#ch: whiskey | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lincolndjarin · 3 months

Text

Every Now and Then - ch. one

[ I Dream of Something Wild ]

pairing : joel miller x f!reader, platonicsoulmate!tommy & f!reader

word count : 6.4k

summary : Joel Miller destroyed you. He loved you, then he left, leaving you in the New York City, QZ. But he's a good southern gentleman, so of course he didn't leave you without a reminder of the time you spent together. Four years later you're living in Jackson, in a lovely little ranch house. (With your reminder.) The last person you want to see is Joel Miller, unfortunately you've never been particularly lucky.

tags/warnings : 18+ mdni, angst, canon typical violence, injury, language, manipulation, joel takes advantage of readers situation, eventual smut, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, she is picked up by joel at one point but i'm a firm believer that he's strong enough to lift any one who may find themselves in the pov of our reader, joel is possessive and controlling, dark!joel miller in a sense?? like he's not really dark now but he's going to be, multiple time lines, not canon compliant, mentions of prostitution, i sorta made up my own timeline, i probs missed tags sorry!!

a/n : i really need to fix my writing schedule so i'm hoping that having a new fic to put my energy into is going to help!! also sorry if this chapter doesn't have much going on i need to set up a lot of stuff but i promise more action in future chapters

ao3 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ main masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ kofi

He crept up on you like the shadows as the sun sets in the west. An all encompassing darkness that blotted out the sun until all that was left was night. He sunk his claws into you so deep that your eyes adjusted to the dark, and you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you shrunk away from the inevitable sunrise that made him cower away from the dawn as if he never really was big and scary.

And in the light of day you saw him for what he really was.

He was just a man, who was once a boy, who was scared of the dark.

So he made himself big, and terrifying, and he grew so accustomed to the thing he once feared that the very idea of anything else made him recoil.

You feel something akin to pity when you think of him now. That doesn’t mean you forgive him, but when you can stomach it you try to, for the sake of your peace. You’d probably be happier if you could just forgive him.

But you can’t.

So you don’t.

It’s hard when his own blood doesn’t think he’s a good man. Tommy was afraid of him. Terrified at the very thought of his big brother. You can recall several nights where you had woken up to him screaming in the sleeping bag beside you, absolutely petrified of a memory that had inevitably snuck in through the darkness. You never feared him quite like that, but seeing the effect he has on Tommy makes your stomach churn, a painful reminder of your own suffering.

Most of the time it’s easier to just not think of him at all, despite the reminders he’s branded into you forever. You ignore him when he tries to soak back into your very being, but at the end of the day he’s unavoidable. You see him in the dark brown eyes of others, hear him in Tommy’s southern drawl, taste him when you have the occasional sip of whiskey. He tries and tries relentlessly to worm his way back into you, but you never let him. You put up walls and you focus on other things, anything, that isn’t Joel Miller. And even though you can’t forget him entirely you manage to ignore the memory of the man you once loved for several years.

Until one day it’s impossible to keep the thought of him away.

Until he himself makes it impossible.

Then - NEW YORK CITY, QUARANTINE ZONE : 2019

“Stay off of it or you’re going to lose it.”

That’s what the QZ doctor had told you. A couple weeks of bed rest was the most he could offer when you came to him with your broken ankle.

A couple weeks without working is a death sentence.

If you don’t work you won’t be able to afford food. And you don’t have anybody to fall back on, no family, no friends, not even an acquaintance to borrow funds from.

Lose your leg or starve.

As appealing as it sounds, starvation isn’t an option, too painful.

So you have to work. The only issue with that is you’ve been blacklisted, the stupid doctor had you put on a no-shift list. You beg them to let you work, you’ll do anything, but they never budge.

You only have enough ration cards stocked up to make it to the end of the week so you have to consider your other options. You could sell yourself. It certainly isn’t uncommon and the money’s good but it’s too dangerous, especially if you can’t run on your leg. You’ve seen too many people get hurt in that profession to risk it. You don’t have a trade. You’re terrible at sewing, you can’t cook, there isn’t a need for much of anything else and you own nothing valuable.

So there’s only one other option for you.

You steal.

You dress inconspicuously, in your only pair of jeans and a plain shirt, both of which are getting rather tattered at this point but you have nothing else. With your jacket on you pull up your hood and you do the exact thing you aren’t supposed to do, and you walk.

The conditions in the QZ are poor enough that your limp doesn’t stand out. You walk up and down the streets all day, slow and steady, with your head down and you don’t take risks. You don’t take anything big or obvious, just little things. A single ration card peeking out of a pocket, a pocket knife off a vendor's table, stale bread, set away from the good stuff where no one is looking. And you return home each night with your pockets full and your leg aching.

By the end of your second week you’re still barely scraping by but you’re managing. What little ration cards you manage to snatch you use to buy food, but it’s still nothing compared to what you’re used to making. Your ankle feels worse by the day.

You need more.

You need to find a source of income that will let you rest or you’re going to lose your leg, which will leave you in an even worse position. It isn’t until you hear your neighbor slam his door that you come up with an idea.

Your neighbor probably has more cards than he knows what to do with, and he’s always coming and going so he probably wouldn’t even notice if you skimmed a little off the top. Nothing substantial, just enough to keep you going and give your leg time to heal.

The only problem is your neighbors reputation.

You doubt you’d have much of a chance of surviving him if you got caught. Joel Miller was a bit of an urban legend around the QZ. Of course you only knew him as your stoic neighbor, just a guy who didn’t make a lot of noise and came home at strange hours, and sometimes disappeared for days at a time.

But everyone else acted as if he was some kind of Boogey Man. You didn’t see him much in the streets but when you did children ran and people whispered, and while you had no knowledge of how he earned that reputation you knew it probably wasn’t pretty.

So you’d have to be careful.

He’s gone now, you’d heard him stopping down the hall so you decide it couldn’t hurt to take a peek, just scout out the area.

You climb out onto the fire escape, your leg aching as you do, and you use the dull little knife you’d stolen a few days ago to shimmy open his window lock. It slides open pretty easily, he’s probably rather confident that nobody would ever mess with him so he doesn’t seem to have the usual precautions taken to protect his belongings.

Lucky you.

Stepping into the room you wince as you land on your bad leg, stumbling onto the floor, knocking a board loose in the process.

“Shit.” You groan, sitting up quickly, trying to put everything back in its proper place when you catch a glimmer of something under the floor.

A revolver.

You shouldn’t be here. Joel Miller is a dangerous man, you knew that but you did this anyway, you can’t help but feel incredibly stupid as you stare at the weapon. You feel so stupid that you don’t even hear the click of a lock. You don’t even bother with the ration cards you can see peeking out from under the gun, you just want to leave and forget that you ever thought this was a good idea. It’s a struggle, getting back to your feet, your leg is throbbing, begging for a rest you can’t afford to take right now. With a groan you push the window open, eager for this silly idea to be over you try to figure out the best way to go about this. You’re starting to lose feeling in your leg, should you go bad leg first or try to balance on it while shimmying the rest of your body out the window?

You never get to decide what the best course of action is because your head is slammed against the wall, your knees crumple underneath you as you hit the floor, the room spinning as your leg bends at an angle that makes you shriek. You slap your hand over your mouth but it’s far too late for that. He’s been here the whole time. It’s dark but you can still make out the foreboding shape of his figure. The broad shouldered beast that’s glaring down at you, his boot nudging your chin roughly as you bite back a shriek of fear.

“I could report you to FEDRA for this.” The gruff voice whispers into the darkness.

You’re desperate to avoid lockup, you know you’ll die in there, or worse. Although you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen to you either way.

“I- I’ll tell them about your contraband.” You point frantically at the loose floor board. “They’ll lock you up too.” His glare is unwavering as he stares down at you. You’re a little worried that he might just kill you himself, there would be no consequences, no one would be looking for you.

No one would look for you.

The thought makes you shudder and even though you try to stop yourself you feel your eyes beginning to water. You hear footsteps, watching his outline move across the room before you’re shrinking away from the light of a dim lamp in the corner.

“You gotta be real dumb to find yourself in this situation.” He mutters, turning back around to stare at you. His gaze makes you want to cover yourself up, it’s like he can see every single part of you within that icy glare. You’ve never taken the time to really, truly look at him before but you do now, after all this might be your last chance to look at anything at all.

He isn’t a terrible last sight.

Sure, he’s ominous enough to make you want to try and run despite the ache in your calf right now, but that doesn’t make him any less handsome. In a rugged, weathered sort of way. He’s older than you thought, gray sprinkled throughout the mess of curls framing his face. What a nice face it is. Soft where it needs to be soft, sharp where it needs to be sharp. He marches back over to you, easily taking the pocket knife from your hand and crouching down in front of you.

“Give me one good reason not to finish you off right now.” He points the blade in the direction of your leg. “Seems like it’d be a mercy at this point.”

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe it would be a mercy to just let him put you out of your misery. Why have you been fighting so hard? You can’t seem to recall a reason other than the fact that that’s what you’re supposed to do. Your mind tells you that you’re supposed to keep fighting but you can’t think of a single driving force. You’re in pain, constantly, you live in a world that wants you dead, and you have no one relying on you.

You don’t have a good reason, other than the fact that surviving is all you know how to do. So you look up at him and you nod. Taking in the sight of the pretty, frightening man one last time before closing your eyes.

It feels good. You feel good, for the first time in a long time, knowing that you won’t hurt anymore. You won’t have to be afraid of someone kicking your door in, you won’t have to worry about where your next meal is going to come from, and you won’t have to worry about turning into a monster. It’s a mercy.

So you close your eyes.

Suddenly grateful for the killer before you, your guardian angel, here to deliver you the peace you didn’t know you needed.

You wait patiently for the sting of a blade or the embrace of his hands around your throat but all you're met with is a sigh. When you finally find the courage to open your eyes he’s sitting on the edge of the bed across from you, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just go.” He grumbles, muttering a few other words you don’t catch.

You’re almost disappointed, having accepted this was the end, and now you’re being shoved back into the cold and unforgiving world. You start to get to your feet but your knees buckle under you. You try again, willing your leg to just work but much to your dismay you can’t even straighten out your leg anymore. When you try to move it all you find yourself only able to bend your knee a few inches.

Shit.

You think of the fall you took on the way in and wonder if you finally pushed yourself to the limit. If you go back to the doctor will he remove the entire thing? Maybe you should just ask Joel to finish the job before it comes to that. It would be a kindness, between a quick death here or a slow death starving in your apartment you’ll take the quick way every time. Before you even have a chance to ask he’s on his feet. Maybe his patience has run out and you won’t have to ask at all.

“Let me.” His voice rattles around in your head, so low and commanding that you put up no resistance as he lifts you up under your arms and sets you down on the edge of the bed where he just was. He flips the knife out, going to cut your jeans off of you but you stop him.

“Wait!” He freezes in place, giving you an impatient look. “These are my only jeans, just- just pull them down.” Before you can realize how embarrassing it might be to show your neighbor your faded pink panties, you're already unbuttoning your pants, lifting your hips up so he can pull them down your legs with a roll of his eyes. It’s painful, the feeling of the denim running against your skin but it’s better than not having any pants at all.

Fuck.

It’s been a while since you’ve actually looked at your leg. You’re surprised he was able to get your jeans off with how swollen it is, the flesh bulging around your ankle and now up your calf. The skin is shiny and blotchy with shades of purple and red. The sight of it makes you want to hurl but you manage to swallow the urge, looking away as he pokes at the tender flesh.

“Christ girl, what the hell did you do?” When he grabs your ankle to lift your leg you yelp in pain, making him set your leg back down instinctively.

“I just- it’s just a broken ankle.” You mumble as he gives you an incredulous look.

“Like hell it is.” Something about the sternness of his voice demands your obedience as you nod. “Wanna tell me what really happened?”

“Well I- I fell and-” You struggle to find an excuse to justify how bad you let this get but you come up empty. So you tell the truth. “I fell off a ladder while painting over graffiti during my shift and broke my ankle. The doctor told me to stay off of it and- well, I couldn’t afford not to work so I just… didn’t” You rush through your words, staring anywhere else but into his demanding gaze as you explain yourself.

“So you turned to stealin’.” He says it like the fact it is and you can only bring yourself to nod. “You need antibiotics.” He says just as matter of factly. “You know how much that sort of thing costs?”

A lot.

More than you’d have even if you were working overtime.

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes.

His eyes were so dark that day they threatened to swallow you whole. Were they always that dark? Or was it just that day, the first day, when he realized that he had you.

“Look, I don’t do this kinda thing for just anybody. But I can help you.” He had sounded so kind, his hint of a smile had seemed so promising.

“I can’t afford it-”

“You can use alternative methods to pay me back.”

You told him you’d think about it.

And he hadn’t pushed you, he had simply helped you back into your jeans and carried you back to your apartment. He told you he’d check on you tomorrow and see if you had an answer for him.

So when the next day came and you had a fever and your leg was throbbing, demanding your attention you’d been all too eager to accept his help.

And just like that, it was your idea.

It wasn’t his, he was blameless, you asked him to help you. And it didn’t matter who had suggested it first, it mattered who brought it up after.

You had been certain that when he had told you you’d be using alternative methods to pay him back that his intentions were unsavory. And at that point you didn’t really care, you’d made your peace with that. The medicine you needed wasn’t cheap and you could find worse looking men who didn’t take care of themselves the way Joel did.

But he wanted nothing of the sort.

Southern Manners.

All he wanted was for you to take care of his apartment when he was out with his business partner, a woman who didn’t seem to dislike you but certainly didn’t care for you. He told you to take a week to just rest, take the medicine he brought you, eat the food that he fed you, and be good. So you did as he asked. And after a week you could move a bit more, you started spending your days at Joel’s tidying up and organizing while he was gone, it was much easier to stay off your leg for most of the day and he always made sure there was food and books for you while he was gone. And when he returned he would help you hobble back to your place and help you into bed without complaint and with a promise that he’d be back in the morning.

But you still don’t relax around him.

It doesn’t make sense. Even someone who wasn’t known for their cruelty wouldn’t just take a stranger in. You’d like to believe that there’s good in people but you know better than to have that kind of faith. There isn’t enough left of the world to share the remains. Yet Joel does. He doesn’t ask to know you better and he certainly doesn’t tell you about himself yet he shows you more kindness than anyone else in your life has before.

He must like having someone to take care of.

That’s how you explain it to yourself.

You watch him with Tess and it’s clear who’s in charge there, she barely even lets him stitch her up when she returns to the apartment. Joel gets frustrated every time, huffing and pacing around the room before finding some way to tend to you in her place. Icing your leg, or bringing you a new book to read, or feeding you.

It took a few months for your leg to heal, it had been in such bad shape a part of you worried that it might never be the same as it once was.

After the first month of your arrangement Joel told you his knees hurt and he wouldn’t be able to carry you home, you offered to just walk yourself over, your leg didn’t hurt that bad anymore and you were more than capable of walking short distances. But he insisted you stay, told you you could sleep in the bed and he’d take the couch.

But his knees hurt, you couldn’t let him do that.

