#Kerfuffle Fic

[queers-ahoy]

ket's 2023 favorite fanfiction reads!

here ye here ye! come one come all to hear about my Favorite Fics of 2023! A surprising number of these aren't even complete, but isn't that just how the cookie crumbles sometimes. I highly recommend all of these, completed or not! Most are Gentlebeard, but the last two are little wildcards! Fics that had their word count marked with an asterisk are incomplete.

Once Upon a Summer in San Francisco by samwise | E | 209k*

A charming and thrilling AU set in San Francisco in 1978. Ed, a career drug dealer, meets Stede during a music festival after getting drugged by his office co-workers. They become intertwined in a relationship that puts both of them in new territory. I think my favorite part of this fic is all of the music and fashion references, as well as how all the crew members (and others!) are woven into the story. All the side relationships are adorable, and Stede and Mary have an ADORABLE friendship that I can't get enough of.

2. In Favor With Their Stars by @mxmollusca | M | ~62k

This fic was my introduction to sci-fi AUs in this fandom! It's a gripping story that follows Ed, an engineer who finds himself awoken early from cryostasis on an "interplanetary research vessel" travelling to Jupiter's moon, Europa. Ed soon discovers that the ship's artificial intelligence, STE/DE, is likely sentient. Chaos and love ensues as they spend several months together, flying through the void. This story is uniquely multi-media, told through prose, code, poetry, audio transcripts, and even music!

3. Famine and Feast by zemph147 (@gaypiratebrainrot) | E | ~19k

This fic is a HILARIOUS and fascinating modern AU where Ed is the owner and head chef of his fine dining restaurant, Blackbeard. He finds himself full of renewed passion for his craft after tasting the menu of The Revenge, a new food truck owned by one Stede Bonnet. As someone who works in a kitchen and LOVES any media about food, this fic really indulged me. The description of every dish had my mouth watering!

4. Kalahari Down by @oatmilktruther | E | 31k*

Kalahari Down is a wild and stylized fic, written from Ed's pov as a 19 year old rancher working in Montana on Bonnet Ranch. When Stede returns home from boarding school, the two boys find themselves whipped up into a Brokeback Mountain-esque romance. However, canon-typical miscommunications make their journey a rocky one. This fic is INSANE in the way that it's written, and absolutely must be read in a southern accent (or at least, that's how I have to read it in my head :3). The series is smartly inspired by the eponymous album by Orville Peck, Bronco. Each chapter takes the name of a song written by him, and the vibes certainly shine through. It's hard to say since it's yet to be completed, but it's certainly lining up to be one of my favorite ofmd fics of all time.

5. Fine Wires by Nospaceforjack, ThePirateRoo | E | ~114k

Set in London, 1887, this fic follows the meeting of Blackbeard, the infamous burglar, and The Gentleman Thief, new to a life of crime. The two men are quickly charmed by each other, but their relationship becomes caught in the clutches of the law chasing them as well as Stede's need to prove himself. This story is charming in aesthetic, originally an AMAU, and is told through collages of images, letters, composed ambient music, as well as prose. The setting really comes to life with the mixture of multimedia content along with amazing description.

6. Liquid Gold by @perkynurples | M | ~79k

This is another modern AU that was originally an SMAU! Stede returns to his family's summer home in following his divorce from Mary in an attempt to reconnect with himself. He takes to beekeeping, a hobby his mother enjoyed in his youth, and it soon connects him to resident beekeeper, Edward Teach. They become swept into a honey sweet relationship where they uncover more mysteries than they ever expected to. This fic is ADORABLE as much as it is captivating, and as a beekeeper myself, this fic holds a special place in my heart <3

7. not pickles by smallestchurch | E | ~83k

Yay another modern AU! This one is an Ed pov, and really focuses on Ed's progression through his mental health struggles and such. Ed and Stede live in the same apartment building, and Ed finds himself pulled into Stede's adorable family, whether he likes it or not (he does). There's plenty of adorable Alma/Louis content in this one, and Ed is no surprise GREAT with kids. It's heartwarming, gut-wrenching, and tear-jerking all in one! Total triple threat.

8. the knife and the throat by darcylindbergh (@forpiratereasons) | E | ~35k*

This is a post-s1 canon fix-it fic that is just SWARMING with all kinds of delicious angst. After Stede fights to reunite with Ed, he finds that healing their relationship won't be nearly as easy as the gut wound he's given when he tries. This fic alternates pov, but I'm especially entranced by the way Ed is written in particular. This fic hasn't been updated in a while, but the author told me that they hope to complete it eventually! Finished or not, it's a great read.

9. if i was pure, you know i would by bitethehands | E | ~2k

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat! This fic is a delicious body horror one-shot where Izzy is immortal and Kraken era Blackbeard finds that *fascinating.* It's gruesome and horrifying and so well-written.

10. bend over, doll (it's all a game) by Sweveris | E | ~91k

Modern AU with a sick twist! Edward is the leader of a crime ring and married to Stede Bonnet. Ed is quick to discover that his husband is less than faithful, but decides to play along for a while, just to see where it goes. Everyone in this fic is TERRIBLE and it's AMAZING. I usually hate fics with Calico Jack in them, but somehow this one coaxed me into reading full chapters from his pov. There's also some really yummy Stizzy content that simmers throughout.

//And that's that! I have plenty of honorable mentions that I'll probably add soon, especially if people want more recommendations! Happy New Year, and here's to many lovely fics in 2024!

#ofmd fanfic #fanfic #kets kerfuffle #bug speaks #fic rec #ofmd #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #ofmd fanfiction #ofmd fic recs #stizzy #steddyhands #edizzy #izzy hands #ed teach #stede bonnet #calico jack #ofmd modern au #ofmd western au #ofmd aus

[kerfufflecricket]

Hi!! I love your art and your ideas and I was wondering if you had recs for any kny agereg or de-age fics?

Thank you!! That makes me very happy to hear!

As for fic recs hmm...

My go tos are 'No One Dies On My Watch', 'Sweetling' and the series 'Little Bunny on the Mountain'.

These are all agere oneshot fics so if you're looking for variety these are a pretty good option, the first one is also still taking requests so if your interested in seeing your favs than I would say that's a good choice!

