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bunnyhugs77 · 4 months

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High Demand

ꕤ- Pairing: Dealer! Jungkook x Reader

ꕤ- WC: 2.6k

ꕤ- A modern day Romeo and Juliet

Content: college student! reader, grumpy jk, brief texting! au, jk is lowkey whipped, drug use (marijuana), reader is his special customer, vaping, opposites attract, suggestive themes, minor jealousy, idiots in love (but they won't admit it), shot gunning, grinding, fwb?

Other Content: thigh riding, high sex, jk titty appreciation, unprotected sex (no.), hand job, soft dom kook, reader is a little needy, brief switch! koo, hickeys, pet names, spit, biting.

Shaking your head with a small giggle as you looked at your phone before tossing it aside. You're totally his favourite. You know he's stubborn and he would never admit it but deep down he loves delivering to you the most.

Looking around your sad and dimly lit dorm, all the lights were off and your roommate was gone for the weekend doing god knows what with her weird ass biology major boyfriend who would collect rabbit tails in jars for 'science'.

You were looking at one right now actually, it seems they left one behind, on the coffee table. It was just fermenting in... you actually weren't sure and didn't want to know.

Your eyes felt like they were on fire the longer you looked at the stupid philosophy paper you were writing. The bright light from your laptop was beginning to drill into your head. Your head lolled to the side glancing at the time on your phone.

It was almost 11:30, and time for a break. Abandoning the device on the couch for a quick wake-up shower; by the time you'd gotten changed and returned to the living room, you could expect Jungkook any minute now.

Except, this is Jungkook we're talking about. He's always late.

That's why when you heard the familiar rattling of the rusty fire escape you were startled. It was a little past midnight. Climbing through the window in nothing but your basketball shorts and a white tee.

Pleasantly surprised to see Jungkook scaling the platform with a bag of takeout pinned in between his teeth. The sight of you looking down at him from where he climbed made his eyebrows raise but of course he couldn't say anything.

Not until he was finally close enough for you to grab the bag from his mouth and he stands up. You climb back inside first with him following behind with a pained sigh. "I'm so sick of coming here. Got me climbing walls like its fucking subway surfers." He curses while you place the food down on the table.

Completely ignoring him, practically drooling as you slowly peeled open the bag. "And I thought you said you weren't gonna bring me anything." He snatches the bag.

"I didn't."

You let yourself fall onto the couch, arms crossed and unbelieving. "Oh yeah? So you just coincidentally craved Wendy's and decided to haul it up three flights up a ladder from your mouth when you could've just eaten it in the car?"

"Yeah exactly." He shrugs, obviously lying.

"Give me the bag, Jungkook."

"Fine. But I'm charging you extra for the delivery and the labour of bringing it up here." He hands it to you and you roll your eyes knowing it was nothing more than a bluff.

"It's not my fault you're out of shape," you mumble unwrapping the burger. "Oh yeah? Is this what out of shape looks like to you?" He says it almost offended but challenged.

Choking briefly on your food as he lifts up his shirt, revealing the defined abs that you have such lewd memories of. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You try climbing 3 flights up a ladder and tell me it's easy." You shrug,

"Not my fault you're banned from the campus." He drops himself down beside you, reaching for the bag of fries and taking some for himself. "But it is, if you hadn't called me to drop off a stash for Angelica's dorm party maybe I could still take the stairs."

You drop your half-eaten burger with apologetic eyes, "How was I supposed to know they were doing random security checks in the lobby? At least you didn't get arrested." You pout and he scoffs.

"Bare minimum." He says via grumpy mutter under his breath so you offered up the rest of your food to him as a peace offering. A little sad that he actually took it but you were getting full anyway.

As he finished up the rest of your food you couldn't stop yourself from asking, "So do you still do drops with Angelica?" He nods with his mouth full of the last bite, stuffing the wrappers back in the bag.

"How often does she call you?-- for deliveries I mean." He chuckles, licking his lips, "Jealous?" You take the trash off the coffee table and bring it to the kitchen to toss it in the garbage. "You're delusional."

"I can't help it if I'm in high demand." He manspreads, his arms stretched over the back of the couch. "Just shut up. Do you have my pen?" He reaches for the pocket inside his leather jacket, pulling out the slim box.

Already knowing that you were going to use it now, he began to unbox it while you collected the cash you needed. "40 right?" You say handing him the small spread of bills, "Yeah, but for you, I guess I could make it 30." He shrugs conceitedly.

"Because I'm your favourite." You say and he shakes his head, "No. Because I ate your food." Which he paid for but you didn't dare to say that out loud, you were getting cheap weed.

"So who's your favourite then Jungkook?" He hands you the pen, "Listen. I don't climb up the fire escape when I do deliveries for Angelica, I make her come to me. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Trying to tug the pen out of his grasp but he holds it firm until you respond, "I guess I can work with that." He smiles softly, letting you take the first hit as his arm wraps around your shoulder.

The two of you passed the pen back and forth, with little giggles here and there and wide eyes on the episode of SpongeBob that was playing.

By now the dark living room is illuminated by nothing more than your roommate's lava lamp and a strip of purple LEDs' taped behind the TV. You could see the smoke as it floated past the few sources of light.

"Open." He directs, taking a particularly long hit, leaning into you and blowing the pungent smoke into your mouth, sucking it in from his lips.

The pen is now forgotten as it rolls between the cracks of the couch. Straddling Jungkook's muscular thigh as he flexed it every now and then, taking hits from his blueberry Ice vape and blowing it to the ceiling, giving you a prime view of his sharp jaw under the soft purple lighting.

The sight made you shake, gyrating your hips almost desperately as you chased the feeling of friction on his denim-clad thigh. "You like that? You feel good fucking yourself on my thigh?" The question was rhetorical, you were too dazed to answer him anyway.

Your heavy-lidded gaze slowly rolls up to his pretty face once you feel his hand move from your hips to gently wrap around your neck, not applying any pressure, just there to let you feel the weight of his hand. "Answer me," He says, and you fall forward "Yess, feels so good." You moan, and Jungkook has danced this dance with you enough to see you were close.

But of course, he couldn't let you cum so soon, not yet. His hands flew to your hips and pinned you down on his thigh, restricting your range of motion. "Please," You beg and he wishes he had a little more willpower but he couldn't say no to you, not when you looked so fucked out when he's barely touched you.

"Fuck. Take your shirt off." Leaning back and crossing your arms over the base of the shirt, you pried it off your body desperately. Leaving you in your black lacy bra and it pulled out a guttural groan from Jungkook's chest.

"You little whore." he grits through his clenched teeth, grip tightening on the arm of the couch nearly ripping the fabric.

This position was no longer giving him what he so desperately craved. Shrugging the jacket from off his shoulders and taking off the tank top underneath letting your eyes roam over his built upper body, oh how you wanted to just...

Without thinking your tongue striped up the expanse of his bulky pecs. This was new, but Jungkook was so high out of his mind anything and everything you did felt like he was on cloud 9.

Your mouth dropped down to wrap around his rosy nipples and you could've never anticipated the worked-up reaction you got from him. "Oh shit, shit shit." He gasps, hands gripping your waist tight enough that you're sure there will be bruises by the morning.

Letting your tongue lap around his nipples with pure hunger, an inexplicable flame burning in your core as you were finally the one who got to watch the other be reduced to a moaning mess.

His once soft moans turned a little breathy and high-pitched, His hips bucked causing you to jolt in his lap, he was getting close.

"Didn't think you'd like having your tits played with so much?" You tease him but he didn't find the humour in it. He holds you by the throat once more, this time applying a generous amount of pressure, pushing you off him.

Unbuckling his belt and you knew what that meant. He slides out of his pants, followed by the boxers that were the last barrier between your moistened lips and his throbbing cock. "Let's put that smart mouth of yours to good use, yeah?" He hums, watching as you sink to your knees, hand carefully wrapped around his base, starting with slow pumps.

"Spit on it." Doing as told, you let a wad of spit fall from your pretty, plush lips and coat the shaft of his dick, you worked your palm up his length. Already satisfied with the way his head was thrown back.

"Just like that," Reaching for the vape, he takes a few good hits, the head rush mixed with the pleasure had him seeing stars-- the object falling from his hands immediately the moment he felt the warm heat of your mouth wrap around his sensitive tip.

"Y/n-" He breathes out, almost scared, he was so close, too soon. He's never struggled to hold himself back this badly before. What were you doing to him?

The obscene sounds of you choking as you struggled to take all of him in your mouth, letting your nose touch the soft, trimmed hairs near his base. Focusing on breathing through your nose before you felt a heavy hand on the back of your head, pushing you lower.

You were quite literally slobbering on his dick, gagging with every buck of his hips. "That's it, princess. You're doing so well--Shit. Mouth feels like fucking heaven." His praise rushes to your core and has your left hand trailing down to rub yourself through your lace underwear.

The rough friction being more than enough to get you there, "I'm gonna cum, baby. Where-- Shit!-- Where do you want it?" He gasps, his hips snapping, pushing his length down your throat almost erratically. You don't answer, only hollowing your cheeks to take him deeper, making your desires clear.

Your own fingers quickening their pace, your own sounds travelling through his dick in vibrations and pushing him right over the edge with you, filling your mouth with his warm cum.

Swallowing as if it were second nature. "Stick out your tongue," He says softly. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to regain his composure from his overwhelming climax. Your tongue was out and cleared of any of his cum and it made him crazy.

He remembers the first time he'd brought an order to you over 6 months ago. He thought you were nothing more than a cute little philosophy major, never did he think he'd have you beneath him like he does right now.

Looking up at him, daring to give you an almost angelic gaze while the two of you ruined each other. Tainting each other with your own touches. "Kiss me?" You ask it so cutely, tempting him with the pout on your lips. You weren't being fair.

His body didn't give him a choice before his lips were on yours, his hips grinding into yours. The feeling of his solid dick rolling against your skin making the butterflies go ramped in your stomach.

The way you licked over his bottom lip with your own made Jungkook weak, stumbling on his elbows as he held himself up over you. Soft groans could be heard the deeper the kiss became.

Messy and intimate. Your hand crept up the back of his neck to tug at the dark locks of hair on his head. There was a loud pop and the two of you paused.

With Jungkook between your legs and with you under him, your heads turned slowly towards the coffee table where the jar was, dedicated to the fermenting rabbit tail. "What the fuck is that?" Jungkook slowly sits up, "My roommate's boyfriend's weird biology shit. I dunno, it freaks me out too." You sit up, now remembering what the two of you were in the middle of doing.

"That shit's not gonna blow up or anything right." You gently peck him on the lips but his brain seems preoccupied by the jar, "who knows," you say, kissing right under his ear and that seemed to get him to zone in on you.

Catching his bottom lip under his teeth as your kisses became more eager, suckling on a certain spot on his neck, his head falling back against his will. "Fuck, Y/n-- Don't you dare." You pull off his soft skin with a soft pop, admiring the burgundy bruise left behind.

"Oops." Your apology was ingenuine and bratty, and Jungkook hated brats.

Tearing you out of your final pieces of clothing before manhandling you into his lap. "Sit on it." He demands and you follow without question. Moaning out loud as his dick spread your lips apart like butter.

Sliding down with ease and a stretch of your velvety walls that were currently squeezing Jungkook for everything he's got and he's got nothing left, everything was yours.

"I-Shit! You feel so good, Kook!" He couldn't bother to correct you on the annoying nickname you were incessant on using. "Yeah? You like that- fuck, you feel so good." He curses, bucking his hips up into you as you raise your hips trying to match his thrusts.

He was fucking you so good, so ruthlessly, your head falls onto his shoulder and you needed more than just the couch to hold on to, your teeth sank into the muscular meat of his shoulder and his pace faltered.

"Shit shit shit! Do that again." He groans, picking up an inhumane pace that had you bouncing all over the place until he stilled you in his arms. His grunts and breathy moans came out right beside your ear only pushing you to your orgasm faster.

"J-jungkook-!" You pant, unable to speak, feeling like your insides are being rearranged, "Me too, baby. Cum with me." You finish first, and with a few more unsynchronized snaps of his hips, you were being filled to the brim with his cum.

The room is filled with nothing but the sound of muffled music playing from your neighbour's next door and laboured breaths. Jungkook gently lays you down on the couch beside him, staring into your eyes.

This felt so intimate. You felt his gaze deeper than just behind your eyes, it was as if he was looking into your soul. His eyes were tinted red as he looked at you with an adoring gaze. "You're cute." He says it casually as though he hadn't just fucked you.

Your eyes roll before they close, feeling the sleepiness begin to kick in. "Bet you say that to all your customers." Mumbling the words into his chest while he began to grin a little.

"Nope. Only to my favourite." Your eyes shoot open.

"I knew it."

#jungkook #bts #jungkook fic recs #jungkook ff #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #bts one shot #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook

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entitled-fangirl · 3 months

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Two idiots in love. (P5)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: Henry and Sam interrupt the trio's plan. And Joel says something that will either make or break what he has with the reader.

Warning: blood, guns, Infected, fighting, cursing

Masterlist

Part 1 and 6

.........................................................

Joel was on his knees behind Y/N, digging through her hair, checking the injury on the back of her head. "Well, good news. Just a little scrape. Head bleeds more than the rest of the body, so it only looks like it's bad."

She hummed before looking over her shoulder at him. When she felt him staring at her, she completely swiveled on the ground to face him. His eyes were studying her closely.

She sighed, "…why do you do that?"

His eyebrows furrowed, "Do what?"

She wasn't sure how to even explain her thoughts, so she dropped it, "Just… nothing."

Joel didn't want to push her anymore than she already had been today, so he dropped it, too. "Go lay down, Darlin."

She smiled, standing up, "…There's that accent again."

He scoffed under his breath, standing too.

This seemed to be the longest Ellie had been quiet. So, she took it upon herself to break the moment, "How long are we gonna be here?"

Joel sighed, "We'll survey the roof in the morning."

Then he started scattering glass around the door, leading all the way to their makeshift beds, which consisted of old couch cushions.

The sound of glass falling was killing their ears, and finally, Ellie yelled out, "Joel!"

He stopped, "What?"

"What are you doing?"

"I don't want someone sneaking' up on us while we're sleepin'."

"Oh! I get it. Crunch, crunch, crunch." She got a smirk, "Are you sure you're gonna hear it?"

"Of course, I'll hear it. That's the damn point."

…

Joel woke up to the sound of Y/N's panicked voice. "Joel…?"

"JOEL!"

His eyes opened.

Ellie was held at gunpoint by a man in his twenties.

Y/N was still seated on the ground with her hands up in surrender.

Joel turned.

A young boy held a gun to Joel's head.

The man spoke up quickly, "Eyes on me."

Joel simply stared at him, determining his next move.

The man continued, "You don't have to worry about what to say. We don't wanna hurt you. We wanna help you."

Joel's voice was strained, "Okay…"

"Okay… um… I don't know what the next step is with something like this, but… if I lower my gun… We didn't hurt you, so you don't hurt us, right?"

Joel's eyes never left the man. "That's right."

The man tilted his head in panic, "That's a weird fucking tone, man."

Ellie spoke up, "That's just the way he sounds. He has an asshole voice. Joel, tell him he's okay."

"Everything is great."

Y/N looked over her shoulder. "Joel…"

The man was confused, "Fuck. Okay. I'm gonna trust you."

He began to sign to the boy. They communicated back and forth a few times before he spoke up again, "Okay. But if you guys try anything… yeah?"

Silence ensued before the man motioned for the boy to step back.

Joel's jaw clenched when they didn't pull their guns away, "Can I sit up?"

"…Yeah. Slow. Get up slow."

Joel did so, keeping his hands raised, "Who are you?"

"My name's Henry. That's my brother, Sam."

…

The five sat in the building around a lantern, eating rations.

"Where did you get these?" Henry asked.

"From Bill," Ellie answered. "He's dead."

Joel reached out, giving the rest of his portion to Sam, who took it happily. He motioned to Henry.

Henry spoke up again, "He says thank you. I'm guessing you don't have much, so, this means a lot."

Ellie smiled, "How old is he?"

"He's eight."

"Cool. I'm Ellie."

Henry's eyes moved to Y/N, waiting for an introduction.

She felt his gaze, "Oh. Uh. Y/N."

When Joel didn't answer, Ellie slapped his leg.

He grunted. "I'm Joel. Look, you ate, we didn't kill each other, let's call this a win-win and move on."

Henry nodded, "Well, I'm betting that y'all came up here to get a view of the city and plan a way out. And when the sun's up… I'll show you one."

…

"Highways. Downtown. Us." Henry pointed out on his makeshift map. "This whole are belongs to Kathleen."

Y/N spoke up, "She's in charge?"

Joel wrapped his arm around her waist slowly and unknowingly, as if instinct. She in turn, leaned against his side.

Henry nodded, "Leader of the resistance. So. How do we get across?" He signed to Sam.

Sam wrote on his paper tablet the word tunnels.

Joel scowled, "Kansas City has a subway?"

"No, maintenance tunnels."

"Alright. Great plan. So what do you need me for?"

Henry sighed, "You noticed anything strange about this city?"

Ellie hummed, "No infected?"

"Oh, there's infected."

Y/N connected the dots, "But not on the surface…"

Henry nodded, "Exactly."

Joel was growing angry, "So you want US going in a tunnel?"

"Everyone thinks that it's full of Infected, but I know it's not. They cleared it out like… three years ago."

Joel scoffed.

"Okay, so maybe there's one or two. That's why you're here."

"And what if there's more?"

"Like those ones that see like a bat?" Ellie asked.

Henry stepped back, "Wait. You ran into a clicker?"

Ellie smiled, "Two of 'em."

"And you're still alive. See? If it gets bad, we turn around."

Joel's scowl never left, "So THAT'S your plan?"

Y/N grabbed Joel's hand. "Joel…? Can we..?"

He leaned down, "Yeah, uh. Give us a minute"

The two walked out of the room into the hallway.

Joel sighed, "I don't know about this, sweetheart."

"Me neither."

He stared at her, "Tell me what's going on in that little head of yours."

"It's dicey but… it's all we have, isn't it? And that would make four people dependent on you."

He nodded, "How do you know we can trust this guy?"

She smiled, "Look at him, Joel. He wouldn't hurt a fucking fly. The guy is harmless."

"What if he harms you?"

She stopped. "Is that what you're worried about?"

Joel sighed, "I'm always worried. About you," he stops, trying to cover the meaning of his words, "…and Ellie. You and Ellie."

"Well," she continued, "Trust me about this one thing. When have I steered you wrong?"

Joel stepped back in thought, "That one time when-"

"-Yeah. Okay. I heard enough." She walked past him into the room. "Henry, we'll do it."

Joel was so blindly in love with her.

…

Here they sat in a safe room in the tunnel, waiting for daylight to end.

Y/N still hadn't recovered from yesterday's events, so Joel was insistent that she rest.

But when she tired to lay on the ground, he held her up, dragging her over to the table as he sat in a chair.

He pulled her into his lap, "Floor's too cold. You'll get sick."

That's how she ended up asleep in his lap, her head tucked in the crook of his neck as she slumbered.

"You know," Henry said, "I didn't take you as the… caring type."

Joel scoffed, "What?"

"With your… your wife," he pointed to Y/N in his lap, "and your daughter," pointing to Ellie.

Joel's voice hardened, "This isn't my family."

Henry stepped back from the chair, "Sorry, man. I… I just thought-"

"-well, you thought wrong."

He thought Y/N was asleep, but she wasn't.

And she heard every word.

…

The group exited the tunnels, beyond happy that their plan was working.

Ellie smiled, "So, cross the river, and then what? Where are you guys gonna go?"

"Don't know yet," Henry thought, "Probably gonna head toward-"

Gunshot.

They all ducked.

Joel grabbed at each person, "Move. Move! GO!"

They hid behind a car.

Henry was panicked, "Where is that coming from?"

Joel turned, "Shut up."

He turned to Ellie and Y/N, "You don't move, and he's not gonna hit you. I'm gonna go around, try to get in the house through the back."

"But if you go out there, he's gonna kill you." Ellie protested.

"It's dark and he has shit aim. No one is gonna kill me." He leaned towards her, "Do you trust me?"

She nodded.

He turned to Y/N, "You'll be alright."

She leaned in towards him, "Just… be careful."

He reached forward, taking a strand of her hair in between his fingers and studying it, as if it will be his last chance to. "I will be."

…

Joel's voice was heard from their hiding place, "RUN!"

Y/N's head perked up, "Ellie. We gotta go."

Headlights.

And soon, a snow plough began clearing out the cars leading up to the four.

They ran as fast as they could, hearing Joel firing at the car from his place in the house.

He managed to hit the driver, making the vehicle crash into the house.

It caused an explosion.

Joel watched carefully trying to locate Y/N and Ellie through the smoke.

Kathleen exited her vehicle, soldiers following suit.

And the four were hiding behind a car.

Henry spoke up, "I'll come out! Just… let the others go."

Kathleen smiled, "No. Sorry. The girls are with the man who killed Bryan. And Sam… well… Sam is with you."

"You don't understand!"

The snow plough suddenly fell through the building and into the tunnel, causing a massive hole to show.

And the sound of Infected.

The four began to run as Infected ran out from the tunnels.

In the chaos, Y/N had lost Ellie.

She made it to the tree line, looking back for her.

When Ellie was nowhere, she grumbled, taking out her gun from her pack, and going back out.

She dodged Infecting, shooting at some as she went.

When one grabbed at her arm, a bullet moved straight through its head.

Joel.

She looked up to the house in gratitude before continuing.

She finally found Ellie stabbing at Infected that were trying to attack Henry and Sam. She ran as fast as she could to them, helping Ellie finish the job. "C'mon."

Y/N led them all back to the tree line. They were only feet away when Kathleen stopped them, her gun aimed carefully. "Stop."

They watched an Infected jump at her and begin to rip at her face.

They were all frozen.

Joel grabbed at Y/N from behind. "This way. Now. Move!"

She jumped, turning around as they others began to run, "Thank you."

He nodded "Let's go."

…

"Think they'll be okay?" Henry asked.