And you told him you’d take the couch and he told you he wouldn’t feel right making you sleep on the couch with your leg the way it was.

So you told him you’d both just sleep in the bed. It wasn’t a big deal. You trusted him, of course you did, he had an opportunity to exploit you and he didn’t, if he was going to hurt you he would have done it already.

He had acted unsure.

You know now that it was acting.

So you had insisted. You told him it was okay, you told him you felt safe with him.

It was your idea.

Even though it hadn’t been your idea to stay that night.

You had insisted he get in the bed with you.

A fact that he would bring up often in the months to come.

He would still help you to your apartment some nights, but just as often he’d complain about his knees and you’d stay. You got used to his warmth, you got used to waking up in his arms and not talking about it in the morning.

So it made sense when he told you that you should keep your pajamas at his apartment.

It made sense when he got a toothbrush for you to keep in his bathroom cabinet.

It made sense when he told you that he couldn’t find new clothes in your size and you could just wear his.

It made sense when he told you that he and Tess had never been a thing, so you had no reason to feel weird about sleeping in his bed.

And it made sense when he told you that he’d hold onto the keys to your apartment, afterall you wouldn’t want to lose them.

Joel Miller was a glue trap. And you had waded across his sticky surface without a care in the world, never realizing that it was getting harder and harder to move until you were standing still. Until the only way you were going to escape was by biting off your own leg.

You don’t remember when you stopped returning to your own apartment completely, but you know that it happened early on, before you’d even started chewing.

Now - JACKSON, WYOMING : 2023

“Ruth?” You’re gonna be late if you don’t find her soon. The turntable in the corner of the kitchen plays a 3 Doors Down song as you lift the table cloth, searching for the little girl. “We don’t have time to play, we need to get you to school.” You groan, turning to face the boy currently sitting in a highchair he’s just about grown out of. “Do you know where she is?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glaring at him as he shrugs.

Of course he isn’t going to tell. They look out for each other before anyone else, a fact that normally fills you with joy but not when they’re ganging up against you. Thankfully you catch his eye as he shoots a glance at the pantry. Pulling the door open you’re quickly met with the sight of Ruth, giggling on the floor. You pick her up, putting her in her own highchair before setting a plate of fruits down in front of her.

“Eat. We don’t have time to play this morning, young lady.” You poke your fork in her direction as you sit down across from them.

“Eat.” She repeats in a mocking tone, her brother erupting into a fit of giggles at the impression as you sigh. They need to be at the community center in half an hour. You make the job schedules on Friday and you need as much time as possible if you want to finish them in one day. You’re having a hard time focusing on the mess your son is making as he smashes each blueberry down onto the table before popping them into his mouth as you try to schedule your own weekend.

You need to finish all of your work today while the kids are gone so you don’t have to juggle watching them and working later, it shouldn’t be too much of an issue, scheduling should only take a few hours if you really zero in on it. You have dinner with Tommy and Maria tomorrow and you promised to bring dessert so you’ll have to take the kids to the market tonight, which also means you’re going to have to find supplies to barter with before you go.

You have nothing planned on Sunday.

You’ll have to change that.

You hate having nothing to do.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as a blueberry hits you in the forehead. Both twins laugh now as you frown at them.

“Behave or I’ll tell your aunt that you’ve been bad.” Both children look at each other nervously before returning to their breakfast. You were never stern enough with them. You loved them too much, you couldn’t ever bring yourself to yell at them, and it wasn’t like they were troublemakers by any means, they were just kids with a lot of energy in the mornings. And when they did misbehave a small threat of telling Maria was enough to make them stop whatever it was they were doing.

You finish up your own plate and start getting ready to leave as the kids start giggling again to themselves. When their plates are empty you use a wet washcloth to clean their hands and faces before lifting each of them out of their respective seats, letting them run off a bit more energy before you head out. You set all three bags down in front of the door. Yours being the beige over the shoulder bag accompanied by two little backpacks. Ruth’s green canvas bag is covered in mud and other remnants of the yard that she’s brought in with her but Arthur’s purple backpack is kept neat and tidy. You slip into your coat before turning just in time to watch your son dive into the couch, quickly followed by his sister.

“Come on little ducks. Time for school.” You take their jackets off the hook, holding them out to them as they rush over to you, tugging their own coats on before grabbing their bags, once you pull the door open they both rush out into the cool autumn morning, talking to each other in hushed tones. Always secrets with those two. It would probably make you a little worried if these were normal circumstances, the way they don’t let anyone in except each other, with you being the only exception. But the world is a terrifying place, it brings you peace to know that they have each other.

A part of you is certain you wouldn’t have been able to handle just one.

One little person relying on you, all while you’re doing your best to hold it all together? It sounds like a nightmare. It’s better that they have each other. Once you’re standing outside the community center, busy with parents dropping off their children, you kneel down.

“Be good, if you behave today you can go to the market tonight.” The promise of the market has both of them grinning, showing off the teeth they’ve both recently had grow in. “I love you, I’ll see you in a bit.” You hold open your arms, each of them taking their respective sides as they wrap themselves around you. You take your daughter's face in your hands before pressing a kiss to her forehead, repeating the motion with your son. After a few “love you mama’s” they both run into the building, once you’re sure they’re safe inside you head off in the direction of town hall.

You have what you would call the best job in town, despite the fact that no one else seems to want to do it.

Maria understood when you arrived that you needed something that let you work from home if needed, you needed something that kept your mind busy but also gave you time with the kids. So you took care of the parts of Jackson most didn’t think about.

You document all of the citizens, you make the shift schedules, and you make sure everyone has the necessities. You take care of housing, when big hauls from scavenging come in you divide them up among the people who need them. You make the meal schedules for the dining hall, and you make the crop schedules.

You keep Jackson moving.

When you arrived all of this was Maria’s job along with her other duties, when you told her you wanted something engaging and demanding she was more than willing to pass off those duties to you. So now you’ve got to make the schedule. Town hall is nothing more than a house with several desks for people doing work similar to yours but thankfully you’ve been lucky enough to reserve your own office in one of the bedrooms.

Most Friday's Maria visits you for lunch but you know she’s on patrol currently, another perk of this job is knowing where everyone is, all the time.

No surprises.

You hate surprises. (With a few exceptions.)

One of the exceptions is waiting for you in your office, Tommy sits with his legs up on your desk, reading over this past week's schedule.

“You put me on crop harvest way more than anyone else.” He grumbles, tossing your notebook down.

“It’s the end of the season, everyones on crop harvest.” You lean down, kissing his cheek before taking your place across from him, immediately getting to work as he groans.

“Maria gets to go on patrol.”

“Council gets first dibs on patrols during harvest season.” The tip of your favorite pen is dry so you quickly bring it to your mouth, wetting it with your tongue before you start writing out jobs for this upcoming week. The second he sees how many farming related jobs you’re listing he leans back in his chair, groaning and running his fingers through his dark curls.

Today’s his day off. You always gave anyone doing more manual labor three days off instead of two.

“I can get you on one patrol shift but they’re going to need your help with the corn.” You write his name in with the Monday and Tuesday patrol squad, filling in the rest of his week with harvest as he grins.

“Thank you, darlin’.” He drawls. You hate that nickname, you hate that he isn’t the first to give it to you but you never complain, you’d let Tommy get away with murder at this point. It’s the least you can do considering everything he’s given you.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. You’re only getting a two-day weekend next week.” You mumble, searching through the list of citizens, trying to pick out the people you know won’t mind the hard work.

“Fine by me.” You have a complicated relationship with that smile of his. You can love it all you want but that doesn’t change the fact that it makes you uneasy, it doesn’t help that you’re starting to see that same smile in your son.

“I was thinking about berry cobbler for tomorrow night.” Molly twisted her ankle last week, make sure she isn’t standing. You put her down for shucking corn, she can sit in the dining hall and work.

“We have a bunch of extra sweet potatoes if you want to make sweet potato pie.” He takes your crop ledger, flipping through it, clearly not reading a thing.

“Ruth hates sweet potatoes.” Marcus insists he’s capable of doing manual labor, his pride won’t let him act his age. You put him down for pushing the wheelbarrows, he won’t have to bend down to pick anything up but hopefully he’ll still feel like he’s doing enough. You’ve told him countless times that at his age he shouldn’t be working so hard but he always insists.

“Shit, forgot about that. Maria might have some apples.”

“I’ll stop by tonight before I take the kids to the market.”

You’re thankful for Tommy.

He keeps your mind busy with conversation while you work, and he’s one of the only people you actually trust. By the time you’re almost done you know you need to go get the kids, with a conflicted glance at the clock you start to gather your things but Tommy beats you to it.

“I’ll go get them, Maria should be home from patrol soon, she’ll want to see them.” He’s already putting his coat on so you stay seated.

“Are you sure?” You already know there’s no reason to argue, he’s stubborn, just like his brother.

“It’s the least I can do to make up for bothering you all day.” He steps around the desk to give you a peck on the cheek before going to leave. “Just come by the house when you’re done, no rush.” And just like that he’s gone.

You make quick work of your remaining duties. Finishing everything within a half an hour before heading out in the direction of the Miller’s farm house on the edge of town. It’s only a few houses away from your ranch house, a fact that you couldn’t be more grateful for, if it weren’t for Tommy and Maria you aren’t sure you’d have been able to handle those first few months of parenthood. Most people in town assumed Tommy must be the father purely based on how much effort he put into taking care of not only them, but you as well. As you make your way up their porch steps and into the living room you’re also reminded of the similarities. You can’t blame people for making assumptions, even Maria thought he was the father. The twins have his eyes, (which by association means that they also have his eyes, but you try not to dwell on that.) Ruth has your nose but Arthur has that Miller curve already starting to show on his little nose. Both little ones are sitting in the big recliner with their uncle as he tries to get them to settle down while he reads to them but the second they see you, both are scrambling out of the chair to hug your legs.

And everything goes exactly how it’s supposed to.

(Of course it does, you plan every day down to the minute.)

You give Tommy the list of things you need along with a few things he can trade them for and he takes the kids down the street to the market as you sit at the kitchen counter, talking to Maria about her patrol. You had all planned to go to the market together but she’d insisted she was tired and you didn’t want her to be here alone so you stayed, helping her cook dinner. And you talked about all the things you knew you would, something cute the kids did, how her patrol went, what things you could put on the dining hall menu in the coming weeks.

It’s all exactly how it should be.

Until she frowns.

“Are you busy Sunday?” You had sensed something was wrong with her but you assumed maybe she was just a little rattled coming off of a three day patrol.

“No, did you need something?” You continue to chop up the sweet potatoes she now planned to use tonight instead of tomorrow.

“We found a couple of strays, I thought maybe we could get them settled in.”

Odd.

Normally finding survivors would be the first thing she mentioned after returning, even stranger is the fact that she’d often waste no time getting them supplies and a home to make their own. But you're not one to question Maria’s judgment.

“Sure, we can do that Sunday morning.” You want to ask questions about it but she’s already changed the subject to doing a clothing drive at the community center so you don’t press. Despite the way the look on her face is bothering you.

It wasn’t fear, or discomfort, or something you could explain away with the excuse of the strays being off putting or violent.

It’s a look of pity.

As if she feels bad for even asking.

It unsettles you enough to leave it be. Making idle chit chat with her until Tommy returns with the twins and you take them home. It unsettles you as you make your own dinner, as you give the twins a bath, and as you help them into their pajamas and read them a story. It never leaves your mind.

“Goodnight Ruthie.” You lean down to kiss her forehead, watching her eyes flutter shut as she continues to fight sleep. Always the stubborn one.

“Night Mama.” You take the stuffed bear from the foot of her bed, tucking it in beside her before quietly standing, walking across the room to your son's bed.

“Goodnight Arthur.” You lean down, kissing both of his rosy cheeks, he doesn’t fight sleep the way his sister does. So similar but so different.

“Goodnight Mama.” His little voice has the same southern drawl you know he’s been picking up from Tommy.

“I love you, little ducks.” You smile at him, turning to see that Ruth is already asleep, you tuck in the blankets around Arthur before leaving, keeping the door cracked open a bit so the light from the kitchen can act as a night light.

God, you're tired.

You’re quick to shower and slip into your own pajamas, crawling into bed with a yawn. You take the book from your nightstand, flipping through until you find where you left off yesterday.

You never really know what’s going on in the books you read, they serve a singular purpose and it isn’t entertainment.

You read until you fall asleep, they’re just a distraction to keep your mind busy with thoughts so he can’t sneak in right before you fall asleep and embed himself in your dreams.

It works.

Your dreams never feature him.

They aren’t good dreams by any means, they’re wild. Often of your journey to Jackson, the fear you felt then. But you’ll take that over Joel any day. Tonight isn’t any different, your sleep is restless as you fight the memories of fighting for survival in those woods, but instead of your usual nightmares of infected hunting you through the trees you’re faced with a sight that somehow makes you even more uneasy than the living dead.

The look on Maria’s face when she told you about the two strays.

support me on kofi!!

a/n : this fic has been bouncing around in my brain for months now and it feels so fucking good to finally start it omfg. sorry if this felt a little slow, i really needed to set a tone and a base for the story, sorry!!

#lincolndjarin #fic : every now and then #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou joel #joel tlou #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #tlou fic #joel x reader #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

408 notes · View notes

exhaslo · 4 months

Text

Puzzle Pieces Ch10

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, shower sex, praise

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

You were trapped there again.

Afraid.

Your body was already shaking, just anticipating the heavy footsteps once that creaky door opened. Your breathing hitched as those thoughts became reality. The loud creak made you stumble as you hurried to the kitchen.

Swiftly, you tried to stop your hands from shaking as you prepped a plate. Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you heard a heavy bag hit the floor. Your heart was about to burst out of your chest. You couldn't focus and because of that...

CRASH.

"Fuck, woman." Eddie hissed.

You started sobbing and apologizing as you attempted to clean up your mess. His footsteps grew louder and harsher as they drew closer to you. Your breathing stopped as Eddie appeared in front of you. A harsh scowl on his face as he looked down at you.

"Tch, so useless. Clean this shit up and get my dinner ready. I got to head out again soon." Eddie spat as he gave you a swift kick to your stomach.

"S-Sorry....hn...I-I'm so s-sorry." You sobbed, holding your stomach in pain as you kept cleaning.

"Can't believe I got stuck with you."

---------

"I'm sorry!" You gasped, crying as you awoke.

It was hot. You felt sweat all over your body as you scooted off your bed. Another nightmare about him. This was the first one you had since you officially dated Miguel. Unable to stop shaking, you hurried to your living room and grabbed a puzzle.

It had been two weeks since Halloween night. You were happy with Miguel. Everything was going so smoothly, so why. Why were you having nightmares again?

"It's s-so l-late...I-I...d-don't...want...want to bother...." You sniffled lowly, shaking as you reached for your phone.

Miguel had told you to call him whenever you needed to calm down. He was so understanding. Shuddering as you felt your chest tighten, you hesitated to press on Miguel's name. It was almost midnight. What were the chances that he was awake?

