredibly sexy.

You grab the slippery material and bring it over, near to his that lay empty. You slid yourself in and with shaky hands, undo the buttons and zipper to your confining jeans before snaking your hand down to your soaked cotton panties. You sigh at the touch, savoring in the instant relief that comes with it.

With slow, messy circles, you rub the outside of your panties against your core as you think about Joel's strong hands lifting you off the tailgate. The way his chest was pressed against your breasts, the way his hands lingered on you. Your breathing quickens as you start rubbing circles harder and quicker, cupping your swollen clit. More tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes when you begin to think this isn’t going to work. Not when you know he’s around. Not when he’s the very reason you’re dripping down your thighs in the first place. Not when you need him.

In an act of desperation, you kick off your sneakers, toss them on the grass with two thuds and strip your jeans completely off. Your cocoon becomes so humid with the heat from your arousal that you end up crawling out of it before bunching it up enough to straddle the material, grinding against it. You whine as the friction brings more relief than your fingers as you start humping your sleep bag. The cool breeze against your dewy skin feels like a kiss from mother nature herself. You feel yourself grow closer to your climax as you begin to furiously hump more, your knees against the earth, your thighs spread wide. You know how ridiculous you must look, but you couldn’t give a shit. You need relief in order to have some clarity again.

Then you hear it. The unmistakable clink of his belt buckle coming undone. The teeth of his zipper groaning apart before he lowers his jeans. You listen as you slow your pace, riding the edge of your summit, teasing yourself. You hear him spit into the palm of his hand before you imagine him gripping his length. When he finally groans, you know he’s fisting himself.

You smirk and decide to have fun with this. As you stop your pace all together, you peel off your blue sweater once again, leaving you in the same white revealing tank top. You know he’s somewhere in the darkness behind you, but you aren’t sure if he knows you know, yet.

You hike your panties up higher, the band hugging your hips and exposing more of your plush cheeks spilling out from the cotton material. You hear him grunt again.

As you start grinding slowly, you snake one hand up to your chest and pinch your bud, rolling it between your two fingers, eliciting a moan from you.

“Fuck”

He’s getting louder, still muttering to himself as he watches you from behind a cedar tree. With his rifle still slung on his shoulder, he fists his cock, his other hand wide against the trunk to brace himself.

His eyes have gotten adjusted to the darkness, so when he returned quietly to the base you guys share, he saw you touching yourself in your sleeping bag underneath the moonlight.

He had debated on rubbing one out while checking the perimeters, but his mind wouldn’t let him. He knew he had to come back to you. He knew you would be relieving yourself like the good girl you are because you always listen to him, always do what you’re told.

But when he saw the frantic and frustrated way you slipped your pants off and bunched your bag to start humping, he knew he needed to watch. He needed to see the way you make yourself cum.

“Joel” You moan out as you continue your pace, your hips bouncing as you hump.

He groans again, his southern drawl slipping out like honey “Oh… fuck yeah baby girl, that’s it” You could hear his fist becoming more frantic against himself.

You decide to put on a show, grinding your hips in the most sensual way. Your pants getting breathier, your whines higher.

Joel was in a trance; he was fixated on you. Watching your every move, stroking himself to your pace. The view of your ass, the way your shirt slightly rises revealing the beautiful curve of your back, your hair swaying with your hips, you’re like a goddess in the woods. All he could picture was laying beneath you, letting you grind yourself on his mouth, tasting your juices, making you cum all over his face.

God, he wants you. He wants to show you he can be more than just your protector. He can help you, treat you so well, but he knows it would be so wrong. To some degree he’s taking advantage of you. You don’t know any better, not when you’re overwhelmed with all these kinds of needs. Hell, he’s overwhelmed himself but he’s also a lot older than you. He knows how to suppress it, how to will the feelings away and concentrate. But you, you’re not experienced. You need to make yourself cum in order to feel sane again. Once you’re this far deep into lust, it’s primal. It’s a need, not a want. He can’t blame you for caving into your desires yet him on the other hand, he’ll be held accountable by the devil himself.

But if there was ever a time where Joel was losing control with the fine line between right and wrong, it was now.

He continues his strokes, obsessing over how naughty you really are. He’s never seen you like this before. “C’mon baby, you can do it” He whispers.

You couldn’t stop yourself from what happened next.

“Joel?” You call out softly. All sounds cease.

“Yea?” He finally responds, after a long, quiet pause.

“Please” You beg “Please I need you.”

You curse yourself as you hear him zipping himself back up, suddenly feeling embarrassed as you’re still sitting in the state you are.

You peek over your shoulder to see him approaching you, buckling his belt. His jaw ticking as he stares at your ass. His bulge seems to be growing bigger.

You prepare for the worst. For him to cuss you out or tell you that you missed your chance. Had you left it alone, the two of you would have finished and he would have returned a little later to make it seem as if he wasn’t there at all.

But you just couldn’t do that, could you?

“Get in the truck”. He growls, his boots drowning in the material of your sleeping bag. You look up at him, to him looking down at you. You couldn’t make out his face as the light of the moon is directly behind him.

“W-Why... a a-are we leaving?” You whisper, suddenly afraid you royally fucked up.

“Are you talkin’ back to me?” His voice is sharp. Deep. Serious. Unreadable.

You shook your head as submission rolls over you effortlessly. He hikes his jeans by pinching the denim near his crotch before squatting down to your level. His breath right next to your ear. You stare forward into the darkness as goosebumps rise all over your skin. You feel so vulnerable with Joel right behind you but just as excited. You flinch as soon as he speaks.

“If you want my help, then do what I say” he says in a low rumble. You pause, holding your breath.

“Think you can manage that?” He questions, his tone unrecognizable as he turns his head to inhale the scent of your hair. You shiver, nodding once more. Your heart rate picks up speed, thudding loudly.

“Then, get up and get in the truck.” He orders you slowly. Almost as if he’s trying to stop the words from coming out.

Your eyes widen at his demand, a jolt of electricity soaring through your chest straight to your abdomen. With a careful shuffle, you stand on your feet and start towards the truck.

In any other scenario, this feeling would make you shrink. It’s the way you can feel his eyes on you, the thud of his boots echoing behind your naked ones in the grass. But you love every second of it. You feel your confidence flourishing as you realize he needs this just as much as you do. If not more. You begin to walk straighter, hips swaying wider, a pep in your step as you feel the power shift ever so slightly into your control.

“Someone’s gettin’ cocky” Joel states behind you. His palm gripping his crotch as he watches you.

“I sure hope I get some” You grin to yourself, feeling proud at your remark.

Joel stops in his steps; he can’t believe your dirty mouth. Sure, you’ve been foul around him before, but never sexually and the very fact ignites something dark within him. He proceeds forward, eyeing you down as you wait near the truck with that shit-eating grin on your face.

She’s in for it now.

“You think you’re funny?” He questions while approaching you. His large frame nearly swallowing you whole.

“Uh huh and I think you love it” You retort in your most sultry tone. The words hit him like a freight train, his cock bobbing in his jeans.

With a tut he leans into you “So ya’ think y’can toy with me?”

You can’t repress it, you’re beaming. You like the way Joel challenges you.

“I think it’d be better if I was yours, Miller” You reach out to grip his cock through his jeans.

He separates instantly, his face loss of all expression. The muscle in his jaw flexes as his eyes lock on yours.

“I think your attitude needs fucking fixin’” Your jaw drops at his profanity. Joel never speaks like this.

“You say that name one more time and so god help me,” He scowls “acting like a fuckin’ brat, tryin’ to rile me up” His eyes now black.

“Think that’ll end well f’ ya?” He questions, one brow raised.

You swallow, unsure if you took it too far.

“Well, you’re lucky, cus’ I enjoy turning brats into good girls... s’ you ready to learn some manners?” He mocks as he grips your mouth, which was still gaping.

“Start with closing that up until I say so, s’not lady like.” He pushes your chin up, your jaw closes with a click of your teeth.

You scoff in disbelief, pulling your chin out of his hand yet you’re incredibly turned on. You watch him in curiosity as he opens the passenger door for you, his face now as hard as his cock. You wait, wanting to test his patience just a little.

You see his chest heave; his teeth grind together before he grips the door harder.

“Guess there won’t be any lessons tonight after all...real shame too, was gunna make that pretty pussy cream all over me” He shrugs, about to close the door.

“No! I’m sorry Joel, I’m going!” You jump into the seat with such speed it makes Joel smirk, but his jaw goes slack the second he sees the wet spot that had formed on your cotton panties as you crawl in.

He groans at the sight. But if he was going to stay true to his vows, you’d have to keep your panties on or else he may damn himself beyond saving. He only has so much self control.

You rub your thighs together in anticipation as you watch him slowly stride his way to the other side of the truck. Your breath quickens as his door swings open; your fingers shake with sheer excitement.

He starts unzipping his camel-colored jacket before shuffling in. With a toss, his jacket lands in the back seat as he closes the door with a thud.

You listen to him groan softly as he settles into the seat, before reaching down between his legs to pull on the bar to slide the chair back as far as it can go. You find yourself already scrambling onto your knees.

“Needy girl” he tuts “already so excited f’ me”. He locks eyes with you, a mischievous smile grows across his face as he takes his time positioning his legs.

He then reaches to the side of the seat to lean the backrest down, but not too far. This allows him to manspread while he rests his aching broad back at the same time.

With a deep inhale through his nostrils, he looks at you with now hooded eyes.

“Need you to listen closely now” His raises one index in the air. “I’m gunna help you alright?”

You whimper a “Mhm!”