They all sat in an abandoned house, the kids in the bedroom reading a comic book, the adults in the living room.

"Yeah. It's easier when you're a kid anyway."

Y/N stood on shaky legs, "I need fresh air."

Joel's eyes watched her carefully, "Hey. Don't wander, alright?"

She turns back with a defiant look, "Not like you'd care."

And she shut the door behind her.

…

Joel stepped outside a little while later.

Y/N was sitting on the porch steps, staring out at the stars.

He stood behind her, "You alright?"

She turned as far as she could towards him, "I'm fine."

Joel didn't like that answer.

He sighed, moving to sit next to her. When she didn't look at him, he grabbed her jaw gently, pulling it towards him. His voice was soft, as it always was with her, "Hey. You're obviously not fine. And what the hell was that back there? Tell me what's going on."

She stared into his eyes, trying to decide what to say to him.

He tried to make her sit in the silence, but even he couldn't handle it. "How am I supposed to fix what's wrong if I don't know what it is, sweet girl?"

She scoffed, "I just wish you'd stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

She turned her head away from his hand, "Quit looking at me… like… like that."

Joel looked confused, "I don't get it."

She sighed deeply, "You look at me and you talk to me like… like I mean something to you, Joel. It's frustrating."

He leaned back in shock. "You… you think I… I don't care about you?"

She laughed slightly, standing up and walking out into the yard slightly, "You've made that much clear, Joel. You said it yourself."

How could she think that? Joel began to ponder anything and everything he's ever said to her. It was angering him, "I've never said those words to you. I care about you."

"Only because I'm Tess's sister."

"Watch. Your. Mouth."

She paused, watching Joel stand on the stairs. Her tone dropped to a quiet mumble, "I think I've been on this journey long enough. I should just go."

Joel stepped down one of the stairs, "I've already said it before. You're not going anywhere. I want you here."

"Don't fucking lie to me, Joel!" She yelled, "You don't even consider me family!"

Oh.

She heard that.

He sighed, trying to control his tone, "No one wants you to leave. I need you on this trip… and Ellie. She needs you."

"I just want you to be honest."

"What do you want from me, baby?"

They just stared at each other.

"I want you to tell me what you want from me, Joel."

He stood in thought, before descending the stairs. "There are no wants in this world now, sweet girl. You and I both know that."

"You don't need me to be around. I'm extra weight."

"LISTEN TO ME WHEN I TELL YOU YOU'RE FUCKING NOT!"

Her eyes hardened at his loud tone. "Don't try to spare my feelings. You don't want me around and I see it. Just…" her eyes saddened at his look, "…stop looking at me like that. Please."

She moved past him, going back up the porch stairs.

"Darlin', wait."

She sighed, turning around.

But she was thrown off by the sudden feeling of his lips on hers.

One hand wrapped around her waist, the other across her back, pulling her closer.

He pulled away.

"There are no wants in this world, but I do. I want you."

Her eyes scanned his face inquisitively, checking for the truth.

"You can look all day, sweet girl. I'll always tell you the truth. Please, stay."

She nodded, pulling away from his arms. "Okay. I'll… I'll stay."

His shoulders slumped slightly. "Uh...good."

He moved past her to go inside, but she gently tugged at his sleeve.

He turned to her.

And she kissed him back.

He hummed into the kiss, pulling her to him once again.

He had always wondered how soft her lips were.

And now he knew.

She pulled away this time, "Let's go inside. I'm fucking cold."

Joel chuckled. He shrugged off his jacket, placing around her shoulders. "I think I like it out here more." He gently kissed her lips again. "I'll keep you warm."

She smiled, "I love when you look at me like that."

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Part 6

Tag list: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa

#pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us

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xxbimbobunnyxx · 5 months

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White Rabbit

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rafe goes to Barry for help with his “pouge problem” but he gets more help than he bargained for when he meets Barry’s cousin in the most unsuspecting way. He can’t stay away from her, despite Barry’s protests, especially when she’s just as unhinged as he is. Takes place during season 2 episode 4 “Homecoming”. Wk: 6.9k.(oops)

Warnings: Gun violence(reader shoots a guy but doesn’t kill him), cocaine use(both reader and rafe), Barry is not super stoked about R and Rafe being into each other, unprotected sex, oral (m & f), choking, hair pulling, face fucking, Dom!Rafe, Sub!Reader, unhinged reader, spit kink, digration, daddy kink, a lil spanking, biting, Rafe & R are obsessed with each other, R has the nickname “bunny” & is implied to be alternative, her outfit is described but other than that no physical descriptions. Lmk if I missed any please! 18+MNDI!!

A/N: This is my first time ever writing for Rafe, so it might not be the best ever but I fell for this man so hard and I just needed to write him with an unhinged girl. Shout out to my girl @babygorewhore for not only beta reading but hyping me up/brainstorming with me through this entire fic. I might make this into a series of some sort. Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!✨🖤

Rafe slammed his truck door shut as he walked up to Barry’s porch, scoffing when he saw him sitting there with his feet propped up while he read a book.

“Hey, you got my shit?”

“Shit, you’re early.” Barry closes his book and sets it down on the table in front of him, a condescending smirk spreading across his lips.

“Do you have my shit or not, man?” Rafe groans as he plops his large body down onto the rundown cushion of one of the porch chairs.

“Yeah, I got yo shit.” Barry chuckles, pulling the baggy from his pocket and tossing it on the table. “You got my money?”

“Yeah.” Rafe pulls a wad of cash from his pocket and slaps it into his hand before grabbing the baggy so he can make himself line. He snorts it, letting out a deep breath after. “I need a piece too.”

“Hooohoooo!! You need a piece? Country Club Killer now, huh?” Barry laughs, his hand coming down to slap his knee.

“Don’t!!” Rafe slams his hand on the table. “Mess with me right now.”

“Aight, what the hell you need a piece for?”

“John B is fucking back.”

“John B is fucking dead dude.”

“Nah man, I saw him for myself in the Bahamas, and just now Top saw him in town with my sister scoring beer.”

“FUCK!!!!” Barry kicks the table, sending it flying a few feet away. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin me? I’m done playing with these kids bruh.”

Barry kicks himself up from his seat, walking over to a locker on the side of the porch. He enters the combination before he pulls out a gun and starts to load it.

“You wanna be done with those little shits once and for all? You’re gonna need a lot more than just a piece. You gotta start going at this shit like a soldier.” He spins the barrel, clicking it into place before handing the gun to Rafe.

“You do this, you know I’ll take care of you, alright? You won’t be doing this shit for nothing man I’ll -“

“YOU THINK I’M SCARED OF YOU, YOU LITTLE BITCH?” A male voice came booming from behind the house.

“IF YOU AREN’T NOW, YOU FUCKING WILL BE!” Another voice followed, but this one was unmistakably female.

“Dude, what the fuck was that? Is that chick okay? Should you like - I don’t know - deal with that or some shit?” Rafe’s blue eyes scan the other man’s face for signs of distress but it was almost like if he hadn’t mentioned it, he wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Nah bro, that’s my cousin. She’s got it, stop trippin. We doin’ this or not?”

There’s a loud crash and then he hears the girl's voice again.

“I TOLD YOU TO GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!!”

“Dude I’m gonna go check it out, that doesn’t sound good.” Rafe isn’t sure why he really gives a shit if this random chick who he hasn’t even seen is alright or not, maybe he’s just high and paranoid. Either way his curiosity gets the best of him and he starts walking towards the back of Barry’s place.

“She doesn’t need your help pretty boy, trust me.” Barry snorts and shakes his head as he begrudgingly follows him.

When Rafe rounds the corner the sight he sees is far from what he was expecting. The man who he heard yelling was shorter than him but more built, probably middle aged, he wore a white tank top and black board shorts and the look in his eyes told him that he was definitely one of Barry’s customers or less reliable dealers. The girl on the other hand? You were half his size, your hair in two braids with ribbons tied at the ends of them, you were wearing a tiny little baby pink tank top and black spandex shorts that barely covered her ass. You had combat boots on your feet that had little white ruffle socks sticking out of the top of them, but what was most shocking? You were holding a Glock in one of your small hands, and the collar of the man’s tank top was gathered in the other. You were standing on your tiptoes whilst also pulling the man down so he was face level with you, the Glock held to his head.

“I said, get on your fucking knees mother fucker, you got a hearing problem or some shit?” You growl at the man and it sends shivers down Rafe’s spine. You were beautiful. He watches as you shove the Glock into the man’s temple and ram your boot clad heel into his thigh causing him to fall to his knees with a grunt.

“Much better.” You smile as you tap his cheek with the gun before bringing it back to the side of his head. “Now, where the fuck is my fucking money?”

“I told you! I told you I don’t fucking have it right now I just need a little time!” The man’s voice is shaky now, his eyes traveling between you and the gun held to his head.

“Time? This isn’t a fucking loan service! Get me my money by tomorrow, or you’re fucked!” Your eyes are filled with fire and you let out a dry laugh.

“What’re you gonna do? Send Barry after me? Where is he at? He knows I always pay, just let me talk to hi-“ He’s cut off abruptly when you hit him across the cheek with the gun.

“SHUT UP!! You’re not fucking talking to Barry, you’re talking to me. If you don’t get my money you aren’t going to have to deal with him, you’re going to have to deal with me. Which I promise you don’t fucking want.” Rafe watches as you lean down into the guy's face, your eyes boring into his, a sinister smile paints your lips, and he isn’t even ashamed of the fact that he felt his cock stir in his pants at your display of dominance over this man twice your size. “Got it??”

“I don’t know how you expect me to get that amount by tomorrow I-“ The man grunts when you hit him in the face with the gun again, his face whipping to the side.

“I said, got it?” You hold the gun between his eyes, your smile never faltering.

“Yeah - yeah! I got it! I got it! Can I go now!?” The man holds his hands by his head in surrender, seemingly not wanting to argue with you further.

“I fucking mean it asshole, tomorrow, by sunset.” You glare at him momentarily before your smile returns, tapping his cheek with the gun again before turning to walk off.

“You aren’t gonna do shit bitch, you’re nothing without that little gun.”

Rafe’s blue eyes widen as he watches the man’s hand reach out and grab for your Glock. He subconsciously takes a step forward in your defense but soon realizes maybe you really don’t need help. Your body whips around, pulling the gun from the guy's reach and shooting him in the foot all in one motion. He screams out in pain, his hands grabbing onto his foot as he falls to the ground.

“Bring me my fucking money. Tomorrow. Or you’re going to be in a lot more pain than that.” You crouch down and spit in the guy's face before walking over him and into the house, letting the door slam shut behind you. Rafe stands there with his dick half hard and his jaw hanging open as he stares at the closed door you just disappeared behind.

“I told you she fuckin’ had it, and don’t even fuckin’ think about it, country club.” Barry’s voice snaps him out of his trance.

“Wha-? Think about what?”

“I see how you’re fuckin’ lookin at her dude, that’s like my sister in there. You stay your messy ass away from her, aight?”

“We should go check on her…” Rafe ignores Barry’s warning, walking towards the house despite his protests.

You let out an agitated groan as you flop down on the couch and toss your Glock on the cushion next to you. You grab a little clear baggy off the coffee table and sprinkle some of the powder onto the small mirror in front of you, using the random gift card you found in your wallet to push a portion of it into a straight line. You grab the rolled dollar bill sitting on the mirror and bring it up to your nose so fucking ready for this line after dealing with that shit head, but right when you bend over the front door slams open, causing you to jump back. Your foot hits the table and the movement makes a mess of your line. You let out a curse under your breath, your eyes rising to glare at your intruder.

You expect Barry, or maybe that fucking idiot really did want to lose a finger today. But instead of the brown eyes of your cousin, or the bloodshot hazel ones of your unreliable dealer, your eyes lock with piercing blue ones. You have to physically stop yourself from gasping at the sight of the man in front of you. He’s tall, really tall, and built, his chest and arms perfectly filling out the blue button up shirt he wore. His chestnut hair looked silky to the touch, his jaw looked perfect for biting, and his face was just all around beautiful. Especially those eyes, the look in them stern. There was something else there you couldn’t quite decipher, it almost seemed possessive.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Uh - yeah? Aside from the fact that you just scared the shit out of me and made me knock my line all over the table, I’m just peachy.” You scoff, throwing him a playful smirk and roll of your eyes.

“Country Club here seems to think you’re some kinda damsel in distress or some shit.” Barry walks through the door behind him, smacking his bicep with the back of his hand and laughing loudly.

“Damsel in distress, huh? I don’t think I’d mind if a pretty boy like you came to my rescue.” You bite your bottom lip, your eyes roaming his figure.

“Hell fuckin’ nah! Quit that shit out right now, Bunny. I mean it. I told him the same shit, I don’t want this.” He gestures between you and Rafe. “To be a thing. You two are a recipe for fuckin’ disaster. This is Rafe Cameron, the dude I was tellin’ you about.”

“What the fuck did you tell her about me man?” Rafe’s voice comes out almost panicked and you find yourself wanting to comfort him immediately. You jump up from your seat and walk around the table so you can stand in front of him. He’s even taller up close, you have to tilt your head all the way to meet his eyes and you stop yourself from clenching your thighs at the height difference.

“So this is the guy that killed the sheriff, huh? Pretty boy is a cop killer? I find that kind of sexy…” You twirl a strand of your hair between your fingers, your teeth subconsciously finding your bottom lip again as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Barry, what the hell man? You told her that shit?” He addresses the other man but his eyes don’t leave yours, the look in them changed from concern to defense, and maybe a little lust? He was honestly looking at you like he wanted to choke you to death and this time you really couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your thighs where you stood.

“Hey, I’m not going to rat you out or some shit. Barry gave me the low down on everyone on the island when I moved, if I’m going to work for him I need to know the ins and outs, ya know? He trusts me, if you trust him, you can trust me. I’m cool.” You give him a smile that you hope is reassuring, you aren’t sure why but you want him to trust you.

“Alright.” His eyes search your face, almost as if he’s trying to read your thoughts, to see if you really mean it.

“Alright, we good?” You extend your hand towards him and he takes it in his much larger one, shaking it.

“We’re good.” You go to pull your hand away but he tightens his grasp, keeping it held in his. “You didn’t tell me your name though, or should I just call you, what did Barry call you? Bunny?”

“Bunny is preferred, but you can call me my real name too, if you’d like.” You let your thumb run across the back of his hand as you tell him your name, your eyes never leaving his.

“AIGHT! That’s enough of alla that.” Barry pushes past you, plopping down on the couch he grabs the bong on the coffee table and starts to load it.

“Bare, stop acting like you’re in charge of who I flirt with. I'm a grown ass woman, you're being dramatic.” You scoff, sending him a death glare.

“Seriously man, you’re acting like you’re her dad or some shit.” He chuckles when your cousin flips him off. “I’m sorry about your line by the way, I really just came to check in on you after I saw you arguing with that asshole out there. Let me make it up to you.”

Rafe brings his hand up to your shoulder, running his thumb over the blade a few times before letting it graze down your arm as he walks towards the couch. You watch as he sits down next to Barry and picks up your gift card, expertly lining the fine power back into a nice row before patting the cushion next to him. A smile breaks across your lips as you take the empty seat. He doesn’t miss the way your tits bounce when your ass hits the couch and the smell of your sweet perfume makes his cock twitch.

“For you, pretty girl.” He holds the folded dollar bill up to you with a smirk and you happily take it from him.

“Thanks, cutie.” You wink at him. When you lean down Rafe notices your hair is in your way so like it’s the most casual thing in the world he brings his large hand up to your face and sweeps the straw pieces behind your ear. He pushes the rest of it behind your shoulder and his hand stays there while you inhale through your nostril. His touch doesn’t leave you, even when you lean back against the couch, he simply adjusts it so it’s around your shoulder.

“You gonna flirt with my cousin all goddamn night or are we gonna deal with your little pouge problem?”

“Pouge problem? What’s going on?” You raise your eyebrows, your eyes traveling between Barry and Rafe.

“You remember that little fucker John B I was telling you about? His ass is alive and back on the island.” Barry shakes his head and lets out a dry laugh.

“That’s the kid the cops think killed the sheriff, right? Damn. That’s not good for you, Rafe.” You make eye contact and bite your lip nervously. “Those kids know you actually killed her, don’t they?”

“Yeah, and my fucking sister is with them. Her and John B were there, they saw the whole goddamn thing.” Rafe groans, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “I can’t have them opening their fucking mouths. I just can’t.”

“Then you know what you have to do, right? Shut them the fuck up, once and for all.” Your eyes darken and it reminded him of the way they looked outside, when you were holding a gun to your dealer's head.

“Yeah, no shit dude, that’s why I said we were going to deal with it.” Barry scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.

“Okay, I don’t know what the hell is up with you attitude Bare, but fucking ditch it.” You glare at him as you grab the couch pillow next to you and throw it at his face.

“Oh? You wanna fuckin’ go bruh?” Your cousin grins at you, gripping the pillow in his hand and swinging it over Rafe’s body, directly into your face with a cackle.

“Oh you mother fucker!” You let out a laugh, your hands go for the pillow but it’s ripped from your grasp.

“CUT IT THE FUCK OUT!!” Rafe takes the pillow in his large ringed hand and throws it across the room causing you to jump, your smile falling. “Barry, are you gonna help me or not man?”

“Hey.” Your eyes are soft again, you put your hand on his chest and rub soft circles onto his skin through his shirt with the pad of your thumb. “He’s going to help you, and I will too. We were just fucking around, everything’s alright. You’re probably under a lot of stress, huh? Poor thing.”

Rafe isn’t exactly sure how to react. No one has ever taken his anger and looked at it as more than just that, anger, yet here you are knowing him for all of ten minutes and the minute he loses his temper you see it for what it is, stress. Plus you’re kind of coddling him, and he’s never had anyone coddle him before. He almost feels speechless.

“I’m not gonna suck your dick about it like she is but I’m gonna help you man, fuckin’ relax. We doin’ this shit tonight?” Barry cracks his knuckles and kicks his feet up on the coffee table, earning an immediate glare from you. He scoffs, taking his feet off the table with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t know why you care so much if my feet are on the table dude, it’s my fuckin’ table anyways.”

“The drugs I put inside my nose are on this table, I don’t want your dirty ass shoes on it. It's common sense really.” He rolls his eyes and you flip him off, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Yeah man, tonight. I want to give this shit over with. I bet you anything they’re at John B’s. They’re stupid enough to go there.” Rafe’s hand is tapping on his already shaking leg and you can tell he’s anxious, you reach out and grab it, stopping his motions. He doesn’t look at you, but he intertwines your fingers, his hand squeezing yours. You squeeze his back and bring your other hand to his bicep so you can rub soothing circles on it. He lets out a sigh. “Once it’s dark, then they won’t see us coming.”

“Aight, let’s do this shit. Bunny, you in?” Barry raises a brow at you, his eyes lingering on the way you’re touching Rafe. “Also, I thought I said I didn’t want this to be a thing.”

“It could be dangerous, I don’t know if you should come, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.” Rafe answers before you can, his hand squeezing yours again in what you assume is supposed to be reassurance but it actually just pisses you off.

“Okay.” Your voice is stern, your hands leave him as you stand from the couch and he immediately misses your touch. “I wanna get something straight, right fucking now. I am not some weak little girl who sits at home while all the fun shit goes down. If that’s the kinda girl you’re into, you are not going to find that with me. I’m a ride or die type of bitch. If my man is in trouble, I’m helping him. So if you want this to be a ‘thing’ as Barry is calling it, then I suggest you accept that sooner rather than later.”

“And you, have no fucking say in who I do and don’t engage with sexually or romatically. Me and Rafe clearly have chemistry and I could tell that the moment I locked eyes with him, so you’re just going to have to get the fuck over it. Are we clear? Both of you?” You look between them, your hands on your hips and that fire Rafe is already becoming addicted to in your eyes.

“Whatever, your lil ass has always been fuckin’ impossible to control. If this blows up in your face I’m gonna say I told you so, cuz.” Barry snorts.

“Yeah baby, I got it.” Rafe cuts in, sending a shockwave through your body with the pet name. “I saw you out there with that guy, you might be tougher than Barry.”

This makes you smile, your eyes turning soft as you approach him on the couch. This time you don’t take the seat next to him, you sit across his lap, facing your cousin with a triumphant smile. Rafe's arm circles around your waist and you nestle in closer to him.

“Alright then. Glad we are all on the same page now. So what’s the plan?”

“FUCK!!!!” Rafe was pissed, he threw himself into the driver's seat of his truck, slamming his hands down on the wheel. “FUCKING BULLSHIT!! THEY HAD TO OF JUST BEEN FUCKING BEEN THERE! POUGE FOR LIFE SARAH?! HUH?! I SEE HOW IT FUCKING IS!!”

“Rafe…” You approach the open driver's door, gently resting your hand on top of one of his that was white knuckling the steering wheel. Completely unafraid, despite the fact that he’s still holding the gun Barry gave him in his other hand. “Let’s just calm down for a second, okay? We’re gonna work it out, they aren’t going to fuck with you.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS? I’M FUCKED! YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT! YOU DON’T KNOW MY FUCKING DAD! YOU DON’T KNOW MY FAMILY, IF IT COMES BETWEEN ME AND MY GODDAMN SISTER HE’S GONNA FUCKING CHOOSE HER!!!” His hands leave the wheel, weaving through his hair and tugging, the gun pressed up against the side of his face.

“Hey.” You put your hands over his, turning his face towards yours. “I might not know about all that shit, maybe not yet at least, but I know that when I say I’m going to do something I get it done. You aren’t alone in this, I’m going to help you, okay?”

Your voice is sweet, the look in your eyes is gentle and reassuring, and your hands? They’re so soft, and cool against his face, the feeling of them soothes him in a way he’s never felt before. He lets out a sigh, relaxing under your touch.

“We are going to deal with this, but for right now we need to get the fuck out of here. Those gunshots could’ve caught someone’s attention.” You run your thumbs over the top of his hands before grabbing onto the gun, pulling it from his grasp with a smile. You tuck it into your boot and lean up onto your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah, alright.” He nods, his hands smoothing through his hair.