-------

Miguel sat alone in a dark room. The only visible thing were his eyes that seemed to have a red glow to them. An echo of a tap was heard until the door creaked opened. Miguel exhaled softly as he watched Miles and his little crew enter.

"Still nothing?" Miguel's tone was more than annoyed.

"Our lead got us nowhere. The best we can do is just keep watching the supermarket." Peter stepped in. Miguel's eye twitched,

"Why is it so hard to find one man?"

"Well, to be fair, we're always fighting someone so our attention isn't that focused on this one dude," Gwen sighed and glanced at Miles, "Maybe we can draw-"

Miguel slammed his fist against the desk. His glare more prominent than normal. Everyone took this as a sign to leave. Not before apologizing to Miguel first. Once they were all gone, Miguel hissed lowly as he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from under his desk.

Right as he poured the liquid into a glass, Miguel growled at the sound of his phone. It was late and Miguel was ready to go home, but of course, that new pest of a mafia group had to cause trouble. This new Venom group was going to be destroyed one way or another.

"(Y/N)?" Miguel whispered as he saw your name on his phone, "It's late, Conejita (bunny), why are you still up?" He lowered his voice for you.

"I...I had a n-nightmare," You whimpered.

Miguel's eyes soften as he leaned back in his seat. Your voice was scratchy and low. You've been crying. That and your stuttering was pretty bad. Oh, how he wished you were in his arms right now for him to comfort you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Miguel glanced at his watch, his own exhausted eyes drooping slightly,

"N-No...I...I just...j-just need to c-calm down. I-I like...h-hearing y-your voice." You whimpered softly. Miguel inhaled deeply as he found the energy to stand,

"I'll be there in a bit, amor (love). Don't worry."

"O-Okay,"

Miguel smiled softly as he heard the relief in your tone. He hung up, then immediately called his driver. Despite still having a lot of work to do, Miguel was going to call it a night. He can have his men and women do his dirty work for now.

Miguel needed his relief.

----------

You played with your sleeves as you fixed up your place. It helped you clear your mind a bit since Miguel was coming over. Hurrying to the bedroom, you doublechecked his spare clothes. Since you started dating, you bought Miguel some cozy clothes in case he ever decided to stay over again.

You were always the one to sleep over at his place.

Feeling your cheeks burn, you shook the thought away and hurried back to the living room. Miguel was going to come over any minute now. You needed to finish your puzzle.

'Pick up this shit! What are you a fucking child?'

Your breathing shuddered as the voice screamed from the back of your mind. You held the small piece in your palm, unable to stop shaking. Your sleeves slowly rolling down, revealing the scars you gave yourself as a means of escape.

'Do you have ANY FUCKING IDEA how fucked I'll be if you tried to fucking kill yourself? Don't be a stupid little bitch!'

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you sobbed once more. Why did his voice have to come back and haunt you? Why was he such a poison in your mind? Eddie was a venom. Eating away at your soul until you were nothing left.

"(Y/N)?" Miguel knocked against your door.

Quickly, you hurried to him. You tackled Miguel, wrapping your arms around him as you sobbed into his chest. With ease, Miguel picked you up and carried you into the bedroom. You didn't want to let him go.

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" Miguel asked, sitting you on the bed. He noticed a pair of clothes set aside for him, "Hm?"

"I-I k-keep hearing...h-his...his voice. I-I can't..." You tighten your grip against his jacket, "I-I'm sorry. S-Sorry I'm a burden."

"But you're not," Miguel sighed softly and lifted your chin, kissing your tears away, "He is no longer in your life. Y estoy planeando matar al cabrón por ti, mi conejito. (And I'm planning on killing the fucker for you, my bunny)."

"Mhm, M-Miguel..." You whispered, only understanding the 'bunny' part, "Um...I, um...I got you some comfortable clothes...to s-sleep in. W-Would you like s-shower first?"

"Only if you join me,"

You bit your lower lip and slowly nodded. Honestly, just having Miguel here was calming you down. Following Miguel into the bathroom, you helped set the water and squeaked softly as Miguel already started to get undressed.

You followed suit, still hesitating with your clothes. Miguel approached you, his hands gently holding your waist. You closed your eyes, finally removing your shirt. Miguel responded with a hum and proceeded to kiss you,

"My beautiful girl," He whispered, slowly pulling you into the shower with him.

Your heart fluttered every time Miguel complemented you. Your shower was small, so your bodies were pressed against each other. Miguel had you in his embrace, his head resting against the crook of your neck as the warm water hit his skin.

"(Y/n), whenever you think of that asshole, I want you to remember that I'm taking care of you now," Miguel whispered in your ear as his hands stroked your sides, "That I cherish you for the wonderful woman you are."

"M-Miguel," You whispered, feeling your back pressed against the wall.

You whimpered softly as Miguel started to kiss and nibble at your neck and shoulder. You slowly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders as Miguel lifted you up. You shuddered as Miguel started to grind his hips into yours, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

"Call out of work tomorrow, amor. Let me spoil you."

"B-But...mhm, I-I can't...c-call out again." You whimpered softly, resisting a moan as Miguel's dick slid against your folds, "M-My...b-b-bills"

"I'll take care of everything," Miguel hummed, making his marks on you, "You deserve a break. Let me take care of you."

"M-Miggy," You moaned as his tip poked your hole.

You arched your back against the wall, giving Miguel more space to mark you. He hummed in response, his fingers slowly rubbing circles against your clit. The heat of the shower was fogging your mind as you started to give into the pleasure.

"That's right, let me take care of you." Miguel hummed, stealing your lips in a kiss as he gently slid his dick inside you.

"Mhpm~"

Your legs tighten around Miguel's waist as he started to thrust into you. His gentle yet rough thrusts sending you to nirvana with each slap. Whimpers and moans were coming out loudly as you clenched around Miguel's cock.

Every time Miguel fucked you, it made you remember the difference between him and your past relationship. Miguel was far too good for you. Gasping, you fell victim to an orgasm with another simple rough thrust from Miguel.

"Gooooood girl. That's right, you're doing so good for me," Miguel groaned, his thrusts getting a little faster and harsher.

You flung your head back, crying out as Miguel kept hitting your sweet spot. Your hands were gripping his hair, your head resting against his shoulder.

"Miggy~"

-------

Miguel grunted as you kept clenching around his dick. Your blissed out expression gave him full to keep going. You were doing better giving yourself into him. Miguel just needed you to realize that you didn't have to work anymore.

That you could live with him.

Hearing loud knocking from against the shower wall, Miguel chuckled darkly. Seems like his shy bunny was being too loud for your neighbors. You didn't even notice as Miguel drew another orgasm out of you.

"Let's take this to the bed," Miguel chuckled.

Still holding onto you, Miguel turned the water off and brought a towel. He placed the towel on the bed before laying you on your back. His harsh and rough thrusts continued as he pressed you into mating position.

"I'll treat you like the princess you deserve to be," Miguel grunted as he unloaded inside of you.

"M-Mig..." You breathed out, "P-Please...K-Keep going,"

Miguel just chuckled as he kissed you deeply. Your cute fucked out expression just begging for more. Miguel flipped you on your stomach, pressing himself against you back. You whimpered and moaned as his rough thrusts continued.

"Ah, sabe tan bien. Eres mi dulce conejita en celo, ¿no? ¿Quieres que te dé una razón para ser mía? (Ah, taste so good. You are my sweet little bunny in heat aren't you? Want me to give you a reason to be mine?)" Miguel whispered, falling into his own lust.

Miguel pressed his hand against your back, watching you grip the bed sheets. Your moans filling his ears like music. Your sweet pussy dripping and sucking his dick, forming a white ring around his cock. Your moans were almost pornographic as Miguel finally let loose.

"I'm going to treat you so well tomorrow. I've had such a long day." Miguel whispered in your ear, "Going to make you forget all about what hurts you."

"Miguel~!" You cried out, collapsing after a harsh orgasm.

Miguel sighed softly as he finished. Another grunt and a moan, Miguel gave you one last load of his cum. A loud sigh escaping his throat as relief washed over him. As he pulled out, Miguel smiled at his work once more.

You were fast asleep, your body twitching softly with his marks all over you. Miguel put on the clothes you got him and proceeded to wipe you down. He found some new pajamas for you and got you dressed before finally climbing into your bed.

"Not the best way to comfort her, but this works too," Miguel told himself before falling asleep.

---------

"Took forever, but we finally had time to get here." Eddie huffed as he stood in front of the supermarket you worked at, "Now to take back what belongs to me."

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

next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

865 notes · View notes

writeonwhiskey · 5 months

Text

intro + master list

welcome to my corner of delusion. here are some things about me:

- hyunjin biased & bangchan wrecked daily

- i like whiskey

- english major using my degree to write spicy fanfic (mom is so proud)

- 18+ content

Story List:

Summary: When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see the Sigma Kappa Zeta fraternity ad for IN-HOUSE STAY, you apply and are accepted. Your duties? Cooking...cleaning...oh, and pleasing your assigned members Hwang Hyunjin and Bang Chan.

CH 1: Of Breakups & New Housing

CH 2: Of Ex's & Teslas

CH 3: Of Blowjobs & Birthdays

CH 4: Of Pineapples & Punishment

CH 5: Of Mirrors & Lessons

CH 6: Of Joy Rides & Hot Tubs

CH 7: Of Watching & Submitting

CH 8: Of Drive-Ins & Wishes

CH 9: Of Halloween & Hallways

CH 10: Of Yin & Yang

CH 11: Of Triple N's & Multiple O's

CH 12: Of Delays & Professor Bang

CH: 13 Of Girl Talk & Berry

CH: 14 Of Surprises & Closets

CH: 15 Of Showers & Cabins

[skz house photo book - to help you picture certain scenes]

424 notes · View notes

neotohuu · 5 months

Text

Baby, only look at me.

jealous dom top male oc x sub bottom male reader; age gap (oc is older), breeding kink, cr*ampie (e), ch*king (o), hair pulling, semi public s*x (e), vouyerism, characters are implied to be under the influence but everything is consensual.

note: i'm the inconsistancy king lol...i'll find my writing style some...day.

Kai sipped on his whiskey as he watched you have fun on the dance floor with your friends. He chuckled when he saw you do your dorky little dance, he thought that you were the cutest guy in the world.

You barely even drank anything but laughed and danced around like you drank the whole bar under the table, this was definitely your first time in a club.

He didn't mind your friends dancing with you as for most of the time whilst you were dancing, they were protectively looking around you and keeping away any perverts.

"Hey, (Name)! We're gonna go get some drinks, okay? You just sit here!" One of (Name)'s friends said as Kai quietly tagged along with them to get some drinks, he gave you a small kiss on the forehead before leaving.

You sat there quietly, checking your phone every once in a while whilst sipping your virgin cocktail. Then, suddenly another man slipped into the booth, you didn't look up from your phone as you thought it was Kai who sat next to you.

"Oh, you're back early, baby..." you said to the person next to you who you thought was Kai, as an unfamiliar chuckle bubbled from his throat. You snapped your head towards the man. You immediately got a whiff of cigarettes and hair gel as he leaned closer to you.

"You're calling me baby, already huh, cutie...?" His gruff voice groaned out as he scratched his stubble and was about to put his hand on your thigh until Kai came and pushed him out of the booth.

"Get the f*ck away from him." Kai sneered as you sat there, confused and scared as you held him back from proceeding to punch the other man.

The man just glared at Kai before walking out of the bar, but before he opened the door, he turned back to look at you and pointed at your pocket.

You shuffled your hands inside your pocket to find a small piece of paper that had his number written on it, you looked at the man with shock and confusion as he winked at you.

Kai saw the piece of paper in your hand and his mind just snapped.

He immediately crumpled the paper and threw it on the dirty ground as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to the restrooms.

You and Kai were standing close together in a stall as he started groping your chest from behind, he peppered kisses on the nape of your neck as you let out a confused moan.

"W-Wait...ngh~ What's going on, Kai...- haah~" You whimpered out as he started pinching your nipples.

"I'm claiming back what's mine." He replied briefly as he flipped you around and kissed you passionately as he pulled out his already hard cock from his jeans.

Your hands tangled on his short dark hair as he shoved his tongue in your throat. "Ngh~ c-calm down, Kai..." You muttered in between kisses as he flipped you back around and bent you over.

He tugged your pants down and groped your plush and supple ass. "This ass is mine." He grunted as he spit on his cock to lube it up a bit, your hole was presented to him in a naughty manner as your face was laid against the wall.

Suddenly, someone entered the restrooms as well, the other person entered the stall next to you both. You gulped as you stayed silent but Kai had other plans.

He teased the outside of your hole slowly with his hot tip, your eyes widened as you grasped his hand and your puffy and watery eyes look at him. He coos silently before slamming his cock into your tight and wet hole.

You gasped and held back a moan as his cock curved perfectly to hit your g-spot. He then started to punish you with his slow thrusts...the sloppy sounds and the precum dripping on the ground, the person who just went inside the other stall would've clearly known.

And your friend did. He slowly pulled out his own hard cock in his pants as he stroked himself to the sound of your soft moans and gasps.

"Slut..." Kai groaned as he held your hand in his right hand and pulled your hair harshly in the other. You moaned due to the mix of pain and pleasure, you started drooling on your hand as you tried to silence yourself.

Your hand gripped on the wall as Kai's hand gripped on your hip tightly, he started thrusting into you faster and harder. At this point, the sloppy noises and your soft, lewd moans were making it obvious what you and Kai were doing in there.

His cock was hitting you in all the right places, your eyes were watering as he flipped you around and placed you on top of the toilet cover, not even pulling out for a second as he continued fucking you animalistically.

His hands slowly traveled from your hips to your neck, his grip slowly became tighter on your neck. "H-haah~" You let out a strangled, breathy moan as you started to bounce yourself on his cock.

Kai chuckled at the sight of your fucked-out face, a loving smile on his face as he kissed your lips. You were numb in pleasure as you took short breaths whilst he choked you.

"Mm...!" You whimpered in the kiss as he pulled away from your lips reluctantly, your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs wrapped around his waist.

"I-I'm gonna c-cum...ngh...h-haah!" You moaned out loudly, not caring if anyone heard you anymore. "S-shit...how'd you become tighter? ...I'm gonna cum too, baby." Kai groaned out as his thrusts became slower.

At this point, your friend in the other stall had came numerous times in his hand, and so did the other guys at the other stalls...

But you both didn't care anymore. You knew that you were his. He gave you one last thrust before releasing inside of you, you could feel his hot and gooey seed fill you up as you orgasmed as well.

Very lewd and pornographic moans came from your throat as the other guys couldn't help but imagine what it would've been like to fuck you.

You leaned your head back, breathless as he panted softly. You turned your head away from him, a shy habit you always did after sex. He grabbed your face softly but firmly and turned your head towards him.

"Baby, only look at me. Okay?" Kai said in a quiet, possessive tone. "'Kay..." You nodded softly as he pulled out from your hole. You could feel his cum dribbling out from your ass as you struggled to stand up.

He felt proud of his work as you both got out of ths stall, messily dressed, Kai's coat draped over your shoulders as the other guys opened their stall doors to look at you.