Now for De-aged fics

The ones I have saved are 'Baby Hashira' (De-aged Muichiro) and 'Once More, With Feeling' (De-aged Zenitsu)

I will give a quick warning for the second as it deals with reference with child abuse so if that makes you feel uncomfortable, I would suggest skipping that one! I haven't finished these one's yet either (I have a hard time finishing stories with a lot of chapters lol)

These are just the ones I have saved so I do hope this was helpful! (These are all on Ao3 btw :3)

#agere asks #sfw agere #agere #fandom agere #kny agere #demon slayer agere #fic rec #kerfuffle rambles

[greenshi]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Fandom: CPU Kerfuffle (Web Series)

Relationships: Dantoinette (CPU Kerfuffle)/Crimson (CPU Kerfuffle) Chartreuse (CPU Kerfuffle)/Folk (CPU Kerfuffle) Danthony (CPU Kerfuffle)/Corn on the Cob (CPU Kerfuffle) Hoedown (CPU Kerfuffle)/Patchman (CPU Kerfuffle)

Characters: Chartreuse (CPU Kerfuffle) Folk (CPU Kerfuffle) Crimson (CPU Kerfuffle) Danthony (CPU Kerfuffle) Dantoinette (CPU Kerfuffle) Hoedown (CPU Kerfuffle) Cha Cha Slide (CPU Kerfuffle) Square Dance (CPU Kerfuffle) Waltz (CPU Kerfuffle) Whip (CPU Kerfuffle) Dougie (CPU Kerfuffle) The Carrot Collective (CPU Kerfuffle) Duke Salad (CPU Kerfuffle) Corn on the Cob (CPU Kerfuffle) Patchman (CPU Kerfuffle) Chili's (CPU Kerfuffle)

Additional Tags: Gift Fic Holidays Family Dinners Talking Established Relationship Background Relationships Team as Family Family Fluff happy holidays insider!! Hope you enjoy!!

-

The Patch Family's holiday dinner, featuring awkward relationships, deities, fights, and the slow and steady work of bettering oneself. All because Corn wanted to invite her boyfriend. (For Insider, for the Discord Village Gift Exchange. Sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy!)

#cpu kerfuffle #discordvillage2023 #chartreuse cpuk #folk cpuk #crimson cpuk #danthony cpuk #dantoinette cpuk #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #realizing its been over a year since i last posted cpuk fanfic #oops lol #anyway guess im back

[somerandoticklewriter]

I think I wanna take a break from South Park for a bit and try writing tickle fics for the Object Show Community please send requests. Here are the shows I'm most familiar with:

Battle For Dream Island

Inanimate Insanity

Object Kerfuffle

ONE

Paper Puppets

Animated Inanimate Battle

After Schooligans

Excellent Entities

Object Trek

The Christmasly Object Show

Battle For Circle

Thank you all in advance! ☺️

#object shows #inanimate insanity #bfdi #bfdia #battle for bfdi #battle for dream island #battle for bfb #tpot #object kerfuffle #tickle fic #tickle content #object show community #object show tickles #animated inanimate battle #After Schooligans #excellent entities #threeee #extraordinary excellent entities #Object trek #The Christmasly Object Show

[kittykibbl]

My Old Wattpad Story

So, I used to be a very online wattpad user. My most popular creation, "Bob x Bosip Oneshots", absolutely took off. Uh, if you know anything about the creator of Bob and Bosip, you may know why this fic discontinued. Despite this, I kept it up for a few years, taking it down two or so months ago. I'm working now to archive it on ao3, just so that it can be seen in all its cringy 2021 glory. See what I've archived so far here.

seriously though why did I draw hair so low 😭

#old fic #bob and bosip #extremely old #bobsip #kitty scribbles #kitty kerfuffles #old art

[teapartyeternal]

tldr: Magical boy who was corrupted into a demon finds himself on the road to redeem himself, and his first step is reclaiming his magical tools from the Dealer.

Yippee, an OC of mine that I can see playing Buckshot Roulette 🎉 pls excuse the quality, I couldn't get a good scan of my sketchbook :C

I'm currently writing a oneshot fic about this but it's been so long since I last wrote a short story so it's gonna take a while, plus I'm really self-conscious about my writing skills being rusty :< Hopefully I'm brave enough to post it.

Edit: I just realized I can post the doodle at higher quality lol

#for the fic I"m wondering if I should make it so that the waiver restricts Comet's magic so his whole plan is kerfuffled orrrrrr #or or or the Dealer recognizes that he is a demon so the Dealer plays using their fullest powers as well #I like the fullblown demon powers squareoff idea but idk what powers to give the Dealer :/ #myart #frombambi #oh also the stats on the left side of the page are just something i do for the stories I write #I make stats for the characters based on the overarching themes of the story #buckshot roulette #incubuck #incubuck comet #buckshot roulette oc

[sapphire-mage]

Being a writer is fun, cause on one hand, you get to build entire stories. On the other, you get to plant secret landmines throughout your writing.

For example...

For what?

Til what?

#CPU Kerfuffle #Fic writing

[farahsamboolents]

Would you be able to share the ‘bipedal’ fic? That sounds hilarious and I want in ;)

HAHAHA yes i think about it all the time so here is the fic where Steve comes out as bipedal

(mind the warnings tho, took me by surprise the first time i read it)

#fic rec #amboolents originals #also you gotta be signed in to read! caused a kerfuffle a minute ago when i sent the wrong link #because apparently it defaults to the last fic you were on instead of the link you clicked on when you sign in? #idk anyway have fun

[yourwinchesterbros]

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

[danikamariewrites]

Bar Fight

Azriel x reader

A/n: I didn’t mean for this to be over 1,000 words it was supposed to be a silly lil fic but I can’t help myself

Warnings: violence and injuries

Girls night had taken quite the violent turn. You were currently being held up between Feyre and Nesta as Elain, Emerie, Amren, Gwyn, and Mor led you back to the River House.

You never considered yourself a violent person. Especially not in public. There was a reputation to uphold since you work for the High Lord of Night. But all of that went out the window when you heard a few males talking about Elain and Gwyn.

That was something you couldn’t let go. So you calmly approached them. Telling them to watch their mouths and you walked away. You heard the males snicker behind your back, but you kept going forward. But something hit the back of your head. And another, and another, until that something felt like food. You went deathly still, turning and whipped the drinks at the males.

An all out brawl between you and the stronger one broke out. The smaller one was easy to get down, all it took was one punch to the nose and he was on the ground cradling his face, screaming in pain.

The big one put up a fight. He got a few good shots in before you finally got him on his ass. By then Feyre was breaking through the semi circle that had formed, breaking up the fight, pulling you to your feet.

What had surprised you the most was how much energy Elain had after the kerfuffle. She never came out with you guys, nor Gwyn, so to hear her giving the girls a play by play on the walk home was hilarious. “Now I wanna punch something!” The precious flower exclaimed. “Woah, down girl. How much did you drink tonight?” Emerie asked with a smirk. All Elain did was giggle.

You couldn’t help but smile, even if a stinging pain coursed through your split lip. You now sport a black eye, bloody nose, and a bruised rib or two. “Thank god the boys are in Illyria until tomorrow.” Nesta hugged out. You make a half grunt, half humming noise in agreement.