You walk around the front of the truck so you can hop into the passenger seat, Barry already sat in the back anxiously bouncing his leg.

“Okay, let’s take Barry back to the house and then I think you and I should go somewhere together.” You buckle your seatbelt and turn to face him.

“Yeah? Where?” He shoves the keys in the ignition and puts the truck in drive, pulling away from the Châtea and into the night.

“Just trust me, I know a spot.” You kick your feet up on the dash, reaching into your purse for a cigarette and your lighter.

“Every instinct in my body is telling me to tell you to bring your ass home with me, but you’re not gonna listen to me for shit so I’m not gonna waste my breath. Gimme one of those fuckin’ cigarettes though.” Barry leans forward, snatching the entire pack and your lighter from your hands.

“Yeah, you’re better off not arguing with me Bare. Fucking give those back though, dick.” He rolls his eyes, lighting the cigarette he took from your pack before throwing it back to you.

“Yeah whatever, just fuckin’ take me home man.”

“Okay, take a left here and on your right you’re gonna see a little road that goes through these trees.” You point out the window, directing Rafe as he drives.

“Where the hell are you taking me, huh? You taking me out somewhere quiet to sacrifice me?” He chuckles, looking over at you with a smirk.

“Mmm, I bet you’d like that, huh? Preppy rich boys like you always like the fucked up alternative girls from the sticks.” You return his smirk with one of your own.

“Ha! I guess you’re right, I wouldn’t mind if you spilled a little bit of my blood, as long as I could spill yours too…” he reaches the end of the road, driving into a clearing in the trees, a patch of lone beach in front of you.

“Yeah? That’s hot. Stop here.” He obliges, putting the truck into park and taking off his seatbelt. You do the same, turning towards him with your legs tucked underneath you.

“What’re we really doing out here, vampire girl?” His eyes meet yours momentarily before the trail down your body, taking extra time to admire your tits in your top.

“Mmm, well, I know you’re really stressed and I just thought… maybe you could take some of your frustrations out on me?” You lock eyes with him, your tongue running over your bottom lip before you take it between your teeth.

“Yeah? You brought me out here so I would fuck the shit out of you?” He licks his lips, his large hand reaches out to rest on your thigh, squeezing the meat of it between his fingers.

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t want to take me home after that shit you said about your family and Barry would probably either kill us both or have a stroke if you fucked me how I want you to fuck me at my place.” You said it oh so matter of fact, that smirk ever present on your lips.

“And how do you want me to fuck you? Huh, bunny?” His hand runs along the length of your thigh, stopping at the hem of your shorts. He grabs onto it, the tips of his thumb and his pinky just dipping under the fabric.

“I want you to fuck me like you hate me, take your frustrations out on me, Rafe. Use me.” Your voice comes out desperate and it makes him groan.

“I’ve barely even touched you yet and you’re already practically begging for me… you wanna be my little slut, that it?” His thumb runs down the seam of your shorts, stopping at your wet core. “You’re fucking dripping. I can feel it through your panties.”

“It’s all for you, want you, want to be your little slut so bad.”

“Fuck.” The hand not on your thigh reaches for your throat, squeezing it and cutting off your air supply in the most delicious way. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

He uses his grip on your throat to pull your face to his, smashing his lips against your own in a bruising kiss. You moan against his mouth and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips. You bring your hands up to tangle your fingers through his hair at the same time that his hand on your thigh pushes your shorts and panties to the side, burying two fingers in your wet cunt with little resistance. He begins pumping them in and out of you while his grip on your throat never falters. He pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes almost black with lust as they bore into your own. His thumb finds your clit and your back arches, a loud moan ripping through you.

“Open your fucking mouth.” You oblige, sticking your tongue out and looking up at him through your lashes. He leans over you and lets a string of spit drop onto your waiting tongue. You moan as you happily swallow it. “Good girl. Want you to cum for me.”

His fingers hook just right inside you, rubbing against your g-spot and his thumb circles your clit perfectly. You feel your high approaching fast, you push your tank top down, letting your braless tits fall free. You grab them in your hands, tweaking your nipples, it causes your eyes to roll back and you feel that coil in your stomach about to snap. Rafe’s hand leaves your throat and grips onto your jaw in one swift motion.

“Fucking look at me when I make you cum.” He squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and pointer finger, causing your lips to pout. “I own this pussy now, that means I own your orgasms too, look at me while I take what’s mine.”

You open your eyes, and the minute they meet his your high crashes over you like a tidal wave. A broken moan leaves your throat and your walls clench around his large fingers as they continue to fuck you through your high. He pulls them from your pussy, holding them up to his face to examine them. They’re creamy white and glistening in the moonlight. You grab his wrist and take them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them. He growls in response, shoving them further down your throat. You gag and he licks his lips, the sound going straight to his cock.

“Fuck, wanna feel you gagging around my dick. Get out of the truck and get on your knees, now.” He pulls his fingers from between your lips and takes them into his own mouth. The taste of your spit mixed with the remainder of your arousal sending his eyes to the back of his head. You follow his direction, hastily throwing the truck door open and getting out. You start to walk around the back and he stops you halfway, grabbing you by the hair so he can pull your head back, forcing you to look up at him. “I’m going to fuck this pretty little mouth while you kneel in the sand like the dirty slut you are. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

You nod as best as you can with the grip he has on your head, that sickeningly sweet smirk from when he first saw you earlier that day spread across your lips.

“Yeah, daddy, I want you to use my mouth like a fucking cock sleeve.” His eyes widen and a groan rips through him at the sound of that name leaving your lips.

“Fuck. Take this off.” He grabs the hem of your tank top and you lift your arms so he can pull it over your head. He takes your tits in his hands and squeezes them, the coolness of them sending a shiver down your spine and straight to your core, your nipples hardening under his touch. “Fucking perfect tits. Knees. Now.”

You drop to your knees and eagerly reach for the button on his shorts undoing it and his zipper in one swift motion. His cock is straining against his black boxers and your mouth waters at the sight. You pull his shorts and boxers down and it springs free, thick and hard and leaking just for you. You knew he would be big, but goddamn his cock is huge.

“Mmm daddy, you’re so big, fuck.” You spit on your hand and bring it to his shaft, lightly stroking him. That bead of precum on his head is practically begging you to taste it so you lean forward and lick his slit with the tip of your tongue. You circle his tip before taking it in your mouth and sucking eagerly.

“Yeah, that’s right baby, suck daddy’s cock.” His hands grab onto your braids like makeshift handlebars and he uses his grip to push himself all the way down your throat, causing you to gag around him. He holds your head there for a few seconds before pulling you off with a pop. Your mouth subconsciously chases his taste. “Oh you’re such an eager little whore huh? You like that? You like gagging on my cock?”

You nod and his grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back so you’re looking up into his eyes.

“Fuckin’ answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“Yes - yes daddy, I fucking love it.”

“That’s what I thought.” He smirks down at you, shoving his cock back into your mouth and immediately thrusting into your throat. You gag and your eyes water, your mascara already starting to run down your cheeks. “God. Fucking look at you, I can see my cock in your throat baby.”

So much drool is dripping out of the sides of your mouth that it’s started to run down your chest and onto your tits. You swipe your fingers through it, wetting them before bringing them to his balls, caressing them in your lubed up hand.

“Oh fuck! Yeah, shiiiiit, play with my fucking balls, that’s so fucking good.” You look up at him and his head is thrown back, his neck on display, you can see all the veins in his biceps and the moans leaving him are feral. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight. Your hand travels between your legs and into your little spandex shorts, expertly finding your already slick clit and rubbing quick circles over it. Your moans increase in volume and it causes him to glance down at you, taking notice of your hand in your shorts.

“Hey, what the fuck did I say huh?” He pulls you off of him, bending at the waist so his face is hovering over yours. “I said that’s my fucking pussy, that means I’m the only one who gets to make you cum. Get up.”

He lets go of your hair, grabbing you underneath your arms and pulling you to your feet. He turns towards the truck and rips the bed open, grabbing onto your hips and roughly turning you. He pushes down on your back, and you take the hint, bending at the waist so your top half is against the truck bed. The plastic floor is cool and rough against your nipples and your lower half hangs off the truck, your feet not touching the ground. A harsh smack lands on your ass, causing you to help and jolt forward.

“You’re not so tough now, huh, vampire girl? Your pathetic dealers know you’re just a little slut who likes to get thrown around? Or is that just for me?” He grabs onto your shorts and panties, ripping them down to your ankles where they pool at the top of your boots. “Look at you, you’re so fucking wet.”

He drops to his knees, his tongue licking a stripe from your clit to your asshole and back again. He sucks your sensitive bud into his mouth and his hand comes down on your ass again. You feel like you’re going to cum embarrassingly soon. His fingers run through your slick lips before they’re sliding inside you, immediately hooking into your sweet spot. You cum suddenly and hard, your whole body shaking underneath him.

“Please fuck me now daddy, please, I want your cock so bad” you voice is whiney and you shake your ass from side to side, arching your back so it’s further on display for him.

“Quit begging, I’m gonna give you what you want, don’t be a greedy brat.” He stands, two harsh smacks landing on your ass. He takes his cock in his hand and runs the head through your slit, coating it in your wetness. He pushes into you in one swift motion, and immediately starts fucking you at a brutal pace.

“Yes! Fuck! You’re so big, feels so full.” Your voice is a breathy moan, his cock feels like it’s in your lungs and the door to the truck bed is digging into your hips but god it feels so good. His hands are grabbing your hips so roughly that you think his nails might be drawing blood, and god you hope they are. You want him to mark you as his, anywhere and everywhere.

“Fuuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, gripping my cock so good. This pussy was fucking made for me. Say it.” He leans over you, practically crushing you, but his cock hits even deeper than before and his mouth latches onto your neck and it’s like he read your mind because he starts to roughly suck and bite into your skin. Definitely leaving marks behind. “Say it. Say this pussy was made for me.”

“This pussy was fucking made for you, daddy.” You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him the best you can with your limited movement, wanting to feel every ridge and vein of him as deep inside you as possible.

“Yeah it fucking was.” He leans back, his hand gripping onto your hair again so he can pull your back against his chest. The sting of the truck against your hips at an all time high. He releases your hair so he can grip onto your throat instead, his other hand coming down to rub your clit. The feelings of pain mixed with pleasure sending you closer and closer to another orgasm. “You gonna cum already? I can feel you tightening around my cock baby girl.”

“Yeah - yeah I’m - fuck - I’m gonna cum for you daddy, you just feel sofuckinggood.” You’re a drooling whimpering mess and the coil is seconds away from snapping when he stops his movements and pulls out of you, taking your orgasm with him. “Hey what-“

Before you can protest he grips onto your hips, flipping you over onto your back. He grabs your throat and pulls you into a sitting position, grabbing onto your thigh with his other hand so he can pull you to the edge of the truck.

“I told you, I want you to look at me when you cum. You owe me for that last one.” He slams his cock into you, continuing to fuck you like his life depends on it. His thumb finds your clit again and his mouth latches onto your neck, biting down so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if you had a bruise in the shape of his teeth marks. You’d get it tattooed if he wanted. You already knew at that moment this man had ruined all other men for you. He had you.

“Fuck - fuck daddy, I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum”

“Fucking cum for me, I’ll fill this little pussy up, paint your walls with my cum. Milk my cock, slut.”

His words send you over the edge, cumming harder than you have all night. Your walls convulse around him and your nails rake down his back, leaving red marks in their wake. But that’s not what does him in, it’s the fact that you never break eye contact with him for a second. Obeying him like the good girl you are.

“Fuck! Good fucking girl, best fucking pussy I’ve ever had. Never gonna leave you alone now. Never quitting this pussy.” He cums with a growl, shoving his cock deep inside you. He fucks you through his high, his thrusts never letting up, his face shoved into your neck. When he finally starts to come down he lets his softening cock slip out of you, his lips finding yours and kissing you with fever.

“Never quittting this pussy, huh, pretty boy? That’s a bold statement to make about a girl you just met.” You smirk at him, taking his face in his hands and caressing his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Don’t fucking care, I meant every word. You’re fucking mine now.” He turns his head to the side, placing a kiss on the inside of your palm.

“Does that mean you’re mine too? I don’t do one sided bullshit.”

“Yeah baby, that means I’m yours too. Come on, get your clothes on, let’s get the fuck out of here.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips, grabbing your clothes off the sandy ground and shaking them out before handing them to you.

“You gonna take me home now? Barry is just gonna love all the hickies I know you left on my neck.” You smirk at him, pulling your shirt over your head.

“Nah, I’m bringing you home with me. Gonna fuck you all night long.” He cups your jaw in his hand, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

“What about your family?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Fuck em, you’re my girl now, they’re going to have to get used to it. Get your ass in the truck, I wanna fuck you in my shower.”

You giggle, running around to jump in the truck. You didn’t even see his family that night. But they definitely heard Rafe making good on his promise to fuck you all night long and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel bad. Not that night, and not the next morning when he introduced you to his dad and step mom while they had disgusted looks on their faces. You just smiled, happily shaking their hands like you weren’t calling their son daddy until the sun came up.

Tagging moots who might be interested: @chrrymunson @emsgoodthinkin @imyourdaninow 🖤

#rafe Cameron #rafe OBX #rafe Cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe Cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron x fem!reader #Dolly writes

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roosterforme · 9 months

Text

Batting Practice Part 31 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Nothing melts Bradley's heart quite like Everett's excitement for his upcoming adoption. While the three of you count down to the big day, there are unexpected houseguests to deal with and neverending happiness to absorb.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, smut

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

"Mom! Dad!" Everett shouted, running up the sidewalk when Molly arrived to drop him off at home on Monday evening. "Aunt Molly said I'm getting a baby cousin in March!"

Bradley watched as Molly hustled along the sidewalk behind Everett, and he went to meet her to get his soon to be son's overnight bag. "Thanks for watching him for the weekend," Bradley said, looping the bag over his shoulder while he thought about how sexy you'd looked in Palm Springs wearing your collar and leash. Then he glanced at where you were giving Everett a big hug on the front porch, and he thought about how hot you were even in full mom mode.

"We had fun," Molly said, stifling a yawn. "Bob took him on a hike, and then we did math problems with gummy bears. He's all ready to start second grade." Then she grinned at Bradley and said, "You owe me one for packing your wife's weekend bag with you in mind."

Bradley grunted, cracking his knuckles to try to keep his composure. Only about two more hours until Everett was in bed for the night and he could have his Kitten all to himself. "Yeah, I definitely owe you one."

Molly clasped her hands in front of her baby bump, clearly very pleased that he had enjoyed his wedding gift. Then she bent to kiss Everett and tell him goodbye. "I'll call you after your first day of school tomorrow, Ev. Love you."

"Bye, Aunt Molly!" Everett waved as Bradley's sister-in-law drove away.

Bradley scooped Everett up in his arms and followed you inside. While he had enjoyed the two nights away with you immensely, he missed Ev's laugh and his smile so much. "Pancakes for dinner? And then I'll show you the baseball jersey we got for you in Palm Springs?"

"Yes!" Everett cheered. And then as he helped Bradley mix some chocolate chips into the pancake batter with a spoon, he asked, "Did you adopt me yet?"

"Oh," Bradley grunted, pausing to really look at Ev. Wide, sincere eyes looked back up at him. He thought back to the very first day of tee ball, remembering just how much he really liked talking to Everett right from the start. How he only grew to appreciate him more and more. And he let himself feel all of the overwhelming love right now that he had for this kid. "I wish, Ev. Your mom has to call some people first, and make a few appointments. It might take a few weeks." Bradley didn't want to tell him that it might be next year before anything was finalized.

"Okay," he replied, and his shoulders slumped with dejection. "But I thought it would be cool to tell everyone at school tomorrow that I got a dad over the summer."

Bradley wrapped him in a hug and just held him for a few seconds. "You can still tell them that. I'm your dad, for sure, kiddo. It doesn't matter if it's not official yet."

"Okay," Everett whispered against Bradley's chest. "But when can I write my name is Everett Bradshaw?"

Anything. Anything in the world. Bradley would do anything for this kid. As he held him and thought about how much his life had changed, he figured the fact that he would do whatever it took to make Everett feel happy and loved was enough to make him a good dad. He'd learn all the other details over time. He would probably make more mistakes and inadvertently teach Ev more bad words. But he would do anything for him.

Bradley kissed the top of his head. "Not quite yet. But you know what? You and your mom can probably both start using Bradshaw for your last name around the same time, so that's good, right?" he asked, his voice not much more than a harsh whisper. Everett hugged him tighter, and Bradley didn't ever want to let go, because he found as much comfort in these hugs as Ev seemed to.

And then that was when you walked into the kitchen to find Bradley with tears in his eyes as Everett clung to him.

"I thought we were trying on our new jerseys?" you asked, and Bradley pulled you into the hug as well.

He smothered your face in kisses before he said, "That's for after dinner. And then we're gonna pack Ev's bag for school and watch Toy Story. But first just let me hold you both."

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

The next day was pure chaos. Everett begged Bradley to drop him off at school on his way to North Island, and on your way to work, you answered your phone when you saw that Molly was calling. She was crying.

"What's wrong?" you asked her, trying to navigate your way through traffic, thinking you may have to turn around and head to her condo.

"Bob's being deployed," she sobbed, and your heart clenched.

"When?"

"In a few weeks," she said, sniffling into the phone. "I can't do this without him."

You assumed she meant she couldn't handle her pregnancy on her own, but when you tried to ask, she just cried louder. You could barely understand what she was saying, and you already knew you were going to have to have a conversation with Bradley about having her stay at your house.

"Molly, it's going to be okay. You'll be great, and I'll be around to help you. And so will Bradley."

She laughed through her tears. "My turd-in-law likes me now, because I didn't pack any real clothing for your honeymoon."

You rolled your eyes. "He has always liked you. I think that just made him like you more. Let me call you back later tonight?"

"Okay." Molly's voice was soft and small as you ended the call, and you hated hearing her like that. But you had other important things to take care of.

As you parked your car and made your way into your office, you rolled your eyes at Frank. You had bigger things to deal with than him. Once you were settled at your desk, you debated with yourself about which phone call to make first: Danny or your lawyer. You decided on Danny, and when he answered after seven rings with a groggy hello, you got right to the point.

"Any chance you were planning on responding to the petition I sent you for child support?"

You could practically hear him rolling his eyes, and now you were thankful you caught him first thing in the morning. "I have one hundred and twenty days to comply. And that's according to my expensive lawyer that you're forcing me to pay for. I hope you realize that this would mean there's less money for Everett."

Now you were the one rolling your eyes. "It's already been months, Danny."

"I have one hundred and twenty days," he reiterated, practically snarling at you through the phone. "You'll hear more about it when I'm good and ready. I still can't believe you're trying to destroy my life like this. You weren't money hungry prior to a few months ago. And I could still have that tee ball boyfriend of yours charged for entering my home without permission."

"He's my husband now," you said, keeping your voice as steady as possible.

"Good for you," he replied with a sarcastic chuckle.

"You're right. It's very good for me," you said, raising your voice over his horrible laughter. "I was just calling to let you know that you're about to be served with some papers that will negate the child support petition. And if you don't comply with what I want, I'll drag you through the legal system until you're out of money."

The line went silent, and you had to bite your tongue, forcing him to be the first one to speak again. "What the fuck do you want?"

You took a deep breath and thought about your husband and your son and your sister and how much love was in your life now. "I would like to give you exactly what you hoped for: nothing. I can remove Everett and myself from your life completely if you agree to do something for me."

After another long pause, Danny said, "Name your terms."

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

Bradley was anxious to learn how your conversation with your lawyer had gone. But when he got home, it was just you there in your little black skirt and high heels, standing in the kitchen sipping a bottle of tequila.

"Whoa," he said, rushing toward you and taking the bottle out of your hand. But you were smiling.

"I was going to make us some margaritas, but I got carried away," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. Bradley tasted the tang of the liquor on your lips and tongue.

"Does this mean you have good news, Kitten?" He was holding you tight to him, forehead pressed to yours as he waited, hoping to hear what would make him happier than anything else right now.

"What are you doing eight weeks from today?" you asked, raking your fingers gently along his scalp.

"Baby, if you don't tell me right now that I get to adopt Ev in eight weeks, I'm going to cry."

You smiled and pressed your lips to his. "You get to adopt Ev eight weeks from today. We have the date set at the courthouse."

"How?" he asked as his eyes filled with tears. "How did I get this lucky? In less than a week, I got myself a wife and a court date!"

He wasn't sure how he could be this happy and also be crying so much. But when you told him that you got Danny to agree to your terms, he had to wipe away his tears even though he was smiling.

"Where's Ev now?" he asked, kissing along your neck, overcome with so much relief.

"Molly picked him up from school. She's going to bring him home after dinner."

"So, we're alone?" he asked, smiling against the curve of your jaw and hiking up your skirt. "We're alone. Until I invite Molly to come stay with us while Bob is deployed."

Bradley's hand's froze on the bare backs of your thighs. "I'm sorry, what?"

You kissed and nipped at his lips, but he pulled a few inches away from you. "Bob is being deployed."

"Yeah," he replied. "I got that part."

You rolled your eyes and started to unzip his flight suit. "And Molly is going to be lonely and overwhelmed, and I think she might want to come here for a few weeks."

Bradley groaned. "You can't follow up the good news about Everett with this devastating announcement, Kitten."

"Bradley!" you scolded, playfully smacking his chest as he yanked your skirt up until he was palming your ass.

"All I'm saying is that Molly is like this annoying little sister that I never wanted, and even though I do love her, she's going to cramp our style, Baby."

"How so?" you asked, easing your hand down the front of his flight suit and stroking his cock.

"She'll have to sleep in the Phillies room," he whispered. "You know that's where we've been having our quickies."

"Hmm, you're right about that, Coach. Think I could change your mind with a blowjob?"

Bradley grunted and thrust against your hand. He tilted your chin up and kissed you. "Your lips on my cock could get me to agree to anything, and you know it."

You nodded at him with all the confidence in the world before you sank to your knees.