You both didn't care anymore though, you looked at Kai with a loving smile and leaned your head on his shoulder as he grabbed your waist comfortingly.

He knew you'd only look at him.

#male reader #x male reader #bottom male reader #x bottom reader #sub male reader #oc x male reader #gay

297 notes · View notes

howdydarling · 1 year

Note

Travis Hackett H3!!!

The Sheriff is having a weird night. 😵‍💫

#hdask.#hddraws.#travis hackett #hackearney #bc it’s relevant to y’all #the quarry #ch; travis hackett #ship; travis&eli. | what if i can't distill the honey from the whiskey 'cause there ain't no honey left in me?#adds my ship tag bc I would also leave kisses all over him

42 notes · View notes

anachronistic-falsehood · 1 year

Text

ohh my god. this fucking road trip fic is going to be the funniest fucking thing i've ever written. god. the fucking jazzmobile. i might as well quit my writing career when it's done this is my PEAK

#whiskey yelling into the void #either this is genuinely hilarious or my sense of humour is just stupid #possibly both!!!#i'll post the first chapter soon dw i just needed to get through ch 2 #the jazzmobile...... i feel like i'm going crazy #i'm definitely going to write some kind of side story abt knives and legato and their own road trip problems I HAVE TO #also sprinkling in some vague fucked up sibling dynamics just in case i wanna write a prequel set in their college days #which is honestly very likely at this point i have plans for how their college years played out #they're all traumatized and trying to get over various things and it does not go well <3 but that's just college for u

6 notes · View notes

nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 7 months

Note

Your Mihawk has me weak on my knees so I wanted to request something for him.

S/O has scars on her body, mainly on arms. She does fight but some of them look… too precise. One time after she loses a fight she is really pissed and nervous, she goes to a place alone. There he sees her just giving herself a scar with a knife on her arm. Turns out she was taught scars are signs of losses and if she doesn't get one in battle then afterwards she needs to do it herself. That's why she's so determined to always win. She hates scars.

@patisilence tagging since I'm not sure if you'll get this since I had to save it as a draft to format everything right.

Anyway.

I DID IT I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT

I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG 😭😭

And I honestly really really want to thank you. This is my first ever fic-request, for one.

And also, writing this has been an absolute emotional rollercoaster. I have kind of a personal history with self-harm and I wanted to depict it as realistically as possible. Which resulted in heavy focus on character development, which resulted in this practically turning into a novella. I'm going to split it up into a few chapters to streamline things and link them all in this post.

If I do it right, then the entire thing should already be posted when I post this, but I'm still pretty new to Tumblr so bear with me. Each chapter should be between 3k-4k words.

And ALSO ALSO I've been planning a longer Mihawk X OC fic, and I really hope you don't mind me using this concept for it? Because it honestly ties a lot of things together for me

Soooooo without further ado, here's the whole author note thing.

Your Scars Are Mine

Ch. 1

LA! Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Mentions of Violence, I guess that's it, I'm bad at this

⚠️ MASSIVE ASS TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ : Self-harm, Blood, Implied PTSD

Summary: In the few months that he has known you, Mihawk has noticed the scars on your arm. You've refused to talk about them and skirted around the subject successfully, but a trip to Shells Town throws everything out into the open in a way that neither of you were prepared for.

Ch. 2

Ch.3

You were hiding something.

In the few months that Mihawk had known you, he had come to learn a fair bit about you. He knew, for instance, that you had over the past few years made something of a name for yourself as a sword for hire, typically among pirate crews who required a more discreet touch.

That this reputation of yours had led the Buggy Pirates to hire you to assist in stealing a map of the Grand Line from a Marine base in Shells Town. You had failed to procure the map before it was stolen by other hands, leaving you in their debt. Buggy had sunk your sloop to prevent your escape, and you had gotten stuck working for the ridiculous crew for a brief time, remained stuck with them until the Strawhat upstarts offered you passage with them.

Mihawk knew you had traveled with them as far as Baratie, where you had crossed his own path for the first time at the bar on the ship's deck. Where you had approached him with a bargain—if he left Roronoa Zoro alive after their duel the following morning, you would serve him for a year, an errand girl to send off on whatever menial tasks the World Government assigned him.

"And why would I want a little bird flitting around after me around for an entire year?" Mihawk had asked coolly.

And yet you had made a fair point—acting as a government lapdog was growing old. He had been sent after the vice admiral's grandson, for heavens' sake, as if he had nothing better to do with his time than to handle the old fool's family disputes.

Though the surly pirate warlord wouldn't have dared to dream of admitting it at the time, you had his attention. Your offer of unquestioned devotion, your confident demeanor as you sipped a glass of whiskey and kept your eyes on his without showing an ounce of fear or intimidation. You were certainly an interesting diversion from the otherwise dull task that had been laid before him, and your certainty that he would accept your offer had irritated and intrigued him in near equal measure.

It was intrigue that won out in the end. He had left his challenger clinging to the edge of life and taken you with him on his departure. You stayed toe to toe with him in wit and banter, and that alone would have been more than enough to draw him closer to your charm. He had wanted you before two weeks were out, wanted to claim you as far more than his "errand girl," and it was easy to see from the way you effortlessly returned his subtle flirtations that you wanted the same.

And now you were lying back across his broad chest in the hammock aboard your new sloop, a book open over your chest and his hand resting over your stomach, his other tucked under his neck as he frowned thoughtfully up at the roof of the small ship's cabin, pondering over the whirlwind of events that had led up to this moment.

It had been just over two months since the pirate lord had taken you as his lover, and you had been an open book about most things. Your training under your grandmother. Your setting out on your own from a small island village to find your parents, or some clue of their disappearance. The many and varied pirate crews you had served as a hired hand.

Yet you refused to discuss your scars.

Any seafarer with a history as sordid as your own had their share of battle scars. Mihawk had a fair few of his own; one didn't become the most renowned swordsman in the world without a few losses, after all. Yet your voice turned to clear contempt when yours were mentioned, even in passing, and you tensed like a statue when his hands brushed over them. You were confident to the point of near arrogance, yet you clearly held nothing but shame and contempt for the many marks that marred your delicate skin.

Some of which appeared oddly...uniform, for having been gained in battle.

It was in part—in great measure, honestly—the mystery of you that had drawn him in to begin with, and this was just another mystery that Mihawk intended to unravel.

You closed your book abruptly, stirring him from his thoughts as he glanced down at you. He watched you gaze thoughtfully toward the ceiling for a long moment, your hand resting over his at your stomach, before you finally spoke up.

"Reading a book is just staring at a dead tree and vividly hallucinating."

You tilted your head back, grinning as his mouth turned down in a frown and his brow furrowed at your ridiculous statement. Mihawk sighed wearily, plucking the book from your hands and lightly rapping you over the forehead with it.

"No," he scolded, as you giggled softly. He sighed heavily again, dropping the book over the back of the hammock before pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Are you trying to give me a stroke?"

"No," you said, imitating his scolding tone. You stretched your arms out over your head, arching your back for a moment, before rolling over to lay across his chest and brush your lips to his. "But it's fun seeing the look on your face."

"You irritate my very soul, little one," he said, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"And I enjoy every second of it," you countered, grinning as you laid your forehead against his.

"I can tell."

Your grin managed to draw a small smile from him, before he lifted a hand into your hair and pulled you down into a slow, deep kiss. Your fingertips came to rest at his broad shoulders, the hammock swaying slowly in the steady ocean waves carrying the ship along. He knew as well as you did that he wasn't honestly irritated—your strange sense of humor had grown on him, as starkly as it contrasted to his dry sarcasm, and he rarely had the pleasure of meeting anyone as adept at keeping up with his own banter.

You lay your cheek at his shoulder when your lips parted, your eyes slipping shut and your contented sigh tickling against his neck.

"If the wind holds steady it will be a few hours before we make port," you said, your voice low and soft. "I suggest we don't move from here in the meantime."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard a finer suggestion."

Mihawk pulled one of your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. He pulled his hat down over his eyes to block out the sun pouring through the windows of the small cabin, tucked his hand back behind his neck again, and shifted beneath you to get comfortable as he closed his eyes. His arm remained curled around your waist, his hand slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt so his thumb could rub slow circles over your soft skin as you both drifted off toward the peaceful recess of sleep.

The first thing that struck Mihawk when he woke was that you weren't in his arms.

Every day and night for nearly two months, he had fallen asleep and woken with you against him, and the absence of your warmth jarred him instantly awake and aware. His eyes scanned around his surroundings as he sat up, taking in where he was—the small cabin of the sloop he had recently bought you as a replacement for the one Buggy's crew had sunk.

His sharp yellow eyes darted toward the door, taking in the sound of unfamiliar, muffled voices outside the cabin.

He was standing in an instant, straightening his hat and pulling Yoru onto his back as he slipped silently through the door and onto the small deck of the sloop.

There was another sloop tethered to yours.

A pair of no-name pirates holding you against the bow ny your arms, their captain pressing the barrel of his pistol to your forehead as they bickered.

"There has to be something on board."

"We could just take her. Looks like she's probably a feisty little thing."

"Still have to check the cabins. Could be—"

Mihawk cleared his throat.

The trio turned their heads in almost comedic synchrony, their jaws dropping at the mere sight of him leaning against the door of the cabin. Mihawk's eyes flickered from them to you, and you averted your eyes, clearly ashamed to be seen in such a compromising situation.

So he shifted his gaze back to the opposing pirates, his eyes flickering between each of them.

"You will remove your hands from the girl or I will gladly remove them for you," he said levelly, lifting his eyebrows.

They quickly let go of your arms, and stepped away when he moved forward to wrap a hand around your wrist and pull you to him. He curled his arm around your waist, lowering his head over yours for a moment and murmuring quietly, "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head no quickly, your jaw set at a rigid angle as you turned your gaze down to your feet, your shoulders tense. He pressed a light kiss to your temple for a long moment before lifting his gaze back to the trio that had dared board your ship, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken threat.

"Go." They remained frozen, glancing between each other. "Now."

They scrambled back over to their ship immediately, severing the ropes that were tethering it to yours. Mihawk kept his arm around you, but his eyes remained trained onto the opposing sloop as it drifted away on the wind, debating on just drawing his sword and splitting it in half on the spot.

He turned his attention back down to you when you began to pull away from him. He pulled you in close again, frowning. It wasn't at all like you to be bested by a few no-names, and it was clear that you weren't taking it very well.

"Tell me what happened," he said finally.

"I woke up," you said curtly. "Thought I'd check the charts and see how far we were from Shells Town. They were already on the deck. Seemed to think this was a small merchant vessel since there's no flag. I'd left my knives in the cabin and I was still half asleep when I came out here. By the time I registered what was going on, one of them had a pistol to my head."

You really weren't making a very good case for him to not sink their boat. He cut his eyes briefly toward the sloop before looking back down at you, your face shadowed by your hair as you stared down at the deck floor.

"Their captain started questioning me about cargo," you continued. "Told them there wasn't anything valuable on board. They were discussing taking me as compensation." You sighed heavily. "And that's when you chose to enter stage left and take approximately twenty years off the end of their lives."

He rolled his eyes the slightest bit at your quip. "I would have taken a great deal more than that had they hurt you."

"Well, they didn't," you replied, your voice still curt. Mihawk lifted an eyebrow. "And it's perhaps best not to go splitting any boats in half a stone's throw away from a naval base," you added, nodding back toward the bow of the vessel.

Mihawk gave a quick glance as well. He had been too focused on the fiasco he had just awoken to to notice that Shells Town was visible on the horizon now. It wasn't as if the Marines could do much about it if he did sink the sloop, but you were right—it would still be more of a hassle than it was worth. He sighed, shaking his head a little, and curled a hand under your chin to lift your gaze to his. You still kept your eyes averted, your jaw set. He hadn't seen you lose a fight before—apart from sparring with him while training, but that hardly counted.

You had proven to be quite the fighter when he had decided to test you. You were nowhere near his equal, but you knew precisely how to play to your strengths with your pair of daggers and your throwing knives. Your stature made you difficult to target even in single combat, your movements a graceful dance that toed the line between evasion and power.

Yet one loss—and a rather inconsequential loss, at that—and you were beating yourself up over it quite a great deal more than what constituted normalcy. Mihawk wasn't sure whether to scold you for being dramatic or attempt to comfort you.

"You were caught off guard, little one," he said after a long moment, brushing a thumb across your cheek. "There's no need to be so upset over that."

"I'm not upset, I'm annoyed," you retorted, pursing your lips a little. "Blades or no, I should have been able to take care of those idiots."

"Annoyed, then," he allowed with a small sigh. "And I've no doubt you would have had I not woke. I was simply able to handle it a bit more...subtly."

"Oh, yes, because sauntering out onto the deck with a giant sword and threatening to cut off their hands was so subtle," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you finally rolled your eyes over to his, lifting your eyebrows.

"Don't be a brat," he chided lightly. "We still have at least half an hour before we make port." Mihawk abruptly wrapped his hand around your chin and pressed his lips to yours in a brief, deep kiss that made you draw in a sharp breath. He parted just as you started to lean into it, resting his forehead against yours. He lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. "I would truly hate to have to spend it punishing you, my little bird."

You quirked an eyebrow, your lips curving in a small, coy smirk. "No you wouldn't."

He gave you a thoughtful frown and a small shrug of his shoulder. "Perhaps not." You let out a small cry of alarm when he stooped down and quickly scooped you up from the deck floor, one arm beneath your knees and his other curled around your back. "I suppose we'll just have to find out."

You chuckled lightly as he carried you to the door of the main cabin, plucking his hat off of his head and placing it on your own as you brushed your lips to his in a soft, teasing manner. Mihawk lifted his eyebrows when you nipped lightly at his bottom lip.

"You're really pushing your luck, my dear," he cautioned.

He lowered you down to the double bed in the cabin, his thumb rubbing small circles at the back of your neck. You lifted yourself onto your elbows, your lips nearly brushing his before he pulled back just far enough to stop you, lightly gripping your hair at the nape of your neck to keep you from sitting up any higher. You gave a small whine of protest, but didn't try to struggle against his grip—you and he both knew there was no point.

"Lie down." His voice remained low and intimate, but there was a subtle command in his tone, in the way his gaze burned into your own. You bit your bottom lip lightly, lowering yourself back down onto the bed fully. A soft, quivering sigh left your lips as he slowly began slipping the buttons down the front of your shirt loose. "Hands over your head. And you don't move them an inch until I tell you you can."

"Mmm..." You hummed thoughtfully, and Mihawk paused in unbuttoning your shirt as you lifted your arms from the bed, holding your hands high above you, straight up in the air. "I think my arms might end up getting tired."

Your lips pursed a little, clearly struggling to keep a straight face, and he lifted an eyebrow at you. "You're certainly in rare form today."

Mihawk wrapped his hand around both of your wrists, shoving your hands down into the plush white comforter over your head, and a couple giggles escaped you before you bit your lip again. It was honestly a bit endearing, how cheeky you were being—and all the moreso, as it appeared you were being so brazen just so he could have his fun with your punishment.