Rhys, Cass, and Az had to make an emergency visit to Windhaven a week ago. You were thanking the Mother that they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night. Azriel would be such a mother hen about your injuries and chastise you for getting into a bar fight.

“You’re goin’ to heal me right Fey?” You were so tired from the fight, your adrenaline finally wearing off, your words came out slurred. “Of course. We’ll go right to the sitting room.”

Finally, you reached the River House and slouched in relief in the sisters' hold. Amren opened the door ushering you all in. Gwyn and Mor went ahead to make room for you on the couch. Through one open eye you noticed the two of them pause in the entryway, eyes wide and panicked.

“Hi guys!” Mor said a little too enthusiastically. Shit, you did not want Azriel to see you like this.

More alert now you, Nesta, and Feyre quickly improvise a new way to get you past the boys. You rip a jacket off the coat rack and throw it over your head as Nesta scoops you into her arms.

Nesta casually tries to walk you past the living room while the others bombard the three males with questions about their trip.

But nothing gets past Azriel and his shadows. You feel the one that’s always beside you sweep across your shin, leaving as quickly as it came.

“Nesta,” Azriel called out sweetly, “is that y/n? I can take her up to bed.” A small smile on his face, hopeful to have you in his arms again.

She panicked and fumbled over her words, “No! No it’s ok…I uh…I got her it’s fine.” She let out a nervous laugh. Azriel gave her a strange look. You could feel your friends hold their breath as your boyfriend moved past them.

Azriel approached Nesta, his nostrils flaring at the scent of dried blood. His shadows moved faster than she could. Ripping the jacket from your face dropping it to the floor.

He audibly gasped at the sight of your face. You shot him an innocent smile. “Hey baby. Welcome home.” You shimmed out of Nestas arms standing in front of Azriel. His shadows were going crazy as they informed him of your injuries. “What happened?” He bit out. You winced a little at his tone. “Bar fight.” His eyes went wide like he couldn’t believe the situation. “I won though. So I got that goin’ for me.”

You gave him a widened smile that broke your split lip, causing the bleeding to start again. You winced moving to hold your bleeding lip. Azriel’s face quickly shifted from shock to worry. “Come on, let me clean you up.”

You begrudgingly nod at him as Azriel ushers you upstairs to your shared bedroom. His silence is driving you mad. You can’t even read his mood even with his eyes piercing the back of your head.

Sitting on the edge of the tub you watched as Azriel pulled out a salve and some bandages from the cabinet under the sink. He stood in front of you tilting your chin up to face him.

Azriel dabs at your still bleeding lip before rubbing salve on it. Then cleans up the dried blood and puts more salve on your black eye.

He picks up your right hand and wipes away the dried blood there, gently wrapping your knuckles. There was no need for this. It would all be healed by tomorrow but Azriel didn’t care. He wanted to take care of you. Make sure you heal faster.

“Thank you,” you say quietly with a hint of guilt. “Of course, love.” You look up at his still unreadable face. “Please, say something,” you beg.

Azriel took a deep breath, slouching his shoulders and wings, leaning against the counters with his arms crossed. “I just didn’t ever think you’d get into a bar fight. It was stupid and irresponsible. You could’ve been hurt worse than this, y/n.”

You drop your head looking down at your feet. You could tell he was prepared for a fight. “I know. But they were talking about Gwyn and Elain, then they threw something at me. I couldn’t let it slide.”

Looking back up at Az his face was contorted in rage. “They threw stuff at you.” You nodded slowly. “But hey, I took care of it just like you taught me.” He let out a breathy laugh. At least his mood was improving.

Azriel knelt in front of you, cradling the back of your head leaving a small kiss on your forehead. “That’s my girl.”

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel

[seaslugfanclub]

Hello! I love your work! Could I request the aftermath of the Losers, Creeps, and Weirdos fic? Specifically, the part where (Y/N) kisses Jafar on the cheek as a thanks for their help and leaves him flushed? I feel like Jafar would be extremely smug and boast about it to the other villains just to have one over them or make them jealous. Pretty please? 😊

Aww thank you!!! And of course! Here’s a cute little blurb of the aftermath! Enjoy!

Traitor!!

————————————

Disney parks has eyes everywhere, so it was no surprise that word of Jafars “heroism” got to the other villains before Jafar could speak for himself.

And let me tell you, the villains were READY to completely tear into Jafar the moment he got back to the Villains living quarters. Everyone was waiting in the common area like some fucked up surprise birthday party. Hades had a mental script of all the insults he’d throw at the sorcerer.

So when Jafar strolled into the room, most of the wind was taken out of the villains sails when they saw the look on his face. The grin stretched across Jafars face could put the Cheshire Cat to shame. He looked liked a seagull who just pulled off the biggest Doritos heist of the century. Ignoring all the glares and confusion, Jafar simply strutted across the room, only stopping when Hades apparated to block his path.

“Stretch face!! I heard of the little— heh, kerfuffle~ you were apart of today with our little attendant!”

“Hmm? Oh you mean that trifle of an issue with (Y/N) and some guest~ Yes, I did save our dear caretaker and that princess from some unsavory brute.” Jafar mused, challenging the god with direct eye contact.

“Ehhh, so the rumors are true! I wouldn’t ‘ave guessed you were— wait just a Peloponnesian minute.” Hades cut himself off, grabbing the sorcerer by the face and turning his head to the side, ignoring Jafars protest.

Hades eyes zeroed in on Jafars cheek, “why is your cheek shimmery?” Taking a finger, Hades swiped the oily shimmer off of the ex-vizier and held up to his nose, taking a sniff.

“And why is it…piña colada scented???”

“Piña colada!? Thats (Y/N)’s favorite lipgloss!” Hook accused, flinching in on himself when everyone turned to give him disturbed looks.

Jafar took that opportunity to break free from Hades grasp, dusting himself off before continuing is way to his room.

“Oh that?? Why that’s simply from (Y/N)’s reward for me saving them. I can see why kisses work, they certainly do awake something~” Jafar chuckled maliciously, quickly escaping the room before he was torn apart by the other villains.

….

“THEY W H A T !?!?”

#disney villains #self insert #disney imagine #disney x reader #disney hades #captain hook #disney jafar #aladdin

[neat-soda-enjoyer]

Looking Out For You

Your childhood crush came back! Except he wears a red helmet and goes around either killing criminals or pulling some underground scheme you’ll hear about on the news. And he has beef with the Batman so why is he still adamant on looking out for you?