“But there are rules. Rules you need to follow.” You roll your eyes at his comment, which is returned with a scowl across his face. You mouth a brief ‘sorry’ before motioning him to continue, your desires reaching a boiling point.

“You’re not takin’ anything off and you’re not touchin’ me anywhere unless I allow it” He glares sternly.

“Yes, okay Joel” you usher, wanting to be in his touch before he changes his mind.

“Shouldn’t even be doing this, but I understand you’re having a hard time. Fuck, the state of our lives I can’t imagine the stress you feel, especially when you’re so young”. You squeeze your thighs, clenching around nothing as you wish he would get off the foreseeable guilt train.

“So that’s why I’m going to help you, understand?”

You nod furiously.

“Repeat it” He spits.

“I understand” You reply obediently.

With a quiet pause, Joel scans your features, his eyes trailing your desperate figure.

“C’mere” He pats his thigh with his large, calloused hand.

You obey, slowly crawling over to straddle his lap.

“Mmm” His chest rumbles. “She does listen”.

His eyes are closed as you position yourself over one thick denim covered thigh, your right knee brushing up against his crotch. He hisses at the touch, letting his head fall back into the headrest.

You raise your hands to rest at the nape of his neck, suddenly feeling sheepish as you’re not sure exactly what to do. You bite your lip, too nervous to start. You realize just how exposed you feel when you're up to him this closely.

He opens his eyes to meet yours, sighing at how beautiful you look when you’re aching but more so at the fact that you’re visually embarrassed, and he loves it.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now. You were acting all brave just minutes ago.” He coos.

You blush at his words, starting to feel silly. But you need him to encourage you. You like it.

He swiftly smacks your ass and bounces his knee once – motioning you to get going.

“Joel” You whisper at the infliction, lowering your head to rest in his neck, repositioning yourself against him, closer. Just the contact of your hot core on him, makes your arousal pain even more. And the way he smells, you tuck your nose further in, inhaling the scent of his earthy musk, is intoxicating.

“C’mon baby girl. You can do it, I got you” He finally raises his hands from his sides to grip your hips as his own roll up into you, you follow once with yours. “You need to cum, so you can sleep tonight, trust me I know”. You begin to slowly roll your hips, falling right back into the state of pleasure.

“J-just like that sweetheart, keep going”. His voice becomes raspy.

You hang off his words as you start grinding, moaning at his fingertips digging deeper into your soft skin. Your buds harden at the friction of your wet clothed cunt being rubbed against his jeans. You can’t believe this, the fact that Joel himself is sat beneath you, cooing you to finish yourself off on him.

Your pants become whines as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten with each hump against him.

“That’s it, good girl. You’re gunna make a mess on me aren't ya?” He growls as he stares at your lips. Your cheeks burn at his comment. The embarrassment seeping back into you. You can hardly look at him.

“You keep those eyes on me sweetheart”. He orders, one hand pinching your chin, forcing you to see him, you still look anywhere but.

He can read you like an open book. He see’s right through you. Hell, most of the time he can predict the things you’ll say. He knows you just need some encouragement, some reassurance that it’s okay to be nervous but that you can trust him.

He ceases, waiting for those wide doe eyes to meet his and when they do, he can’t help but grin.

“Why?” You begin to question.

“Tell me you want this” he whispers, the words hang in the silence.

“I want this.” You grip the back of his neck tighter. “I just feel… dumb. I’m not sure how to do this”. You mumble.

“Sure y’ do” his words surprise you and when you look at him, the confusion is clear on your face.

“I just watched you do it when you were all by yourself, humping your bag, tryin’ to make that ache go away” He murmurs as one of his hands brush a stray hair behind your ear. You shudder at the touch.

“That’s all you have to do with me sweetheart, just use my thigh and make yourself feel good”. He urges you as he begins motioning your hips once more, you watch his face as you take over, following the sensation as it builds again.

“There y’ go, nothing to be shy ‘bout pretty girl, y’ just need my help ain’t that right?”

You bob your head yes as your pace begins to quicken.

“That’s my sweet girl, take what you need, s’ just the two of us” He coos as he helps you continue grinding.

You throw your head back at his praise, which Joel saw as his opportunity to fist your hair and hold you bare for him as he trails your neck with wet kisses. A risky move, but he tells himself it’s only to help you. And fuck does it ever spur you on.

His teeth graze against your sensitive flesh and your grinding becomes rougher, more desperate. Your whines turn to moans as you feel your cunt drip through the fabric, your climax just strokes away.

“Stop” He orders, and you do.

Did you do something wrong?

He releases your hair slowly, inhaling deeply through his nose, his jaw ticking once more. He looks down at his lap, admiring your white panties.

“Slide back” He mumbles as he pushes your hips. “I need t’ see”. You ease back, your mind drunk off his sudden dominance.

With a moan, he stares at your clothed pussy, admiring the wet slick between your folds. Your pussy lips so swollen, he could see it throb. He breaks away looking up, closing his eyes as if he’s trying to compose himself. Not a second later, he looks back at you again, back to your pooling core, his jaw goes slack as you already seem wetter, your damp stain somehow bigger.

“Look at that.” He gently inches your thighs apart with his massive hands, causing you to throb more.

“You see what you’re doin’ pretty girl?” His southern drawl spurs on another wave of ecstasy to rush through you as you watch his reaction.

He fists your hair once more, turning your head down to face his lap, you yelp in surprise but not because it hurts.

“Look”. He roughly pulls your head in place to view the dark, wet spot you’re making on his jeans.

“Have you been walkin’ around all wet in your panties this whole time?” he cranes his neck to meet your gaze as you look at the mess you’ve caused, mouth agape. His face hardens when he sees yours.

“What I’d fuckin’ say about hanging your mouth open like a whore?” he growls as he squeezes your chin and cheeks with his free hand.

He holds you like that for a beat, one hand twisted in your hair, the other gripping your face restraining you from any movement. You gasp loudly when your cheeks are released from his tight hold, yet your hair is still intertwined in his fist as he forces you to look at your arousal again.

“That tight pussy droolin’ for me?” He questions sharply.

You finally murmur a yes while clenching your mouth shut as you blink slowly, drunk off being edged for so long.

“Yeah, I thought so” he says raggedly as if he’s been waiting for that very response. He lets you free as you lean back wanting to display yourself more. He sighs contentedly at the sight.

It’s become clear to you why Joel was so adamant about staying away. He’s primal in nature, but you had no idea he was this feral in lust. You smirk as you feel you’ve uncovered his dirty secret, his hidden persona. It makes you wonder how long he’s wanted you like this. If he was afraid of you seeing this side of him. And for some reason, that only makes you want him that much more.

“Touch yourself for me, just a little rub.” He rests further back against the seat, watching you and those dirty gears running at an all time high.

You comply, running your hand down his chest as you snake your fingers against the white wet cotton, rubbing slow circles over your clit, moaning at the sensation.

“Good girl” He praises. You can feel your wetness pooling through your panties as you continue rubbing yourself, your orgasm dangerously close. Your mouth drops again forming an “O” which elicits another groan from Joel as he watches you. “Yea, that’s the only time you’re allowed to look like that” He growls.

“I’m – I’m close Joel” You pant as he stares you down.

“That’s enough” You whine when he grabs your hand away from your core, bringing your fingers up to his face.

“Yea, I fuckin’ knew it” He groans, inhaling your fingers deeply, eyes closed. “I know you’re dripping in your little panties when I smell this scent off you” He smears your fingers roughly around his mouth and nose, still breathing you in. You watch in awe, the way he’s completely consumed by you.

“Hard t’ focus when you’re parading that little ass around me, reeking like this, just beggin’ to be filled up, you rub yourself like this around me at night?” He asks, voice hoarse.

Your cheeks burn again, but you nod once anyhow.

“My dirty, dirty girl. You’re just full of secrets, aren't yah”. He pants. “Fuckin’ knew you were wanting my cock. You just needed someone to make that ache go away, huh?”

You whine as you nod more, feeling so heard, so seen. “Yes Joel, yes” All you want is to feel him fill you up. Hit that spot that you can’t ever reach. You succumb to him, hoping he might just fuck you and you won’t have to get off like this. You want all of him. To discover more of who Joel is. Help him, just like he’s helping you.

“And you’re still treating me so good, listenin’ to what I say, even when I’ve been neglecting my poor baby” He drawls lazily as he pulls you back into place, and with another bounce of his knee, you resume your vicious pace chasing your orgasm. The way your perky breasts jiggle in your tank causing him to bounce his knee more, absorbing the view of you bobbing up and down with tears welling in your eyes.

You reach one hand down, to grip his hard on, wanting to feel his thickness again, hoping he might let you see it.

“No.” His hand wraps around your wrist in an instance. A grip so cruel, you swear there’ll be bruises when he lets go.

“Why not?” You cry, your hips still rolling.

“Boundaries, sweetheart. You can’t touch me there.” He smirks devilishly. He knows this is torture for you.

You whimper, your eyes falling to his lips. You want to make contact with those the most.

“Knock it off. I see the way you’re starin’. You’re not kissin’ me either.” His smile is now gone, yet his eyes sparkle. You swear he’s getting off by restricting your contact with him. He knows how badly you want it.

You rest your hands tightly around his neck again, the disappointment visible on your features.

“Don’t look at me like that, fuck, you have no idea what you do to me”.

You pout more, relishing in the way he’s weakening for you.

“Tell you what” he drawls, slowing your pace. His fingers at some point had slipped into the band of your panties as he held your hips.

“Because you’ve been such a good girl f’me , I’ll let you kiss here” He raises an index to his scruffy cheek “And here” as he points to the other side.