You were enticing him more and more every passing day, beyond the physical desire that had led him to claim you as his a couple months ago. It wasn't a feeling he was particularly accustomed to, nor was he quite sure what to make of it yet. He knew only that when he had seen you held captive against the bow of the boat, an emotion had flashed through him for a moment that he hadn't experienced in years.

For the briefest moment, Dracule Mihawk had felt fear.

He was not ready to contend with the connotations of that.

And he was a bit too busy at the moment, anyway. He let his forehead touch yours, his lips hovering a breath away from your own.

"You don't move your hands," he repeated, tilting his head to just barely graze his lips against your neck, drawing a small moan from your lips, "until I give you permission. Understood?"

"Yes, sir..." you sighed softly, your eyes slipping shut as he kissed down your collarbone, pushing your shirt open. His hand released your wrists and trailed down your arms, down to knead at the soft tissue of your breast through the sheer lace of your bra, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. He tugged the cups down, just a bit too hard given he felt one of them tear in his grasp, but that was a problem for later, not now.

You gasped out when he briefly pulled one of your stiff nipples into his mouth, his grip tightening slightly around your ribcage as you arched your chest toward his swirling tongue. His gaze flicked up to watch you writhe and shudder under his touch, your fingers digging into the bedsheets behind you, your hands searching for anything to keep occupied with.

"Very good," he praised, lifting a hand to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes and brushing his lips to your jaw. "You see?" He wrapped his hand around your jaw and lightly pressed his lips to yours. "It's much better when you're a good little bird, isn't it?"

"This—doesn't feel much like a punishment," you commented, gasping softly as he circled the pad of his thumb around your nipple, lightly skimming across it once or twice.

"Yet," he corrected.

And gave you a small, devilish smirk, before lowering his head and biting down on the tender skin at the crook of your neck. Just hard enough to leave behind a small bruise, to draw a sharp cry from your lips and send a shiver through your body.

He straightened out as you heaved a sigh, standing over you. Your eyes remained glued to him while he shrugged away his long coat and tossed it back into a chair behind him, noting how your hands tightened down on the bedsheets again.

"Remember we still have a half an hour before we reach Shells Town." His fingertips curled around the waist of your shorts, the lace of your panties beneath them, and slowly inched them down your hips. "I could spend the entirety of it teasing you." Mihawk noted the movement in your throat as you swallowed in nervous anticipation, your eyes glued to his as he pulled them up the length of your legs and off, flinging them aside. "Making you beg for release but never allowing you the satisfaction."

How beautiful it was that it only took a few words to pull a blush to your cheeks and make your breath hitch. He brushed a light kiss to your calf and pushed your legs apart, rubbing his palms up your inner thighs.

"You're going to have to be on your best behavior if you want more, my sweet little bird." Trailing a single finger up your soft folds, dragging through your slick arousal and across your clit, pulling a small whimper from your lips. "Or would you rather I just torment you?"

You bit your lip, shaking your head quickly, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his fingertips trailing up. It was a struggle for him not to chuckle at you—always just cheeky enough to be amusing, but you knew the pleasure he could give you, were so desperate for it that you folded like a cheap deck of cards under his slightest touch.

Absolutely perfect.

Mihawk moved his hands up from your thighs, curling an arm under your back to lift you up and shift you further back on the bed. Your breathing was ragged with anticipation as he brushed his lips to your stomach, trailing his hands back down to your hips, his lips lower and lower, grazing slowly across the soft skin between your hip bones.

Shifting lower and dragging his tongue slowly up your slit, circling the sensitive bud at the apex, giving a quiet growl of approval as your breathy, shuddering moans filled the small cabin and your hips arched in his hands.

His gaze turned up toward your face, watching you draw closer to falling apart with every passing moment. This was only the beginning, and he still hadn't decided if he was going to give you what you wanted...but the sight of your divine, nearly naked and writhing under his touch with his hat still resting on your head made him just a little weak.

He moved from between your legs before he could get lost in the sight of you and the sweet sounds of your moans, reveling in the agonized whimper that left you as he trailed his mouth back up your stomach.

Across to your ribs, pausing at your breasts to brush his lips and his skilled tongue across your sensitive nipples.

Dragging his tongue up the column of your throat, seizing a fistful of your hair and crushing his lips to yours in a deep, possessive kiss, shoving your hip down onto the mattress to keep you from grinding against him, shifting his hand between your thighs to circle a finger around your tight entrance without pushing in. Your low moans and whines of protest were like music to his ears, your knuckles gone white from the force with which you gripped at the sheets over your head to keep your hands from wandering.

Every slow pass up and down your body brought you closer to the peak of pleasure but never quite there—and brought him closer and closer to caving in and giving it to you. He had to wonder whether you had any idea just how much of a temptation you were to him. It had been years since the pirate lord had allowed any woman to affect him quite as strongly as you had.

How much time had passed couldn't be ascertained for sure when he reached his breaking point—his mouth pressed into the crook of your neck while you moaned and begged desperately in his ear, one of his hands squeezing your breast hard enough to bruise the soft flesh while his other worked his belt buckle open and shoved his pants down his hips in a desperation that rivaled yours.

He shoved your open shirt up your shoulders and arms and flung it away; gripped one of your thighs, pushing your leg up as high as it would go, and the low growl that left his throat as he thrust into you was drowned out by your own cries of abandon. Your hips arched up from the bed to meet his, one of your arms flinging around his neck and your hooking beneath his arm to grip hard at his shoulder.

"I don't recall giving you permission to move," he breathed into your neck. He gritted his teeth as he pushed his hips forward hard, shoving yours back down into the bed as you cried out again, your slick walls tightening around his cock.

"I—I'm sorry, I can't—I can't—please—" You gasped, your head falling back as he moved in you in deep, hard thrusts, your fingernails dragging down his back. "Oh God, please—"

He lifted a hand to grasp at your hair as he crushed his lips to yours, delving his tongue into your mouth and drawing in a deep breath as you moaned desperately into the fierce kiss. The prospect of punishing you, of what the hell he had even been punishing you for was forgotten in this rush of unquenchable lust and desire, of pure carnal need for your body.

He normally hated losing control, but this was on another level entirely. There was no room to hate this, no room for anything but pure pleasure, for getting lost inside you as your walls tightened around his cock, as every muscle in his groin tensed and tightened in anticipation of impending release—

Your lips breaking away from his, your cry of abandon as your climax swept over you pulled him right over the edge with you. He pulled your hip up from the bed to slam into you as he came, gritting his teeth against a low groan, the rhythmic contractions of your tight channel milking him dry. His hips jerked toward yours with each intense wave of pleasure, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his lips to your neck, the two of you shuddering and tangled together over the bedsheets.

Mihawk heaved a shuddering sigh into the crook of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair as he brushed his thumb across your temple. Maybe it was the lingering euphoria, but he didn't even think about the next words that left his mouth before he heard them himself.

"God dammit, (Y/N), I love you."

But it was impossible to deny any longer. You really were everything he had never realized he craved. No, it wasn't just the euphoria in the moment—it was that brief flash of fear earlier at the thought of you being hurt, at the thought of losing you. The utter fury at the morons who had briefly held you captive. How perfectly you balanced and complemented his desires.

He felt as much as heard you draw in a small gasp beneath him. "Y—you—wh—?"

"You heard me," Mihawk interrupted your quiet, almost cautious stammering, murmuring against your neck. He brushed his lips against one of the small, round bruises he had left on the soft skin, and said it again, quietly, "I love you."

You were quiet for a long moment, but he wasn't concerned, still trailing kisses up the side of your neck. He had seen it in your eyes before now, heard it in the softness of your voice when you lay against him, your fingers in his hair and your lips brushing his.

Several seconds passed, before you turned your head slowly and pressed your lips to his, tentatively at first, and then deepening the slow kiss with a soft sigh. He shifted onto his side, tugging you to him by your hip. Your forehead came to rest against his as your lips drifted apart, still barely a breath away, your eyes closed, your voice a quiet whisper.

"I...love you."

(Ch. 2)

#opla #one piece fanfiction #dracule mihawk #fanfic #mihawk one piece #mihawk opla #fluff #mihawk x reader #smut

374 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 10 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 1: Break

A night out takes a turn. The first chapter of Yearling, a TLOU fan fiction. Find the Masterlist here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 5.6k

AO3 | Next Chapter

Friday, September 26, 2003

Dubois, Wyoming

“They ain’t even that good,” you took a sip of beer, glaring at the girl in the short, white eyelet lace sundress standing near the band on stage. Your Texas accent got stronger when you were drunk. It also got stronger when you were pissed. You were speaking with a full blown drawl now. “I can play better n’them.”

“Baby Doll, you can play better than everyone in town,” Justin leaned down, his head so close to you that you could feel his breath on your cheek, his lips brushing the shell of your ear when he spoke. His arm went around your waist. “Better than you is a damn a high bar…”

You could hear the smile on his voice and you turned around in his arms to face him, eyes narrowed.

“You’re lovin’ this,” you said. “I can tell, you’re just havin’ the time of your life…”

“I ain’t gonna lie to you,” he smirked. “It is fun seein’ you get all worked up over a girl hittin’ on me.”

“I am not!” You swatted his chest. “I just think it’s disrespectful, she saw me come in with you, she should know that you’re gonna dance with the one that brung ya…”

“Hey,” he teased. “I brung you, not the other way ‘round…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off, turning back around and taking another sip of beer just in time to see the girl in question heading to the bathroom with one of her friends. She looked a little green and you smiled a little. Served her right. You looked back up at Justin. “Don’t go thinkin’ you’re hot shit now just because I didn’t like some rancher’s daughter tryin’ to climb you like a tree.”

“Oh I’d never dream that you thought I was hot shit,” he kissed your temple. “Don’t you worry. Need another?”

“It’s Friday night and if I’m gonna listen to that band fuck up ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia’ you better goddamm well get me another,” you said. He just shook his head and worked his way up to the bar. You smiled a little, watching him go, rapping your fingers along the side of your almost empty beer bottle.

You were getting attached to Justin.

He’d started out as something fun to do over the summer when he showed up at the ranch you’d been working at for more than a year now. He was a few years older - not enough to make it scandalous but enough that he knew what the fuck he was doing. He was rugged and handsome and he was happy to buy you beer and whiskey because, at 19, getting your hands on the stuff was tricky. It had started in May with you fucking him.

At first, that’s all it had been. After a few weeks of him staring at you when you were hanging tack back up at the end of the day, you all but cornered him in the barn.

“You got some kind of problem with me, cowboy?” You snapped, getting so close to him that the brim of your hat almost caught his chin.

“No I do not,” he replied. “Unless you count the fact that your ass looks way too damn good in those jeans to be doin’ nothin’ but ridin’ horses all day. Otherwise, I got the opposite of a problem with you.”

“Oh,” you stepped back from him, looking him up and down. He was tall, broad, handsome. He reminded you a bit of the boy you’d lost your virginity to when you were 16 and he’d been working on your parents’ ranch back in Texas. “Well, I’m done for the day, headin’ back to my room. You’re welcome to join if you want to see what else I’m good at ridin’ on.”

You turned and started off toward the bunkhouse. He scrambled to catch up with you and you smirked a little. He was definitely going to be fun.

In August, he asked if you wanted to go to dinner sometime. You frowned, looking over at him, his naked body shiny with sweat.

“Dinner,” you said, incredulous. “With me.”

“That’s what I said,” he replied, looking over at you. “Unless there’s someone else you’d rather go to dinner with…”

“You realize you’re already fucking me, right?” You frowned. “You don’t have to try.”

“Oh trust me, I noticed,” he grinned, a little cocky. “But I’d like to do more than fuck you. So I’m askin’ you to dinner. Gonna try to make a proper lady outta you and all that.”

You snorted.

“No proper lady to be had here,” you said. “But… we can have dinner.”

This was actual date number five. Not that the number of dates meant much when you were already screwing every chance you got.

But you’d gotten to really like Justin, especially now that you were spending almost every spare second together. Maybe love him. A little. You’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

“You know,” he came and pressed a new beer into your hand and took your empty bottle, putting it on a nearby table. “Bet you’d look pretty as hell in a little dress like that…”

He ran his nose along your temple and you glared at him a little.

“OK, first of all, it’s after Labor Day, wearin’ all white like that is tacky,” you said. “Second of all, you get frustrated when I take 10 minutes to tame my hair before we leave, you know how long it takes to look that put together? Longer than you want to wait, cowboy.”

“OK well I’m dyin’ to know where you got that Labor Day thing from. But you’re prettier than her, so I’m sure it wouldn’t take you that long,” he said, smirking a bit. “And I’m not talkin’ about for every day. Maybe if we were to… I dunno… take a trip somewhere.”

“A trip?” You smiled, brows raised. “You tryin’ to take me away from all this, that it?”

“Maybe,” he winked. “Thinkin’ maybe a few days, we run away to a cabin on a lake, find some fun restaurants, I get to spend way more time kissin’ you than usual…”

“Sounds good to me,” you were about to move to kiss him when there was a strange, snarling sound from over his shoulder. You frowned, leaning around him just as he turned to look.

The girl from before - in the stupid white dress - flew at him, her blonde hair tangled, her fingers curved so her nails were more like claws. He stepped back, his hands going up to stop her but she didn’t seem to notice or care.

She jumped, knocking him to the ground as you jumped out of the way, the girl ripping at his shirt before digging her bared teeth into his neck.

“What the fuck!” You yelled, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her backward. She sprawled on the floor next to Justin for a second before she scrambled up onto all fours and tried to rush you. You took your half full beer bottle and throttled her on the side of her head, hitting her with every ounce to strength you had, sending her down to the ground, unconscious.

“Shit!” A man near you looked between you and the girl.

“Hey, she fuckin’ started it!” You snapped. “She just tried to take a chunk out of my boyfriend’s neck!”

Someone else got down on the ground with the girl as Justin got to his feet. You looked at his throat, her teeth marks red and oozing.

“Jesus, she got you good…” you frowned, leaning in close.

“We should call the cops,” the man near you said.

“And that’s our cue,” Justin took you by the elbow and started pulling you to the door.

“Hey, we didn’t do a damn thing wrong,” you said as he dragged you along beside him. “She went fuckin’ nuts…”

“Yeah but that’s your third beer of the night and you’re 19,” he said quickly. “Rather not get in trouble for buyin’ you booze…”

“That’s the girl that hit ‘er!” Someone yelled. You looked up at Justin.

“Run!” Justin pulled you with him as the two of you took off, him clearing a path with you at his heels until you were in the parking lot, a handful of people on your tail.

“Sure hope you ain’t drunk!” You said as you jumped into the passenger side of his rusted pickup.

“Sober enough to get us outta this,” he said, turning the key and holding it until the old engine turned over with a growl. He floored it, nearly taking out the front of a sedan on his way onto the main road.

He careened through town at 80 until the streetlights had faded in the distance and the sky was bursting with stars.

“What the fuck was her problem?” You crawled to the middle of the bench seat and tried to get a look at his neck. “Maybe you should go to a hospital, this looks bad…”

“I’ll just clean it up when we get back,” he waved you off. “I’m too eager to find out what kind of sex I get as your boyfriend…”

“What?” You sat back, incredulous.