Please do not steal or repost any of my writing

Context: You, a secretary working for Detective Cash Tankinson’s Investigations, get mixed up in the kerfuffle between Red Hood and Batman. After a series of misunderstandings and mistakes, you find out that the criminal (?) is the Robin who had your preteen heart in a vice gripe years ago. That nice boy who you remembered that went out of his way to make you feel special, even if you never knew his true identity. You eventually moved on when he stopped showing up and Batman was paroling around with a new, younger sidekick. But now it seems that he remembers you, too, so now you have the Red Hood take up the unneeded position of your guardian angel.

Also, you’re an artist/sculptor whose projects centers around the subject of violence against women/girls because you’re an abuse survivor. Still, you decided to prioritize your day job wonder how that'll turn out

Trigger warnings: Past abuse/molestation (no rape) of reader, violence, drugs, trauma related to past abuse, Gotham being Gotham at its best (crimes being a normality), Jason’s torture and death, assault, attempted assault

No smut (yet), but ofc there’s gonna be mentions of sex and nudity

Side note: The fic does not take place in any canon timeline. Aside from following the main canon plots, everything else is going by my version (Reader’s timeline :] ).

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with DC comics or its franchises.

Tag: #Looking Out For You in Gotham

୨ৎ . ׂ 𝒩𝒶𝓋𝒾𝑔𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 ִ 𓂃 ࣪ ⟡

Chapter 1: That Night (Not yet posted)

Chapter 2:

Chapter 3:

#first fic lets go #yes its inspired by that one song from Joy Again can you really blame me? #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #dc comics #dc x reader #batman #batfam x reader #my writing #Looking Out For You in Gotham

[greenshi]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: CPU Kerfuffle (Web Series)

Relationship: Hackerman J0hn/Larry the Florida Man

Characters: Home MD Larry the Florida Man Hackerman J0hn

Additional Tags: Identity Reveal Angst and Hurt/Comfort Talking Time Travel Timeloops CPUK 20 spoilers idk what to tag it but j0hn's insides are descibed anyway home md im i right

-

J0hn's been around the clinic a lot lately. Nothing's wrong with him, he just wants to be sure of something.

#cpu kerfuffle #cpuk #Home MD #Larry the Florida Man #Hackerman J0hn #hackshifter #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #ive been having Home Thoughts

[somerandoticklewriter]

What Happens When You Leave Two Idiots Alone With An Edible Car

Guess who just posted Object Kerfuffle's first fanfic to AO3! That's right, Me! I hope y'all enjoy. I'm back on the tickle fics! 🥰

#tickle fic #object shows #object show community #object show tickles #object kerfuffle #ok osc #Object kerfuffle garlic bread #Object kerfuffle cheese Plate #Object kerfuffle ham and cheese crackers #Object kerfuffle FooDVD

[lewkwoodnco]

Hii I want to request Anthony Lockwood!fem reader, with the song I Can See You, where they are rivals kinda like him and Quill, and she hates him because his annoying, and he just likes to flirt with her to annoy her. And they get put on a case together by DEPRAC, and I don't know you could make some scene like from Lockwood&Co season 1, where he and Lucy where discovered by the relic man and his wife, I don't remember their name, but like something similar, where he is willing to do anything just so they don't hurt her. Also, could you put a dagger to the throat scene in somewhere, where the reader is holding a dagger to his throat, but all he can think about is kissing her. Obviously, you can make the plot so it suits the song. I hope you could write this as long as possible because I love long fics, and your Lockwood fics are just amazing!!

I Can See You - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: Had a bit of writers' block with this for a while, but I think it's one of my favourite works yet. TW slight suicidal and death mentions, spoilers for the ending of the second book in the series. 5.9k, enjoy!

Lucy Carlyle was currently looking back and forth between Lockwood and the leader of one of the teams from Fittes. Both of them were just staring intensely at each other in silence, expressions inscrutable. The Fittes agents watched their leader apprehensively while George was practically beside himself with glee.

"George, who's that?"

"Y/N L/N. Lockwood's had a bit of a thing for her for a while."

"Bit of a thing...?"

"They hardly agree on anything. Makes for some very entertaining cases, if dangerous. I've put money on her setting his coat on fire within five hours."

Lucy opened her mouth to ask more questions, but George shushed her impatiently.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

"Nice to see you too, Y/N.”

“Can't say I return the sentiment, Andrew.”

“Charming as ever, I see."

Barnes had sent them a letter a few hours ago, requesting their immediate assistance on yet another DEPRAC misson. That was nothing new, and neither was them being partnered up with a team from either Fittes or Rotwell. But a boyish glow had washed over Anthony as he skimmed the letter; he looked pleased enough to start humming. George didn't have as intense of a reaction, but his eyebrows had disappeared into his hair and he hadn't wasted time dawdling like he usually did. And now this stand-off. Strange.

“At least the papers get my name right.”

“I’d rather your lips get my name right."

"Oh, fuck off."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

There was a small kerfuffle as her teammates lunged to hold her back as she tried to launch herself at Lockwood.

"I take it back. Fuck you Lockwood, you and your agency can go to hell. Oh, hi George. Did you get my biscuits?"

"They were lovely. This is Lucy, by the way. New recruit."

"Hi Lucy. I like your boots."

"Thanks. I like your belt."

"Really? I got it for a really sweet deal."

"Well, while we're exchanging compliments," Lockwood began all too innocently, unperturbed by her glare, "I really like your jumper, Y/N."

A curious silence followed as she stared at Lockwood, trying to figure him out. Next to Lucy, George inhaled sharply as realisation struck. "Now that I think of it, might be best to lower it to three hours."

She finally broke the silence, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of falling for his only seemingly innocuous bait. "Right, well, I don't care. I hate it, in fact."

"Really?" He had the gall to raise his eyebrows as if genuinely surprised. "Hmm. I suppose you're right. It would look better on my bedroom floor."

She was too flustered to come up with any clever sort of response, only this choking sound that was a cross between a scoff and an expression of disgust. It was only because it was completely uncalled for, she reassured herself. Why would she want to know anything about his bedroom, floor or otherwise? She suddenly became aware of the murmurs running through her team and she rallied her senses as best she could.

"In your dreams, Lockwood."

"Ass-kisser."

"Rule-breaker."

"Goody-two-shoes."

"We're starting!" Barnes hurried in, so she had to settle for giving Lockwood a very dirty look. "Well, not much to it this time. We're missing source, a pair of opera glasses, recovered only a few hours ago."

Barnes holds out a file and Lockwood and her both lunge for it, but she's just a fraction quicker. Feeling unusually smug, she takes her time smelling the paper, flicking the page, glancing at the ghost of the competitive smile on Lockwood's lips.

"...we think it's more likely that they're still inside the house they were found in, but it's always possible that they've already been stolen-"

"Wait, a poltergeist?" She was holding the file open to the second page. "Inspector Barnes, you can't be serious!"