You can’t help the smile that grows on your face as you lean forward gently, placing a soft, agonizingly slow, peck to cheek, your nose brushing lightly against his skin. You test his limits as you get close to his lips as you make your way to the other side. You swear you feel him inch forward ever so slightly before falling back.

“God, you’re just a sweet lil thang aren’t yah” he groans at your light, edging touches.

You pull back, feeling powerful at just how wrecked he looks. You bite your lower lip, continuing slow rolls.

You decide to do it again.

“Oh fuck, baby that’s enough” He moans as you place yet another teasingly slow kiss to his cheek, but close to the edge of his lips. He pulls his face away, turning to the side. He’s completely fucked out. His eyes heavy with pure want. God and this is just from kissing him.

Then something snaps in him as he grips your ass and makes you rub on him harder and lets your knee make more contact with his bulge.

“Yeah – yeah that feels really good” You mewl.

He turns his face back to yours, staring you down. His grip is getting harder, almost painful but you don’t care.

“Keep going” He rasps. “Don’t stop, I know you’re close.”

“Uh huh” You moan “You’re gunna make me cum Da- J- Joel” Your eyes widen at the fact you almost slipped, but it doesn’t go unnoticed.

His eyes go dark as he clutches your ass tighter, leaning his face into yours.

“What was that sweetheart?” He whispers with his teeth grit, his nose grazing the side of your cheek.

You whine as he helps you continue your pace, pushing you back and forth on his thigh.

His hand snakes up, gripping your cheeks between his thumb and index. “You fuckin’ answer me when ‘m talking to you” He spits lowly.

“It feels really good!” You squeal as he starts to slow your rhythm.

“What else?”

Your hooded eyes connect with his, your cheeky grin making his cock twitch more.

“Tell me” He orders.

You pull yourself into his neck before whimpering into his ear.

“It feels good … Daddy”.

His groan is guttural as he squeezes your ass cheeks together.

“My dirty girl, you need your Daddy to help you huh?” He pulls you closer, your knee making full contact against his throbbing cock.

You nod your head furiously as your brows knit, you know you’re about to cum.

“Tell me why I’m your Daddy” he orders, his brows rising and falling.

You start to babble “Because you protect me” you barely get the words out, you’re so wrecked.

“I do, don’t I?” His voice drops an octave, while analyzing your face.

“And you’d kill for me” you moan.

“I have,” He pulls you down hard into him and holds you there, while grinding his crotch into you. “Killed for you”.

His eyes scour you frantically. Like there is so much he wants to do with you. Endless thoughts running through his mind of all the ways he could ruin you.

“Take your fuckin’ shirt off” he says rushed, as if this moment could get ripped away from him.

You obey, reaching the hem, and pulling it off in one swift motion. You toss it behind you onto the dash.

“That’s right” He spanks your ass hard.

“Go” He grits, and you grind down, your tits bouncing just inches from his face. He moves his hands off you and puts them down at his sides. As if to physically restrain himself from touching you.

“Fucking perfect, like a god damn picture” he watches your breasts as you’re nearing your climax again.

“M’ can’t let anyone hurt my special girl.” His expression turns hard as he feels his possessive side creep up. The men he murdered this morning were an exact representation of what he’ll do for you. Without question. He knew he was going to feel the blade sink in their flesh the second one laid eyes on you, the intention loud in his irises.

“I never wanna be apart from you Joel, you make me feel safe” Your confession comes out before you can stop it.

“I know baby, I know but fuck I love to hear it” He could listen to your sweet voice all day.

“Take your pants off, please” You beg but it sounds more like a squeal.

“No” He barely whispers.

“Please, Daddy please please, I wanna cum on you, it hurts!” You cry.

“Jesus Christ” His hands go to his belt, anxiously unbuckling, as you continue to mewl hovering above him.

“Always so fuckin’ needy” He pulls his jeans down his thighs before grabbing you and pulling you down aggressively onto him, his boxers the only thing confining his cock. "That's all you get" He spits.

“Wait” You reposition yourself, now straddling his lap. One knee on either side of his hips as you grind your wet, hot clothed cunt onto his massive, throbbing cock.

The moan that comes out of you is straight pornographic.

You suddenly lurch forward, before realizing he reclined the seat back further, almost laying flat.

“Put those fuckin’ tits on my face baby” He commands desperately.

You place your knees higher up on the cushioned seat. You pull yourself upwards to smother his face with your breasts. Joel's rough hands are still by his sides, he knows he’ll lose all sense of control if he gets any closer. No, it has to be your move.

“Yeah, Yeah, Joel please” You moan as he begins to softly kiss your breasts.

“You need more baby?” He gasps, his voice strained with want.

“Tell Daddy y’ need more, you need more help, I have to help” He consoles himself as he begins to suckle your buds, licking long strips wherever he can. It’s animalistic. You run your fingers through his salt and pepper locks as you essentially motorboat his face.

“You’re my special girl” He spills in a drawl. “Never gunna let anyone touch you.”

You can’t wait any longer, you sit back down on his bulge, wishing it was freed to split you in half but this will have to do. So, you grind, hunting your orgasm down once again, absorbing, engraining this picture of Joel in your mind forever.

And fuck, the way he talks to you, you’re lost in a trance, chasing after your high as you stare into his face. His eyes, his smile lines, the scar across his bridge, the way he looks down at his lap as he watches you, his jaw going slack. He’s perfect.

“Fuck I can smell you baby girl, your sweet pussy is beggin’ to come all over me” He growls “C’mon give it to me”. You take his permission and allow yourself to play on that teetering edge, right on the cusp of your much awaited orgasm.

“S’ okay baby girl, I got you, I got you”. He slumps back further, eyes trained on your clothed pussy grinding on his hard on with such desperation. He feels his own coming on as you rub against him.

“Not such a brat now huh? Not when I’m taking care of you” he says as his tired eyes scan your figure. You cry out at his words.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, S’ gunna feel better baby, gunna make that ache go away” He drawls out.

“Fuck, fuck” He mumbles, his eyes so hooded, you could have thought they were closed. All color drains from his face as he continues watching your motions. He can see wet, shiny strings appear from your panties, catching onto his boxers before they break apart from sliding back and forth. He can feel how absolutely soaked you are, that spot seeping through the fabric onto his skin underneath.

“That’s it pretty girl, right on daddy’s cock, right there”. His words fall out.

“I’m cum-I’m cumm-Daddy- oh yeah, Joel, Joel!” You scream.

You squeal as your orgasm comes rippling through, your thighs tightening around him as he feels your cunt pool through your panties all over him, your mouth hangs open as you ride out the waves of sensation.

“Jesus Christ”. He groans at the sight of you.

You rest your head against his heaving chest, riding out the stars that clouded your head.

The two of you sit there for a moment, collecting your breaths before he nudges you to the side.

“Wait here” he mumbles, exiting the truck. You watch him through the rear window, straining your eyes to see him in the dark. You think you see him readjusting his crotch again before he leans down, grabbing both sleeping bags and the lantern.

You’re still dizzy from finishing on Joel's lap, your mind trying to comprehend what had just happened. You never thought you’d see the day where Joel would touch you or look at you in any way other than ‘Cargo’.

The breeze from outside whirls into the truck as you sit there waiting for him. He opens the back door, laying down the sleeping bags on top of one another across the bench.

“What’re you doing?” You murmur, cupping the back seat with your hands, watching him with sleepy eyes.

“Don’t want you sleepin' outside tonight” He responds, glancing at your tired gaze.

“C’mon” He waves you over. You scootch over to the driver seat and let your legs dangle out the door. He meets you there, one of his massive hands held out to grab yours, helping you to your feet and pulling you in front of him, guiding you to the back door. You let go of his touch to crawl to your revised sleeping quarters.

You slip in between the two bags, which Joel had unzipped. Laying one down, the other as a blanket on top. He also folded up his jacket as a pillow, which made you smile. You watch him tuck the fabric under your feet, making sure all parts of you are covered. He finds your jeans and your shirt and puts them aside for when you’d dress in the morning. Your sneakers on the ground beside the truck.

You can’t stop the warm glow growing inside you as you watch this man take care of you in such a way that seems so… domestic. It makes you wonder about him pre break out, and what he was like living in a house, working an 8-5 job, making dinners and probably having cold ones in the evening on a patio.

He closes the driver door before returning to you.

“Are you coming to bed?” You whisper with heavy eyes.

“No” he chuckles lightly “M’ wide awake now, gunna keep watch, we really do have a long day tomorrow so get some sleep alright?” He looks at you as one of his arms draped over the heavy truck door, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He looks proud, which you would roll your eyes at, but you’re far too tired.

“Joel” You whisper, bringing his attention back to you as he was looking over his shoulder, scanning the night.

“Mhm?”

“I still wanna repay the favor y’know” you mumble, your eyes closed, already drifting off.

He chuckles again; the sound brings a grin to your face.

“Not necessary, couldn’t stop myself from cumin' while watching you”. He sighs heavily, muttering to himself “like a goddamn teenager”.

You giggle at the comment. Which Joel couldn’t help but grin too, you didn’t see though.

“Goodnight Miller” You barely hear the words yourself as you fall into a deep slumber.

“Night sweetheart”.

#joel miller #tlof #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #reader x joel miller #the last of us #the two of us #daddy joel #pedro pascal #pedro is daddy

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abbyromanoff · 6 months

Text

CHOKEHOLD

PAIRINGS: Emily Prentiss x bsf’s child!reader

WORD COUNT: 2704

WARNINGS: smut, anal play, kinda dark Emily, manipulation, poorly written smut tbh, innocence kink, possessiveness, fingering, multiple orgasms, Mommy (E), squirting, cnc, somnophillia, R is JJ’s kid, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Love you, Mom. Bye, guys!” Emily watched as you kissed your mom goodbye, the sweet gesture causing her to grin. You waved to the group, walking through the glass door and heading towards the elevator. She knew it was now or never, this was her chance to make her move.