“You called me your boyfriend back there,” he smirked. “I’m really ready to find out what that means once I’m in your bed…”

“Oh, Jesus,” you shoved him playfully. “You got a one track mind. And you shouldn’t read too much into what I say when I’m defending myself because some psycho tried to take a chunk out of ya.”

He winked and you rolled your eyes.

The two of you made it back to your room without any more excitement - something you were plenty thankful for. Once you were inside, you took Justin’s plaid button down off and draped it over your worn wooden desk chair before getting out your first aid kit. You usually used it for patching up cuts when a horse did manage to throw you - a rare occurrence - or when you weren’t paying close enough attention and cut yourself on barbed wire - less rare.

You frowned at the bite mark, the skin around it red and angry, as you cleaned it with rubbing alcohol and applied a bandage.

“This looks infected,” you said. “Really should take you to a hospital…”

“Nah,” he waved you off. “I’ll go to a doctor in a day or two if somethin’ ain’t feelin’ right. I’m fine, Baby Doll, really.”

He tugged you onto his lap and kissed your cheek.

“You’re cute when you’re worryin’ though,” he smiled a little. “If I’d known all it took was some rancher’s daughter gettin’ handsy with me to get you to be all over me, callin’ me your boyfriend, I’d have done it sooner…”

You rolled your eyes and shifted so you were less sitting on his lap and more straddling him and his hands went to your waist.

“See if you were in a dress, this’d be easier…”

You glared at him.

“You’re not careful I’ll give you a matchin’ bite mark on the other side of your neck.”

“Oh, from you, I’d welcome it,” he smiled, kissing you as he unbuttoned your shirt.

You ground your hips down against his as he undressed you, his hands exploring you as he kissed you. Once you were bare from the waist up, he pulled you down on the bed and you crawled down his body, opening his pants and stroking his hardening length a few times before taking him in your mouth in one, swift motion.

“Fuck, Baby Doll,” he groaned, one of his hands going to your hair. “Fuckin’ love your mouth…”

You hummed in approval, making his legs twitch as you sucked him, bobbing your head up and down his length as his fingers dug into your scalp. You worked his cock until he pulled your head roughly away from him, panting for breath.

“Really don’t want to come before I have a chance to properly fuck ya,” he said, grip loosening on your hair.

“So demanding,” you teased, looping your fingers over the top of his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down his legs and leaving them on the floor. You took off your own jeans and underwear, too, and crawled up his body, leaning over him to grab a condom from your bedside table. He took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked you as your breasts hung over his face, his fingers sinking into your hips.

He reluctantly released you when you moved back down to straddle his thighs, opening the wrapper and sliding the condom on over his thick length. You looked at him naked in front of you and rubbed two fingers through your slit, spreading the wetness that had gathered there.

“You gettin’ wet from suckin’ me off has to be the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” his hands slid up your legs as he watched you arrange yourself over him.

“I’m so busy thinking about this the whole time I can’t help it,” you said, breathless, as you sank down onto him. He groaned as you did, your body slowly and surely taking all of his cock into you. Your hips met his and you ground yourself down against him, his hardness just big enough to stretch you enough to satisfy. You rode him like that, rubbing your clit as you did, his hands on your hips as you worked yourself to an orgasm on his length, coming around him with a whimper.

He took advantage of your orgasm and grabbed you, flipping you onto your back and driving into you as you rode out the last waves of pleasure, arranging your legs so he was pressing deeper. You groaned as he started to fuck you harder, faster, the force of it making your tits bounce.

“Love seein’ you come on my cock,” he grunted. “Love seein’ how this tight little pussy takes me…”

He ground himself in as deep as he could reach, your body tightening around him again.

“Fuck, I love you,” he gasped it out as he started to come deep inside you, spilling into the condom.

Your eyes went wide and your orgasm hit - soft and subdued but not entirely put off by his words. He collapsed beside you when both of you were spent, your own slick leaking out between your legs. You stared up at the ceiling.

“Knew boyfriend sex would be good,” he teased, a little breathless and smiling at you.

“Yeah, about that,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows. “What did you say at the end there?”

He frowned.

“I said…” and his eyes went wide. “Oh shit… I didn’t mean… I don’t expect… Look, I…”

“Did you mean it?” You asked, brows raised.

He flinched.

“Maybe,” he said. “But I wasn’t plannin’ on sayin’ a damn thing about it to you, alright? So please don’t freak out about this, OK? I feel like we’re in a good place…”

“I…” you paused. “Well I dunno if I love you yet or not but… I do like you. A lot. You’re kind of my favorite person so… I might love you a little. But just a little.”

You shrugged and fell back down onto your back. He smiled.

“Well, you’re my favorite person, too.”

“Don’t read too much into it,” you smiled a little.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Baby Doll.”

He rolled over to kiss you before getting out of bed. You frowned.

“Gonna go rinse off,” he said. “I’m feelin’… I dunno, just off.”

“I’m telling you, that stupid bite is infected,” you called after him as he went to shower. You waited until you heard the water turn on and got out bed yourself, getting his shirt from the chair and shrugging into it. It hung on you and you had to roll up the sleeves. You smiled a little at the physical representation of him enveloping you, the shirt smelling like his cologne with the faint smell of hay below it - a smell he never seemed to really shake. You liked it.

You got your guitar from its stand in the corner and settled back down on the bed, tuning it briefly before just noodling on it. You’d been experimenting with a combination of chords and the rhythm you could get from tapping on the guitar body itself.

“That’s soundin’ good,” Justin said, coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. He got is boxers off the floor and stepped into them, draping the towel over the chair.

“Thanks,” you said. “Not sure what I’m gonna do with it yet but something eventually… Feeling any better?”

“Bit worse actually,” he frowned. “Maybe I should go back to mine, what if I’m comin’ down with somethin’. Don’t need to be gettin’ you sick, too…”

“You were just inside me, Justin, whatever you got I’m gonna get,” you rolled your eyes. “Assuming it’s contagious and it’s not from that damn bite.”

“She wasn’t rabid,” he teased, climbing into bed beside you. “Sure I just picked up somethin’ somewhere…”

You put the guitar down beside the bed and curled into him, falling asleep breathing in the smell of hay on his skin.

His twitching is what woke you up.

“Justin,” you whispered, nudging him. He didn’t respond. “You’re dreaming, c’mon baby…”

You gave him a shake but he didn’t wake up. You sighed and untangled yourself from him and the sheets. You grabbed your panties off the floor and ducked into the bathroom. If you were awake, you might as well pee. You did that, chugged a glass of water and went back into the bedroom.

It was uncommonly dark, the new moon making it so there was almost no light coming in through your windows. You nudged Justin again as you tried to get under the covers.

“Hey,” you shook him a little more firmly this time. “Baby, you’re dreaming something crazy…”

He responded then, taking in a deep, raspy breath, his movements still sharp and jerky.

“Justin?” You said quietly. “Hey, it’s me, it’s…”

He shrieked, sounding like the girl at the bar and you shocked back from him, jumping away just as his fingers reached and groped for you.

“This isn’t funny!” You yelled, stumbling over your guitar as you backed away from him. You squinted, barely able to make out his writhing in the bedsheets in the dark. “Justin, cut it the fuck out!”

He just shrieked again before he fell to the floor with a thud, his breaths still coming in deep, rasping pants.

“Justin?” You crept toward his side of the bed cautiously. He snarled and scrambled, on all fours, for you.

It shocked you so much that he got ahold of your ankle, yanking you onto the ground so hard that it made your brain rattle in your skull, his fingers digging harshly into your flesh as he dragged you closer.

You fought without really thinking about how or why or who, you just kicked as hard as you could with your free leg, catching the side of his head with your knee. He shrieked and released you and you scrambled back from him, pulling yourself up by your bed to run around to your nightstand. You yanked the middle drawer open - just below where you’d grabbed a condom just hours before to put on the man who was now bent on killing you - and pulled out your hand gun.

“Justin!” You were crying. You almost never cried. You weren’t sure when you’d started. “Please! I don’t want to do this, please!”

He snarled and lunged for you again and you pulled the trigger. He collapsed immediately and you screamed, fumbling to turn on the lamp on your side table.

“Justin?” You got down on the ground next to him. You’d shot him in the chest, right by his heart. The rattling sound of his breaths were gone. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please…”

You sobbed, instinctively trying to put his blood back inside of him. If you could just fix it, put it back together, he’d be OK, he’d wake up and be Justin again and everything would be fine. That had to be the way it worked, it was the only thing that made sense…

You barely noticed it, out of the corner of your eye. He’d pulled the bandage off his neck at some point, the violent bite mark on display and a fibrous, vine-like tendril reaching out from his throat. Reaching for you.

You yelped and scrambled back from him, your gun still in your hand. The thing was still moving, with a mind of its own.

“What the fuck?” You were panting for breath. His body twitched and you did the only thing you could think to do.

You ran.

“Help me!” You ran out front of the bunk house, gun still in your bloody hands. “Please! Help me!”

You heard it before you saw it, the rattling breath and the inhuman snarl. Like the girl at the bar. Like Justin.

It was Keith, one of the older ranch hands. He worked with the cattle. You’d almost never seen him so much as jog and here he was, running for you, snarling, his hands in a claw-like shape.

“Stop!” You held up the gun. “I ain’t jokin’, I will shoot you!”

He kept coming, the snarling getting louder. You fired, shooting him in the head by the glow of the light on the barn. He collapsed where he stood as you heard something crash against the door of one of the other rooms at the bunkhouse. Like someone was hurling their body against it, trying to break free.

You looked around, frantic. There was only one thing you were sure of: you’d get torn apart if you stayed here. You didn’t know why, you didn’t know what caused it, but you knew you were going to die if you didn’t get away.

You ran to the paddock where you’d been working with a horse, a filly who was just past her yearling stage. You’d been breaking her in, now that she was old enough, barely to dumb broke, just starting to carry a rider and learn commands. She was there, asleep in the grass. You jumped the fence, not wanting to risk going in the barn where there were sometimes still people, even at this hour.

“Hey Nike,” you whispered. She roused with a whinny. You’d named her for the goddess of victory and you hoped that meant she’d help you win whatever the fuck battle was apparently happening here today. “We gotta get goin’ sweet girl…”

You coaxed her to her feet and she shook her head, her mane bouncing. You jumped on her back and realized that you hadn’t even put on shoes or pants, you’d been in too big a hurry to get the fuck out of your room. But it wasn’t safe to go back, not now. You’d have to make do. You tucked your gun into the waistband of your panties. Nike pranced, impatient below you.

“We’re gonna get the fuck out of here,” you said. “You and me.”

You leaned forward and took some of her mane in each hand, one on each side of her neck. You couldn’t afford to go and get reins, you hoped this would be enough.

“Lets see if we can make you a jumper…”

You nudged her forward and got her moving. There was more snarling from the bunkhouse, louder now. Something must have gotten through a door… you shuddered, thinking about it.

Once she was up to a good clip, you pointed her at the fence line and drove her to it, adjusting your weight and pulling back on her, hoping that she’d figure it out.

She did, you barely hanging on as she sailed over the fence posts.

“Good girl!” You said, driving her toward the woods at the edge of the property. “It’s you and me, Nike. You and me. We’re going to get through this, we’re going to get help, we’re going to get through this.”

You said it more for you than your horse as you rode into the dark of the forest, the ranch and the bodies of the first men you ever killed behind you.

***

Sunday, November 2, 2025

“Been quiet today,” Tommy said from beside Joel, the gentle crunch of the snow under the feet of their horses the only other sound on the cold air.

Joel groaned.

“Jesus, Tommy, why don’t you just ask for us to get swarmed by infected,” he glared at his little brother.

“Don’t tell me you’re superstitious now, brother,” Tommy smirked a little. “You and I both know that whatever I say don’t got shit to do with anything that happens later.”

“It will if I deck you for sayin’ stupid shit,” Joel replied. “And I ain’t superstitious, I’m just smart enough to not say somethin’ that goddamn dumb in the middle of a patrol.”

The men were, at this point, about a four hour’s ride from Jackson, Wyoming. But they’d been taking it at a slow pace because - as Tommy had rightly and stupidly pointed out - it had been a quiet day. A quiet day in a quiet month.

Raiders seemed to have gone dark - either hunkering down for the coming winter or migrating elsewhere. So had infected, though they knew they could put that on their migratory patterns. Stupid fungus was smart enough to know that the humans it occupied couldn’t hold up in extreme cold and that their host bodies would freeze and die if they stayed too far north during the winter. Things thinned out this time of year.

“We should turn around and head back soon,” Tommy said. “We cut over a few miles, we’ll be able to sweep up and check a different area…”

“You know this shit better’n me,” Joel shrugged. “Just don’t be surprised if we come up on a pocket of raiders now…”

Tommy rolled his eyes as they rode up on a stream. He nudged his horse to follow it, cutting back toward Jackson.

They’d only been following the path of the stream for about 20 minutes when Joel first noticed it. The sign of footprints, then blood.

“Tommy,” he said quietly, nodding his head at it.

“Shit,” Tommy sighed, shaking his head.

“You said it was quiet,” Joel said, trying not to smirk at him.

“Fuck you,” Tommy replied, steering his horse to follow the footprints.

They didn’t have to go far, the snow growing steadily redder the further they went, until there was a body face down on the ground.

Joel slid off his horse and crouched next to the man, checking for signs of life even though it was pretty obvious that there weren’t any. He rolled the man over. There was a sizable knife buried in the man’s chest but that’s not the thing that caught Joel’s attention.

“Jesus Christ,” he looked up at his brother, still on horseback. “Tommy, look at this.”

Tommy frowned, dismounting and squatting down next to Joel.

“Oh fuck,” he said. “Was that… infected?”

The man’s face had been nearly torn apart, nail marks like some kind of feral animal had gotten to him but they were distinctly human, little half-moon shapes dragged through his flesh that had gushed blood. He’d been alive when something - someone - got to his face.

“Ain’t ever seen one go at someone quite like this,” Joel said. “And infected don’t use knives…”

“Maybe suicide if he got bit?” Tommy shrugged.

Joel looked over the body and found a gun with plenty of ammo and nodded to it.

“Well then, never mind,” Tommy frowned. “Jesus, he pissed off someone…”

“The fuck knows who,” Joel said, looking him over more to see if he could find any signs as to where the man had come from. There were a few thick zipties in the man’s back pocket. Joel sighed and held them up for Tommy to see. “Well, probably plenty. I’m bettin’ he’s a raider, probably tryin’ to bring in someone who fought back a little harder than expected…”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Tommy sighed, getting up again. “Grab the guns I guess, knife too. See if we can’t find who fucked him up.”

The men mounted up again and rode on. They found another body, this one shot dead and not scratched to hell, though one look at the nails - free of blood and torn flesh - told Joel this was another raider and not who they were after.

“Joel,” Tommy nodded at another set of tracks, starting with little drops of blood in the snow and coloring it more crimson as the path wore on.

“Shit,” he sighed, steering his horse to follow the path.