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

Spending several weeks waiting was not ideal. Everett was asking nearly every day if it was almost November yet. Now it was barely October, but the three of you had gotten into a routine. Bradley made breakfast every morning while you packed lunches. Then he dropped Everett off at school, and you went to work a little early. When you picked Everett up from school, most days it was just so he could rush through his homework and dinner and spend an hour or two at the park playing and practicing baseball with Bradley.

Your husband was true to his promises. And he seemed to like practicing baseball as much as Everett did. When you joined them one day, the October air was cool enough to trick you into believing you could be somewhere besides southern California. And Everett was hitting Bradley's pitches so hard, it was unbelievable.

"I thought you were the famous Bradshaw?" you called out, teasing Bradley before he threw a pitch. "Don't you pitch for the Navy league? That second grader is kicking your butt."

He glared at you out of the corner of his eye and then dropped his ball and glove and chased you until he caught you in his arms. Your laughter was so loud as he kissed you and tickled you, and you tried to get away, but he was too strong.

"I take it back! I take it back!" you gasped, out of breath from laughing. "You're amazing! The best pitcher I've ever seen."

He conceded by hugging you from behind instead of tickling you. Then he whispered, "I'm not even kidding, Kitten, he's so fucking good at baseball." Then he kissed you one last time and returned to pitch a slider to Everett who looked permanently happy these days. And when he hit the pitch easily, you realized you were permanently happy, too.

But that night, you had to deal with the thing you knew was coming at some point. It was late, and you were in bed with Bradley's mouth on your pussy. You were close, so so so close. But your phone kept ringing softly on your nightstand, and you could tell it was Molly by the ringtone.

"Don't answer it," Bradley grunted, licking a long stripe from your opening to your clit. "You can call her back when I'm done with you."

So you laced your fingers through his pretty curls and rode his face, whining his name as your phone started ringing again. Bradley slowed down his tempo, just like he knew you needed, and when he wrapped his lips around your clit, that prickle of his mustache on your sensitive skin sent you. He squeezed your thighs as you planted your feet, and you came so hard, you were seeing stars. Your knee was shaking. He was unrelenting. Your vision blurred every time you blinked, but a beat later, Bradley's body was wrenched away from yours, and he was out the bedroom door and at the top of the steps with a baseball bat in his hand.

Then you heard Molly's soft voice calling up from the bottom of the stairs. "I'm sorry. It's just me."

You tried to scramble for your clothing, but you realized Bradley had undressed you over by the bathroom. And then you realized that he was standing there in his snug underwear with a massive erection, holding the bat like he was about to take someone's head off with it. He must have heard Molly let herself in the house.

As you located your clothing on the floor, Bradley lowered the bat, nodded and said, "Your sister's here."

"Thanks," you told him, yanking your panties on and slipping into his undershirt. You kissed him quickly as you rushed down the stairs and into the living room where she was standing with a tote bag and a bouquet of those hideous flowers she liked so much. She was crying softly.

"I can't," she whispered, and you wrapped your arms around her. "I can't stay there alone another night. I hate being away from Bob. You know what he did? He got the guy from the gas station to deliver the flowers to me today, because it's the six month anniversary of the first time he said he loved me."

"Oh, Molly," you whispered, kissing her forehead.

"He set this shit up before he left!" she wailed. "I don't even know what he's doing today, because I haven't talked to him in a week. A week! And now I interrupted you having sex, and I can tell Bradley's mad at me."

You held her close. "He's not mad at you, Molly. He just thought you were a burglar or something."

"I'm sorry," she moaned, holding the flowers out to the side so they didn't get crushed. Her belly felt like it had gotten bigger since the last time you saw her, and you patted her there which made her smile.

"Stop apologizing. You can stay with us until Bob gets back." You really should have run that past Bradley before you made such a bold declaration, but you knew he wouldn't fuss too much. Probably. So you coaxed Molly into letting you put the flowers in a vase in the kitchen, and then you led her upstairs to where Bradley was wearing a full set of pajamas and brushing his teeth in your bathroom.

"Coach?" you called out to him softly, and he made eye contact with you in the mirror. "She's going to stay with us." You weren't really asking, and he didn't look upset. He just nodded and then spit out the toothpaste.

"I figured," he said, rinsing his mouth and drying his hands. He kissed you and pulled you in for a hug before adding, "I'll go sleep in the Phillies room for the night. Just tonight. That way you can talk to her so she can fall asleep. But after tomorrow morning, it's all red and white and the letter P everywhere for your sister. I don't fucking care how much she misses Bob. Got it?"

"Got it," you told him with a smile. "You're the best husband in the world."

"I know," he said with a grumble, but he was smiling too. And when he passed Molly in the hallway, she was still holding one of the flowers. He kissed her on the forehead without saying anything else, and then he walked into the Phillies room as Molly climbed in bed with you.

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

Everett was up so early on Halloween, Bradley needed to drink two cups of coffee just to keep up with him. "If you're this excited now, I don't know if it's a good idea for you to be collecting copious amounts of candy later." He raised the mug to his lips again as you and Molly walked into the kitchen.

The three of you watched Everett bounce over to the white board on the refrigerator and update it to say that there were just ten days left until his adoption. That meant that Bob would be home in nine days. That also meant that Molly would be out of here in nine days or less, and that did indeed bring a smile to Bradley's face.

It wasn't that he didn't like Molly. He actually loved her. Everett was obsessed with his Aunt Molly, and she loved spending time with him. She was fun and witty, and it brought Bradley joy to pick on her. But she was also messy, and she was eating all of their food, and he couldn't walk around in his underwear as much as he had gotten used to.

But last night, she'd happily taken Everett out for dinner and to the movies for a few hours with Bradley's credit card. And you'd worn your collar and leash for him along with your cat ears and tail, and holy shit, he needed to stop thinking about it right now.

"Morning, Kitten," he grunted as he poured you some coffee.

"Ten more days!" Everett shouted.

"Nine more days!" Molly shouted.

But you bit your lip and pulled a piece of mail out of the tray on the counter. "I thought it would be more fun to open this when we were all together," you said, tearing into the envelope and holding up your new social security card. "But I'm officially a Bradshaw."

"Yes!" Bradley whooped, hoisting you up into his arms as you squealed. Molly and Ev did an obnoxious dance across the kitchen as Bradley kissed your neck and ear while you chanted Bradshaw, Bradshaw.

"Everett will be next! I'm buying us one of those stupid flags people hang from their porch with their last name on it, I don't even care," you said as Bradley set you down, and his lips found yours.

"I love you, Kitten."

That evening, as the four of you got ready to go trick-or-treating, Bradley pulled on his Navy Waves uniform and then buttoned you into one of his Phillies jerseys.

"You'll have to borrow this until we can get you some Phillies gear of your own, Mrs. Bradshaw. Don't spill anything on this one," he muttered. "It's vintage."

You rolled your eyes so hard and then said, "No eating chocolate in it then?"

"No, no, no, absolutely no chocolate. This belonged to my dad."

"Oh," you gasped as he did up the last button. "Then I can't wear it tonight! It's too special."

You reached for the buttons, but Bradley stopped you with his larger hands. "Nah, it's okay, Kitten. Ol' Goose would have wanted you to wear it. I think he'd be happy to see me with you and Ev right now." Actually, Bradley knew both of his parents would have loved you and adored Everett. It was hard for him to think about the way Carole would have doted on her grandson.

The look of awe on your face as you said, "Thank you. No chocolate," made Bradley chuckle.

Then Molly's booming voice in the hallway had you pulling the door open to reveal her standing there dressed as a pregnant umpire. "Are you ready to rumble?!" she shouted into a bullhorn that had you and Bradley covering your ears while Everett chanted and cheered.

"Baseball umpires don't use bullhorns! And they don't say that!" Bradley shouted over the ruckus, but when he reached for it, Molly yanked it away from him.

"This one does," she said into the speaker, and Bradley thought one of them might not make it back tonight.

But it was so hard to be annoyed when the four of you looked like you were ready to play baseball. And then Bradley had you take a photo of him kneeling down on the porch next to Everett dressed as a Phillies player. The photo was so sweet, he immediately set it as his lock screen.

"Are we ready to go?" Molly asked using the bullhorn, and Bradley gritted his teeth. "Ev, that's a foul for looking so cute in your Halloween costume. You owe me a Snickers bar for that."

"That's not what umpires do," Bradley ground out, digging around in the massive bowl of candy that you had set on the porch steps, searching for the only thing that might make Molly stop.

"And my sister gets a red card for leaving the candy on the porch," she added through the speaker. "That'll get stolen by the first kid that comes by. Rookie mistake. I used to do that with my friends."

You just shook your head as Bradley said, "There aren't even red cards-"

But Molly turned the horn toward him. "And Bradley gets a foul for being a turd."

But then his fingers wrapped around the king sized Hershey's bar and he waved it in her face. "I'll trade you this for the bullhorn, Molly. Make good decisions."

She eyed him with trepidation, but he knew that candy was her weakness now more than ever. She'd finished a whole bag of fun sized Kit Kats two nights ago, and Bradley had to go to Target to replenish the Halloween supply. When Molly lunged for the Hershey's bar, Bradley quickly grabbed the bullhorn and shoved it discreetly into the shrubs as she immediately opened the wrapper.

And after that, he had a pretty great night. Everett collected three pillowcases full of candy, and Molly ate it along the way while she repeatedly yelled, "Strike three, you're out!" every time Bradley tried to give you a kiss. But he was happy that Molly was having a night where she wasn't constantly thinking about Bob.

"Can we get a family photo next to that huge inflatable pumpkin?" you asked, pointing at the lawn decoration in front of the last house on the street. Everett went running for the pumpkin, all hopped up on sugar.

"Yep," Bradley said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Molly held her hand out to take it from him, but he shook his head. "You need to be in the family photo, too." So he flagged down another dad who agreed to take the picture for them, and you slipped your arm around his waist and gave him a kiss just after the photo was taken.

"Thanks, Coach," you whispered, your soft voice right next to his ear.

"Thanks, turd," Molly told him, trying to hide the tears she was swiping at as she turned to chase Everett down the sidewalk yelling about interference and personal fouls.

But it was after everyone got home and Everett and Molly were sound asleep that Bradley's night got even better. He was tired, he really was, but as soon as you very carefully unbuttoned and removed his vintage Phillies jersey, you looked at him and licked your lips.

"Kitten?" he asked softly, his cock already very interested in what might be happening next.

You closed your eyes and said, "I bought something I wanted to try on for you."

Bradley groaned, ready to beg. "Yes," he grunted, and you were pushing him toward the bed as he got undressed down to his underwear.

"Close your eyes. No peeking," you whispered, turning on the soft bedside lamp and turning off the overhead light. So he closed his eyes and listened to you flitting around the room, opening drawers and the closet door. His hand was down the front of his boxer shorts, and he was stroking himself when he felt your warm lips meet his. He moaned softly, "Can I look yet, Kitten?"

Once you were straddling his waist, your ass rubbing his cock through his underwear, you whispered, "My name is Lieutenant Kitten," and his eyes opened immediately. You were wearing his khaki uniform shirt, complete with his Bradshaw name tag. His favorite pair of aviators were perched low on your nose, and his dog tags were tucked between your breasts, hidden by the shirt.

"You're the sexiest naval officer I have ever seen," Bradley promised, skimming his rough fingertips down your soft thigh, bent knee and calf. He smirked as you raised his hand to your lips and kissed his wedding band. "Lieutenant Kitten."

As you leaned forward to kiss his lips, Bradley noticed some dark green lace peeking out from the collar of the khaki shirt, and he started working on the buttons as you licked the seam of his lips.

He felt the fabric before he saw it. You were covered in green lace from your tits down to your pussy, and he was already nudging it to the side, dying to know how wet you were.

"You're in charge, Lieutenant," he whispered, his voice harsh. "What would you like me to do?"

"You better make me cum."

He moaned as you lifted your hips, and he slipped that finger right inside you. So warm and silky. The bodysuit fit you like a dream, and you were leaning back, hands on his thighs, letting him watch your pussy sink down around two of his fingers now. You were rolling your hips slowly, making Bradley throb, but he was determined to give you exactly what you wanted first.

God, had you ever been this wet before? You were practically dripping. "Does that feel good, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"Keep going. Keep going."

With three fingers now inside you and his thumb on your clit, Bradley worked you over at a leisurely pace that had him almost in a trance. The way you were moving looked obscene, like he was viewing something so sexy, so filthy, it was taboo. He was barely moving his hand now, just listening to your little grunts and moans as they got louder while you fucked yourself on his hand.

"God damn," he whispered, tapping your clit softly each time you withdrew to his fingertips, earning him a little gasp.

"Bradley," you whined, getting a little louder now as you tilted your head forward to look him in the eye. Your grip tightened on his thighs, and his cock was demanding a fair share of your body, but he could tell you were close to orgasm.

"Baby," he whined, your slick coating him and glistening as you rocked your body forward one, two, three more times, and then your pussy clenched, grabbing at his fingers. "Fuck."

"Oh my god!" you whined, lips parted, gasping as you jerked yourself along his fingers.

"I need to fuck you," he said, nodding his head. "Please?"

"Yes," you gasped, easing yourself onto your back, legs spread wide. He pushed that little bit of green lace to the side and coated his cock with the wetness on his hand, and then he fucked you. And he fucked you so hard, your back arched. And then he fucked you even harder, your tits bouncing free of the bodysuit while he shoved his still slick fingers into your mouth to keep you quiet.

He didn't last; he knew he wouldn't. Not with you in brand new lingerie and his shirt. Not with the chain of his dog tags tangled up with your paw print necklace. He filled you up with his cum as he leaned down, easing his fingers out of your mouth and replacing them with his tongue. Everything was back to that languid pace you'd set earlier as you dragged your fingers through his hair and tasted his mouth.

Bradley pulled away to look at your pretty face, and you smiled as you ran your fingers along the scars on his cheek. "Did you enjoy your Halloween, Coach?"

With a kiss to the tip of your nose, Bradley pulled himself free from your body and collected you against his chest. He carefully leaned back against his pillow, holding you close with you still in his khaki shirt. "I did," he said thoughtfully, rubbing your arm. "I...well, I know it's kind of silly, but the last time I spent a Halloween with my dad was when I was three, and now I'm a dad."

"That's not silly," you told him. "And you're not just any dad. You're the best."

He held you tight. "You think Ev is going to make us dress as baseball players again next year?"

"Oh, one hundred percent."

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

Just two more parts left now! Thanks so much for reading! If there's something for Coach, Kitten and Ev that you're hoping to see, hit me up. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and thank you for the banner @mak-32

PART 32

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

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guilty-pleasures21 · 5 months

Text

Maybe this will just be my trash one.

I was inspired by this fic by @tarjapearce . I LOVE her writing so much!!! Please go check her out and give her some love!!!

1. Um ... yeah ...

Part 1 - the beginning

Part 2 - the car

Part 3 - the detectives

Part 4 - the contract

Part 5 - the clothes

Warnings: graphic descriptions of sex including blowjob (f receiving), penetration (p in v).

_______________________________________________

She studied herself in the mirror, her critical gaze running over the new lingerie she’d bought earlier. Francesco only ever let her leave the house to go shopping. ‘It’s for your own protection, mia cara’, he’d always tell her, the term of endearment sounding like poison on his lips. And then she’d feel bad all over again - because he was right. He’d given her everything and asked for nothing in return. It was the reason she’d married him, after all: because he’d promised to keep her safe. Because he had kept her safe, when no one else would. She walked over to the cupboard to pull out one of his shirts: a neatly pressed white top that grazed her thighs and slipped off her shoulder when she buttoned it up. It had been a while since she’d dress up for him, so rarely was he ever at home. But he’d said he’d be coming home early tonight, so she’d thought to take the opportunity to bring some of that spark back to their relationship. He’d been sweet in the beginning, taking her to dinner, buying her jewellery, promising her that no one would ever hurt her again, not as long as he had anything to say about it. But the thrill of chasing after her - of being much more in love with her than she was with him - must have worn off at some point, because his work days had become longer, his trips to the city more frequent. Now, she was lucky if she got to see him more than a few hours every weekend. She returned to the mirror to adjust the shirt, but then heard a sudden commotion happening outside, cars screeching and doors banging and guns going off before the sickening sounds of fists meeting bodies flew through the room. She dashed over to the intercom by the bedroom door and turned on the camera. An unfamiliar group of men and women stood outside the entrance, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of the guards Francesco had hired to keep watch over the villa. She shuddered, the fear squeezing around her insides as she tried to come up with a possible escape route. She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and took her passport from the safe, stuffing both of them into one of her crossbody bags. Then she went over to the window, taking a moment to survey the area below, making sure she had an unobstructed path to the shed at the other side of the swimming pool. She inhaled a deep breath, then climbed over the ledge and lowered herself as carefully as she could, hanging from the edge to get her feet as close to the ground as possible before she jumped. Then she let herself go.

She was pretty, he thought to himself, his eyes running over the long, curling lashes, dark, almond-shaped eyes and soft, rosy lips of the woman curled up in his arms. But whatever was she doing jumping out the window of Francesco Lombardi’s bedroom? And in his clothes, no less. She scrambled out of his arms, horrified, and pressed herself against the wall, clutching tightly to the strap of her bag. She curled into herself as he continued to study her, doing her best to minimise his view of her bare legs and shoulders. But she couldn’t hide the gleaming golden band that wrapped around the ring finger of her left hand. Francesco Lombardi had a wife? And such a beautiful one too, no less.

He folded his arms across his chest as he looked at her, the expensive material of his back shirt pressing against the rippling muscles of his forearms. She glanced up at his face and her heart skipped a beat at how handsome he was: deep-set copper eyes, sharp cheekbones and jawline, powerful, defined muscles. His full lips twisted into a smirk, noticing the way her eyes roved over him, and she gulped, the sight making her stomach flip over. She lowered her gaze and bit her lip, her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

“I don’t have anything,” she told him softly, making her voice vulnerable and helpless. She tugged on the strap of her bag. “This is just my phone. And my passport.”

He walked closer to her, intrigued by how ready Francesco Lombardi’s wife was to leave him at the slightest hint of danger. But was that just common sense? Or did she know more than she was letting on?

He stopped a few centimetres in front of her, close enough for her to smell the woodsy, spicy scent of him and feel the heat radiating off his imposing form. He stayed there for a bit, letting her squirm for a few seconds, her gaze flickering between him and the ground in anticipation of his next move. Then he held out his hand to her silently.

“What?” she asked.

“Passport,” he requested. His voice was deep and thick, but gentle - not like Francesco’s; harsh and demanding, an undercurrent of slyness lacing his every word. And his accent was different too - not the Italian that tinged Francesco’s voice or the hint of British that crept into hers. His was Spanish, if she’d had to guess, but mostly American. He hadn’t grown up here then, not like Francesco.

“W-Why? What would you want my passport for?” She was cute, the way she hunched over her bag protectively, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she looked up at him.

“So I can find out your name.” He shrugged, his lips widening into a full smile. She frowned and straightened, trying to make herself seem bigger. Even though she was so very small to him, especially in that oversized shirt that kept slipping off her tiny form.

“Why don’t you just ask me?” she pointed out to him.

She had to know how adorable she looked when she made that face; had to know that no one would ever take her seriously if she looked at them like that. He took a step even closer to her, tilting his head down so that their lips were just a breath apart. “Would you tell me if I asked?”

Her lips parted, stunned by their sudden proximity. She felt her mouth begin to water at how soft his lips looked, how lush and inviting. And she swallowed hard, pulling her gaze away from his. “Only if you’ll tell me yours.”

“Miguel,” he revealed, holding his hand out to her. “O’Hara.” She eyed his hand carefully, then slid her gaze up to his again. Miguel. It suited him. But his last name … it sounded Irish. Maybe he was mixed? He didn’t really look it though, with his dark features and tanned skin. She took hold of his hand cautiously, her slender fingers curling around his.

“X,” she confessed. He raised an eyebrow.

“No last name?”

“I don’t want you to search me up.” She tried to keep her tone light as she said it, like she meant it as a joke.

“Hmm.” He considered her thoughtfully. Then he jerked on her hand, pulling her forward so she fell against his chest. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, and he slid his hands up her back, holding her close to him. “Tell me, X: do you usually shake the hand of strange men who break into your husband’s house?”

She curled her fingers against his chest, chastising herself for forgetting to take off her wedding ring. But what did he want with her? And how could she get him to let her go? It was no use trying to push herself away from him - any effort she made would be futile, considering how big and strong he was next to her. She hunched over, trying to make herself seem even smaller.

She was so small and soft in his arms, her warm body fitting so perfectly against his as he held her close. He bent over slightly, bringing his mouth closer to her ear so he could murmur in it. “What a shame, princesa.”

She pushed against his chest, hoping to catch him off-guard - and conceal the way her body shivered at the feeling of his warm breath tickling her neck. But he loosened his grip on her anyway, letting her go. She took a step away from him, avoiding his gaze. “Just … Can I at least put on some proper clothes before you … torture me or whatever?”

He brought his hand to his mouth, trying to hide the smile that took over his face at her request. Not just cute, but funny too; in a sarcastic, witty kind of way. He placed his hands on his hips and bit his lip as he looked at her, waiting until she lifted her gaze back up to his. “If I was going to torture you, cariño, you’d be taking off your clothes. Not putting more on.”

How could he say that to her? While looking at her like that? In a way that had her feeling hot enough under the collar that she might have considered removing her clothes anyway? She folded her arms across her chest and frowned at him, trying to look stern. “You … If you’re going to be using lines like that, then I’m definitely going to be putting more clothes on.”

He grinned and moved closer to her, stopping just in front of her once again. He lifted his hand to her chin and tipped her face up to his, their mouths so dangerously close once again. His gaze fell to her lips and stayed there. “Then what should I say, cariño, to get you out of those clothes?”

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, then she wrenched her face out of his hand and side-stepped him. “Can you just … tell me why you’re here?!”

There it was, that adorable frown once again. Dios, he might just fall in love with her if she kept it up. “I’m here because your husband has some information I need.”