“Alright, I think it’s about time I get home. Why don’t you guys get an early night?” She was usually the last to leave, which is what confused the team. JJ furrowed her brows, spinning in her chair to face the older woman.

“You never go home early, not even on Friday nights.” She noted before a smirk took over her face. “Unless, Emily has somewhere to be.” She teased, causing Garcia to coo as she took a seat next to the blonde. She rolled her eyes, eyeing the clock as she estimated the time of your arrival.

“I didn’t sleep much last night, I’m tired.”

“And why didn’t you sleep much, hm? Were you too busy, say, entertaining other parties?” She flipped the woman off before disappearing past the doors, cursing herself for staying so late before rushing to her car. She started the engine in no time, instantly pulling out of her spot as she followed the coordinates. Her mind never once left you, and she started to worry if she absentmindedly blew a light or took a wrong turn. But she didn’t care, all she wanted was to get home to you.

Her fist came pounding on the wooden door, her gaze falling on every crack and seam that could be used as easy entry, she’d have to warn you about those.

“Em? I, uh, what are you doing here?” You questioned, only to be silenced as she pushed you into your flat, shutting the door behind her while your back hit the cold wall.

“What the fuck, Em-” She cut you off quickly, placing her fingers atop your lips as your breaths became the only sound to fill the room.

“There’s someone after you, and I’m here to protect you.” You furrowed your brows together, kicking away her digit as she towered over you. Her gray hair framed her face, and every line only showed her experience.

“Wha- Why isn’t my mom here, then?” She bit her lip, causing you to repeat yourself. She knew she had to act fast before threatening your trust in her lie.

“They don’t know, okay? Look, you have to trust me-”

“No, I want to know what the fuck is going on.” You pushed, scoffing when she remained silent for far too long. She shoved your shoulders back, forcing you to remain still as she took a moment to admire your expressions in a time of such weakness.

“There’s someone from my past that- that the team doesn’t exactly know about, and when I parked here last week to give you back that sweater you forgot at your mom’s, I noticed his car and I saw him leave the moment he saw me. I- I can’t risk putting you in danger, and since I already have, I’m going to do everything in my power to protect you from it.” It wasn’t entirely false, there was a time in her life when she was haunted by her past, causing her arrival in Paris. But that was when you were so young, you wouldn’t remember a single thing, which she used to her advantage.

“You don’t need to believe me, but all I ask is that you let me stay here, and you let me protect you.” You bit back a snarl and sighed, brushing her off as you brought yourself to the couch.

“I don’t have a spare, you can take the bed.”

“No, this is your place, I’m not going to take that from you. I say we share but if that’s not what you want, then I’ll have the couch.” She debated, crossing her arms over her chest as she examined the building. She wanted it to seem like she was checking in fear of danger, but really she was trying to get a picture-perfect memorization over every inch. That way she could have a better view from beneath her blankets when her fingers were buried deep inside of her.

“Fine, we’ll share.” You mumbled, clicking through endless amounts of channels before losing hope and tossing the remote to the side.

“You don’t have to stand there like a brick wall, you know. We’ve known each other since I was little, you’re allowed to speak.” She took a breath before taking the spot next to you, adjusting her suit jacket before ruffling it off. Your eyes fell to the biceps threatening to break past the tight blouse, but looked away before she could spot you, little did you know she knew the entire time.

“So, you graduated correct?” You nodded, leaning on your hand as your elbow rested on the wooden frame of the sofa. “What was your major again? Psychology?”

“Yeah, I guess I just really wanted to follow down my Mom’s footsteps.” She mimicked your pose, letting the tightness in her muscles loosen with a sigh.

“Well, I think she’d be very proud of her little girl following her lead. In fact, JJ goes on and on about how lucky she is to have a child like you, and I agree, she is quite lucky.” She chuckled at your darkened cheeks, using her thumb to stroke the soft skin after brushing a hair out of the way. It felt right being with you like this, everything seemed to feel right with you. She didn’t know why, no brain she studied had ever given her a clear image as to what differed from hers. She just felt so protective over you, she didn’t want anyone else to get close to you. Knowing you were here, all alone, with no protection until she arrived, it scared her more than she could express.

“I don’t know about that,”

“I mean it! Anyone would be so happy to have someone like you in their life, not only are you such a hard worker, but you’re also the sweetest person I know. Just don’t tell your Mom I said that, she thinks she’s my favorite.” You laughed, slapping her chest lightly as you felt your chest warm. You instinctively shuffled closer, your feet digging under her legs to search for warmth while her hand rubbed your thigh softly to provide you heat.

“Now I feel bad for yelling at you by the door.” You admitted, bringing her to scoff playfully, showing that she wasn’t truly mad at you.

“Oh, don’t stress it, love, I would be pretty annoyed if someone came pounding at my door too.” You gave her a soft smile, letting the comforting silence embrace the both of you before you leaned your head onto her shoulder. She kissed the top of your head gently, getting a small whiff of your shampoo, making her hum in delight.

An hour later she found herself lying next to you, sighing as the comfort of the sheets embraced her. You were in the next room brushing your teeth, and she didn’t try to stop herself as she peeked under the short bottoms you wore.

“I’m keeping my gun nearby, I hope that’s alright with you.” You crawled next to her, tossing the covers over your frame as you shut off the small lamp. She did the same, frowning as your back turned to face her.

“Yeah, that’s okay.” She hesitated before wrapping her arms around your tired body, letting her face press into your neck with a soft smile. You stiffened but eventually relaxed in her hold. You let yourself fall into a slumber, a peaceful sensation falling over you as images flashed through your mind regularly.

Emily admired the softness in your small snores, she felt grateful to be let in, but she felt worried at how easily you let her pass by with a lie. Anyone could’ve made up something similar and got free entrance, she was just lucky you knew her well enough to trust her.

She knew there was no hope in holding back now, this is what she came to do, to make you hers. She didn’t care if you were her best friend's child, you were old enough to make your own decisions and she was going to lead you into making the right one.

“‘M sorry, baby girl, I promise I’ll make you enjoy it.” Her fingers trailed below your large shirt as they pinched your sore nipples, her breath coming out shallow as her eyes fluttered shut. She pressed her crotch into your backside, letting her false cock rut into you.

“You wouldn’t mind if I just,” She brought them lower, causing her palm to rub against your clit as she teased your tight hole. “Touch you right here, would ya’, baby?”

She wished you were as pure as she wanted you to be, she wanted to be your first but could easily tell that she wasn’t. Instead, she let herself picture it late at night when she was all alone. She’d draw her digits in-and-out of you while you clung onto her, begging her to let you cum for the first time. She hoped you thought about it too, but she doubted it. She could read anyone, but you were like a closed book someone forgot to pick up.

“Fuck, you’re so warm, I could stay like this forever.” She inhaled the residue of your perfume and lotion, they were fading but she basked in all of it. She could feel her wetness grow, biting her lip as she continued to grind into your backside. The strap teased her clit, bringing her great ounces of pleasure.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” She kissed down your shoulder blade as her mouth parted, a loud moan escaping her. You shuffled in your sleep, your eyes fluttering open as you adjusted to the dark room with minimal light coming from the window. You gasped, your hand falling to meet her touch. Her fingers were plunged deep inside of you, thrusting in and out as you gushed around her.

“F…fuck! Em, g-get off,” She chuckled, using her free hand to rid you of your bottoms completely. A slap came to your ass, eliciting a groan from your end.

“If you really wanted me to stop, you would’ve left by now.” You looked down, noticing she was no longer keeping you hostage in her hold. You still didn’t move, gulping as you settled in. Truth was, you had a crush on the older woman since your teen years. It was normal in the beginning, that was until you moved out and your loneliness grew. With the loneliness came a deep arousal that was unable to be removed, the only way to cure it was desperate women at the bar that reminded you of the woman. Your fingers were never enough, but you knew hers would be more than needed.

“Please, Emily-“ You chewed your lower lip, regretting the words the moment they left you. She smirked through a chuckle, sighing as she slowed her pace, bringing a high-pitched whine from past your lips.

“What was that? Please, what, Y/N?” When you came up unresponsive, she repeated her question, slowing even further until she was stilled completely.

“No- d-do that again, please,” Your hand lowered under your shirt as you palmed at your chest, shuddering as your sensitive nipples hardened to a peak.

“Mm, aren’t I already giving you what you want? I thought you wanted me to stop, so I stopped.” You couldn’t bear to face her, not in this moment, not in this level of heat.

“I…I want you to keep going, it feels really, really fucking good.” She hummed, and that’s when you felt the strap pressed into you. You were so consumed in the threshold of her long digits, you failed to notice what else she was planning.

“God, I want to fuck this ass so damn bad. You want that? You want Mommy to fuck your tight ass, yeah?” Her breath was ragged, her lips in a frenzy on your neck. You choked out a whimper, nodding your head slowly as you mumbled a small agreement.

“Would I be the first, hm? Is Mommy going to be the first to stretch out this little hole?” She lowered her pants, the fabric tight against her skin as they were a borrowed pair from you. You insisted she got out of the jeans she wore to work, even if they fit her body perfectly.

“You’re the first, Mommy.” That was all the permission she needed as she thrusted her hips forward, the tip teasing your hole in a rough, yet gentle manner. Her lips came close to your ear, her teeth sinking into the skin as you yelped in pain.