"You'll manage. Reports don't point to it being particularly vicious, and visiting the house is more of formality. We don't expect the source to still be there, buy we didn't check for hidden walls or flooring." One of Barnes' assistants leaned forward to whisper in his ear, and he nodded. "I have to go. Find the source."

With that, Barnes left, and the two teams stepped forward to absorb the space he left, Lockwood and her facing each other directly.

"Well then, to the house we go."

"Are you crazy? With a poltergeist? That's a suicide mission."

"But isn't that what Inspector Barnes said?"

"I don't know what kind of agency Lockwood & Co. is, but at Fittes we address our superiors with respect."

"If the source is at the house, we won't have to deal with Winkman. Case closed."

"My team would rather deal with Winkman than a poltergeist. Case open."

"No, your team wouldn't think that if they had actually dealt with Winkman before, like we have. Case closed."

"But-"

"Look, you do not want to deal with Winkman. Trust me on this."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air in the house was stale, and the creaky floorboards made her jump while the wind howling through some draft kept her on edge. In short, the worst kind of house to deal with a poltergeist. The corridors were so narrow, shrouded in darkness except for light from the ghost lamps filtering through the cracks in the ceiling, and everything smelt like death. They were walking in a single file, Lockwood and her at the end, just to make sure no one got left behind. Of course, that also meant that she had no respite from his incessant chatter, his warm breath tickling the nape of her neck.

"Would you quit it? I'm trying to Listen."

"We'll be fine. I happen to have the-"

"The best Listener in the country, yes, so you've mentioned. A few billion times."

"Aw, cheer up. I'm sure you're not half bad either."

"I'm perfectly cheerful, thank you very much."

"Then I wonder what you're like when you're actually all wound up."

That was her breaking point. She needed to assert herself if she had any hope of being even remotely civil towards Lockwood on what was beginning to look like a very long case. She spun around, pulling out her dagger and pushing the flat of the blade against Lockwood's neck while the rest of the party continued on, oblivious.

"Still no rapier? Y/N, you're going to get yourself killed. That butter knife of a weapon isn't going to do anything to a ghost."

"Listen, Anthony, I'm here to do a job, not entertain your charades, and I'd like to do so with as little casualties as possible. But if you don't stop, I think I can make an exception for you. Stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours. Are we clear?"

She revelled in his stunned expression, mouth ever-so-slightly agape, finally receiving his full attention. But as the glow of her satisfaction faded, she felt a lump growing uncomfortably in her throat, suddenly aware of the simmering hunger in his gaze, completely unable to tear her eyes away. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she could have sworn he ever so slightly licked his lips, and unbidden images of what they could, or would, do if they were alone flashed in her mind's eye. She felt rather than imagined his mouth pressed unyieldingly against hers, his hair in her fingers, their bodies pressed impossibly close to each other.

She inhaled sharply, blinking, unknowingly withdrawing within herself, her dagger resting on his collarbone rather than his throat. Lockwood's expression was back to normal, insufferable and aggravating as always, but there was a slightly less arrogant tilt to his head now.

"If you wanted me up against a wall, all you had to do was ask."

"I'm not even...going to deign you with a response to that. It's scarring to just think about." Not her best, but it was all she could force out without giving away the need bottled up inside of her. But she could see in the way that he wasn't quite meeting her eyes that he felt it too. That moment had permanently shifted their relations. From professional, if slightly hostile, to something far more intimate. It made her dizzy with want, or fear - she couldn't decide.

One of her teammates had stopped at the door at the end of the corridor, hand hovering over the doorknob. Lockwood squeezed past the single file, barely brushing against her, razor-sharp focus on the door. She hated the way her cheeks flushed at the slightest of his touches. He became a totally different person when he was working: dedicated, professional, capable, and the Fittes-agent in her couldn't help but find that efficiency desperately appealing. But it was more than that. As big as his ego was, he clearly didn’t think much of his casual nonchalance or confidence, and there were these increasingly frequent moments where she would be possessed by this sudden insanity to wrap her arms (rather than her hands) around his neck.

Months of suppressing and denying feeling anything other than despisal towards him certainly didn't help matters. It made her feel unstable, like she didn't have proper control over what she would do or say when she was around him. Kiss him, kill him, push him over a bridge...She spent half of her time with him enraptured and the other half trying not to think about him. She bit the inside of her cheek. There was something about his daring, his ability to throw himself in the direct line of fire that made him so dangerous, so addicting.

The boy at the front stepped back, relieved, as Lockwood pressed his ear to the door. He started turning the doorknob.

"Lockwood, don't, you can't hear a poltergeist. He's probably heard us by now but he hasn't done anything yet. Don't be foolhardy. It could be a trap."

"I don't think it's a trap."

"You don't know it's not a trap. We need to think about what to do next."

But it was too late. Lockwood swung the door open. In an instant, the floor heaved, then gave away, and suddenly she was falling through the air.

"Lockwood, I fucking hate your guts!"

Out of nowhere, she felt herself being grabbed by the waist and then almost immediately slammed into a wall. There was this awful ringing noise in her ear, but at least she had someone to hold onto.

"Please, save the dirty talk for the bedroom."

She groaned, wishing it was literally anyone else, trying to block out the warm feeling of his body pressed against hers.

"That's twice I've saved you now, by the way."

All she could manage was an incomprehensible scream which made Lockwood wince, not realising her lips were on the shell of his ear. Strangely enough, despite her panic, she felt oddly grounded by the feel of Lockwood's rough coat desperately clutched in her hands and his annoying yet normal quips. It was a new sensation. Plastered against her mortal enemy, and yet it was the only thing keeping her breathing? The intimacy of how she was wrapped around him made her breath hitch, and the anxiety it induced was enough to drive her back to the present.

Looking down was nauseating, and looking up was somehow worse. Lockwood had wound a loose wire from the ceiling around his knuckles, and it was digging a cut into his palm. She felt her grip loosen as her head spun, but the arm around her waist tightened. She felt a brief flicker of peace, or maybe hope, and then the ceiling started to crumble.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last bits of debris were still falling when she came to, but she could have sworn she had blacked out in fear for a moment. She couldn't feel any broken bones, only a heavy weight on her hip. She blinked away the blood and dust and saw the weight take the form of Lockwood.

"Well. I didn't know you were so scared of heights."

Lockwood didn't like admitting fault, and she didn't like admitting weakness. It was such a silly thing to be afraid of, but and when all Lockwood did was push her to the precipice of territories unknown, she didn't know what to do with the fear running through her. Didn't know what to do, except lash out.

"Get off. Get off.”

"Geez, take me out to dinner first." She finally snapped.