If he took Francesco down, she’d go down too. Unless she found a way to escape - to run away to some other countryside where no one would find her. But how would she even be able to afford it? Never mind the meagre savings she’d managed to transfer to her mother’s account before the lawsuit, everything she had belonged to him. She had to interfere - had to throw him off Francesco’s scent. At least until she managed to convince her husband to share with her all the passcodes for his numerous off-shore accounts. She gripped onto her bag strap again, hesitating.

“I … can help you,” she suggested, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. “Maybe?”

She probably had some plan in mind to try to stop him. Then again, she had tried to escape from the house immediately. With her passport, no less. Maybe she did know something useful about Francesco Lombardi’s business dealings. And besides - his eyes trailed over her small figure again - there was no way she could pose any sort of threat to him. Maybe he’d try playing along. He waved a hand at the house, signalling for her to lead the way. She obliged, turning to slide open the balcony door. As soon as they’d stepped in, however, the front door slammed open and Francesco himself burst in. His gaze bounced between the two of them, his brows drawing together in an angry frown. Then he stalked over to them.

“You let her go! Now!” he commanded Miguel, grabbing X’s elbow to pull her to his side. He turned to face her, his light brown eyes widening with concern as he looked at her. “Take the car, mia cara. Go to your mother. I already told Antonio to transfer money to your account. I’ll meet you there.” He pressed the car key into her hand, pushing her towards the door. But she hesitated, glancing back at Miguel thoughtfully. He folded his arms across his chest, waiting to see what she’d do.

“What are you waiting for?!” Francesco yelled at her, his normally immaculately styled sand-coloured hair falling into his eyes as he yelled at her. “Go!”

X stumbled as he shoved her again, making her way over to the door. But then she froze.

“Cariño,” Miguel called out to her lazily. “What happened to you helping me?” Francesco moved to block X from Miguel’s view.

“You leave her alone,” he warned Miguel. “She has no business in any of this!”

Miguel leaned to the side slightly, easily chancing a glimpse at X over Francesco’s smaller form. “That’s not what it seemed like to me.”

Francesco turned to glance at X, trying not to let his confusion show at Miguel’s revelation. “What are you still doing here?! I told you to run!”

X nodded and continued walking to the door. But then she was stopped by two of Miguel’s … bodyguards? A short woman with smooth brown skin and tightly curled hair and a taller, fair-haired man with a long face and bulging muscles.

“Ven aquí, cariño,” Miguel instructed her, that languid tone still drenching his voice. X gulped and returned to him, knowing that her best bet was to just try and play along until he got bored with her.

So, she understood Spanish. He’d have to make note of that for later. He tugged on her shirt when she’d gotten close enough to him, pulling her even closer. She gasped as she fell into his chest again.

“¿Qué pasa, hermosa?” he asked her, injecting a tone of hurt into his voice. “I thought you said you were going to help me?”

Francesco leaped forward, meaning to pull his wife away from the monster, but Miguel pulled out his gun and aimed it at Francesco, stopping him in his tracks. X curled into herself as she tried to avoid meeting Francesco’s gaze, ashamed now by how she’d tried to sell him out so quickly. “I-I … I don’t …”

Miguel wrapped his free arm around her waist and nuzzled her hair with his nose, inhaling the sweet and fruity scent of her shampoo.

“¿Qué pasa, bonita?” He lowered his mouth to the base of her ear, grinning when he felt the shiver run down her spine. “Tell me where he keeps his bank statements, mi angelita. The ones you’re not supposed to know about?”

He brushed his nose against her neck and she let out a choked gasp at the feeling. “M-Mi-Miguel …”

Ay, coño, the way she whimpered his name? It drove him mad. He pressed his lips to the crook of her neck and let out a soft moan, squeezing her soft curves appreciatively. “Mmm. You have such a lovely wife, Francesco. How could you even think of cheating on her.”

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, horrified by the revelation. “W-What?”

She turned to Francesco, looking to him for reassurance. But he looked away, avoiding her gaze guiltily.

“Did you … cheat on me?” she asked him, knowing the answer deep down anyway. It would explain the long nights, the trips to the city, the months he’d gone without touching her. He refused to answer.

“Francesco!” she pressed, the rage beginning to bubble up within her now.

“It was just … It was just one time, mia cara!” he pleaded with her. “I was tired and … She took advantage of me!”

“Oh.” Miguel schooled his features into a fake expression of confusion. “One of them actually managed to take advantage of you? What kind of lawyer are you, Señor Lombardi?”

“‘One of them’?!” X repeated, horrified - the exact reaction Miguel had been hoping to draw out of her. Francesco glared at him, but whether it was because of his declaration or because of the insult, Miguel didn’t care.

“Tu sporco canaglia!” he shouted. (You dirty scoundrel!) X tightened her grip on Miguel unconsciously, her lips twisting into a frown as she looked back at Francesco.

“You … You filthy piece of shit!” He hadn’t expected that. Miguel grinned, amused by the curse falling from her sweet lips, and wrapped his arm more firmly around her waist, supporting her as she seethed at her pathetic excuse of a husband. Eventually, she gritted her teeth and turned to Miguel, revenge the only thought on her mind. “His safe is in the kitchen. You can check there.”

“Gracias, cariño.” Miguel pressed a delighted kiss to her forehead. He might keep her around, he decided. Pretty, smart, and driven by anger, turning it into something productive. She couldn’t have been better than if he’d conjured her up himself. He gestured for Ben and Jess to bring Francesco into the kitchen, following after them with X. She went over to the oven and pulled it open.

“No! X! Don’t you dare! You f*cking b*tch!” Francesco screamed at her, struggling against Ben and Jess. Miguel scowled at the insult and stepped forward, ready to smack the insolent b*stard across the face. But X yelled back at him.

“Shut the hell up, Francesco!” She pulled out the back of the oven and handed it to Miguel, then disappeared back inside to key in the passcode to the safe. It wasn’t long before she’d gathered up the binders inside and given them to Miguel. He opened one up and sifted through the papers within, then grinned when he saw they contained what he needed.

“Bien hecho, mi angelita (Good job, my little angel),” he praised her before setting the binders atop the kitchen island. He took hold of her shirt again and tugged her back to him. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, then cupped her cheek in his hand, his heart speeding up as he gave her a smirk. “Should I give you your reward now?”

“I didn’t do it for a reward,” she told him, her voice coming out much softer than she’d meant it to. She could tell by his tone how, exactly, he planned to reward her. But in front of other people?! In front of her husband?! Sure, he was a cheater, but she wouldn’t be the same. Although … it wasn’t like they’d ever repair their relationship; cheating was a dealbreaker for her, so he was as good as dead in her book.

Miguel grinned as he watched the emotional conflict play itself out across her face. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, leaning down to press his lips to the crook of her neck.

“¿Qué estás pensando, mi angelita? (What are you thinking, my little angel?)" He slid his hands higher up her back, pulling her tighter against him, and brushed his lips along her neck. Then he began pressing soft kisses along her skin, taking his time to relish the feeling of her against him.

“I-I … I …” she trailed off, her words disrupted by the shiver than ran down her spine at the feeling of his lips on her. He was so gentle, so soft, and he smelled so, so nice. Like nutmeg and wood, warm and spicy, clouding all her senses entirely.

“You … You f*cking leave her alone, you b*stard!” Francesco yelled, his voice cracking with his fury. Miguel groaned loudly against X’s neck, maintaining eye contact with her husband as he did so.

“¿Qué dices, querida? (What do you say, darling?)” he asked her, voice low and husky. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“M-Miguel …” ¡Ay, coño, that p*nche whimper again! He slid his hands down to squeeze her ass, causing her to squeak and tense against him. Maldita sea, she was cute. He wondered what other sounds he could get her to make, if the layers of clothing between them weren’t stopping him. He slipped his hands beneath the hem of her shirt, sliding them up her bare skin. Then he trailed his fingers down to her underwear, tracing the thin fabric and giving a soft chuckle at the feeling of the delicate lace draped across her curves.

“Was this a surprise for him, mi angelita?” Miguel asked her teasingly, face still buried in the crook of her shoulder. “Do you think he deserves it, cariño?” He curled his fingers around one of the thin ribbons, his mind running wild as he tried to put together a mental image of what she might have been wearing underneath the shirt.

“N-No!” She glared at Francesco, still yelling and struggling against his captors, then her head fell back with pleasure as Miguel dipped his hand just into her underwear, his fingers tracing lazy circles along her skin. “I-I … D-Divorce …” She gasped and wrapped herself around Miguel, sliding her fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair, clutching at the strands tightly. He groaned into her neck, his fingers moving dangerously low along her skin.

“Mmm, angelita.” He looked up at Ben and Jess and nodded his head at Francesco. “Leave him. I want him to watch.” He turned his gaze to Francesco as he lowered his mouth back to X’s shoulder, bare now where he’d slid the collar down. Franscesco continued his futile protests, kicking and fighting against Ben and Jess as they handcuffed him to the very oven that had been his downfall before they left.

“M-Miguel.” She clutched at the collar of his shirt, pulling back to look up at him desperately. “I don’t even … k-know you.” He grinned and plunged his fingers all the way into her underwear, dragging them through her rapidly dampening folds. She bit her lip, trying to muffle the moan that fought to slip out.

“Angelita,” he whined, feeling himself start to harden at how soft and wet she was, how her little body shuddered against him helplessly, getting more and more aroused by his movements. “Should I take you on a date first, princesa? Hmm? Where would you like to go? Dime dónde quieres que te lleve (Tell me where you want me to take you)." He brought his mouth closer to hers, chuckling when she tilted her head to follow his lips with her own. Then he leaned forward and kissed her as he continued playing with her p*ssy, his fingers stroking and teasing her while his tongue swept across her mouth. She stumbled at the overwhelming feeling of him all around her and he pulled her hips against his, holding her upright as he kissed her.

“Angelita,” he moaned again, pulling his lips away from hers to move them back to her neck. He groaned at how wet she was, at how sweet she tasted on his tongue, and circled her entrance with his fingers. Her legs twitched at the sensation and another whimper fell from her lips. “Me estas matando, cariño (You're killing me, sweetheart)."

God, he was good, torturing her and teasing her with his large, calloused fingers. She gasped, her entire body tightening as he slid his finger into her. He laughed.

“Relájate, mi angelita (Relax, my little angel),” he soothed her, tickling her walls gently. “I’m not going to be able to go any deeper if you don’t relax.”

“F*ck you, you f*cking b*stard!” Francesco yelled at him, the oven banging and rattling as he pulled at his handcuff. X relaxed her body, so lost in her own pleasure that she didn’t even hear the horrified shrieks of her husband - soon-to-be ex-husband, if either she or Miguel had anything to say about it. Of course he’d never let her go back to that monster - not now that he knew what it felt like, having her in his arms. He pushed his finger deeper inside of her, then added another, forcing a gasp from her lips.

“¡Ay, p*ta madre, mi angelita!” Miguel groaned, bringing his mouth to her ear. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had sex before.” She was just so tight, so sensitive and so desperate for him: it was like she’d never been touched before. X gripped onto his shoulders tightly, her body beginning to contract at the feeling of his fingers prodding and poking at her. Miguel chuckled at her gasps and moans, then looked back up at Francesco, his features pulled tight in horror as he watched the sight unfolding before him.

“Or is your husband just too small for you?” Miguel grinned wickedly at Francesco and curled his fingers inside of X, prompting a loud moan to fall from her lips. “Discúlpeme, mi angelita (Excuse me, my little angel). Ex-husband."

“I’ll kill you! I’ll f*cking kill you, you f*cking b*stard!” Francesco threatened him, dishevelled like he’d never been before. Miguel snorted at the threat and returned his attention to X.

“Then I’d better take advantage of this moment, sí, mi preciosa?” Miguel teased, removing his fingers to trail them across X’s clit. “What do you say, mi angelita? Do you want me to show you what a real man feels like? Between those legs?” He ignored Francesco’s curses as he looked at X, waiting for her response.

She couldn’t - she shouldn’t. She didn’t even know him, this stranger who had broken into her home and tied up her husband after stealing his bank statements. She looked up at Miguel, eyes wide, lips quivering as she tried to tell all of this to him. “M-Miguel …”

P*ta madre, she was cute. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, sucking and licking off the glistening liquid she’d left there. He moaned at the taste, then flashed a smirk at Francesco before reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand. “Sabes muy deliciosa, cariño (You taste so delicious, sweetheart)."

She whimpered at the declaration, tangling her fingers in the collar of his shirt as she felt another stream of arousal leak out of her. Miguel grinned and lifted her up easily, setting her down on the kitchen island and spreading her legs apart to accommodate himself between them. He held her thighs down and looked her in the eyes, his expression serious. “I’m not going to force you, mi angelita. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

A gang leader? With morals? She would have laughed at the thought if she hadn’t been so painfully aroused then. She glanced over at Francesco, knowing she should say no, knowing she should tell him to stop, then leave and never look back. But she said nothing, just turned back to Miguel with an embarrassed look on her face. He grinned.

“Let’s see this underwear you got, hmm, cariño?” he suggested, starting to unbutton her shirt. “We wouldn’t want it to go to waste, would we now?” He slid her shirt off and tossed it aside, sucking in a breath when he saw her exposed curves beneath the scanty pink lace. F*ck, she looked delicious. So f*cking delicious, all his for the taking. He ran his hands up and down her sides, completely exposed save for the streams of ribbons holding the piece of fabric that clung to her front against her body. She was so, so beautiful, he was getting hard just thinking about all the ways he’d make her squirm and writhe beneath him, her soft curves pressing up against his hard muscles.

“Cariño,” he growled, his lips curling into a snarl as his eyes roved over her hungrily. She glanced over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of Francesco’s reaction - he’d used to look at her in the same way, back at the start. But then he’d found his other toys and hadn’t needed her anymore. He clenched his jaw, his normally handsome features scrunched up in anger and frustration, his eyes boring holes into Miguel’s back. And then Miguel slid his hands up her front, landing on her breasts where he pinched and stroked her already stiff nipples, pulling her attention back to him.

“So … So f*cking beautiful, cariño,” he told her, licking a stripe up her neck to her ear. Her head fell to the side in response and he let out another growl before cupping her face in his hands, straightening her so he could begin kissing her. He groaned into her mouth as he brushed his tongue against hers, the sound sending vibrations running down her chest, then he glided his hands back down to her thighs.

“Can I … Can I …” he mumbled, his lips moving against hers as he tried to get the question out. He pulled back, his thumbs toying with the ribbons around her waist, and fixed his gaze on her chest. “So f*cking beautiful, cariño.” He raised his hands to undo the ribbons around her back, taking his time to expose her full, luscious breasts to him. He licked his lips as she whimpered nervously, then leaned forward to press his lips to her nipples, holding her firmly in place as he sucked and licked on her gently.

Holy shit! He was so gentle, so … appreciative, like he was in such awe of her body, had such a desire to just worship her. He dragged his tongue around her nipple, then closed his lips around it, pulling her breast into his mouth and groaning as he sucked on it thirstily. She gripped onto the table as she let out a choked gasp, her p*ssy throbbing desperately against his stomach. Francesco stilled behind them, his lips curling with horror as he found himself unable to pull his gaze away from the sight. Miguel released her with a wet pop, then licked his way up her collarbone, his teeth grazing her throat as he made his way back up to her mouth. He kissed her again, harder this time, more aggressive, then began moving his hips against hers, driving the bulk of him into her.

“M-Miguel,” she gasped, her body begging for more - for him. “P-Please?”

“Lo sé, mi cariño, lo sé (I know, my sweetheart, I know),” he reassured her, his lips and tongue brushing along her neck and throat. “I just … Just let me taste you, querida. Just … Déjame probarte, mi querida, solo una vez. Solo … (Let me taste you, my darling, just once. Just ...)" He stood back and undid the rest of her ties, his wavy hair cascading into his eyes at the frenzy of his movements. And then she was fully exposed, completely bare before him, her delicious curves entirely on display for him.

“Mmm, f*ck,” he murmured, his pupils dilating as he squeezed her breasts together, bouncing them in between his hands. She let out a desperate whine and he lowered his hands to her thighs, pulling her legs apart and kneeling down on the ground.

“Don’t,” Francesco begged softly, his tone defeated. “Please.” But Miguel ignored him, instead pulling X closer to him, so that he could drag his tongue up her centre. A loud yelp escaped her throat and her body shuddered at the feeling, her hips bucking against his mouth as she silently begged him for more. He closed his mouth around her, his pleased moans sinking into her skin and vibrating along her nerves, adding onto her pleasure. He dribbled his tongue up and down her folds, drinking up the c*m that continued to leak out of her as he kept playing with her. F*ck, she tasted delicious.

“Miguel!” she pleaded with him, her legs twitching as he circled her entrance teasingly. “Miguel, please! Please?” He dipped his tongue into her, swirling it around her insides, brushing up against her walls and stroking her vigorously. She whined and moaned loudly, drowning out any protests Francesco might have had, and Miguel increased the intensity of his movements, spurred on by the sounds of her pleasure. Finally, with one last curl of his tongue, she came, her body shaking and shuddering as she rode out her orgasm on his mouth. He kept his tongue shoved up inside of her when she’d finished, making sure to drink up every last drop of her sweet, sweet c*m, and she felt her brain turn numb at the feeling. How could she sit there, completely exposed, another man’s tongue buried so deeply inside of her while her husband watched? She shifted uncomfortably, ashamed by how thrilled she was by the thought, and Miguel finally slid his tongue out of her, pushing himself up to look at her. She glanced up at him nervously, a squeak escaping her throat at the mix of saliva and c*m dripping from his jaw, and lowered her gaze again.

“P*ta madre,” he breathed, shaking his head in awe. “Sabes muy p*nche deliciosa, mi angelita (You taste so f*cking good, my little angel)." He raised one hand to her face, cupping her chin and tilting her head up to his so he could start kissing her again. He needed … He needed more. He needed to feel her clenching around his d*ck the same way he’d felt her clenching around his tongue, her tight little p*ssy begging him for release. He began undoing the buttons of his shirt, his lips never leaving hers as he pulled off his clothes and tossed them to the ground, climbing on top of her when he was fully naked.

“Querida,” he whined, holding her down against the cold marble of the kitchen island as he tugged on the skin of her neck with his teeth. “Querida, tu … Te necesito, mi angelita. Te necesito … ahora (Darling, you ... I need you, my little angel. I need you ... now)."

“Mi-Miguel,” she breathed, losing control of her thoughts once again. Holy shit, he felt good, his broad shoulders and chest, his smooth skin and hard muscles, pressing into her and shielding her from the rest of the world. She tangled her fingers in his hair, gripping onto the silky strands as she wriggled beneath him, rubbing herself up against him for relief. God, his c*ck! It felt huge! So hard and so warm and so painfully outside of her, not filling her up like she wanted him to. “Migue-el!”

“Mmm, querida,” he chuckled, delighting in how badly she wanted him as well. He moaned against her neck, then sat up, sliding her around so she could lie more comfortably lengthwise on the counter. He took hold of himself then, tracing his tip along her soaking folds, lubricating himself in preparation of entering her. She raised her hips, seeking him, but he pressed her down gently, holding her flat against the island. “Calmate, angelita (Calm down, little angel). I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you everything you want, mi angelita preciosa.”

He grunted as he began easing himself inside of her, stretching her out and filling her up so very nicely. She sighed at the feeling, arching her back and wriggling her hips to better accommodate him, barely hearing the groan he let out at the satisfied look on her face. Then she was sitting up, her head falling onto his shoulder as he held her against him, keeping her upright on his lap. He raised her off of him slightly, then slammed her back down on top of him, thrusting his hips into her at the same. F*ck, she felt … so f*cking good. He continued the movement, pumping himself in and out of her, relishing the feeling of her tight and warm walls squeezing and squelching around him.

“Querida,” he mumbled in her ear, sliding his hands up her back to press her soft curves tightly against his hard body. She wrapped her arms around him, her eyes fluttering shut as her brain went numb, completely consumed by the sheer pleasure of having him so deeply inside of her. She gasped as she came again, writhing helplessly in his arms as he continued to drive himself into her. He bit down on her shoulder and squeezed her ass as she contracted around him, her soft little p*ssy tightening around his d*ck even lovelier than it had around his tongue. And then he came as well, his muscles finally relaxing as he relieved himself inside of her. She leaned over and bit his ear, then lowered her lips to his neck and sucked on his skin, licking up the salty sweat there as his warm seed seeped into her.

“Mmm, Miguel,” she murmured against him, scrunching his hair in her fingers as he continued to hold onto her. His chest heaved up and down as he tried to catch his breath, his fingers stroking her spine as she panted against him as well. Dios, she was cute. He definitely wouldn’t be able to let her go now that he’d had a taste of her.

“Boss?” Jess called out to him from somewhere outside. “Cops are on their way. We’d better get going.” Miguel pressed a final kiss to X’s cheek, then lifted her off his lap, setting her down on the table.

“That’s right,” Francesco told him, suddenly regaining some of his confidence. “You’d better get going you filthy b*stard.” Miguel rolled his eyes and got off the table, holding a hand out to X to help her down. She hopped off of it, stumbling slightly as her legs shook, still weak from having him inside of her. But he held her steady until she regained her footing, then bent over to pick his clothes up. X reached for her underwear, then grabbed Francesco’s shirt as well, starting to put it back on. But Miguel held a hand in front of her, stopping her.

“I don’t want you wearing that, cariño,” he told her, taking the shirt from her and replacing it with his own. “Here. Put this on instead.” She bit her lip, worrying at it as she contemplated his underlying meaning. Her gaze flickered over to Francesco, his brows set into a harsh frown as he glared at her. Then Miguel moved to stand in front of her, blocking her husband from her view. He nodded at his shirt, gesturing for her to put it on, and she did so, setting the underwear aside. He picked it up and shoved it into his pants pocket, flashing her a wicked grin that hinted at whatever he had planned in mind for later. So he wanted there to be a later. Was he really intending on taking her with him then? But how long would he keep her for? What would he have her do? Besides … the obvious, of course. She gulped as her stomach flipped at the thought, lowering her head to avoid meeting his gaze. He slipped his jacket on and placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her out the door and far away from the life she knew she’d never come back to.