“Oh, don’t I love making you cry like a whiny little bitch.” She eased in the first few inches for what felt like years but only lasted a few minutes. It felt painful, as if there was a fire pooling inside of you. That was until it slowly started turning pleasant, causing a satisfying sensation to take over you. Her digits slid in and out of you slowly, her thumb taking to rub your clit in small circles, but it was enough to cause your brain to fog up. Your tongue peeked its way past your lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your hips had a mind of your own, grinding against both penetrating objects.

“Such a good fucking girl, Mommy loves her little girl so much.” You cried out, gripping her arm tightly as you shoved your face into the pillow to muffle the noises she forced out of you.

“No, no, you’re going to let me hear every single moan and whimper and cry; I’m not letting you off that easily.” Her length was now more than halfway through the barrier you set. You followed her hand, feeling a small bulge touching the surface. You pushed yourself impossibly closer to her, letting out a weak whimper.

“Mommy, I,” Your legs shook as you clenched tightly around her, soaking her fingers in your sweet nectar.

“It’s okay, baby, make a mess all over me. That’s it, Mommy is so proud of you, sweetheart.” She drove her hips with a harsher pace, watching as your hole squeezed her until she could barely move. She didn’t stop her ministrations, making you twitch in excitement and pain.

“It’s t-too much, Mommy.” She rubbed your clit faster, her groan evident as your juices sprayed across the sheets. You wept loudly, not caring for the neighbor's complaints the next day, they already disliked you, there was no point in trying to amend that.

“No, it’s not. You can go back to sleep, dove, Mommy just wants to play for a little bit longer.” You both knew there was no possibility of you resting after this, you’d both be continuing until the sun rose.

“Your Mom is going to fucking kill me, but, God, I want to taste you so bad.” Your eyes widened as you remembered the plans you and your mother were having the next day. She was supposed to come over for lunch before the two of you would leave to go shopping as she insisted you needed decorations for your new apartment. Emily couldn’t be here when she arrived, she’d instantly get an understanding of who left the dark marks over your neck, anyone who saw you would easily be able to guess the activities that were to be had the night prior, but it didn’t help that it was her job to read people like books.

“I don’t care, just fuck me, Mommy…please?” The moment you spoke she knew she was going to fulfill whatever request you made, and your small, tired voice only proved that. She bit her tongue, leaning close as she placed her digits on your lower lip, dragging it down as you took the offering with a grateful sigh.

“Whatever my girl wants, they get.”

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss smut #Emily prentiss fluff #Emily prentiss angst #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #Emily prentiss x reader smut

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kazmyass · 6 months

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hey! i just came over from tiktok, could you possibly do a gally x reader where he tries to act tough around all of the guys but (y/n) starts teasing about how sweet he actually is and he has to try and defend himself but gets all flustered over it, but can’t get mad at (y/n) cause he’s got that fat crush on her? (fem pronouns possibly please?)

Not So Tough

Pairing: Gally x fem!reader

Description: Gally has a hard exterior, but secretly melts when y/n is around.

Warnings: smooching, glade slang, idk just a lot of fluff, gally being a bit of a jerk

Words: 651

Prompt: Grumpy x Sunshine Trope

A/N: It lowkey ends kinda abruptly but OH WELL HERE YA GO

“Gally, would you please stop yelling at the rest of the builders and actually start building?” Newt called from the gardens.

“No can do, I gotta make sure everyone stays in line, that’s why you put me in charge of the builders, remember?” Gally called back, yelping soon after when one of the newer gladers dropped a piece of wood on his head. “You shank! Look what you’ve done! Dropping klunk all over the place, you should be sent to the slammer!”

“Gally, is that really any way to talk to the new guy?” Y/n jogged up to Gally from the med-jack hut where she was just supervising Clint and Jeff. Y/n was somewhat of a floater when it came to jobs. When they were testing what jobs she was good at, she was nearly good at every single one. Well, except for the slicers. Poor Winston nearly scared the girl half to death when he first came out with a machete.

“I uh- Well he dripped- I mean dropped that shucking piece of wood on me an-” Gally stammered.

“Gally, c’mon give the guy a break, he’s only been here a week,” Y/n said with a soft smile.

“Look, I’m just trying to do my job, gotta make sure everything gets done, right?” Gally said, seeming to regain his composure.

“And it will get done, you can just be a little nicer about it through,” Y/n said, placing a hand on Gally’s arm and running her fingers down his bicep.

Gally blushed. Y/n was playing him like a fiddle and she knew damn well what she was doing.

“I’ll see you at supper?” Y/n said.

“You know you’re the only one that calls it that, right? It’s dinner,” Gally snorted.

“Oh shut it, you know you love me,” Y/n said before turning over her shoulder and walking away, not before giving Gally one last smile. Gally stood there for a moment, not sure what to do with himself.

“Oi, Gally, what were you saying about making sure things get done?” Newt called, snickering to Alby.

“Oh slim it,” Gally growled. “No- you can’t hammer that in, there’s not a screw to hold it together!” He turned his attention to the Greenie.

___

“Hey big guy, not interested in tackling anyone to the ground tonight?” Y/n’s voice came from above Gally.

“No, not tonight, gonna try to go to sleep early,” Gally said, getting up and trying his best to avoid y/n. But before he could leave, y/n grabbed his wrist.

“Wait- did today really bother you?” She asked, furrowing her brow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gally broke away from her grip and tried to escape again, but she was too quick for him. She grabbed his arm again.

“You know what I’m talking about. I didn’t think it would bother you, I thought you would actually like it, y’know considering I was flirting with you.” Gally’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“Oh my god,” Y/n laughed. “Wasn’t it obvious?”

“Kinda hard to pay attention to that when things need to get done,” Gally cleared his throat, trying his hardest to hide the smile that was forming on his face.

“Oh don’t act like you weren’t blushing the whole time you- oh my god you’re even blushing right now!” She laughed.

“Shh, no I’m not,” Gally smiled back at her, the blush returning to his cheeks.

“You are! Gally’s blushing! Gally’s blu-” Y/n called when she was cut off.

Gally’s lips crashed into hers as his hand moved to her cheeks. Y/n closed her eyes and sunk into the kiss, bringing her arms around his neck. When Gally pulled away first, y/n smiled.

“What was that for?” She breathed.

“To shut you up,” Gally smiled. He looked to her lips and back to her eyes. “And also because I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

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jjungkookislife · 4 months

Text

Home for the Holidays: Teaser

pairing: Jungkook x f. Reader

genre: fake dating au, college au, smut [18+]

summary: Jungkook is in desperate need to find a girlfriend for Christmas. His mom has nagged and nagged about him bringing someone home for the holidays. Determined, Jungkook recruits his friends in hopes of finding the right girl to take home. In need of a place to stay, and no plans for Christmas, you answer his friend’s ad.

You have 25 days to convince not only his parents but his grandmother that you’re in a real relationship, solid enough to get through Christmas with the Jeons.

wc: tba

warnings: tba

date of teaser: December 27, 2023

date of release: December 31, 2023 (hopefully)

“Your grandmother just gave your brother a brand new house for getting engaged,” Jungkook’s mom states during their weekly phone call.

“What?” Jungkook is astounded at the news, not about his brother, Seojun, being engaged, but getting a home for it.

“Your grandmother is in a giving mood this year, son. Something about not being able to take money with her when she passes,” Jungkook’s mom shrugs on the other end of the line. “I’m sure she’d get you something if you brought someone home for the holidays. Maybe a check for a few grand or an apartment. You never know with her.”

“An apartment? Or money? And all I’d have to do is bring someone home?” Jungkook asks, looking for confirmation.

“Well, not any rando off the street, Jungkook. A girlfriend, boyfriend, partner? Just someone, Jungkook. Someone you’re semi-serious about. Don’t go bringing a Tinder match to our home.”

“Moooom,” Jungkook wipes his face with his hand, embarrassed.

“I’m just saying, I know how much you kids like to hook up. Not in my home though,” Jungkook wonders if he can die from listening to this conversation.

“Anyway, your father is trying to wrap Christmas gifts and cut his hand with the tape dispenser for the third time, so I gotta go. Bring someone home! Use condoms, love you!” Jungkook grimaces, hanging up. He knows his mother meant well, but sometimes she was a bit too much to handle so early in the day.

“A girlfriend?” Jungkook bites his lip, pacing back and forth. He wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment, school taking up most of his time but with only a few short weeks until Christmas, he was hoping his grandmother would come through with some money or something. All he had to do was take someone home for Christmas. How hard could that be?

#fic: home for the holidays #hfth teaser #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #Jungkook Christmas #Jungkook smut

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lovelyiida · 6 months

Text

IMAGINE YOU’RE AT AN AMUSEMENT PARK WITH BAKUGO and he just so happens to bring you along for a family trip as your “friend,” because he “only had one ticket left.”

It’s early in the morning and your parents drop you off at his house with your things and all you can see is Bakugo staring you down from his window. Laughing to yourself at how weird he looked, but from the other end he was shitting himself at the thought of spending a whole day with you.

You didn’t know that Bakugo has had a crush on you for almost a year now, and he had no way of telling you. And knowing him, he probably would’ve told you the last minute.

But he then realized he was going on a stupid trip with his parents and they told him to bring a friend. So fuck it, he brought you.

As you walked up to the door and rung the doorbell, you were excited to see Bakugo and his parents. You were excited overall to go on such a spontaneous trip.

Around a week ago, you were casually at the dorms getting a cup of yogurt from the fridge.

And so appeared Bakugo!

“Goin’ on a stupid trip, wanna come?” He said, and you obviously said yes.

So when his parents opened the door, they were quite shocked to see you of all people appear. Bakugo’s mother lets out a gasp, covering her mouth and lightly chuckled to herself before regaining her composure.