"This is all your fault!" She yanked him towards herself by the lapels of his coat, yelling at him through tears. "That's twice you've put our lives in danger, idiot. I told you it wasn't worth it, that we would be so much better off at Winkman's, but you just had to go for the more dangerous option. You just had to open that door. Anthony Lockwood, you're a professional show-off. What if someone on my team died today? You'd just skip on home while I would have to live with that grief for the rest of my life. You don't know what it's like to see someone Ghost-touched in front of your eyes and being completely and utterly helpless."

The lines on his face hardened. "Y/N, if the worst thing to you is death, you won't stand a chance against Winkman."

"What do you know? You've demolished an entire house. Face it Lockwood, everything you touch gets destroyed."

He was finally out of smartass quips. She felt small just saying that. She knew it was too far, and under-handed, but she was just so mad she couldn't help but spit fire. Why did he have to be so reckless? Didn't he realise his luck would only last him so long?

She felt an awful prickling at the back of her eyes, and she tried to convince herself that no one noticed the rough edge to her voice. "I think it's best we go our separate ways." With a heavy heart, she turned, her team tiredly following her, no one pulling her back to stay this time. Feeling the floor fall beneath her feet and seeing Lockwood grasping for life with his fingertips was too frightening for her to stay, and if that meant she was a coward, so be it.

Too much of a coward to even look him in the eye.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her team decided to stop for supper before tackling Winkman, not that she managed to eat much. The events at the house sat like lead in her churning stomach as she turned the memories and images in her head, until she felt numb. It was either that, or acknowledging that she just might be the worst person in the entire world. Distantly, she heard her team discussing their plan of attack at Winkman's, and suddenly her mouth was forming words her brain wasn't aware of.

"I'll go. No point in all of us going, we wouldn't be stealthy enough. Besides, I'm responsible for all of you. Contact DEPRAC if I'm not back in 12 hours." With that, she stood up and left before she could properly hear her team's protests.

As she drew nearer to Winkman's, she heard repeated dull, echoing thuds of metal hitting metal. She crept up cautiously with her hand on her dagger, then visibly relaxed when she saw it was just Lockwood hammering away at the lock.

"Oh. It's you." Apart from a glance, Lockwood acted like he didn't even hear her, or know her, with an impassive expression. A part of her was angry, but another part knew it was what she deserved.

"You're lucky it was just me. That dagger's not scaring off anyone." She fumed. Did he have to be so antagonistic? Why couldn't he be nice or just civil like a normal person?

"The dagger works perfectly fine for me. I have no trouble scaring anyone off."

"Yeah, I can see that." His voice was so rough with hurt and resentment that she instantly regretted everything she just had to say. She opened her mouth to apologise, but was interrupted by the final clang of Lockwood's rapier and the thud of the lock falling off.

"Lockwood, I'm really sor-"

"Save it. Somehow, that's still not the most frustrating thing about you."

Her mouth dropped open, and it was a good few seconds before she spluttered and found her voice again. "Frustrating? ME? Are you out of your mind?"

She felt her back slam against the aluminium door, not much different from how she had cornered Lockwood in the house. Lockwood's arms caged her in, but he didn't make her feel nearly as claustrophobic as her emotions did, threatening to claw their way up her throat. He was impossibly close, breath ghosting over her face, overwhelming her senses, and she felt every rational thought scatter in her brain, like loose marbles. His voice was gravelly, almost tender, and she didn't trust herself to speak.

"What would you do..." She didn't resist the arm snaking around her waist, nudging her closer. "If I held you like this..." His other arm reached into her scalp, sending a shiver down her spine, cradling her head and exposing her neck in a way that made her feel too vulnerable. His breath tickled her ear, threatening to snap every single one of her highly-strung nerves, mouth just a few inches below her temple. "...and kissed you?"

For a few short seconds, all she was aware of was her distracted, erratic heartbeat and the feel of Lockwood all around her. She felt her legs losing circulation and her knees threatened to buckle at any moment. He pulled back, cold air rushing in to take his place and sting her scarlet cheeks. Her answer must have been written all over her face, making Lockwood laugh sardonically.

"But no, Y/N L/N is too good, too proud to be involved with anyone beneath her. So she'll deny and push down any sort of feeling or passion," he spit that word out with such vehemence, "Like she's some saint, too holy to meddle with mortal sins like love. No, no, so in your perfect, sensible words, let's just stay out of each other's way." Even though they were her own words, it stung to have them thrown back in her face with such malice. Lockwood started on one end of the warehouse, and she started on the other end, sifting through the hoards of trinkets as if on autopilot.

"I wasn't kidding before. It really is dangerous to carry a dagger instead of a rapier. You'd be ghost touched before you realised."

Lockwood's voice floated above, somewhere beyond the walls of junk. Her hands trembled as she continued, guilt gnawing away at her, fixating on the feeling of his hands on her.

"And just so you know, if someone on your team died, whether or not it was because of me, I would very much care. I don't think I would be able to live with myself."

She groaned internally, the beginnings of a migraine spreading through her temple. Why did he have to be so complicated? "Which is why," he continued, "you should go back. I've handled him before, and I can handle him again. You're way out of your depth here."

"I've been an agent nearly as long as you have. I'll be fine. Just focus on finding the glasses so both of us can get out of here."

"No, you won't. Trust me on this. Leave."

"Lockwood," she began irritatedly. She was so very tired. Why did Barnes ever think they would make a good, or even functional team? "I mean it. Stop being an ass and just look for the glasses, okay? Lockwood? Lockwood?"

She crept around the aisle, peeking from behind a tapestry. Her vision was limited, but she could see enough. Lockwood was kneeling, talking soothingly to this little boy of about five. There didn't seem to be anything obviously hostile about him, but something about the scene deeply unsettled her. Suddenly, there was a flash of electricity at Lockwood's neck, and he slumped forward. She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming, tasting blood.

She turned away as the woman who had shocked him dragged him off. Her heart shifted into overdrive. She looked around blurrily, fighting back tears, shoving down the panic and bile rising in her throat. She had to save him. No, she had to find the glasses first. Then she would come back with reinforcements. It was only logical. But what if it was too late by then? She clumsily searched the little cartons, making more noise than she would have liked, breathing shallowly as she desperately fought the panic attack hovering over her.

Maybe it was just her heightened anxiety now that she was alone, but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up. She spun around and was badly startled by that same boy - Winkman's grubby gremlin of a son. Oddly enough, it grounded her enough to stop spiralling. "What are you looking at? God, you're so creepy. Quit it with that smile, your cute act won't work on - oh."

And it was just as those words fell from her lips and the world turned black that she realised her horrendous, absolutely awful mistake.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the world came back into focus, she felt terrible. Every joint in her body was screaming for relief and her sore muscles ached. Once she had adjusted to the blinding light, she felt the rough floor against her cheek, heard voices around her; one behind her and one in front. She felt...distant, somehow, but she was sure one of them was Lockwood's...so the other had to be Winkman's.