They didn’t need to go far.

Ahead was a body in the snow, splayed out on the ground, splotches of red and pink around it. Joel dismounted and approached slowly. He could sense that this was different. This was who the raiders had been after.

He moved cautiously, almost afraid to see what the raiders must have done to you if you’d done that kind of damage to them. You were bloody but he wasn’t sure the source of it from a quick glance. Your face was bruised and he could see signs of you being bound on your exposed wrist, the skin ringed in harsh and angry red.

“Jesus,” Tommy breathed, coming up along side Joel.

He noticed it then, the small, almost imperceptible movement of your chest. Joel tapped Tommy’s arm and nodded toward your torso.

“Oh shit,” he said.

Your eyes fluttered open and you took a sharp breath, struggling onto your elbows and hands, trying to drag your broken body back away from Joel and Tommy.

“Woah!” Tommy held up his hands. “Not here to hurt you, you’re OK, we’re just gonna try to help…”

“Fuck you,” you spat - literally, blood and spittle flying from your lips as you tried to get a full breath. “Don’t touch me!”

“Hey,” Joel got down on your level, his hands up, and met your eyes. There was something in them that felt familiar. Something that he wanted to protect. “It’s OK. We’re not like them, those men back there. Guessin’ you killed ‘em?”

You nodded once. Your eyes were so wide, you were so afraid. It reminded Joel of a baby deer, fragile and wild.

“You did good, Bambi,” he said, keeping his hands where you could see them. “Fucked ‘em up real good. We’re from a settlement, few hours from here. It’s a good place, we’ve got a doctor who can help you…”

“Can’t walk a few hours,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I know,” Joel said, nodding to your torso. “Mind if I take a look? See where that blood’s comin’ from? I’m just gonna lift your shirt, not gonna touch you.”

You looked at him for a moment before you gave him a stiff nod. He gingerly raised the bloody fabric - you weren’t wearing nearly enough layers to be out in this weather, just jeans, boots and a button down - and examined your stomach. There were two bullet holes there. He winced. He wasn’t a doctor but he knew getting shot in the stomach was bad. He noticed a raised scar on your hip, just below and to the left of your belly button, a branded letter M. His stomach turned. The fuck had happened to you?

“It’s bad,” you managed. “Just shoot me, better… better than dyin’ with them.”

“She’s right, Joel,” Tommy said, his voice low. “She’s lost a lot of blood, dragging her back to town’s just torture at this point…”

You’d fallen back into the snow, struggling to breathe, your eyes closed. But he remembered your eyes, the warmth wrapped in something harsh and sharp.

He realized then what they reminded him of, who you reminded him of. Tess. You were a survivor, like Tess. He hadn’t been able to save her, either. He’d failed her, too.

“Bambi,” Joel said, just sticking with the name. He figured you’d offer your real one if you wanted to. You opened your eyes again. “Now, I’m gonna have to touch you for this but I’m gonna be as gentle as I can…”

“Fuck you,” you winced. “Just…”

“Not going to just let you die out here in the cold,” Joel shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to Tommy. “Gonna get you on my horse - it’s OK if you pass out, I’ll hold onto ya - and we’re gonna get you back with us.”

“I don’t…” you began but Joel slid his arm below your legs and the other behind your ribs and he gently, slowly, lifted you into his body. You cried out in pain but he held onto you, putting you on the horse as best he could.

“Sorry, Bambi.” You instinctively wrapped your fingers around the saddle horn as your body slumped forward and you whimpered. He mounted up behind you and held his hand out to Tommy, who handed him his coat. He draped it over your shivering frame and tugged you against him. Your head lolled back against his chest and you groaned. Your eyes were closed. He wondered if you were conscious.

“This is damn stupid, Joel,” Tommy said, mounting his horse again.

“Couldn’t just leave her out here,” Joel said. “You know we couldn’t.”

Tommy sighed.

“Let’s get back,” he said. “Maybe, by some miracle, this won’t all have been for nothin’.”

“And you said it was a quiet day,” Joel said, starting off at a faster clip this time.

Tommy sighed.

“Fuck you.”

A/N: Hi everyone! Welcome to Yearling! I hope you've enjoyed it so far and that you'll come to love Bambi and Joel as much as I have as I've been thinking about and planning this story for the last month or so.

You can expect updates a few times a week here as I have brain rot and really only want to write this stuff :)

I'll start a tag list, please let me know if you'd like to be added!

Thank you so so much for reading! I hope you stick around and go on this journey with me. Love you!

Next Chapter

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #slow burn

470 notes · View notes

readychilledwine · 5 months

Note

i can’t believe i missed this when i was reading acosf, but in ch 59 emerie says she figured that cassian fucks good bc he’s got the Walk. She says

“You know, when a male knows how to use his cock well and struts around with that swagger that basically declares it to everyone”

Could i please request something with cassian x reader where she sees him walking like that and knows he’s big, she tells her friends about the walks and cassian overhears her so he approaches her and his male pride is overwhelming👀 they flirt back and forth and it leads on and on👀👀👀👀

One Night Stand

Summary - Cassian is more than happy to prove your theory after eavesdropping on a conversation between you and your friends

Warnings - oral (f recving), fingering overstimulation, squirting, hair pulling choking, slight dirty talk

A/n - grab the headboard, princess.

“He's definitely cute,” you rolled your eyes at your friend, watching as Cassian, the Illyrian general of the Nigth Court danced and flirted through Rita's. “He seems arrogant, though.”

You took another sip of your drink, studying his movements, his confidence, his body language. “The male knows how to fuck and he's not afraid of showing people that. It isn't arrogance, it's confidence.”

The three of you started to debate, unknown that the general could hear you and was already plotting. You rolled your eyes again, walking away to get more drinks.

Cassian approached you when you were waiting at the bar, leaning against it next to you as he studied your face, body, and hair. “Can I help you?” You finally turned and asked him.

“Possibly,” he looked you up and down again. “Depends on how badly you'd like to settle that little debate you and your friends seem to be having.” You felt your face flush, instantly turning away as he laughed under his breath. “I've never had a female leave my bed unsatisfied. I highly doubt that would start with you.”

“Maybe I was incorrect,” you looked back at him, a soft smile on your face. “Maybe it is over confidence.” He returned your smile, turning to lean against the bar with you. “You realize you saying that means nothing if you can't actually show it.”

Cassian took a sip of the whiskey the bartender had brought him with a smirk. “I am willing to show you, princess.”

The wall Cassian held you against was cold on your bare skin. He'd wasted no time, ripping your dress the second he landed and took you into the House of Wind. His hands were grabbing whatever they could, your waist, your hips, the plush skin of your ass. He picked you up, smiling as your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct as he carried you to his room. You continued kissing him, trusting he knew this house well enough to get you two where he wanted you without an issue.

You heard a door open behind you, him finally pulling away from your lips long enough to walk inside and toss you unceremoniously onto the largest bed you had ever seen.

He didn't give you time to breathe, getting on top of you while removing his shirt and allowing you to see the scars and muscles hiding beneath that fabric. Your hands started at his shoulders as he began kissing you again, then lowered to his arms, nails grazing the skin and making him shiver. Then they trailed from his abs up to his chest, resting here, feeling his heart beat increase slightly.

He pulled away again, jaw moving to your neck, pepper and sucking small marks into the skin as large calloused hands began to play with your breasts and tweak your nipples. He smiled into your collarbone as you moaned for him, feeling a small joint of arousal flow through you as be gently pinched the tender peaks. “Do you know how fucking beautiful you are,” he murmured into your skin. “Thought about you from the second you walked in wearing that tiny tight dress. Teasing everyone with that pretty ass of yours.” He squeezed your breasts, groaning at the feelingnof your soft skin and making you whimper. “Such pretty noises too, and I'm just starting.”

Cassian worshipped you as he made his way down your body. Taking time to kiss every inch of skin, paying attention to the areas that gave him the most reaction, whispering words of praise and promise as he went. He finally settled between your legs, kissing your inner thighs before looking up at you. “Such a pretty pussy, baby. Is she all mine tonight?” You nodded eagerly, head thrown back and mouth falling open as a gentle teasing lick ran your core. In a voice laced with arrogance, he spoke again. “Oh I know she is.”

You hands instantly tangled into his hair as he began a calculated attack, alternating between suckling your clit and fucking you open with his tongue. You were panting almost immediately, eyes rolled back as he circled your bundle of nerves over and over flicking it and sucking lightly. He moaned as you pulled his hair, the vibrations making you cry out and clench around nothing.

“Please,” you began to beg, feeling wetness pooling and that coil tightening. “Please general.”

And Gods did you using his title on him make him throw in the towel. He wrapped one arm around your back and hips, pulling you in even closer to his mouth while his free hand moved up your thigh. Two fingers ran the length of you, gathering your ever building wetness before gently pushing into your entrance.

It burned so wonderfully. That delicious stretch of him in your walls making your head fall completely to the side and pants to turn into never ending moans. He began thrusting, fucking you with his fingers while he continued flicking and rolling your clit. “Cassian,” you moaned desperately, trying to pull him even closer. “Gods Cassian, yes!” You could feel him smirking against you. Watching as you began to teeter that edge and beg for him.

He pulled away slightly, making you whine desperately. “Believe me yet, baby? Or am I going to have to fuck you silly with my cock to get you to understand?” He watching you, thumb coming to your clit and pressing down as your walls twitched around his fingers. “Already can't respond to me can you? I don't know if you'd be able to handle riding me, y/n.”

You whined again, feeling that coil in your stomach threatening to rupture. “Cassian,” his name became a mantra. Moaning it over and over while he smiled looking up at you with unmatched male pride.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Make a mess on my sheets and we'll decide if you deserve my cock.” You came screaming his name, walls pulsing around this thick fingers, vision almost going black at the intensity of the orgasm. He fucked you through it, feeling you begin to squirt on his hand and abs as he started overstimulating you and your cunt.

He finally pulled his fingers out, licking and sucking them clean before going to remove his pants. “Hands and knees,” he commanded you. “Now.” It wasn't an option, and you rolled over instantly, arching your back to allow him the best view possible. Cassian gripped your hip in one hand, his hard leaking cock in another. “Grab the headboard and hold on, baby.”

It felt like fire when he entered you. A silent scream tearing through you as your walls stretched even more around his cock. Your hands barely had time to find the headboard before he began pounding.

You could feel every ridge, every vein. He felt like heaven inside of you, filling you perfectly as he pounded into that secret spot inside of you over and over and over again.

Your mouth was permanently parted, a silent scream coming through you as a large hand grabbed and pulled your hair, forcing you to let go of the headboard and sit up with your back arched more, taking him deeper and deeper. “Feel so good, baby,” he moaned into your ear. “might have to keep you here.” He smirked as you tried to nod but couldn't as another large hand gently held your throat. “You'd like that wouldn't you? Being my little cock sleeve? Keep ready and waiting for me at all times.” The sound of his moans, his grunts, his voice. It was ripping you closer and closer into another tidal wave of completion.

Cassian smiled behind you, feeling your legs begin to shake, your walls twitching more and more as they prepared to milk him. “Gonna soak me again, baby? Cum all over me?” All you could do was moan and nod. Eyes rolled back and drool forming as he fucked you into a state of absolute submission and drunkenness.

Cassian kissed you temple, shoving you into the mattress face down and began pounding harder, almost laughing as your moans became more and more desperate for him. He was close, you were close. It was a gentle, brushing of fingers on your swollen clit that did you in. A loud scream tearing you apart as he held you against him, groaning loudly as thick rope after rope of warm cum spilled into you. “Milking me so good, baby. Just begging for more, aren't you?”

He gave you a few more sloppy thrusts before pulling out and watching as a mixture of cum dripped out of your abused cunt.

Cassian was gentle as he lifted you up again, carrying you to his bathroom and setting you in the already filled warm tub before getting in with you. He held you close, peppering soft praises into your shoulder. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?” He finally asked. “I can take you home or you can sleep here. I don't mind.” You were already half asleep on his chest, looking up at him with tired eyes.

“Can I stay?”

He nodded, eyes lighting up at the question as if he had been hoping you'd ask. “Of course. We can have more fun in the morning. Gotta make sure you can't walk properly tomorrow when I drop you off."

#acotar #acotar x reader #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian acotar #cassian acosf #acotar x you

221 notes · View notes

writersdrug · 6 months

Text

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 7)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: It's time for your first mission working with Kortac. You're stuck reminiscing on the past, accidentally drawing similarities between it and the present. Additionally, you see a new side of Konig.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, semi-public sex, cursing, gore, blood, violence, bad attempts at using military terms (listen I tried to do my best researching this but obviously I ain't in the army)

Notes: Hey! Procrastination is a thing... and it had me in a chokehold these last few weeks. But - and I know I say this often - hopefully I'll get something else posted either tonight or tomorrow. Thanks for your patience and your kind comments - I love hearing them!

Ghost dragged me by the hand through the airplane hanger, making me stumble to keep up with him. He walked with purpose in his step, his eyes focused on his own thoughts. I bit my lip as I jogged behind him, excitement bubbling in my veins. He had sent me the usual “you up?” text – now, we were running around, trying to find a secluded but dangerously public place to satisfy our urges; something that was beginning to become a weekly occurrence.

He stopped in front of the ramp to the C-130 – one of the largest airplanes on base, used for carrying soldiers before they were airdropped. I looked at him with a confused expression.

Ghost was already looking at me, waiting for my reaction. He tilted his head towards the plane suggestively, gripping my hand tighter.

I suddenly understood what he was hinting at. “On a plane?!” I said with disbelief. “It’s not even in the air, what’s the point?”

Ghost huffed. “You said you wanted something other than my bed.” He replied with an accusatory tone. “What did you expect, your bed?”

I grimaced. Imagining Soap in the room across the hall, listening to me and Simon – and most likely getting off to it – it was the last thing I wanted to happen. “No… but an airplane?”

“Just trust me, ok?” Ghost tugged my hand, leading me onto the aircraft. “Bloody picky, you are.”

“I’m not picky, I just have common sense…” I muttered. Ghost ignored me.

I scowled as he dragged me further into the cargo hold. We moved towards the back, which was rather cramped, even though it was empty. Ghost sat down on one of the seats, close to the cockpit, and spread his legs. The space was small and awkward, and only allowed his left knee to move a few inches. He grumbled, getting up and moving down a seat, where he finally spread his legs apart. He finished the display with a smirk behind his mask, leaning back into the seat.

I watched the entire thing with my arms folded over my chest. “This is ridiculous…” I muttered, turning back towards the ramp.

“Why?” Ghost asked, slightly offended. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back to face him.

I gestured to him, huffing out a laugh. “Just - this! There isn’t enough room for the both of us, the door’s wide open, so someone could just walk in and – “

“They’re not going to see us, Bonnie.” Ghost pulled me by the backs of my thighs and down onto his lap. I grabbed his shoulders as I felt myself sliding off of him, and he gripped my hips to hold me in place. “Relax, love.” He drawled.

For a moment, my heart stuttered. It was the first time he had called me something so endearing… although it was probably force of habit. I stilled my heart – it was never good when it got too involved in anything.