“Are you our son’s friend?” She says with a smug smile.

Before you could even answer, Bakugo pushed away his mother and grabbed your stuff and told you to follow him.

After awkwardly meeting his parents and getting a tour around his house. The four of you set sail for the ride.

The ride was mostly quiet, from time to time Bakugo’s father would try and make you all play I Spy or yellow car. But Mother-son duos’ cries of disdain would shut him up.

But when you got to the park, Bakugo got so clingy. He told you to hold his hand the whole time to make sure you wouldn’t run off or leave him behind. Even though he just wanted to hold your hand.

When it came to the rides, you were a wuss.

“If I had knew you wouldn’t ride any rides, I wouldn’t have brought you” he says, and that kinda hurt your feelings.

So you decided to prove him wrong by riding the fastest coaster they had open.

The whole time you were clinging to Bakugo for mercy screaming your guts out. But it was so worth it.

After that you couldn’t get enough of the rides.

While you were in line for a ride, Bakugo couldn’t help but notice a guy staring you down. This ultimately got him pissed off. While you were blabbering about some random topic, Bakugo softly pulled you by your waist and pulled you into his chest.

Your face grew hot as his actions, “what’s wrong?” You mumbled into his chest. Looking up at his you noticed how his gaze wouldn’t leave the guys.

“Some random creep eyeing you down, don’t worry” he says, looking down into your eyes. You noticed a light blush dusted over his face.

As the line grew shorter, his hands stayed on your waist the whole time.

As the day turned into night, your feet grew tired. Eyes drooping and voice gone from all the screaming, your back tired from carrying not even half of the plushies Bakugo won from you.

Hand in hand, you notice Bakugo lead you away from his parents’ gaze. Leading you away into an alley, he sets down your plushies and looks you into the eyes.

“I like you,” he admits.

“I know,” you said back.

This takes the blonde aback, making you chuckle. “I knew something was up the moment your mom looked at me when she opened the door—don’t worry, it’s cute–“

Bakugo cuts you off by smashing his lips into yours.

After 5 minutes of a non-stop makeout session and 10 missed calls from Bakugo’s mom. The both of you arrive at the car. Lips swollen and faces warm, no words were spoken as the two parents could already gather what went down.

And as you drive into the night, you snuggled up against the blonde. And the both of you peacefully drifted off into sleep.

❥: @xo-evangeline , @king-dynamight , @gold24fish , @pebblepoop , @kookiemyfeels

#mha headcanons #mha #mha imagines #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha insert #mha fanfiction #bakugo x reader #lovelyiida #blurb

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gallusrostromegalus · 25 days

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How old's everyone by the time canon bleach rolls around?

Well that's an interesting question that I have devoted way too much thought to.

Most people in soul society age at the normal pace of one year per year, so they only have One Age, but even a tiny excess of spiritual energy can make some age much slower, and in Seireitei, which is full of Spiritually Potent People, most people have two ages- Calendar and Living Age. Calendar is how many years someone has existed, Living is approximately what developmental age they're at. Most Shinigami age at about one year for every 2-5 Lived, with average "died of natural causes and not in the line of duty" lifespans coming to 200-400 years. Power Level has a HEAVY Inverse correlation to aging, but once you hit the power levels associated with Seated officers and captains, things get Weird. Also fatal. Very few captains have died of Natural Causes.

But re: Everyone's ages in June 2000, when the series starts under the cut:

Karakura Gang:

The Kids are not dead yet, so not Subject to the extended lifepsans yet, but I did age everyone up a bit- Ichigo and his Human Friends are all Juniors in High school- age 17... ish.

Ichigo's 18th birthday occurs a couple weeks after he meets Rukia. He was held back from starting Kindergarten for a year because he was too short to reach the drinking fountains.

Chad was tall and his parents were both working full time so his mom persuaded his school to let him in early, so Chad only had his 17th birthday the month before he meets Rukia.

Kon: CA: 132 (9 years in his body) LA: 3, but in cat years, so really more like 22 in human years. An grad student in charge of a pack of teenagers.

Rukia: A Member of the Karakura Gang by association (i.e. my staging notes), Rukia is CA: 73 and LA: 20. She and Renji entered the academy when they were CA:25 and LA: 16. Like many high-powered shinigami, her rate of aging is slowing as she accumulates power, so she will likely live to see at least 500 (unless something happens)

Renji: See: Rukia. Rukia is eight months older than Renji and NEVER lets him forget it.

Kisuke Urahara: CA: 328 LA: 32.4545454545- Urahara is aging at one year for every 11 lived which pleases him because at least once a century his ages will line up and he'll have a straight shot of numbers and that's CLEARLY an excuse to have a MEGA birthday party and give him extra presents! He'll be 333 AND 33 in 2005, so Ichigo should start planning his surprise party!

Yoruichi Shihoin: CA: 329 LA: 28 Yoruichi is 365 days older than Kisuke (He was born in 1672) a leap year) and NEVER lets him forget it.

Isshin Shiba: CA: UUUH- LA: UUUUUUUH- Isshin Shiba was born to the Shiba Clan in 1846, was 154 when he vanished in 1980, appears to be in his mid-forties now, and can only actually REMEMBER the last 20 years of his life with any Clarity. The battle with White left his soul so damaged that when he fused with Masaki, he lost all his spiritual powers and forgot damn near everything- he remembers his given name, the name and face of Kaien Shiba but not how he knows him, that shinigami and hollows exist... but when he overheard Ryuken Ishida lying to the hospital staff that this was his friend from medical school who had been in a terrible car accident, he believed him, and assumed he WAS a doctor that had been in a terrible accident. Masaki was just as frightened of the Shinigami coming after the Quincy. While she could keep her relatives at bay, she couldn't fool the shinigami, so she asked the others to make sure Isshin never tried to return to spirit world... and they went along with it. As far as Isshin knows, Urahara was a guy he worked for as a teenager who helped him set up shop as a doctor after the accident. Yoruichi really is someone he used to be on the intramural volleyball team with back in college. Shinji is some guy who knew his parents, and decided to stay a friend of the family even after after they died in the accident. He and Masaki were married in a beautiful ceremony some weeks ago... Shame they lost all the pictures... Ichigo's promotion to Substitute Shinigami and the confrontation about "You used to be a CAPTAIN?? Why didn't you warn me and the twins about anything???" is one HELL of a shock for him.

Soul Society:

Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto: CA: 2,146 LA: 75 He was enjoying a Long Prime Middle Age until his Divorce in 1196, at which point he went bald, went gray and lost a significant amount of his muscle mass in under a decade, and has looked like an Old Man since.

Chojiro Sasakibe: CA: 1,358 LA: 66 (debated). Chojiro was barely 100 years old when he turned up at Yamamoto's Post Officer Self-Defense Dojo and refused to leave. His Lived Age is a secret known only to Unohana- the debate rages because Sasakibe was born with his Silver Fox hair, and with that removed, shows very little signs of aging. He insists he "-Just keep myself very well." and refuses to elaborate. He has a standing agreement with the SWA that his LA over various years may be revealed after he dies, so they may let people lay bets, on the condition that they give him a percentage when laid to support his Black Tea Habit.

---

Soi Fon: CA: 201 LA: 29 Soi Fon has genetically terrific skin and if her mother is any indication, she'll look like a twentysomething until she hits menopause. THEN she'll look like a Silver Fox.

Marechiyo Omaeda: CA: 102 LA: 24 Omaeda has only been Lieutenant for 14 years, taking over the position early after his father (the previous 2nd Division lieutenant) had an extremely unexpected stroke. He's recovering well, but doesn't want to return because he's so proud of Marechiyo.

---

Ichimaru Gin: CA:DEBATABLE, but at least 357 LA: 21 Gin has several days that *could* count as his "Birthday" but he's existed in his current body for as long as Rangiku has known him.

Rojuro "Rose" Otoribashi: CA: 312 LA: 37 Rose was promoted to captain a bare 2 years ago when TBTP happens, and is considered Young for a captain. In terms of Living Age, he's one of the oldest Visored.

Izuru Kira: CA: 89 LA: 23 He was a bit older than Rukia and Renji in CA and LA when he entered the Academy. He could have entered sooner but he was the sole caregiver for both his parents, who died premature deaths of chronic illnesses.

---

Retsu Unohana: CA: 804 LA: "As old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth." According to the official records, Retsu Unohana enrolled in Shin'o Academy in 1198, and when asked her age, said "I became as I am last year" Which the intake officer interpreted to mean that she died and appeared as an adult in Spirit World in 1197, and she has absolutely failed to correct that misconception. Or update the public records regarding her age.

Yachiru Unohana: CA 1,497 LA: 37 To her credit, Unohana DID die when she was 17 and appeared in the afterlife at the age she died at. Then she barely aged by the time Yamamoto recruited her in 998. She served as Kenpachi of the 11th Divisison for 199 years, until her battle with an as-yet-unnamed young man in 1197. Shortly after her 200th year as Kenpachi passed, she came to terms with the fact she was no longer the fighter she was, and fell in battle to her lieutenant. With that, "Yachiru" Unohana died, and the following day she enrolled in the academy under the name Retsu to study medicine.

Isane Koetetsu: CA: 282 LA: 28 Isane and her sister Kiyone are unusual for Shinigami in that the Koetesu clan has some of the slowest-aging shinigami in it, and the slowed aging STARTS as infants. Isane couldn't even enroll in Shin'o Academy until her 100th birthday, and even then she needed special dispensation to let what was functionally a 10-year old take college classes.