She shifted her fingers as much as she dared, heart in her mouth for fear of being caught at any second. The muffled voices continued miles away from her, as if she wasn't even in the room, one of them becoming increasingly agitated. What was Lockwood even doing? Couldn't he see that she was awake?

She blinked imperceptibly, and the blood roaring in her ears finally died down. Her head hurt and her senses were too stimulated to think straight, but she managed to pick out Lockwood's voice eventually.

"I'm telling you, I don't know her. We're not even from the same agency."

"Is that so?"

"She might not even be an agent, I don't see a rapier on her." She felt a stab of annoyance and then overwhelming relief. Her other hand was stuck beneath her, but if she could just wriggle it around enough - yes. She still had her dagger. Her fingers closed over the handle, waiting for the right time to strike.

"Then you won't mind if I..." Winkman trailed off, and her glow of happiness was immediately extinguished by the feeling of a cold barrel pressed against her skull. It took all her efforts to not openly panic. She closed her eyes tighter, bracing for the pull of the trigger as she heard the gun click.

"Don't!" Lockwood's voice reverberated in the dingy room, startling everyone.

"So you do know her."

"I don't, I just think that she shouldn't have to die when she hasn't done anything wrong. She just got caught in the middle of this. Please, she can't tell you anything. Just let her go."

"How would you know? Fittes uniform...looks like some higher-up. She probably knows something of value, and I could probably force it out of her," he pressed the gun more insistently into her skull, "if not out of you."

Her mouth was dry as her heart hammered against her chest. She was going to die here, she could feel it. Suddenly, she heard Lockwood speaking in a rush, breathless, and she felt her heart sink.

"Fine. I know her. And I know she doesn't have anything you want. But I do. Whatever you want to know- want to do, do it to me, I'll tell you everything. You can kill me, I'll never see the light of day again, and no one will find out. No one will come looking. Just let her leave, she won't breathe a word of this to anyone else, I promise."

She could feel Winkman consider his words, and after a moment or two, she felt the barrel being lifted from her head. That was all she needed.

With her free, outstretched hand, she grabbed the barrel, hoping and praying Winkman's finger wasn't on the trigger. Her prayers were answered, and she jerked the rifle upwards, which punched him in the jaw. His grip loosened, and she turned the rifle on him, slipping Lockwood her dagger with her other hand to cut himself out of his restraints.

"Take one step towards us, and I'll shoot." Winkman was right where she wanted him, because there was nothing more terrible for a man as selfish as him than dying, missing the chance to enjoy his spoils. Her voice was calm and belied the rage simmering underneath her. How dare they hold Lockwood hostage like that? They were going to pay, and she would make sure of it. She was so furious, and all reason had been thrown out the window by that point.

"Actually, I don't need a reason to blow your fucking brains out." She raised the rifle, taking aim, just about to pull the trigger, when she felt Lockwood's hand on her shoulder. She didn't even turn to look at him, but she immediately felt the anger bubbling within her flow out, replaced by the gasping relief that everything was going to be fine.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She kept the rifle trained on the couple as best as she could with her trembling hands as she and Lockwood slowly backed away, then broke into a sprint, rifle tossed to the side halfway through. When they had finally run far enough into the city, they stopped at a bench underneath a ghost lamp, and for several seconds there was only the sound of their panting as they struggled to catch their breaths.

"I think," she began breathlessly, "that's the third time you've saved my neck." Lockwood looked at her from the corner of his eye, and she smiled so earnestly that they couldn't help but laugh. Their laughter swelled in the silence of the night.

But the laughter was temporary, just like their relief, and once they fell silent, the tension from earlier returned and occupied that vacancy. She pulled out a mini first-aid kit and started cleaning up his cut, which looked grimy and almost definitely infected by now.

"What was that, at Winkman's? You were practically begging him to kill you."

He didn't respond, and his eyes had taken on a dull sheen. It confirmed everything she needed to know.

"I...I guessed, a little...never would have thought it true."

It was like talking to a mannequin, except for the occasional wince when the rubbing alcohol stung. She didn't even recognise her own voice. It hurt to think about her being more attached to Lockwood's life than he was. The vigour with which she bandaged his cut grew with her words.

"It...It feels weird when you say things like no one would come looking for you. Your friends care about you so much. George would burn down the Archives if it meant saving you-" Lockwood groaned at the idea. "-and yes, he will bitch and moan about it for probably years on end, but if it meant you sticking around? He'd do it in a heartbeat. And I'm sure Lucy is no different either. I don't know how you got this weird idea that we'd just move on with our lives if you disappeared, because we wouldn't. Lockwood, people care about you, so stop being an arse and just let them."

"Even you?"

She paused, pretending to focus on the ointment. Opening up was as difficult as cracking a walnut open, but it was a bit too late to avoid all this. "I get restless if I don't see you in the papers for a while, whether it be for burning a house down or actually getting a job right. And every morning when I pick up the paper, I hope...I hope i don't see your obituary. So yes, Lockwood, I would hate it if you were dead. Who else am I going to butt heads and dream about making out with?"

Lockwood sat up, suddenly very interested. "Relax, it was a joke, just trying to breathe some life back into you. There, you're all done."

He fidgeted, looking down at the blood bleeding through the thick layers of the gauze bound almost a little too tightly to his palm. In the pale yet weak light of the ghost lamp, he suddenly seemed years younger, someone just like her. Someone who may have been a rival, but first and foremost, was an equal. She felt this sudden pang inside her heart. She dropped her voice, as if saying it a little louder would make her feelings for Lockwood all the more real.

"I didn't mean, what I said, earlier." Lockwood waited for her to continue. She had said a lot earlier. "About you being...destructive. I guess I was just furious that you had me a wreck when you weren't even trying all that hard. I'm such a mess, Lockwood, you have no idea. My dagger?" she pulled it out with some difficulty, wiping away the grime on it with her sleeve, her bloody face staring back at her. "It's just because I suck at using a rapier. I'm not even middling, I suck so bad it's not even funny. Stop!" Lockwood's mouth was twitching at the corners and when she finally looked up, looking like a cat left out in the rain, all because she couldn't handle a rapier, he lost it. "You know, you wouldn't be laughing like this if you actually saw me-" That just made him laugh even harder. She shook her head, waiting for him to finish.

"Y/N," he began, once he was done laughing. "You really are better than any medicine." He interlocked his fingers with her, raising her hand to kiss the back of it. "You can't handle a rapier yet, so what? I'll teach you. And then you'd need loads and loads of practice before you could get anywhere as good as me."

"I'm not done." He threw his head back dramatically. "I have a list!"