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel fanfic #miguel smut #miguel x oc #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel ohara #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel o'hara smut #spiderverse smut #mafia boss miguel

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just-aake · 10 months

Text

Trust Me

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A side story/prequel to Come With Me but can be read standalone. You work with Clint to eliminate a dangerous Russian spy in Budapest.

Warnings: fluff, violence

Words: 2851

Budapest, Past - 2003

“I got eyes on the target,” Clint’s voice comes through your earpiece as you slowly move up the staircase of the apartment building.

“Any clear shot?” you whisper back, adjusting the grip of the gun in your hand.

“Not yet.”

“Are you even going to shoot her if you do?” you criticize him, still mad at the fact that he didn’t take the shot when he had a chance, letting your target escape and forcing you to track her down all over again.

Clint sighs tiredly.

“I’m telling you, there’s something different about her. She has potential.”

You roll your eyes at his words. You were quickly moving up in rank at Shield, becoming one of the best trackers in the agency. The last thing you need is a failed mission to derail all of your hard work.

You slow your steps as you near the door of the apartment room.

“Still nothing?” you ask.

“Yeah, she’s keeping to the center of the room,” he grumbles.

Checking your gun one more time, you nod in determination.

“Okay, you create a distraction and I’ll go in.”

At the sound of broken glass, you kick the door open and rush inside. You spot the target quickly enough, her red hair flipping behind her as she snaps her head toward your direction.

You shoot at her twice, but she dodges in time for the first bullet to just graze her arm while the other one misses her completely.

You are about to advance further into the room when a chair flies at you, causing you to duck back behind a pillar as it crashes into pieces against the wall.

You quickly turn back into the room with your gun raised when her hand grabs your wrist and slams your arm against the pillar. The force causes your gun to fall out of your hands and onto the floor.

With your arm still in her grip, you raise your leg to kick her, striking her stomach.

The impact pushes her back, but she doesn’t release you. Instead, she uses the momentum to pull you forward and flip you onto the ground.

You can only focus on the pain in your back for a second before there is a pressure against your neck.

The target is on top of you now, pinning you down while pressing her arm hard against your neck. From this position, you can see her face more clearly. Her fierce, cold eyes focus on yours.

You can now understand what it meant when her file described her as beautiful.

Your lack of oxygen reminds you of your current position, and you internally curse at yourself for losing focus, beginning to struggle against her hold.

She doesn’t budge, but you don’t give up. You glare determinedly at her even as it gets more and more difficult to breathe.

Her eyes suddenly widen in realization as if snapping out of a daze, and in the next second, she releases her hold and moves off of your body.

You take in a deep breath, coughing, before rolling shakingly to your feet, picking up your gun during the process. You point your weapon at her, your finger hovering near the trigger.

But you hesitate when you see her. She hasn’t moved from her position on the floor, and her posture now appears heavy and tired. She has an apathetic expression as she stares at you. It’s like she’s given up completely.

You keep your gun pointed at her cautiously as you try to catch your breath.

“So you’re the Black Widow,” you manage to rasp out.

“Natasha.”

You tilt your head in question.

Natasha nods at you.

“You were sent to kill me right? I figure if someone should know my name, it should be the one who finally gets rid of me.”

This was supposed to be the most ruthless assassin? The thought runs through your mind as you watch her.

You lower your gun slowly at her response, raising your other hand to your earpiece to ask Clint.

You don’t notice the red dot that appears at the center of your chest.

“Clint–,” you’re interrupted as Natasha tackles you onto the sofa, and a gunshot shatters the window of the apartment hitting the area where you were standing.

You look at the bullet mark. From the angle of the shot, if she hadn’t pushed you, you would have been fatally wounded.

Clint’s voice comes through your earpiece. “A truck just pulled up with a lot of armed men entering the building. You need to get out now! I’ll take care of the ones on the rooftops.”

A small grunt of pain catches your attention as you look at Natasha. Her arm is bleeding from where you had shot her previously, and she had landed on the injured area when she saved you.

You look between the exit and Natasha, shaking your head as you make an admittedly reckless decision.

“I’m taking her with me.”

There are sounds of fighting in the background when Clint replies. “What!?”

You ignore his exclamation, standing up.

“Just meet us back at the safe house.”

Throwing her uninjured arm around your shoulders, you pull her up and wrap your arm around her back, supporting her. You ignore the questioning look Natasha throws at you. Honestly, you’re not sure what you are doing either.

Rushing out the door, you stop at the sight of two armed men down the hall. They spot the two of you and raise their weapons.

In the next second, your body is pushed behind a pillar as gunshots are fired at your position, sending pieces of wood flying. You realize Natasha is pressed close to you, shielding you with her body.

When there is a slight pause, she pulls out her gun and shoots back at them. After they are subdued, Natasha looks back at you to check your condition, and she finds you staring at her curiously.

You were speechless, unsure of what to say after the supposed assassin protected you for the second time. You are about to thank her when you spot another man over her shoulder, appearing from one of the other apartment doorways.

You quickly push her behind you before firing at him, his body slumping to the ground.

Turning back to her, Natasha has an impressed expression as she looks at you. You ignore the warm feeling when you see her intense gaze, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the direction of the staircase.

You stop abruptly when you see more armed men sweeping the floor around the corner.

Backing up quietly, Natasha pulls you into another open apartment room.

You close the door, locking it, before pushing the dining table against the entrance. Turning back around, you find her standing on the window sill.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at her, grabbing her hand.

“I’ve got an idea. Just follow me.”

She begins to move along the edge outside of the building, but she stops when you don’t release her hand.

You look down at the long drop skeptically.

“They’re going to break in any minute now,” Natasha warns.

At the sounds of stomping and yelling in the halls, you curse as you reluctantly climb up onto the edge with her.

The two of you move carefully around the building until she stops suddenly. You gasp in surprise when she jumps off the edge.

Natasha lands gracefully on a balcony two floors down of the building next to yours, straightening back up. She looks up at you expectantly.

“Come on, I’ll catch you.”

You scoff in disbelief.

“Sure, I’ll just trust an assassin with my life. What could go wrong?”

You close your eyes, resting your head against the building as you prepare yourself. You don’t see the small, amused smile on Natasha’s face as she watches you.

Letting out a deep breath, you leap off the edge. Her hands wrap around you, catching you and bringing you safely to the ground.

You stumble into her as you try to stabilize yourself, your hands holding her shoulders tightly. You stay in that position, taking deep breaths to calm your beating heart.

When you finally pull away, she raises her eyebrows at you in a silent question.

Huffing, you shove past her into the building, grumbling under your breath.

“I should’ve just killed you.”

Natasha lets out a small smile at your words, looking away, before following after you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The two of you arrive at the safe house first. After checking the locks, you turn to the supposedly deadly spy. She has an impassive look on her face as she settles on one of the chairs.

You frown when you notice a dark color on the sleeve of her arm. She must still be bleeding from when you shot her. You go to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit, a clean towel, and a bowl of water.

Natasha looks at you curiously when you pull up a chair next to hers. You were laying out your supplies on the table before grabbing a pair of scissors and reaching for her arm. Her years of training cause her body to instinctively tense and move away.

You pull your hands back at her guarded posture.

“I’m just going to cut off the sleeve to patch you up. We need to get that clean unless you want to get it infected,” you reassure her.

You wait until her body relaxes and she moves her arm back to you before getting closer to remove the piece of clothing.

You observe the injured area. It didn’t look too deep since the bullet only grazed her, so all you would need to do is dress the wound and bandage her up.

You are careful not to jostle her arm too much as you begin your work. Dipping the towel in the water, you dab it gently around the edges of the wound, cleaning off the dried blood. When you finish, you grab the disinfectant spray.

You look up at her apologetically.

“Sorry, this is going to sting.”

Natasha doesn’t respond to your words, but you see a slight nod of acknowledgment.

Sighing, you spray the disinfectant solution on the wound before covering it with a dressing. Besides a tiny sharp inhale of breath, she doesn’t even flinch at the contact.

Fully focused, you unconsciously blew lightly on the surrounding area to provide some relief from the stinging sensation.

Your action causes Natasha to look at you in surprise. It’s been a long time since she has been cared for this gently before.

You begin to apply the bandage. As you carefully wrap her arm, you decide to speak up.

“Thank you, by the way, for saving me back at the apartment,” you tell her sincerely.

When you look up at her, there is a pained expression on her face. You are about to ask if you had hurt her when she spoke first.

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

Her question causes you to pause for a second. You shake your head, looking back down to continue your process of wrapping the bandage.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you respond, referring to when she let you go.

“You know who I am. What I’ve done. I’m not a good person. As long as I’m alive, bad things will happen.”

You finish the last wrap, securing the bandage in place before looking at her.

“From what I saw, you saved my life. Twice. I don’t believe a person who does that can’t have a little bit of goodness in them.”

Natasha’s eyes widen in surprise.

You give her a small smile and a few gentle pats on her arm.

“All done,” you tell her.

Standing up, you gather your supplies to return them to their places. Glancing at the corner of your eye, you see Natasha examining the newly bandaged area, gingerly touching it.

At the sound of the lock opening, you both snap to the door, cautious and alert. You relax when you see Clint stumbling in, a little frazzled but otherwise unharmed.

Clint stops at the doorway as he looks between you and Natasha. Letting out a deep exhale, he presses his hand to his head in disbelief.

“Oh wow, you actually brought her with you. This is going to be fun to explain to Fury.”

An hour later, you and Clint check in with Shield on the status of the mission.

Fury’s face is fuming by the time you both recount the events that took place earlier.

“I sent you to eliminate a very dangerous, very deadly Russian spy. Instead, you bring her back with you. What on Earth were you two thinking?”

Clint flinches away from the video call before addressing Fury.

“It’s not Y/n’s fault. I was the one who suggested not to eliminate her. I’m telling you, Fury, she could become a great asset to Shield.”

You look over at Natasha as they continue to argue. She has a cold and impassive expression on her face, seemingly already resigned to her fate.

You decide to interrupt, “I’m also backing his recommendation for her recruitment to Shield.”

Clint turns to you in surprise at your change of opinion, but you don’t look at him. Your eyes stay focused on Natasha who's now giving you a questioning look.

You continue, “Clint’s right, Natasha has amazing skills and abilities. She’s not irredeemable.”

You look back at the screen.

“She just needs a different option, Fury. We can give that to her.”

A brief look of surprise passes on her face as she stares at you.

You see Fury contemplate your words, his eyes looking into the distance in thought. He shakes his head in resignation.

“Ah, what the hell, fine. One chance. Take down the Red Room, and maybe I’ll consider it. But you two are responsible for her. Everything she does, it’s all on you and your jobs. You two better hope you’re not wrong about this.”

You nod your head at him, “Don’t worry, sir.”

You lock eyes with Natasha confidently.

“I trust her.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Unknown Airspace, Present Day - 2018

“Ow, that stings.” Natasha winces as you clean the cut on her hand.

“Stop moving,” you chastise her, as you begin to gently wrap the bandage around her hand.

“You know, back when we first met, you didn’t make a sound when I was patching you up.”

Natasha gives you a teasing smirk, “That was because I didn’t know I would get a kiss from the pretty agent if I showed a little pain.”

Letting out a huff of laughter, you finish tying the bandage in place before turning her hand and pressing a soft kiss on her palm.

You move to stand up to put away the supplies, but a tug on your hand causes you to stumble onto her lap, narrowingly avoiding her newly bandaged hand.

“Nat!” You shouted, examining her hand again to make sure nothing was affected.

After you finish your inspection, your concerned expression changes into an unserious glare when you finally look at her.

Natasha has an amused smile on her face, as she raises her eyebrows pointedly at you.

Rolling your eyes, you cup her face, bringing her in for a soft kiss. Natasha’s smile widens against your lips before pressing closer to you, deepening the kiss.

You were slowly losing yourself in the kiss when you felt her hand caress your thigh. Her injured hand.

Your eyes snap open at the realization, and you quickly jump off of her lap. Natasha remains frozen in her position, eyes blinking in confusion at your sudden disappearance.

“No, none of that, you are on bed rest until we get to Wanda’s and Vision’s location.” You reprimand her, moving away quickly towards the door in case she pulls you in again.

Natasha stands up to follow you, disbelief on her face.

“It’s just a small cut.”

She grabs your hand to turn you around and sees the concern in your eyes.

“What else is bothering you?”

You sigh as you look down at your joined hands, gently caressing the top of her bandage.

“I’m just worried. It’s not like them to not check in.”

“They probably just lost track of time and forgot.”

Natasha brings her face close to yours.

“Trust me. Everything’s going to be okay.”

You give her a short peck on the lips, smiling at her.

“I always have.”

Natasha smiles at you with love in her eyes before walking backward, pulling you with her.

“We still have an hour before we reach their location.”

She tilts her head at the bed and raises her eyebrow suggestively.

You give her an exasperated look.

“You’re injured.”

She has a teasing smirk when she replies.

“There are other things I can do to you that don't require my hand.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head fondly at her, but you don’t resist when she pulls you on top of her, your body melting into hers perfectly.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fluff

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spaceshipellie · 10 months

Text

everything’s about you to me

ellie williams x reader

chapter two: this house is a graveyard

masterlist for other chapters *✧･ﾟ: wc: 3.7k

summary: in the midst of the apocalypse, you and ellie find each other after you’ve both lost everything. what started out as a mere safety in numbers pairing, turns into something imperishable. however, after some time you get separated, leaving you both to believe the other is dead. four years later you find a commune in wyoming.

warnings: tlou au, death, grief, burying a body, mentions of deceased loved ones, it’s sad sorry :( 18+ mdni

author’s note: i promise the next part will be less traumatic!!! it’s actually going to be very cute (i think anyway lmao) but back to this part!! thank you for all the love so far <3 lmk what you think

♪ ‘cause the world could be burning, and all i’d be thinking, is “how are you doing, baby?”

The sky was a mottled grey overhead as the three of you walked along the rural road. Nearly an hour had passed since the diner but conversations were minimal. From Ellie at least, who was reluctant to share much about herself. It was understandable, you wouldn’t be in a rush to share your life with people you had only just met. The time had allowed you to observe her though. She was wearing a blue button up with the sleeves ripped off and a grey t-shirt underneath, jeans, and converses which matched your own. Her hair was short and roughly tied up in a half up, half down.

You couldn’t help but ponder the reasons as to why she might be alone. She must have been about your age and the thought of being alone terrified you so you couldn’t imagine what she might have been through. Did she have a family? Friends? Where was she going before she met you? All of these questions swirled around your brain but you thought better of bombarding her with them. She seemed lost and forlorn and you didn’t want to do anything to upset her. Your attention was diverted when you heard coughing.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” your mom said, wiping her hand over her mouth. She then pointed up ahead to a farmhouse in the distance. “We should head towards that.”

You nodded and looked over at Ellie who looked back at you. Her lips tightened into a line as she nodded slowly. You prayed that you wouldn't find anything too terrible. Looking at the place, it almost seemed too good to be true. You mentally prepared for the possibility it was either already taken by someone or was hoarding a bunch of infected. Both of which had the opportunity to kill you.

It was another fifteen minutes before you reached the farmhouse. On approach you couldn’t hear anything, but you all cautioned yourselves as you moved towards the front door. Your mom, who insisted on going first, slowly pushed the door open with her foot, gun pointing forward. You gripped your bat and Ellie held the crowbar.

The door creaked as it opened, and eventually a jangle of cans came from above your heads. You winced at the noise, clearly set up by someone as an alarm. Nothing happened though. You relaxed your shoulders slightly as you moved further down the hall. Most of the doors were open giving you a peek at the kitchen-diner on the left side and a living room on the other.

“I’ll check upstairs,” Ellie said, shuffling past you.

You and your mom checked the downstairs rooms, each time meeting each other in the hallway and declaring nobody there. Ellie then returned downstairs.

“Anything?” You asked.

“No, all clear.”

A bang caused all of your heads to face the kitchen. You shared hesitant glances before slowly edging in that direction. It must be outside, you thought, because the kitchen was definitely empty. Your mom slowly turned the back door handle and again, pushed it open with her foot, gun looking left to right. The same noise sounded again.

“The barn,” you whispered.

The closer you got the clearer you could hear heavy breathing. It didn’t really sound like infected but why would a person be banging on a barn wall. You all slipped through the half open door, silence falling. You scanned over the room quickly.

“There doesn’t seem to be any–oh my god!” You involuntarily stepped back, accidentally bumping into Ellie. Your mom and Ellie both followed your eyes to the far corner.

“Shit.”

A man hung from a wooden beam with a rope tight around his neck. A wooden stool lay on its side on the floor beneath him. You only had a moment to take it in before the bang came again from what you now knew to be a stable door. It was followed by another rumbly deep breath. Ellie went over and slowly unbolted the door. A pinto horse with chestnut patches dashed out, neighing wildly and bucking.

“Woah, woah, easy,” Ellie soothed. Her hand came to touch its neck and the horse seemed to calm down ever so slightly. It was still very fidgety and loud but didn’t seem like it was going to run off as Ellie was now stroking its neck. You were amazed at what effect she seemed to be having on the distressed animal. You noticed something white had fallen to the ground after the door had swung open so you went over to pick it up.

“This guy left a note.”

“What does it say?”

“To whoever finds this, I’m sorry that you’re still alive in this fucked up world. If it’s any consolation, I have a pretty decent farmhouse here. Don’t get too many infected unless you go further than a few miles. There’s some food in the cupboards, ammo, first aid stuff. You should be alright here for some time if you’re smart. If you run out of stuff, there’s a town about six miles east. Though I can’t guarantee what’s left of it. And please take care of my horse, Harley. She’s a beaut and I know I’m a coward for leaving her on her own but I couldn't take it anymore. Good luck and thank you. - Jack.”

“God,” your mom breathed.

“Shit’s messed up,” Ellie said.

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking over at Jack's hanging body. “We should cut him down. Maybe bury him. The least we can do when he’s giving us his house.”

The other’s nodded. You walked over to him and picked up the stool, steadying it to stand on. You stood on the stool, your mom warning you to be careful as you reached up to cut the rope. You could see his face clearly now. His brown eyes were open and his face was sunken. His hair was matted and he was wearing muddy, navy overalls. The decomposing smell was faintly running up your nostrils. Judging by it though, he couldn’t have been dead for too long otherwise it would have been difficult to stomach.

You tried to hurry your sawing at the rope until eventually it snapped and his body hit the ground with a heavy thud. You wobbled as you dismounted the stool, searching around for a shovel. You wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. You spotted one in the corner and grabbed it before purposely walking out the barn door and round to the side of it, throwing down the shovel. Marching back in, you saw Ellie had already started to grab his arms and your mom went to grab his legs before she dropped them, doubling over in a coughing fit.

“Let me,” you said, taking his legs.

You and Ellie carried him out to where you had dropped the shovel and placed him down. You grabbed the shovel and started digging, haphazardly tossing the soil into a large pile. The atmosphere was gloomy and solemn. No one spoke as you kept digging, pausing to wipe your forehead, smearing mud on it.

“Want me to take over?” Ellie offered.

“No,” you said, a little too abruptly, “it’s okay.”

Flashes of your dad’s lifeless body cursed your mind as you ignored the ache in your arms. The way it had fallen in a bloody heap and there was nothing you could do. No way for you to reach out and touch him or tell him goodbye. Tell him everything will actually be fine and you can find him a doctor. Tell him thank you for keeping you safe. You could never go back and change your last moments with him and it killed you.

“Honey, I think that’s enough,” your mom’s voice was mellow yet concerned as she looked down at you.

She helped you out of the deep grave you had dug and you wiped your hands on your jeans, staring down at the empty pit. You and Ellie resumed holding Jack's arms and legs as you lowered him in, letting him drop the last little bit as you couldn’t reach. You looked at his face one last time, letting out a deep breath before picking up the shovel again and piling all of the dirt back in. By the time you were done, the wind had picked up and it howled around you.

“We should go inside, I’ll go and check that the horse is tied up,” Ellie excused herself as you and your mom made your way back towards the back door of the house.

“I’m gonna go upstairs” your mom said before making her way up there.

You looked around the kitchen, wringing your hands together. The last twenty-four hours had been a shit show and you could do with some peace now that you had found this place. You dumped your backpack and jacket on the dining table and started rummaging through the cupboards, remembering how the note had said there was food. Your eyes brightened upon seeing stacks of cans filled right up to the front. What a gold mine, you thought. You heard the floorboards at the top of the stairs creak.

“Hey, look at all this, isn’t it–” you turned excitedly with a can of ravioli in your hand, but your smile faltered when you saw your mom’s face. Her eyes damp and bloodshot.

“What is it?”

“Honey, I–” her voice cracked. You put the can down.

“Mom?”

“Honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t know until I…” her voice was strangled as she gestured upstairs.

Ellie then came through the door and stopped in her tracks as she noticed the tension in the room.

“Mom, tell me. Please.”

She cleared her throat.

“I was bit.”

Her words punctured a hole right through you, a lump forming in your throat.

“No, no, no, no,” your words got more rapid and desperate. This can’t be happening.

“W-where?”

Your mom pulled her top away from her shoulder and turned to show the gruesome bite mark on the back of it. You saw how the blood had run from it, some of it fresh, some of it dry.

“I wasn’t sure if it was just an injury or what until I looked in the mirror.”

She pulled her top back up and faced you again. You were crying, silently. In fact, the silence in the entire room was deafening.

“Please don’t leave me.” Your voice was hushed and weak. Your mom walked over and cupped your cheeks, brushing a tear away with her thumb.

“My baby, I’m so sorry.”

No one said anything for a moment, you just cried as she hugged you.

“I do not want to turn into one of those things and hurt you.”

You pulled back to look at her, eyes darting between hers.

“So what…w-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” she took in a shaky breath, “I’m going to take care of it myself,” her voice cracked and a sad smile stretched her lips and she nodded as if she was convincing herself.

“No,” you whispered, pulling her in for a bone crushingly tight hug.