Hanataro Yamada: CA: 141 LA: 23 Hanataro is the younger brother of Former 4th div Lieutenant Seinosuke Yamada, who now runs the Seireitei Medical Center i.e. The Rich Bitch Hospital. Hanataro entered the academy at a very young age like Isane and graduated with honors, but people tend to compare him to his more accomplished older brother, which both of them think is Unfair seeing as Seinosuke is a whole 112 years older than him. Hanatarou started in the 4th division at the tender age of 42/14, and some of the other medics decided to prank the lieutenant's baby brother by sending him to do the initial medical checkup of newly-appointed 11th division captain Zaraki. When he failed to return for six hours, Seinosuke went into a panicked rage and ran to the 11th, ready to make Zaraki the shortest-serving captain ever if need be, only to discover Hanataro patiently vaccinating and enthusiastic Zaraki for EVERYTHING, a process that was taking a while because Zaraki's spiritual pressure kept breaking the needles. Hanataro has been the 11th Division Pocket Medic ever since, to the detriment of Seinosuke's blood pressure. Zaraki encouraged his interest in Toxicology by bringing him dozens of venomous snakes to milk while on field expeditions, also much to the detriment of Seinosuke's blood pressure.

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Sosuke Aizen: CA: 432 LA: 47 Aizen was born an identical twin, but was the only brother to inherit any spiritual powers. The boy's mother was caught and killed by an enraged shopkeep stealing food to feed a half-starving Sosuke when they were young children. The boys managed to get jobs in another city working at a candy store, and did so well that the owner left the store to them when he retired. Sosuke's marketing talents and Sosato's culinary skills made "My Brother's Candy" a wild success, and soon they were opening franchise stores, and became popular minor celebrities in their district. Sosuke even married and had children- and grand children, and was an active member of his district government and merchants council, personally opening up several schools and water treatment facilities. Then, shortly after he and Sosato celebrated their 88th birthday, tragedy struck. There was a massive flood that lead to a massive crop failure that lead to a massive disease outbreak, which lead to major political upheaval, which lead to Sosuke and his brother having to flee their home. Unfortunately, Sosato dearly loved his brother, and when the hail of arrows came down on them from the soldiers pursing the civilians, Sosato decided that he was near the end of his life anyway, while Sosuke- still functionally in his 20's- had so much to live for, and put himself between his brother and the onslaught. And so Sosuke Aizen went from Revered Councilor, Celebrated Candymaker, beloved Great-grandfather and Twin to an Exile and the sole survivor of his name. He joined the Shinigami, determined to make the Soul Society a better place where what happened to him would never happen again- only to discover that he was at the mercy of a corrupt and incompetent government, and worse, an apparently uncaring God. Until one night when he had a dream- all the pieces of his study of Kido came together and he realized there WAS a way to fix all this- He just had to become God. With that, Gin slithered away into the night and deep into the far districts, so he could assume a human form and forge an identity Aizen wouldn't question when they met back up again.

Shinji Hirako: CA: 412 LA: 31 Shinji genuinely thought he could get away with impersonating a high schooler to spy on Ichigo- after all, he still looked like he was what, 22? With the right clothes and some recent slang- "Why is there some creepy old guy wearing the school uniform?" Ichigo asks his friends the second he sees Shinji. "He looks like some kind of weird hipster who's trying to relive his youth." Sighs Mizurio. "-Or a really deluded pervert who thinks he can sneak into the locker room." says Tatsuki, cracking her knuckles. "He doesn't look THAT old-" Keigo protests, and there is the briefest glimmer of hope for Shinji's Ego. "-Maybe he's some kind of super-senior who got held back a bunch because he's dumb as a brick." Shinji crumples to the ground, defeated by the direct hits to his insecurities.

Hinamori Momo: CA: 66 LA: 26 Momo has an extreme case of babyface but is secretly ripped under her uniform and well on her way to MILFdom from the waist down. The first time Hiyori sees her in shorts is a psychological and spiritual awakening.

Hiyori Sarugaki: CA: 126 LA: 20 Hiyori is the youngest Living Age and slowest-aging visored. She gets mad about her youthful appearance but also uses it to get children's discounts at theme parks.

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Byakuya Kuchiki: CA: 181 LA: 26 Byakuya was married quite young, and Widowed soon after. He's still in his prime, and exceptionally hale for a Kuchiki- Despite the exceptional spiritual power of the clan, the centuries of inbreeding have given them severe health issues and very short lifespans for their power. Byakuya's grandfather Ginrei only lived to 486, and his father Sojun died at 200 from Hemophillia. Byakuya is still working up the nerve to tell Rukia that she will likely outlive him by a considerable margin, and the fact that Rukia hasn't got a nibling to spoil was His medical problem, not Hisana's.

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Sajin Komamura: CA: 712 LA: 22 Komamura is somehow both Older AND Younger than everyone thinks he is, and that's not even getting into the "Wait, is that in human years or wolf years?" Debacle. When Yamamoto met Sajin for the first time in the 1400's he was extremely impressed with the giant warriors skill and courage, and before Sajin had a chance to greet him properly, asked the warrior to join his Academy. "I- I'm really old but I'm actually eight." came the voice of a small boy from behind the helmet and Yamamoto had to go stand with his face pressed into the wall for a minute.

Love Aikawa: CA:345 LA:33 Love Aikawa is one of the few shinigami who came into his spiritual powers so fast that he did NOT have a creer before becoming a Shinigami.

Tetsuzaemon Iba: CA: 154 LA: 30 Testsuzaemon was still a small boy when Komamura was appointed to the third seat of the first division, and got to know his mother Chikane Iba. Chikane worked extremely hard, but held Yamamoto in high regard, and Komamura in similar regard by extension. So now Tetsuzaemon is lieutenant to a man he still secretly thinks of as his "Favorite Babysitter".

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Shunsui Kyoraku: CA: 856 LA: 48 Shunsui was forced to join the academy before his 100th birthday by his noble family because they had not actually planned on actually having a third son survive to adulthood and didn't really know what to do with him. Both Shunsui and Ukitake are old enough to remember when Unohana was still Yachiru, and Shut The Fuck Up about that fact.

Nanao Ise: CA: 141 LA: 28 When she first arrives in Seireitei, Yachiru Kusajishi is LA Eight, and quickly makes friends with Nanao, who is the other little girl close to her age with spiritual powers: "You're my baby sister now, but you'll be my Big sister sooner than later." Yachiru explained. "What do you mean?" Nanao blinked at her. "You're what, Living Age Seven, right?" Yachiru asked, squinting at her. "Yeah, but I'm really Forty-One!" Nanao insisted. It bothered her when people refused to take her seriously because of her age. "Right. I'm like Living Age Eight, so I'm your big sister. But I'm actually Four hundred and six." "…What?" Nanao gaped. "but, but that means you must be aging at…" She frowned, trying to do long division in her head. "-I age about one year for every fifty lived, yeah." "You- oh god." Nanao realized. "You outlive everyone you know." "Not everyone! Ken-chan and I are both aging at the same pace." Yachiru explained, wobbling a bit as she walked the log over the creek. "I guess I'm lucky- there aren't that many of us who age this slow so most of us don't have anybody who's really a 'life-long' companion, and I might be only one with a parent that's got a similar lifespan!" She grinned. "I age at about one for five, so in- ...in less than ten years I'll be older than you." Nanao hummed with concern. "Yep! But until then, you have to do everything your Big Sister says!" Yachiru grinned.

Lisa Yadomaru: CA: 427 LA: 36 Even though they're not REMOTELY related, Lisa bonded very strongly to Nanao when she was Shunsui's lieutenant. This causes some dispute with Yachiru when she returns to Soul Society because according to yachiru, Nanao is her Little Big Sister, owing to the difference in CA, to therefore Lisa is her Big-Big Little Sister, and Lisa thinks she doesn't have to support Yachiru's Candy Habit.

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Kaname Tousen: Calendar age: 499 LA: 32 After the events of the Winter War, during which Kaname turned 500, Kaname disputes that he is only 350, because he spent the last 150 years under Aizen's Curse and "-You call that living?" Everyone (except Sajin) regularly forgets when Kaname's birthday is because he doesn't celebrate it- it was also his sister Kakiyo's birthday and he hasn't really felt like 'celebrating' since she was murdered, and Ichigo is the first person to REALLY understand his feelings on the matter, his own mother dyind so close to his birthday and how visiting her Memorial wasn't exactly a celebration, but it wasn't exactly mourning either.

Shuuhei Hisagi: CA:119 LA: 27 Renji entered the Academy the year Shuuhei was due to Graduate and still thinks of Shuuhei as his "Senpai". Shuuhei entered the academy the same year Rangiku was due to graduate, and still thinks of her as his "Senpai". Renji once called Rangiku his "Grand-Senpai" She and Shuuhei both beat him with shoes about it.

Kensei Muguruma: CA:469 LA: 29 Kensei supports Kaname's declaration that he's only 350 because finding out Kaname is older than him brings up all the insecurities Kensei developed from being the MUCH younger brother to five sisters, and he can't handle being "The Baby" again.

Mashiro Kuna: CA: 506 LA: 25 It took 47 rounds of Janken with Yachiru for Mashiro to finally be the first to get to three victories and declare herself The Biggest Sister. She also saw Kensei's meltdown about Kaname being older than him and is quietly holding onto the fact she's older than both of them until the moment it will cause her beloved captain the maximum amount of Psychological Damage.

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Rangiku Matsumoto: CA: 357 LA: 29 Rangiku measures her Calendar Age from the date she appeared in Soul Society at age 14, which is an accepted practice, but sometimes people want to add their years in the living world as well. Rangiku supports Kaname's claim to be 350 because they let HER knock 14 years off her CA for an even more arbitrary reason, and also it means she doesn't have to get him a belated 500th Birthday gift for another 150 years.