“If we do get caught-“

“I’ll pull rank.” Ghost stated matter-of-factly. He sat on the edge of the seat, allowing me to shuffle closer to his torso. He held my hips down as he slowly pushed his own into me, sending arousal shooting through my abdomen and making me gasp at the feeling. He pushed his balaclava above the bridge of his nose, then pulled me down by the nape of my neck and captured my lips in a kiss.

I moaned into the kiss in satisfaction; his hands on my hips and the taste of him – cigarettes and the whiskey he’d downed earlier that night – felt like a reward after the long day. I ground my hips against his crotch, feeling his hard length straining through the fabric of his cargo pants. He let out a low, guttural groan, running his hand further up my back. In a second, I raised my arms over my head, and he pulled my shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the aircraft.

He looked at me for a moment, kneading the flesh at my hips as his eyes danced over my skin. “You changed your mind rather quickly.” He said with a cocky grin.

“Shut up…” I replied.

Ghost quickly smacked the side of my ass, making me yelp in surprise. He then grabbed my chin, not roughly, but enough to capture my attention. I stared at him with wide eyes.

“Care to try that again?” he asked in a cautioning tone.

“’M sorry!” I said quickly through smushed cheeks.

“’Sorry’ what?”

“’M sorry, sir.”

“Atta girl…” he drawled in a deep voice, before releasing my chin. I couldn’t stop the needy whine that came from my throat. I started grinding my hips on his crotch again, urging Ghost to continue.

He chuckled. “Pretty little slut – do you need me?” he asked, and I immediately nodded. “Use your words, love. Tell me what you want.”

I felt myself clenching around nothing at his deep, gravelly voice. “I- I want you inside me, Ghost.” I admitted quietly.

Ghost clicked his tongue. “Didn’t catch that, doll. Speak up for me.”

I fought a scowl rising in my throat. “I want you to fuck me.” I stated firmly. Normally, I wouldn’t stand for being humiliated like this – except I wasn’t standing. I was straddling Ghost’s lap, grinding on him like a bitch in heat, and following his every order like my life depended on it. And, honestly… I wouldn’t have had it any other way. And I would never fold like this, or let myself be bossed around, for any other man – not in a million years.

Ghost laughed. “Well, before we get that far…” he began unbuttoning my pants, igniting the fire in my lower abdomen. I bit my lip impatiently, watching his hands take their sweet fucking time as they worked down the zipper.

“… I need to get you ready f’me, yeah?” Ghost said teasingly. In the next moment, he pulled down the waistband of my underwear and slid two fingers past my clit.

I sucked in a short breath between my teeth, digging my nails into Ghost’s shoulders as he flicked his fingers over my clit. There was no rhyme or reason to the rhythm, making each flick send jolts of pleasure from my cunt and into my chest.

“Goddamn, there you go…” Ghost cooed as he watched my face contort from the pleasure.

“Bonnie?”

I started bucking my hips as Ghost traced along my lips, groaning as he watched me unravel myself above him. I could tell he was getting off from my obedience – the way I threw my stubbornness to the wind whenever he had control of me was like a drug to him.

“Hey, Bonnie-“

“Look at you.” He commented. I opened my eyes when I heard him unbuckling his belt. I looked down at him – I could see his pupils had dilated, and he was now panting in desire. Even he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Fucking finally…” I whispered.

“Quiet.” He ordered as he pushed his pants down his legs. He pulled out his-

“Bonnie!”

My eyes widened as I was snapped back to the present. I had been staring – glass-eyed and pupils blown wide – at the exact same seat Ghost and I had sat in earlier. Except, I wasn’t on that same plane. I was on Kortac’s C-130 as it flew us out to the mission point.

I looked to my left – Konig was bent over, hands on his knees, staring at me with a confused expression.

“You alright?” he asked. “Is the mini-you in your head bothering you?”

I scoffed. He hasn’t let me live that down ever since I mentioned it. “I’m fine, Colonel. Just tired.”

He straightened up, towering above me at his usual, freakish height. “Well wake up. We’re almost there. Let’s see if you’re as good as Ridgeback says you are.” He then walked away, pulling out his tablet and fiddling with it. It looked comically small in his hands.

Roze shifted in the seat next to me. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s always bossy right before we rendezvous. Gets him in the game, I think.” She tightened her tactical vest around her waist.

“I’d hate to see him on a bad day…” I mutter in her direction.

“You and me both. Imagine a bear, with a gun, on- I don’t know, cocaine or something…” She replied, earning a chuckle from me.

I looked back at Konig. He sat down in the same seat I was staring at moments before. He leaned back, resting his head against the wall and spreading his legs wide. He placed his hands on his thighs. He breathed deeply, like he was trying to calm his nerves. I dragged my eyes over his form – he was huge – I never really paid attention to just how large he really was. He was lean, slightly on the more muscular side, but he had to be pushing… six-eight? Six-nine? I looked at the girth of his thighs. I imagined what it would feel like to straddle his lap… Would it be comfortable? I thought about how Ghost and I had sat in that seat… Except I imagined Konig in Ghost’s position, his large hand on the small of my back, his torso against mine, his fingers in my-

Fuck. I was getting in over my head. I had to stop.

Konig looked at me, his head still leaning against the wall, locking his eyes with mine.

FUCK. I turned my head away quickly – too quickly. I can’t do this. I can’t let this happen again. I pointed my head down at my feet, pretending the floor was more interesting than Konig.

Don’t do this. Don’t do this, y/n. Remember how bad it ended last time? Why you ended up working for Kortac in the first place? You don’t want that again. Just focus on the mission. Focus on your job.

When I looked back at Konig, he was looking at the ceiling. I thought, if I concentrated enough, that I could see his brow furrowed under his mask. His hands were still on his thigs, but they were now tense, gripping at his thick muscles through his pants. His fingers were long, rough, and sturdy, his nails were short… I couldn’t help but drift back to the image of them plunged into my-

Konig’s eyes darted towards mine.

I huffed and looked away again, at the opposite end of the plane. Fucking get it together… I felt my face flushing – as long as I didn’t look in his direction, he wouldn’t see it… right?

I sighed. I need to be spayed…

-----

“Briefing hostages. Stand-by ‘til further notice.” Roze’s voice echoed over the comms. She, Juno, Oni, and Zero had made it to the hostages. Castillo had helped get them there smoothly, and now it was up to Konig, Horangi, O’Connor, Fender, and I to finish taking out the check points. Majka, Ridgeback’s second-in-command and our current operator, had cut comms for the enemy. Konig and Horangi had already started clearing their checkpoints – there wasn’t much coming from their end of the comms, so I assumed they were managing fine.

I made it to the top of the tower I was in, hiding behind the wall outside of the checkpoint I needed to clear. The entire location of the rendezvous was run down – possibly an old, abandoned power plant. The buildings were in a deteriorating state, making it slightly harder to work my way closer to the enemy soldiers in the room. But I was good at being quiet, so I managed.

I carefully peered around the edge of the doorway – the hallway outside of the room was dark enough to conceal me from the soldiers. Two were positioned outside of another wing in the room; one was facing forwards, staring at the room in front of him and guarding the door at his side. The other was looking out the window, completely ignoring the room he was supposed to be guarding. Inside the room appeared to be three more soldiers, two of them sitting at a computer and bitching about the comms being broken, and the third tweaking his sniper foxhole.

They’re a mess… I thought to myself. I smirked, knowing this would be an easy take-down.

“Bonnie to Majka. I’m engaging.” I said into my comms.

A few moments of silence before he responded. “Clear, sergeant. Give ‘em hell.”

“Copy.”

I took a few deep, quick breaths, flooding the oxygen into my blood and keeping the adrenaline at bay. I jumped around the corner and sank a knife into a soldier’s neck. He gurgled and dropped his gun. Another soldier turned at the commotion – I ripped the same knife from the first body and threw it. Rather than shank him, the edge sliced across his jugular. He barely had enough time to lift his gun before he collapsed, grabbing his throat. I grabbed his body as it fell, quietly guiding it to the floor. I picked up my knife and sank to my heels, pressing myself against the wall. The doorway to the next room was to my left. I exhaled silently. In a swift moment, I snatched one of the fallen soldier’s gun and shouldered it. Never hurts to have another one.

I heard the guards in the other room, alerted by the sounds of the struggle. One of them rounded the corner – I hid in the shadow, waiting until he had fully stepped beyond the other room. I used my knife to slash across each of his Achilles tendons, easily cutting past the material of his boot. He fell with a loud cry – I quickly used the butt of my gun by bashing it against his head, knocking him out in two hits.

I saw one of the remaining two guards in the room through the doorway. I quickly threw my knife at him and lodged it in his neck, but not before he managed to pull the trigger on his gun. He fired a few shots as he went down, gun pointed at the ceiling and ricocheting off of the concrete. Before the last soldier could react, I quickly turned into the doorway, shooting him dead in the face with my gun. He flopped against the back of the wall, body twitching for a moment, before he went still.

I turned back around, looking at the third soldier, lying on the ground. I fired one last shot into his head, ensuring he was dead.

I exhaled heavily. Not my smoothest work, but still timely.

I stood in place, assessing the damage around me. The strong scent of iron began to overtake the room, blood seeping from each body. I pulled my knife out of the fourth soldier’s neck, wiping the blood off against his sleeve and sheathing it. I sighed and began scavenging through the bodies for anything useful.

“Bonnie, how copy?” Majka’s thick accent filtered through the comm.

“Checkpoint two cleared.” I responded. I ripped out the magazine from a gun identical to the one I stole, shoving it into my vest. “Upgrading my inventory a bit.”

“You just got started!” he said, a bit frustrated and shocked.

I gave the room a last glance. “And? I just got finished. What’s my next move?”

There was a brief pause. “O’Connor, how copy?”

The click of O’Connor’s comm came on, followed by the sounds of struggling and muffled punches and hits. “Fender and I are still occupied!” he grunted.

“Roze, position status.”

“Package secured, hostages briefed.” Roze’s voice was hushed.“Ready to move, and enemies inbound towards us.”

“Castillo, how copy?”

“One klick out, ready in FFP. Waiting for target.” Castillo responded.

“O’Connor?!”

“Busy!!” O’Connor said, irritated; the faint sounds of gunshots firing echoed in the background.

“Majka, this is Bonnie:” I said quickly among the commotion. “Sir, I’m in range to follow the package from here. I can clear the path with Castillo, I’ve got eyes up to the objective rally point.”

I heard a disgruntled sigh on the other end of the channel. “You don’t have your sniper rifle, Bonnie.” He said.

“My checkpoint had a foxhole. I’m set up with one.” I looked around me; the walls separating me from the outside weren’t that thick, but they would be enough to hide me. “I’ve got decent cover, too.”

“For fucks sake…” Majka sighed into the comm. “Then get on it.”

Immediately, I kneeled beside the sniper rifle the one soldier had been adjusting. I tweaked its position, changing its trajectory until I was satisfied. I unshouldered both of my guns, before sitting in front of the rifle and getting comfortable. I angled it until I saw the building where the hostiles were being kept in my scope.

“I’m in FFP.” I relayed over my comms. “Ready on your command, Majka.”

“Copy.” Majka replied. “Roze, you’re clear to move.”

I watched closely through my scope as Roze exited the building, followed by the hostages and the rest of the team. She led the group, Juno and Zero covering the sides, and Oni covering their six.

“Bonnie, Castillo, talk to me.” She said quietly.

“I eliminated three hostiles on your path, clear to move forward.” Castillo’s voice echoed.

I focused on the area to Roze’s nine ‘o clock. Three enemy soldiers were slowly making their way towards her – I quickly fired at them, taking two of them down with a single bullet as they were lined up perfectly. The third one ducked down, frantically scanning around to find where the bullet had come from. I aimed my crosshair at him and pulled the trigger at him – he dropped to the ground within the same second.

“Three more eliminated. Your nine is clear.” I said to Roze.

“Copy.” She replied.

I continued to scan ahead of their path with my scope. A few times, Juno and Oni fired to the right of the group, followed by a few shots from Castillo. I knocked out two more targets on their left. The rest of the path went smoothly, and they made it to the exfil point. I scanned what parts of the area I could see from my window, searching for any rogue soldiers that might be left. O’Connor and Fender had finished clearing their checkpoint by then. After a few more minutes of that, and the “ok” from Majka to pack up, it was clear that there wasn’t anyone left on the field besides the Kortac team members.

“Well, that was sloppy on their part.” I commented.

“Ridgeback said it would be.” Majka replied. “Said the hostiles were a big enough gang that ended up with powerful weapons, and just wanted some cash. Kidnapped an easy bunch of relatives of a government official. Probably thought they had a chance.”

I chuckled. “So the payout won’t be great, I’m assuming?” I shouldered my guns, grabbing the sniper rifle and exiting the room.

“Don’t be so sure about that…” Juno piped into the conversation, shouting over the sound of the helicopter blades. “Europeans officials are loaded. Plus, they typically pay a lot to save their reputation.”

“You mean their families?”

“Potato, potahto.” Juno replied.

The rest of us reconnected at the exfil point. As with most of the teams I had gone on missions with, I was the cleanest out of everyone. O’Connor and Fender looked tired and worn, blood splattering their uniforms, dropping their guns with their bags and collapsing onto the seats of the aircraft. Horangi, cleaner than some, seemed to be riding off of an adrenaline high, clapping everyone on their backs and declaring a mission well done – despite that it had been a rather easy one.

I dropped myself onto a seat and looked at my hands, only painted with a few smears of blood. I then leaned my head back against the wall. I thought of what I could have done better. I could have caught the one soldier sooner before he hit the ground – that would’ve kept the others from being alerted. I could have been quicker shooting the last one. Cutting the guys heels… that was flashy. Unnecessary. Same for throwing my knife the second time. I could have just shot the last two. Would have made things quicker.

Suddenly, I heard heavy bootsteps climbing the ramp to the plane. I casually opened one of my eyes, then the other, staring in shock.

Konig dragged himself up the ramp. He was covered in bloodstains, across his vest, his mask, his pants – he held his gun, the end of it spattered in blood. His knuckles were tight under his gloves as he clutched the barrel of the gun in one hand, the other hanging by his side. His shoulders were tense, heaving up and down with each, heavy breath, and his body language was laced with venom.

His eyes were the worst part; they peered through his mask, wide and blood-shot. They were dripping with a post-massacre adrenaline. They stared directly ahead as he appeared to calm himself. He looked like a wild animal that had just killed its prey – for fun.

He ripped out his mags and tossed his gun into the pile, taking a seat directly across from me and grabbing his tablet. He began aggressively punching the buttons on it, his eyes still sinister and cold. He muttered under his breath in German, his voice low and gravelly.

I shivered slightly, before looking away from him and back at the ceiling. Is this what Roze was talking about? I thought.

---

Taglist: @igotmajordaddyissues @princekonig @vixionix

Let me know if you'd like to be added!! ^^^

#konig x reader #konig x reader smut #konig cod #konig smut #call of duty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #ghost cod #cod #konig #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader

191 notes · View notes