“It’s better this way,” she said as she rubbed your back, “I’m going to take my gun, you still have plenty others here, and I’m going to walk as far as I can make it and you are not going to look for me.”

“I can’t–it’s not fair,” your voice was lost in her hair.

“I know it’s not, but hey, look at me,” she brushed your hair away from your face.

“You’re going to be okay, you hear me? You’re going to stay here, in this house, together,” she looked at Ellie as she said the last word before looking back at you. You tried to speak but she shook her head so she could finish.

“I need to know that you’ll do that for me, and that you’ll stay safe, okay?” She hugged you again, “promise me, baby.”

“I promise.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, mom.”

“You’ll be okay.”

She gave you a final squeeze and pulled away.

“I probably don’t have long left so…” she dizzily looked around for her gun.

Your body involuntarily moved towards her but you stopped yourself. You couldn’t stop this. Nothing could. She coughed again and you could see her hands twitching. She shook out all the bullets from her gun except for two. You could tell she was trying her hardest to keep it together, but she could never fool you. The fear was making her face seem hollow and cold. Her fingers trembled as they clutched the gun. She looked at you one last time before leaving out the back door and that was the last time you ever saw her.

Ellie could see how your body was about to crumble and she moved quickly to grab you as you fell down to your knees. She knelt beside you and held your shaking body. Her chin rested on your shoulder and your eyes left wet patches on hers. It felt like the air had been knocked out of you. Everything you’d ever known was gone.

Even with everything you were feeling right now you felt guilty that this girl you’d only just met had to deal with you like this. But you were grateful she was there.

She stayed there until you were ready to pull away, revealing your bloodshot eyes and cracked lips. You slumped back against the counter and Ellie sat with her arms wrapped around her bent knees. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyes looked glossy as she stared at the ground. Your head ached from the crying and your face felt swollen.

“I don’t know what to do,” your voice squeaked. She took a minute to answer and her jaw clenched.

“You can’t do anything,” she mumbled, defeatedly.

It was getting darker by the minute. The haunting silence was only disrupted by a moth tapping against the ceiling. You felt overwhelmed with groggy tiredness but equally you couldn’t switch your brain off. Normally you would go to bed thinking about what to do the next day but now, you didn’t care. You couldn’t think of anything to care about.

“Maybe we should try and get some sleep,” Ellie suggested. You just nodded, slowly.

Ellie got up and left the room and you heard her lock the front door, she came back in to grab a chair and propped one under the front door and one under the back door handle just in case the locks were dodgy. She also went round closing all the curtains and checking that all of the windows were shut. Meanwhile, you sat on the kitchen floor, feeling like a ghost. She grabbed as much stuff from the table as she could including half of your things before you willed yourself up onto your feet to grab the rest. At the top of the stairs, Ellie turned to you.

“Which one do you want?”

You looked at the two bedrooms and just pointed at one of them, not really analysing it. She went in and dropped off the stuff that was yours.

“Thanks.”

“S’okay.”

She went into the other room and put her stuff down whilst you put your gun and bat near your bed. You sighed a withered sigh as you looked around the room. It had a double bed which was made up with a duvet and pillows. It had a mirrored dresser on one wall and a wardrobe on the other. The furniture looked like it hadn’t been updated for several decades before the outbreak. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls in places and framed paintings of the countryside adorned them. It was a gift that you had found this place but it was a hard one to appreciate right now. Ellie came out of her room and leant her hand on the bannister.

“Um, goodnight then I guess.”

“Yeah,” you awkwardly bit your lip, “goodnight.”

Your head still pounded with the number of tears that had been shed over the past two weeks. It felt like you were going insane. You had mostly stayed cooped up in your room, not knowing how to handle the grief. Thankfully, due to the supplies that had already been in the house you hadn’t needed to go for a supply run yet. Ellie had left you alone, not wanting to interfere. The few times you had bumped into her there was a strained tension between you. You weren’t surprised considering this was an unusual circumstance for meeting someone new, but you felt strange about it nonetheless and hoped that in time, it would ease. After all, you were supposedly stuck together for the foreseeable future.

Up until this point you had been feeling a great sorrow where your whole body ached and you could barely tell that the days were passing. Now, however, you were entering a state of numbness, a complete disconnect from what was around you. It was as if the world had been chipping away at you piece by piece all these years and this had been the last hit before you had declined into nothing.

On the first night you had looked through the bedroom draws and had found some spare clothes to sleep in. You and Ellie had also managed to wash your own clothes with some rainwater you had collected and some soap you found in the bathroom. It hadn’t necessarily made them squeaky clean but it was better than nothing. It had also been relieving to have been able to clean your skin for the first time in a while. You were sitting on the bed with your knees bunched up against your chest and your cheek resting on them, eyes trailing over some of the pictures on the wall.

You sighed, pulling yourself up from the bed and slumping over to the mirrored dresser. Your devoid expression stared back at you. Your hair had been messed around from lying against the pillow for so long so you feebly attempted to tidy it before faltering towards the stairs. The floorboards at the top creaked under your weight and your hand gripped the bannister tightly, as if you would fall if you let go. With trembling steps, you made your way down and peeked through the open living room door. Ellie was slouching on the couch looking at a piece of crumpled paper.

“What’s that?” Your voice croaked so you coughed to clear it.

Her head shot to you as she was caught off guard by your presence. “Looks like instructions on how to get to the town.”

You shuffled over and sat beside her so you could see. She handed it to you, using her now free hands to rub her tired eyes. You observed the scribbles on the paper. It featured a roughly drawn map of squares and arrows, labelled with things like ‘road on the big hill’ and ‘supermarket.’

“Will be worth a try in a few days, we’re probably still alright for now,” she suggested. You nodded, putting the map down on the coffee table.

You picked at your hands in your lap, not knowing what to say. You and Ellie hadn’t said much to each other since you got here, events having not really allowed for it. You realised that you knew next to nothing about her. About her life, where she had come from, why she had saved you. Your eyes trailed down to the bandage on her right arm again.

“What happened to your arm?”

She immediately placed her left hand over it as if she was embarrassed or covering something up. “Oh, I uh, I got stabbed.”

You drew in a short breath. “Ouch.”

“Yeah,” she looked down at her arm, “it was pretty bad.”

Your sleeves were pushed up and she noticed you had a scar on your elbow.

“How did you get that?” She asked, gesturing to it. You lifted your arm, twisting it to look.

“Oh, that was from,” a puff of air escaped your nose, “it’s stupid and not as cool sounding as yours, I fell out of a tree trying to get a closer look at a bluebird.”

“Wow,” she snickered, “hope the look was worth it.”

“It was,” you looked down into your lap, running your hand over your arm, “you don’t come across many pretty things like that.”

You didn’t notice her looking at you when you spotted something behind the slightly open door of the cabinet the TV was resting on. You got up and crouched beside it, pulling the items out.

“CDs,” you mused to yourself, shuffling through them. Foo Fighters, Jimi Hendrix, Eagles, Tracy Chapman, Nirvana, Dolly Parton, Nickelback, and a few others.

“Too bad I can’t find the CD player,” Ellie remarked.

“Hm. It must be somewhere,” you said, fixing the pile of CDs, leaving them out on the coffee table as a reminder to look for the CD player. You stayed sitting on the floor, leaning on one of your hands and glanced around. You hadn’t really been in this room much. By the window was where the cabinet and TV sat then opposite was the dusty blue couch with a couple of limp throw cushions on. The walls were off white and much like upstairs, were covered in framed paintings. The windowsill was thick with dust and the moth-eaten curtains floated with the light breeze that was coming in from the open window.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where were you going before you came with us?”

Ellie stretched her hands and placed them on her knees, shuffling in her seat.

“Uh, nowhere really.”

“You didn’t have to be so nice to me that night, so thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

She looked down at the ground with squinted eyes, her head shaking a little.

“Well, I want to,” you murmured softly, “you’d barely just met me and not a lot of people would have been that way.”

You looked up at her but she wasn’t looking at you, almost as if it would hurt her to do so.

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#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fic #spaceshipellie fics #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie williams #everything’s about you to me #ellie tlou #ellie williams fics #tlou fic #tlou 2 ellie #ellie x you #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff

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auteurdelabre · 6 months

Text

So Much to Lose (series) Part 1

Series summary: Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart.

Rating: 18+

pairings: Joel Miller x Reader, Ellie x Dina

Series warnings: set during outbreak, guns, Mean!Joel, eventual rough sex (specific tags that comes up) no use of Y/N or detailed physical descriptions.

Patrols were never your thing. You'd thought them more for the super athletic, the expert marksmen, the naturally ruthless.

You were a decent shot. Nothing to write home about. You'd shot animals when you were starving and on the run.

But patrolling the walls of Jackson City was always someone else's gig. Something for people not as "soft".

So when Maria told you that your name was on the roster for that month you'd been surprised.

"But I'm always on kitchen duty."

"We have new folks coming into Jackson," Maria explained, her tone brusque and her eyes weary. "None of them have weaponry experience. You do."

"Barely.

"Barely's better than nothing."

Then she'd moved from you, obviously busy with a myriad of planning and scheduling. You watched her leave, her hand resting over her swollen belly.

You were relatively new to Jackson City, barely six months living behind its sheltered walls. You didn't feel you had earned the right to disagree with Maria or to challenge her ideas.

You've stayed close to home since you're arrival, still not quite used to the life that bustled around you in the market or the dances (real dances!) in the church hall. You don't have friends here yet despite your natural propensity to others. You smile and you greet when faces pass you in the street, but your home is where it's safe.

You suppose this is why you enjoy kitchen duty. Moving around large groups of people, overhearing snatches of conversation of laughter of warmth, but always on the perimeter. Always watching, never engaging on the edges.

Maybe you are more naturally suited for patrols than you originally thought.

But not with weaponry. Shooting your old decommissioned gun is one thing. Using the heavy weapons you see being touted on the broad backs of those heading off on patrol is quite another.

When you see Tommy, one of the nicest people you know (and Maria's husband), walking by your place later that week you hasten to catch up with him.

"It's been years since I shot anything," you explain with a concerned saddle of your brows as you explain Maria's plan for you. "And back then it was only rabbits and deer. Can you just come over and give me some pointers?"

"Can't. Got lots to do to prep for the baby."

Of course, the baby, due any day. The reason for Maria's desperate need to schedule the coming months, and the weary pull of Tommy's eyes as he looks at you.

"But I'll find someone and send em over," Tommy adds when he sees the terror cross your features.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'll have your patrol partner come and give you some help tomorrow afternoon. We usually team up the newbies with the more experienced marksman anyway. I'll check with Maria and see who you're paired up with."

Relief blooms in your chest at this. This is the kind of news that you have been hoping for.

The thought that the safety and survival of others would depend solely on you or come down on your shoulders had been making you sick.

"Great."

///

You made cookies.

For whatever reason that had felt like the appropriate response to having someone come over and teach you how to properly shoot a gun.

This person, your patrol partner, will be the first to enter your home since you moved in. Maria and Tommy had been there, explaining the expectations of you in the community and showing you the simple one bedroom home that would be yours. All you'd been able to think over and over as they spoke was: a bed of my own. I don't have to share.

Your place is humble but clean. You've tossed around the idea of painting the walls themselves but you don't. That feels too permanent and you've not known the security of stability in decades. It sits uneasily on your shoulders like a too-heavy jacket.

There's a knock at your door and you open it to reveal a tall man with broad shoulders and remarkably expressive eyes. His mouth is set uneasily, as if he's trying to remember what it is to talk.

"You the one that needed gun lessons?"

He's wearing a dark green jacket and on his back is a collection of shotguns that you find intimidating just looking at.

"That's me," you chirp, moving back so he can enter into your home. You introduce yourself, a bit surprised at how the broad man stays hanging by the door.

"Joel," he mutters when you prompt him for his name. "Let's do this outside."

"Sure," you say going to grab your jacket from its hook by the door. "Oh, but did you want a cookie first? I made some."

Joel stares at you for a moment, trying to gauge if you're serious. When he sees you are, he blinks and then starts to walk around to the stretch of greenery near your place.

You follow after him, pulling on your jacket and jogging to keep up.

"Hey Miller," someone calls out from the street and you look over at him in surprise. Joel gives them a small wave and keeps walking.

Miller. Like Tommy and Maria Miller?

"Are you Tommy's brother?"

"Guilty."

Joel walks quickly, his legs scissoring rapidly across the fallen leaves of the cool winter day and easily outpacing you.

Cute, you think, watching his body lope away from you. Intense but cute.

///

Around the five minute mark you realize that no, Joel isn't intense or cute.

He's just a fucking asshole.

He's impatient and grouchy and even though you're trying your hardest to follow instructions you're failing miserably because he is so intimidating.

"You need to familiarize yourself with your weapon," he tells you, brandishing the shotgun and handing it to you. It's heavy in your palms, surprising you.

You grip it loosely, twisting it in your hand to aim at the ground. As you do this, the barrel of the gun swings in his direction.

"Are you insane?" Joel barks, slapping the nozzle away from his direction. "Have you never held a fucking shotgun before?"

He'd been so quiet before that the loud boom of his voice startles you. You take a step back without thinking, sure to keep your barrel pointed at the ground.

You don't bother telling him that no, you've never held a shotgun. You have a feeling that would just piss him off more.

It doesn't get better after that.

"How did they put you on patrols with aim like that?"

You scowl, bringing the gun up to your shoulders to brace. You begin to count as you aim at the tin cans Joel set up. You've hit one out of the six. You attribute much of this to the tall man pacing back and forth behind you as you try to focus. But he terrifies you, and you feel compelled to keep him in the corner your sights until he pauses and you can focus again.

You stare at the dented soup cans resting on the fence post away from you. You can almost hear Dev's soft voice in your ear. The calming sooth of his tone.

"Count if it helps...shoot on three."

"One... two..." you mutter under your breath.

"You're not gonna have time to count when a clicker's coming for your throat," Joel instructs you. "You have to be instinctual. Gotta move fast."

He kicks at your ankles, broadening your stance. You flinch at the pain of his boot against your ankle bone.

"You should be wearin' boots," Joel instructs when he sees you wince in pain. "Sneakers are no good."

"Obviously I would wear boots on patrol," you seethe. "I just figured for practice-"

"You should be wearing what you'll be patrolling in. Don't wear that scarf either."

You pause, looking down to see just your dark blue jacket. "What scarf?"

Joel pauses. "That red one I saw hangin' in your house. It's bright. You'll stand out."

You frown before raising the gun to brace snugly against your shoulder.

For the next hour Joel's voice reaches out, punctuating the air with bits of aggressive sounding advice as you fumble.

"Non-firing hand on the hand stock."

"Finger on the stock behind the trigger guard with the rest of your fingers."

"Cheek tight to the stock."

It's after the third time Joel mutters about your firing position being shit and hits his boots against your ankle that you lose it.

"Enough," you say, placing the gun barrel gently to the ground. "This isn't going to work."

Joel has his arms crossed over his chest and he's watching you from behind a cool gaze.

"We're a bad match" you explain, your cheeks hot from irritation mingled with embarrassment at having to admit that to him. "You need to be able to trust your partner on patrols and I don't see that happening. We shouldn't be paired up."

"Fine by me."

There's relief in his voice. He doesn't want to be paired up with you any more than you do with him. Good, this will be an easy parting.

"You can get Tommy to switch us," you say with a frown at the gun laying by your feet in the grass. "He's your brother after all."

"You wanna be moved, you go to Tommy."

"You're saying you don't wanna be moved?"

You're staring at him confused with eyes that widen as Joel approaches you, his gaze tight on yours.

The toe of his thick boots bump against the tip your sneakers and he tilts his head down, wanting to match your eye level.

"I'm sayin' you don't tell me what to do," Joel rasps "I'm the one who gives orders. Not you."

Whoa.

He wasn't saying it to sound alluring, you know that because you can see the genuine irritation in his dark eyes as they bore into yours. And yet, Joel Miller's husky voice informing you that he gives the orders?

It gives you the tingles.

You swallow thickly and when you don't reply right away Joel makes a scoffing noise in his throat. You watch as he gathers the weapons onto his back and marches out of the clearing, desperate to be away from you.

///

"Sounds like it didn't go great with Joel," Tommy says the next morning as he passes you heading for breakfast.

So much for Joel not talking to Tommy. You slow, matching Tommy's pace as he walks alongside you.

"Not a good match," you reply lightly. Tommy is Joel's brother and you don't want to offend anyone. "I'm sorry to be a bother and make you have to reschedule."

"S'okay," Tommy says with a shrug. "I'll switch with him for tomorrow night's patrol. I can give you pointers then."

Relief goes through you, making the smile that cracks your features genuine.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Tommy insists his face in a smile before it becomes drawn. "I know Joel can be a little hard to handle."

Calling Joel hard to handle suggests he's like one of the wild horses in the pens you sometimes walk by, when in reality Joel Miller is just unpleasant.

"Yeah, well," you shrug unsure of what to say so you trail off.

Tommy seems compelled to fill that silence, to explain away his brothers poor social skills.

"He lost a lot during the outbreak."

You nod, trying to look sympathetic but all you can think is,

Didn't we all?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #dark!Joel #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #series #fanfiction series #the last of us #the last of us fic #ellie x dina

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richiekirschs · 1 year

Text

SHE’S MY BABY — Spider-Man!Lottie Matthews

and i hope you don’t save some other girl…

warnings— fem reader (she/her used), typical spider-man shenanigans, gun mentions, ooc lottie probably

[part 1]

lottie: when did you want to get coffee

lottie: 11:15 at little collins?

you: isn’t that in the city?

lottie: yeah but i can venmo you for the ferry fee

you: no it’s fine i can take the bridge

lottie: ok see you tmrw

you: here

you: sitting in a booth towards the back

Lottie’s late.

You’re anxiously checking your phone screen over and over, trying to make sure you haven’t missed any rain-check texts.

11:28. Nothing.

You fidget in your seat, bouncing your leg, looking at the door with hopeful eyes whenever the bell chimes.

At exactly 11:30, the door swings open, a frantic Lottie rushing in from the other side.

“I’m sorry!” she immediately says, collapsing into the booth. “This guy stole an old lady’s purse, and then—“

“Lottie,” you interrupt, “calm down. I’m not mad, I just thought you forgot.”

“No,” she promises, still a bit out of breath. “No, I actually swung over here.”

“What, like, with your webs?”

“Would you lower your voice?” she hisses.

“It’s New York, Lot,” you deadpan. “I literally saw a man taking a shit on the sidewalk.” You lock eyes with a man at the counter, leaning back to stretch his arms. You jerk your thumb at Lottie as you say, “She’s Spider-Man.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he says before turning back to his phone.

You sip from your drink. “So how exactly did this happen? Is this your weird attempt at a fursona?”

“It’s not a fursona,” she mumbles defensively. “I got bit by a spider. I guess it was, like, radioactive or something.”

“Radioactive?” you repeat. “Like the dogs in Chernobyl?”

“Yeah,” she replies, “except I didn’t grow any extra teeth like those fish. I fell onto this lady on the subway the night after and my hand got stuck to her shirt, and I… ripped it off…” She flushes pink.

“How the fuck did that happen?”

“I’m, like… sticky,” she informs you, embarrassed as she flexes her hands. You wrinkle your nose at sticky. “And I get these weird tingles right before something happens.”

“Does the web come out of you?” you question, genuinely intrigued.

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “I don’t have extra legs, though, before you ask.”

“How’d you get out last night?”

“I put the suit back on in the shower, then went back out the window. I went down the balcony into your bedroom. Natalie came in, though, so I hid on… the ceiling…” As the words leave her mouth, she clearly realizes how weird it sounds.

“I’m impressed, Lot,” you admit. “It’s been a year, and I never would’ve guessed it was you. I thought you had some secret lover and that’s why you were sneaking around.”

It’s her turn to wrinkle her nose. “God, no. I felt really bad about always leaving you, though.”

You shrug. “It’s definitely not as bad as when Tai and Van coincidentally sneak off to go have sex. They’re not even subtle about it.”

Lottie laughs, but she shifts uncomfortably, like someone just licked their finger and stuck it in her ear.

You frown. “You okay?”

She looks up, but it’s almost like she’s looking through you. Her eyes track movement in the window at your back.

She grabs her backpack. “I have to go.”

You turn around, but there’s nothing there. You whip back around to face her. “What the hell, Lottie?”

“I’m sorry!” she insists. “I’ll—I’ll call you, okay?”

She doesn’t give you time to respond before she’s sprinting out the door of the café, chasing down whatever she’d seen behind you.

You’re upset, to say the least.

You walk back to the ferry parking garage where you’d parked, grinding your teeth. If it were a cartoon, you might have steam coming out of your ears.

You have to take three laps around the garage before you finally find your car.

But as you approach your car, you can see a figure yanking at your driver’s side door.

“Hey!” you shout. “What the fuck?”

“This your car?” he asks.

“I’m not shouting at you for fun,” you snap.

“Give me your keys,” he commands.

“No, I’m not gonna give you my keys!”

He shoves his hand into the pocket of his jacket and points it at you. “Give me the fucking keys!”

“I can see your thumb sticking out, I know you don’t have a gun! It’s a piece of shit anyway, just back off—“

He starts forward, but he only gets a few steps in before something shoots past you—you literally blink and miss it, and when you look back at the man attempting to carjack you his hand is stuck to the wall with a fucking web.

Fucking Lottie.

“I thought she told you to back off, man,” Lottie sighs.

“Why do you sound like that?” the man asks, which is the same thing you’re wondering.

You know it’s Lottie, of course. But she’s using some weird, Ghostface-esque voice modulator.

“Sound like what?” she bluffs.

“No, I heard you earlier,” the man insists, “when you were chasing me. I know what a girl sounds like.”

“I’m not a girl!” Lottie shouts. “I’m a boy! Fuck—a man!”

If you hadn’t just been a victim of an attempted carjacking (and possibly murder), you would’ve bust out laughing. Lottie’s voice sounded very Mickey Altieri—it’s time, girlfriend!

“Man, I really don’t care,” the man shrugs, defeated.

Lottie mumbles, “Interrogation mode, off,” before turning back to you. “Go home, okay?”