Toshiro Hitsugaya: CA: 60 LA: 12 Hitsugaya is FAR AND AWAY the youngest Shinigami to achieve a seated officer's position by any age, and this was 100% done as a political maneuver by Yamamoto. Hitsugaya is no Slouch- he graduated salutatorian of his class and is the youngest person ever to achieve Bankai, but Yamamoto slapped him into the lieutenant's position 20 years ago (Hitsugaya graduated within weeks of Isshin Shiba's Disappearance) SPECIFICALLY to put Rangiku between him and any unscrupulous noble houses looking to forcibly adopt him/marry him to a spare heir/straight-up kidnap Hitsugaya to prop up their failing genetic lines. One of the clans tried it anyway and the resulting smoking crater where the clan compound used to be put the fear of Haineko into everyone and has so far discouraged further attempts.

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Kenpachi Zaraki: CA: 1,477* LA: 42 Like Gin, Zaraki has several dates that could count as the start of his existence, but when asked how old he was at the first moon-viewing party he went to- "...How d'ya guys measure that?" Zaraki asked, studying Shunsui with his good eye in a way that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. "Uh- well, for most people, it's when you were Born in Soul Society, but if you died and appeared here it's the day you first existed in Soul Society." he explained, feeling like he was missing an important dimension to the question. "Oh! In that case I'm- wait, shit. What day is it today?" "It's November 18th." Unohana smiled. "Ah, fuck! With all the chaos I forgot-!" Zaraki laughed. "Turned 1,377 last Monday." The assembled Shinigami all stared blanky, save for Unohana, who appeared to be trying to not laugh into her cup. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I heard that correctly..?" Jushiro asked, entirely sure he had. "One Thousand Three Hundred Seventy-Seven." Zaraki repeated slowly, grin cracking across his face. "-Can't say I've done as good a job lookin' after myself as Sasakibe here though." "I- good heavens! The only person you're younger than is Yamamoto himself!" Aizen exclaimed, eyes wide behind his glasses. Zaraki frowned at that for a moment and then nodded. "...If you say so." Unohana made a small snuffling noise as she tried to not snort sake up her nose laughing. "How old are YOU, Mr. Glasses?" Yachiru asked. "Hm? Oh, I'm 332! And how old are y-" Aizen began to reply before he was interrupted by Yachiru jabbing her finger into the tip of his nose, cackling. "HAH! you're seventy- uh- seventy four years younger than me! You're a little baby man!" She clapped her hands with glee. "Unohana-sama? Are you alright?" Ukitake asked as the chief medic coughed suddenly. "I'm having a great time!" She wheezed, eyes watering from accidentally inhaling her drink.

Yachiru Kusajishi: CA: 506 LA: 10 Yachiru was Very Loved by her parents. Zaraki tells her this. When he found her, he found her in an otherwise abandoned house, with her parents, who had obviously died protecting her from the late-winter cold snap. She was still in her mother and father's arms when he came to investigate her cries. Her parents were wearing kimono that had the bottom third cut off, just above their knees, even though it was the middle of winter. She was wearing a double-layered baby Kimono made of the fabric they had cut off, to make sure she stayed warm. He took her into the nearest village, in hopes someone there could nurse her and tell him what her name was. She was lucky- there was a woman nursing her own daughter who agreed to take on her as well. But the Village elder hung his head in shame- he knew the couple the vagrant described- they lived far up the mountain, and only went by the name "Kusajishi", the name of the district, as was the style of many poor and illiterate farmers. They only came down from their farm once or twice a year to sell the special herbs they grew up there- the elder had seen the woman pregnant, but they had not come down to tell him the girl's name for the village records. So that day, the vagrant became Kenpachi Zaraki, and gave to her the name Yachiru as any parent should name their child, and the name Kusajishi, after the parents that loved her so. She only ever calls her adopted father Ken-chan, and is the only person who is allowed to call him that, because a parent should be called something special by their child. In deference to her parent's sacrifice, she does not call him "father". That was another man, who died for her. Zaraki does not lie to Yachiru, ever. Everything he told her about how they met is true. He has omitted one detail from the story, however. Her parents died from the cold snap because they had to be at least eighty, and not blessed with spiritual power like her. She had outlived her parents as an infant. And after speaking to the village elder about how, to his shame, he'd never managed to ask the little girl's name, even since he was a little boy, and failed to send anyone up there to check on the family, The vagrant with no name sat near the fire in the village hall, holding the little girl with no name. He thought about how terribly lonely it was, to not have a name. and how lucky he was that he had a mother who also had an extremely long lifespan that was able to live through raising him, and that he could still visit and speak to. and how unlucky this little girl was, that she did not. "How d'ya get a name?" the vagrant asked the village elder. "Well, here you just tell me what your name is, and I write it down in the village records." the elder said, watching him with curiosity. "...if I tell you a name, will you show me how to write it?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Of course." The elder nodded. The vagrant was silent for a while. "Then her name is Yachiru Kusajishi." Said the vagrant. "...And yours?" The elder asked, picking up the record book and inkstone. "Mine?" the vagrant asked. "You're giving her a name because she hasn't got anyone else to do it, aren't you?" The elder asked, gaze steady. "If you name something, it's your responsibility forever, and you're going to have to be responsible for yourself if you're going to be responsible for her." The Vagrant considered this for a while. "My name-" he started and stopped, throat clicking like he was literally choking on the words. "-My name for her is Kenpachi Zaraki."

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Mayuri Kurotsuichi: CA: 132 LA: 267 Mayuri is the only shinigami aging faster than the expected rate. This is because he escaped from Hell, and Hell would very much like to get his ass back there ASAP.

Nemuri Kurotsuichi: CA: 20 LA: 20 Nemu has been twenty for twenty years now, ever since she was pulled from the goo of her incubation tube by her father Mayuri, and will be 20 for the foreseeable future. The static lack of aging is something Mayuri hopes to fix in future drafts- Nemu is the seventh Nemuri, and the most successful one so far- She's the second Nemuri to actually make it out of her incubation tube, and the first to survive more than a year, but Nemuri Hachigo is already developing in the basement of the 12th in case something happens to her. The knowledge of her 'Little Sister' is something that brings Nemu comfort, like already knowing what you're going to be reincarnated as. "That's really fucked up." Says Uryuu Ishida in the rubble of Las Noches as she puts his intestines back inside his thorax where they belong. He's on a lot of drugs he'd like to know less about. "-It's also kind of cute. In a away. but really fucked up."

Kirio Hikifune: CA: 617 LA: 35 Kirio is one of a handful of people in on Unohana's double identity, but would NEVER betray her beloved Senpai's personal information! She served under Unohana in the fourth and developed her flesh-to-food technique with Unohana's help.

Tama Nikuya: CA: 1,477 LA: 26 Despite being the same age as Zaraki and Unohana and was aging at the same slow rate, the process that turned her into a Puca also caused her to go into bio-hell-fuckery that has effectively stopped her from aging at all. Or rather, she IS aging but every time she dies, she reappears as the LA age she was when she underwent The Flesh Change. She says the process is not infinite- she WILL eventually run out of spare lives, and if she manages to live long enough to die of old age in this body, she will NOT respawn at all. Also- it HURTS! She does die, which hurts, and comes back, which hurts EVEN MORE, and each time she comes back, she's confronted with the prospect of either outling all her friends or putting them through a similar hell to stay together. All in all, DO NOT ATTEMPT. I am speaking to you specifically, Kisuke. Akon Akon: CA: 119 LA: 27 Akon only has the one name but the archives don't like that so he uses it Twice. He was imprisoned without trial in the Maggot's nest for being part Yokai when he was a small child, and sprung to work in R&D By Mayuri shortly after Urahara's disappearence. He's friends with Yachiru and Nanao because there weren't hat many kids in the social circles of the Gotei-13's upper ranks, and all three of them shared a mutual interest in the Dinosaurs that were being discovered at the time. He's friends with Shuuhei because he was forced to take Remedial "if you work in the 12th instead of just R&D you need to actually know how to be a shinigami" classes the same year Shuuhei was accepted to the academy and they were dorm mates. Akon intermittendly draws weird one-panel cartoons for the Seireitei bulletin under a pen name, often about strange scientific jokes and on one notable occasion, bovine anthropological artifacts.

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Jushiro Ukitake: CA: 857 LA: 44 Ukitake is genuinely unsure if, when or HOW he will die, given that he is host to a Divine Being. Once that particular cat is out of the bag, it gives him something to commiserate about with Tama. Already, Shunsui is starting to outpace his age- is he doomed to bury his friend? or will circumstance force Mimihagi to consume him entirely? Mimihagi is sympathetic- the Left Hand of God is also not sure what this fusion entails for him- it's possible that if Jushiro dies by any other means besides Mimihagi consuming him, that Mimihagi will die with him, and neither is sure what kind of impact that might have on the universe at large. Still, if it weren't for Mimihagi's intervention, Jushiro wouldn't have this time at all, and Mimihagi will never have had these experiences, so neither regrets the choice they made, regardless of how it ends.

Hachigen Ushoda: CA: 278 LA: 32. Hachigen is appearing under the 13th Division because the Kido Corps got absorbed into the 13th while he was away. Hachi consistently fools people into thinking he's way older than he actually is because he has to tailor-make all his clothes for his massive frame, so why NOT go all the way and make something Special for all this effort?

...this post is already three miles long, I'll do the Arrancar and Quincy next.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfic #Long Post #not kidding HELLA long post #There are more than 40 names to tag #I ain't doin' that shit #read for your fave tho everyone has a Fun Fact (TM)

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