"Of course you do."

"I heard that." There was something infectious about his teasing smile, but its warmth was fading fast as she unpacked a memory she had shoved into the corner of her mind. She didn't like thinking about it too much, it made her too hopeless. Even now, she felt waves of despair crashing over her. "I didn't mean to fly at you like that earlier. It's just, my mum's been ghost-locked for a few months, and I'm not having the easiest time dealing with it."

She felt Lockwood still next to her, hating yet craving his sympathy. It had been so hard to wake up each morning, put on her suit, and go about her life while fighting the very real fear of never speaking to her mother again. It was like a long, drawn-out death that repeated every day. He wordlessly pulled her in as she sobbed into his chest, unravelling at the seams. If it was anyone else, she would have been mortified, but with Lockwood...it was different. It always had been.

"I understand," he murmured into her hair, "my sister was Ghost-touched in front of me. "If I had cared a little more...she might still be alive today."

That just made her sob even harder. How did he stand it, her hurling every insult in the book at him, when she didn't know the first thing about him? She don't know how long she cried, long enough to release months' worth of pent up grief, but Lockwood didn't show a single sign of wanting to let go. She wrapped her arms around him as she calmed down. She never wanted to let go of him.

"I never thought you were beneath me." Her voice was muffled as she spoke into his chest. "You own a property in central London, for God's sake."

"Not much else, mind you."

"If anything, I would have thought myself beneath you." She finally peeled her face off his shirt to see him raising his eyebrows with mock innocence, and she nearly shoved him off the bench. "Gosh, not like that. You're like a walking...sex...maniac. Is that all you ever think about?"

"When I'm around you? Most definitely." She groaned, but for the first time, she allowed herself to laugh too.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had a crush on me."

"Lucky for you, I don't know better, and I can say I do." They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the first respite in what had been a very chaotic night.

"I still can't believe Irene's been Ghost-locked."

"Irene? Have you been...corresponding with my mother?" Lockwood shifted awkwardly, jerking his head up.

"Do you hear that? Is that Barnes?"

"Lockwood."

"Yes, that's most definitely Barnes."

"Barnes isn't even here! Lockwood. Lockwood!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was sitting in the waiting room outside Barnes' office. It was morning now, and the room was filled with a pleasant warmth. She had already given her account of the events while Lockwood was being stitched up by the paramedics, and now she was waiting for him to finish his report after her head was bandaged up.

The door opened with a soft click, and Lockwood stepped out wearily, the exhaustion finally catching up to him as well. He smiled weakly. Even after a long night she sat with perfect posture, legs crossed neatly, looking the paradigm of innocence with hair gleaming like honey in the sunrise. It was maddening to Lockwood. He could never get enough of her little intricacies.

"You have no idea how much I've hated your necktie. It distracts me so."

"It's not a necktie, it's just a tie. You'd know that if you weren't so pretentious."

She grinned, reeling him in by his tie, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. She pulled away, walking out of the waiting room where the rest of her team was waiting.

They had discussed it on the way to DEPRAC's headquarters. The papers would have a field day if they caught wind of their relationship, and they would spin it and twist it in every which way. The less negative press they got, the better.

"I'd lose my job."

"Come work for me."

"Does your insurance cover ghost-lock of family members?"

Lockwood swore.

Now, he reluctantly followed her out, where George and Lucy celebrated him being in one piece. They turned to leave when she spoke up across the lobby.

"Lockwood."

Both agencies froze, watching uncertainly. George hopefully wandered towards the fire extinguisher. "I'd absolutely hate it if I needed your agency's help on our next case."

"I'd hate it even more."

"Good to see we're on the same page. Fingers crossed I never see you again."

She quirked the corner of her mouth, and Lockwood had to purse his lips to keep from smiling. Lucy looked back and forth, as confused as she was at the beginning of the case, turning to George.

"What was that about?" George groaned.

"Never mind that, you have no idea how much money I've lost..."

#fanfiction #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #fanfic #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood x y/n #I can see you #taylor swift #speak now taylor’s version #from the vault #requested

[boxboxlewis]

ty to babes @officialmood and @rosyjuly for the tag to post a wip snip! this is from my @f1hallmarkfest fic:))

Max steps into the shop and peers around. As the door swings shut behind him the noise from the street is cut off and the scent of chocolate envelopes him, heady and warm, rich with undertones he can’t quite place. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, and when they do he’s surprised by how small the interior of the shop is: there’s a tiny marble counter with a till, and a door to a back room, and some display cases, and that’s basically it. There’s nowhere to sit. Not much to look at. There are no other customers, which is good, because Max isn’t sure they’d fit. There’s no one behind the counter, either, which is less ideal for his purposes.

“Hello?” Max calls. “Are you open?”

There’s a rattling sound from somewhere in the back room, and a crash, and then the door swings open and the most handsome man Max has ever seen bursts through. “Shit! Yeah! Hi, hey, hello, I am definitely open, please buy some—Fuck! Right, one minute.” He bursts back through the door. Max waits, less impatiently than he might have expected.

After a few minutes the interior door opens again, more sedately this time, and the man comes back through. “Howdy, pardner,” he says, beaming a giant smile at Max. It’s unclear why he’s talking like a cowboy when he should, according to Max’s careful research, be Australian. “Sorry about that-there kerfuffle, I had a minor caramel emergency. What can I do you for?”

“I,” says Max. Being in the same room as this guy is turning his brain off. It’s taking about 90% of his mental energy not to blurt out Please can I lick you. “I would like to buy. Some chocolate.”

“Well, I don’t want to brag, but you’ve come to the right place.” The guy grins, hitches up his striped apron and perches on the marble counter. Which is a health code violation, surely. “Is there a particular occasion?”

Max had planned out a whole cover story, which he has now forgotten. “Um,” he says. “Yes. Yes, I want to—I want to buy some chocolates for my mum.” She’ll like that, at least.

The guy nods at Max, very serious, as if choosing the right chocolates for a mother is a matter of grave importance. “Yeah, great. Mums love chocolate. I mean, everyone loves chocolate, because chocolate’s fucking beautiful. Okay. I don’t want to judge but I’m thinking from the accent maybe Mum isn’t local? You want stuff that’ll ship well?”

“Yes,” Max agrees. It’s frankly outrageous how attractive the guy is. Victoria would be going nuts, if she were here. 

The guy says, “Okay, let’s figure this out. I’m Daniel, by the way.” So he is the owner, then. The one Max has come to crush. He looks questioningly at Max, who can feel himself turning red.

“Uh. Max. I am Max.”

tagging @onadarklingplain @missyourflight @grideon @enparallel @andwegogreen IF u want to!

#wips #maxiel #mv33 #dr3 #chocolate au !!!