You nod, surprisingly relieved by Lottie saving the day. You get into your car and turn the key.

“That’s gonna dissolve in 2 hours, okay?” Lottie tells the man, who’s still stuck to the wall.

“What?” he exclaims. “No, I need to get home!”

She jogs off. “2 hours! You deserve that!”

You can’t help but laugh as you start your drive home.

KITTY MEOWS! I pray this was as good as y’all wanted it to be… the second half is very heavily based on the scene of Donald Glover in Homecoming I thought it would be silly for Lottie 😞

#lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews x you #lottie yellowjackets #lottie matthews #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #courtney eaton

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scoutswritingcorner · 2 months

Note

What about an au where Striker works for I.M.P? 🥺

Striker Working for I.M.P

Striker x GN! Reader

A/N: I know you just wanted to do an AU where you wanted just Striker but I am a gay simp for this fucking maniac of a cowboy.

TW:None?

-☠️Either you just joined or are just training with him whilst the others are out? He’s a hard teacher no doubt. He’ll critique every little thing but he means it in a nice way. He doesn’t need you getting hurt or killed on his watch.

-☠️ Will teach you hand to hand combat and how to disarm someone quickly just in case.

-☠️ A huge lonewolf still but much more easier to get along with cause he has a huge soft spot for you and only you, (he has one for the whole gang but don’t point it out)

-☠️ Still wears his cowboy get up but he strikes me as a fellow who also likes to wear sweaters and a denim jacket everywhere he goes. Also blue jeans and his iconic boots with his hat. You’ll never see him hatless unless he’s letting you and only you wear it.

Platonic Route

-☠️ Big Brother energy. He’ll annoy the shit out of you and then act like it wasn’t his fault.

-☠️ Will steal your snacks and then act like he didn’t. Don’t worry he gets you some more.

-☠️ Will fight you over some stupid shit. Like a kill or if you ate some of his food.

-☠️ Very sweet though, someone hitting on you or unwanted attention? He’s behind you and glaring at the person.

-☠️ Partner acting a fool? He’s immediately taking your side. They cheated? Their car is totaled and they have broken legs.

-☠️ HE LOVES TALKING SHIT ABOUT EVERYONE. Just go up to him and start talking, he’s immediately focused on you and what’s going on.

-☠️ Gets Loona in on it too cause he also acts like an older brother figure to her and now it’s turned into you three around her desk spilling some fucking hot ass tea. Maybe about your ex or someone else you all collectively hate.

-☠️ Once again, he hates Stolas but he also acts like a big brother to Octavia and will take you, Loona and Octavia out on the town to just relax or have fun. Don’t worry he’s got his gun and knife if anyone tries shit. He ain’t afraid to get his hands dirty to protect his people.

-☠️ He hates photos of himself. He doesn’t like to be perceived but he will let you three take photos of him but he’s a big ole grump about it.

Romantic Route

-☠️Oh boy, he’s even more protective than before. If you both are on the job and he thinks it’s going to be a tougher kill? He’s taking it and sends you off to go check on the others.

-☠️ That one scene in the D.H.O.R.K.S episode where Blitz and Moxxie were taken? Yeah you were with them and when Striker got you back with the others? He’s feral. He will kill anything that touches a single hair on your head.

You hang your head in shame as you listen to Blitz and Moxxie yell back and forth with one another. How did you allow yourself to get caught? The doors busted open as Millie, Loona and Striker ran over, a crazed look in his eyes. “Oh shit- You okay darling?” He asked untying you from the chair and pulling you close, checking all over you for any injuries. “I’ll kill these bastards if they hurt ya” He snarled out.

-☠️Such a sweetheart. He’s more prone to lazing around the office with you if there’s nothing to do and will occasionally take naps.

-☠️ Out on the town with him? He’s spoiling the fuck out of your ass. Like it’s unreal.

-☠️ Loves going to fairs with you, it’s prime time for him to get you everything and to show off his shooting skills.

-☠️In this AU Bombproof is a motorcycle cause I said so and he takes care of it like its his baby. He also gets you your own helmet and lets you ride with him through the city. Date nights are much more fun when you're speeding through each ring and seeing different sites.

-☠️Loves getting/giving good luck kisses. If you don’t give him one before a mission he thinks he’s gonna fail and it bothers him. Doesn’t matter if it’s a kiss on the lips, cheek or forehead. He wants his good luck kiss.

#helluva boss x reader #helluva boss #helluva boss imagine #striker helluva #striker x reader #helluva striker #striker helluva boss

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dartlekey · 1 year

Text

Keep it casual (Part 4)

(I’ll be posting this on ao3 once it’s done, if you want you can check out my other works until then!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

Steve doesn't like it when Eddie looks at himself in the mirror.

Or rather, he doesn't like it when Eddie does it with this expression. It's been happening a lot, ever since he finally got the last of his bandages off - the doctor said the scars would fade with time, but there's a lot of tissue to fade, and Eddie's unhappiness is clear in the line between his brows and the pinched set of his mouth.

Steve gets up off the bed to stand behind him. His own scars are more hidden than Eddie's, but just as warped and plentiful - while his latest injuries were less severe, he's been dealing with the Upside Down so much longer than Eddie, and that adds up. "Put on a shirt," he gently tells Eddie, "you'll get cold."

Eddie relaxes marginally, and leans back until his shoulder blades bump into Steve's chest. Steve's arms come up automatically to wrap around his waist, and Eddie smiles teasingly. "Don't need to, when I have you to keep me warm."

Steve huffs, pretending to be annoyed, and presses his face into Eddie's shoulder. At this point, they're dating in everything but word, but they keep dancing along that line, stopping just shy of admitting how much they mean to each other, pulling back every time they're just about to kiss. It's like a little game between them, a dare of who's going to make the first move, and Steve will be damned if he's going to lose. "Come back to bed."

Eddie shivers at the words, but his eyes remain stubbornly fixed on the scars winding down his torso. "Don't wanna."

Steve considers picking him up and manhandling him onto the worn mattress, but then he has an idea. "Alright. Wanna get matching tattoos instead?"

Eddie blinks, and his eyes find Steve's in the mirror. "Are you serious?"

"One of Lilly's friends has a tattoo gun," Steve smiles, and Eddie scrunches up his nose. "You want me to get tattooed by a punk?"

"Unless you want me to give you a stick-and-poke."

"Ughhhh, fine," Eddie groans, "curse your shaky hands."

Steve drags his fingers up the sides of Eddie's ribs, eliciting a sharp inhale. "You like my shaky hands."

"No comment," Eddie says a bit breathlessly, and pushes him away to look for a shirt.

They find the punks at their usual spot behind the old theater, and Robin too, who launches out of Lilly's lap to greet Steve with a squeal and an enthusiastic hug.

"So this is your Eddie," Lilly says, giving Eddie a curious once-over, and Steve flushes. "He's not my Eddie," he grumbles, but Eddie immediately steps up between him and Robin with a, "hm, I don't know about that."

As the other punks laugh, and Steve attempts to regain access to his higher brain functions, Eddie continues blithely, "he said one of you had a tattoo gun?"

"Yeah, Theo does," Lilly says, gesturing with her head towards a kid littered with stick-and-pokes, who gives a small wave with a bandaged hand, "they recently busted their knuckles, though. I can do it instead if you want."

Eddie's answering smile is sharp and closed-off. "I'd just like the gun, if it's all the same to you. I'm quite capable of taking care of Steve myself."

A little bit more prepared this time, Steve notes with some confusion that Eddie's never been this forward before, or this aggressive. Lilly seems to share the same confusion, before her eyes suddenly widen and she says, "Shit, are you jealous, man? Because I can promise you there's nothing going on there. I'm a lesbian, and besides, I'm with Robin."

Eddie's stance relaxes instantly. "Sorry. I just had to be sure - those two share damn near everything, and with how much he's been talking about you lately…"

"Ew," Robin says beside him, and punches his shoulder, which just makes him laugh - Steve, on the other hand, is so overwhelmed that he has to wrap his arms around Eddie again, clinging to him like a five-year-old after a nightmare. "You can't just say shit like that," he complains hoarsely, and Eddie chuckles, eyes crinkling as he shoots Steve that teasing smile he likes to think is reserved just for him.

"Make me stop, then," Eddie challenges, just because he knows Steve won't.

They end up tattooing each other, Eddie showing Steve how to hold the gun, how to get (mostly) clean lines. The cartoon bat Steve draws next to the scar on his right side still turns out somewhat wobbly, but Eddie reassures him that it's just as perfect as the one Eddie put next to Steve's left bat scar.

It's wonderful, seeing the little critters through the cling wrap, turning something gruesome and horrible into something comedic and silly. Eddie's bat is right on the edge of his scar, curled around it with bulging eyes like it's biting into Eddie's side, while Steve's is a bit farther away, doing a little dance with a guitar around its neck.

"You know what the best thing is about this tattoo?", Eddie says, giddy and relaxed as he marvels at the new addition. "If we hug like this," he says, and bumps their waists together, "the bats are giving each other a little high five."

Steve stares at Eddie for exactly five seconds. Then, he says, "I'm so in fucking love with you," and kisses Eddie so hard they both nearly fall off the old couch they're perched on.

If you want to be on the tag list or I forgot to tag you, please reach out in the comments!

Tag list: @corrodedcoughin, @heartrenderharrington, @spookednsaucy, @elyondelannoy, @dilutedpondwater, @ediewentmissing, @fandomz-brainrot, @didntwant2come, @this-is-moony-lovegood, @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit, @thinkinginnoisesandcolours, @anonymousbandgirl, @f1ct1onwh0re, @babygirlstevesstuff, @eboyawstenn, @tailsfromthecrypt, @messrs-weasley, @estrellami-1, @newtstabber, @shrimply-a-menace, @hey-rowan, @m-owo-n, @darkwitchoferie, @iwouldsail, @escapingthereality, @hotluncheddie, @lovelylilbadone, @korixae, @certified--catboy, @s-a-d-isfied, @fruity-nerd , @stevesbipanic, @5ammi90, @evix-syne666, @nerdsconquerall, @maya-custodios-dionach, @bisexualdisastersworld, @fantrash, @nelotegreitic, @redfreckledwolf, @plasticcrotches

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #punk!steve #babypunk!steve #punk steve harrington #dropped my keys #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #5+1 fic

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

Text

Established Stoncy (Eddie POV) (ot4 stoncy+steddie)

“Have you heard from Jonathan lately?” She asks quietly.

“He’s been avoiding me as much as you, Nance.” He hears Steve’s hitched breath as she works, and sees her brush a soothing hand along his shoulder. Isn’t she supposed to be dating that guy they’re talking about? How can she talk about him with Steve so casually, like she’s not a hop skip and a jump from cheating on her boyfriend?

“I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Hey, you didn’t do anything,” Steve says, and there’s so much fucking love in his voice Eddie has to squeeze his eyes shut. “He’ll come around, you know that. He’s just got to work through…whatever he’s working through first.”

“I don’t get why he’s avoiding you too. It’s like…”

“He’s not. He wouldn’t.”

“He did before,” she says, sounding vulnerable.

“I think we all agreed he was being stupid back then,” Steve says. “Like, me level idiot, and he doesn’t even have the brain damage to back it up. He’ll talk to us.”

“That’s not funny.” She pauses, and Eddie can see her clinging onto Steve’s words like a lifeline. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him on the forehead, and Eddie turns away, pretending like he wasn’t eavesdropping on their private conversation.

"I don't know what happened between you two but... I'd get her back man. Whatever it takes. 'Cause that — that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen."

Steve’s mouth quirks, and he looks almost amused when he glances at Wheeler. Before he can respond, the ground rumbles, and they both stumble.

“I’m not the only one who sees what's going on there, right?” He asks quietly, gesturing between the two lovebirds.

Robin looks…caught, all the sudden, like he found her putting itching powder in his underwear. He doesn’t understand it.

“Uh, yeah,” she says, strangled. “They’re, y’know, umm…”

He doesn’t understand why she’s acting so weird about this. Maybe Steve and Nancy had a bad break, years ago, but they’re clearly still into each other. It’s not like it’s out of the ordinary for two attractive, straight—

Ah.

“So, Nancy?”

“What?”

“She’s pretty,” he offers, and Robin nearly trips on her face.

“Do you—“

“No,” he says, and glances pointedly at Steve. “She’s, uh, not my type.”

“Oh?” She asks, and then comprehension dawns on her face. She looks between him and Steve, and her eyes widen. “Oh!”

“Yeah, oh,” he says. “So, like, I get it.”

“Get…it…” She blinks, and then realization settles across her face. “Oh, I don’t—-“ she cuts herself off. “I mean, yeah, no, Nancy’s like, super pretty. The prettiest. And a total badass, it’s like, insane. That’s why I’m…crushing…on her.”

She winces at her own awkwardness, and Eddie nods in support. It’s always weird to talk about it so openly. But hey, if you can’t do it in a hell dimension with no people, where can you talk about it?

“Maybe she likes girls,” he offers up, even though he doubts it. You never know.

Robin’s subsequent coughing fit is so violent both Nancy and Steve turn around to check on them.

“Rob?” Steve asks, hovering. “You okay?”

“I’m good,” she wheezes. Eddie awkwardly pats her back, and tries to pretend it’s not his fault. From the side-eye Nancy sends him, he only partially succeeds. Finally she takes one last gulp of air, and stands up straight.

“So, Nancy!” She says brightly. “Guns, right?”

She takes Nancy’s arm and scurries off without a second look back at him, which is understandable. It takes time to talk about things like this.

“What was that about?” Steve asks, falling into step with him.

“Nothing.”

“Right.” Steve gives him a look, which he pretends not to see.

Steve is on babysitting duty when the car pulls up to the extremely beat up cabin Eddie’s been forced to hide in.

They both tense, but Steve looks outside and sighs in relief. “It’s Nance’s car,” he confirms, and helps Eddie hobble outside. Eddie’s putting a hand on the bannister to balance himself when a vaguely familiar figure stumbles out of the drivers seat.

“Jonathan!”

Steve is practically a blur running past him, slamming into Byers and spinning him around. Wasn’t he just helping Nancy cheat on this guy? How can they just—

All his thoughts screech to a halt as soon as Byers takes Steve’s face in his hands and kisses him.

And keeps kissing him.

And Steve, King Steve, definitely not gay Steve, kisses back. Full on holding him by the waist, pulling him in until their entire bodies line up. As if letting go would make Byers disappear in a nice little poof of smoke.

Wow, Eddie thinks deliriously, holding onto the porch for dear life. These painkillers are no joke.

Nancy comes out of the car next, beaming as her boyfriend makes out with a man right in front of her. A man she was clearly cheating on her boyfriend with.

Unless he’s not actually her boyfriend. Is she a beard? Is she bearding Jonathan? Is Steve cheating on Jonathan with his beard?

He’s starting to think he’s missing a few pieces to this puzzle.

“Um.”

The two lovebirds break apart, and all three of them fix Eddie with a wary look as they register the fact that yes, he is standing there and has been the whole time, thank you very much. Byers is holding Steve’s hand like a challenge, glaring at Eddie like he’s daring him to say something. As if Eddie isn’t the gayest motherfucker in Hawkins.

“Right,” Steve coughs. “Jonathan, this is Eddie. He’s cool, he saved Dustin’s life. Eddie, this is Jonathan. My…uh. My boyfriend.”

Eddie stares. Nancy comes up and takes Jonathan’s other hand. “Our boyfriend,” she corrects. “We’re together. All three of us.”

“Oh,” he says. This is awkward. This is so awkward, Eddie can feel the trees wilting in embarrassment for him. Maybe if he’s lucky it’ll turn out he’s standing in quicksand or another portal will open up beneath his feet and he won’t have to deal with this awkwardness anymore.

Steve likes boys. Good! Great! It would be fucking amazing if he didn’t apparently have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who is standing there in the flesh, silently giving Eddie the biggest stink eye of his life like he’s ready to throw down if he says the wrong this and oh God Eddie still hasn’t said anything-

“Congrats?”

Byers blinks. “Congrats?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie says, as if he wasn’t just trying to get Nancy to break this dude's heart for Steve like two days ago. God, that’s so embarrassing. They’re already together. “You’ve got pretty good taste. Your charisma stats must be off the roof.”

If he remembers anything from high school that’s definitely a lie, but a little flattery never hurt anyone.

Steve barks out a laugh, Nancy rolls her eyes, and Byers stares at him like he’s grown two new heads. “You’re Eddie,” he says, sounding it out.

Eddie spreads his arms. “In the flesh. Well, mostly. I’m missing some chunks of it.”

“DND Eddie? From Hellfire?”

“Did they not tell you anything? Harsh, Wheeler. I thought you liked me.”

“Wrong Wheeler,” Byers says. “Mike wouldn’t shut up about you. Two days straight in a pizza van after we got the news of what you’d done, and I was ready to rip my hair out.”

Aww, that’s cute. He honestly likes the kid, even though Dustin has been thrust firmly into the “favorite” category, on the basis of nearly dying in his arms and probably traumatizing the kid forever. He’s glad the sentiment is returned.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Steve snorts as he starts dragging his partners towards the cabin. “Did you notice he only started growing his hair out after he met Eddie?”

“Wait, really?” Eddie asks as Steve snags him by the wrist and pushes him in front. Like a long, awkward, queer train. Is Nancy queer? Can he ask? Are they at that stage in their friendship? Does that come before or after fighting monsters together?

Nancy laughs harder than he knew she was capable of. “Oh my god, he did! I didn’t even realize!”

“Uh, yeah, because you didn’t have to hear day in and day out from that little shit how much cooler he is than me. Dude, did you know they thought you were scary? You?”

Eddie’s touched, honestly. He put a lot of work into terrifying the masses. “I am scary,” he says. “I fucking shredded along to Metallica to stop a demon from killing us all. I’m more metal than I ever was.”

“Yeah but you’ve also got those, like, doe eyes, man.” Steve waves a hand as if he’s not making every wire in Eddie’s brain short circuit, and tugs them all down on the couch.

“I have what now?”

Nancy giggles, leaning around her boyfriends to try and poke his cheek. He snaps his teeth at her.

“Don’t you know? Steve’s weak to big, soulful eyes,” she says, batting her own eyes in emphasis. Byers rolls his, which are also big and brown and kind of wet, now that Eddie’s paying attention.

“Nancy,” Steve whines, “don’t tell him that!”

“Sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry, grinning as she practically sits in Byers’s lap to give Steve a peck. He watches them with the kind of fondness that Eddie’s always kind of dreamed of having directed at him, and it punches deep.

So Steve isn’t cheating on anyone and probably never will, which is a relief and also a bummer to some of the more pathetic fantasies he’s whipped up in the past few days trapped in this cabin. He likes Nancy too much to ever actually get in the way of her true love, but it doesn’t hurt to dream.

“Yeah, okay, I have big ol’ Bambi eyes or whatever. You wanna talk kiddie crushes and hero worship, how about Sinclair?”

“What about him?” Steve asks, apparently oblivious.

“Uh, how about the whole basketball thing?”

Steve’s brow furrows. “He loves basketball!” He protests. “He asked me to practice with him when he first started thinking about joining the team, we still go out and play sometimes.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie says. “And how about the time I said something about your fight with Hargrove, and he jumped to your defense even faster than Dustin could about how badass and cool and handsome you were?”

“There’s no way he said that,” he says, turning bright red. “There’s—no. Billy was going to hurt him, he was, like, fucking twelve or something, I couldn’t just…he didn’t say that.”

“Might as well have. That entire speech had me clocking the kid faster than you can say ‘touchdown.’”

“That’s football.”

“I’ll tell you what he’d like to ball—“ he starts, and Steve screeches.

“Shut up, shut up, don’t say that! He’s a baby, what is wrong with you—“

“That ‘baby’ already experienced his first hangover, mom. Time for little birdies to leave the nest.”

“You calling me mom makes it so much worse,” Steve tells him. “I should have left you to rot.”

“Probably!” He says brightly. “But that doesn’t stop the fact that Sinclair has a crush on you the size of Texas.”

“Jonathan,” Steve whines, burying his face in his hands, “make him stop.”

Byers pats Steve’s shoulder sympathetically. “Sorry, man, I thought you knew.”

“It was kind of obvious, Steve,” Nancy agrees. “He does ask to play basketball a lot. Especially on hot days.”

“What does the weather have to do with anything?”

“Shorts,” Nancy and Jonathan say together.

“How short?” Eddie asks. He should probably think about switching pockets, if he’s turned into this much of a masochist.

“So short,” Nancy says. “And he usually takes his shirt off halfway in, when he’s all sweaty.”

“Jesus, no fucking wonder. And he can’t blush either, can he? I’m starting to think he’s the smartest of the bunch.”

“Well, Byers?” Eddie spreads his arms, ignoring the trepidation in his gut. “Am I everything you expected?”

Byers tilts his head, looks at him with a gaze that could cut through bone. Eddie has a feeling the guy is finding out what every single one of his organs looks like, and he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing.

Finally he gives a sharp nod, like he’s decided something.

“I think if you stick around, the three of us are going to have to have a repeat of that conversation we had when I went to California,” he says, as if Eddie should know what the fuck that means. “You’re cool, man. Call me Jonathan.”

He blinks, mouth half open, and Byers’s-Jonathan’s mouth quirks.

“Conversation about what?”

Byers hums noncommittally, because apparently their entire trio is bent on making Eddie’s sanity take a jump off the quarry. “A lot of things,” he sighs, and sends Eddie a wry little smile. “I haven’t exactly been a very good boyfriend lately.”

Eddie’s feeling magimous enough to be honest. “They think the world of you, man. I heard them talking about you. They…shit, they really love you, you know that? I think you’re gonna be okay.”

#ot4 stoncy+steddie #sorry for the ronance bait but actually robin is just taking one for the team #steve would ABSOLUTELY spin jonathan around like a romance movie try and tell me otherwise #this can be read as jargyle as well sorry my man isn't in here he's busy doing hot girl shit #(calling suzie 'sally' in front of dustin for shits and giggles)#established stoncy+steddie au #stranger things fanfic #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #jonathan byers #steve harrington

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