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ilygetou · 8 months

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zoro with a huge cock he doesn't know what to do with it

i shall elaborate. ૮˃̵֊ ˂̵ ა

cw. fem! reader, breeding kink if u squint, inexperienced!virgin! zoro (but it’s not mentioned), zoro lowkey acts like a pervert, solo male masturbation, hand/blowjob, cowgirl position, lots of cum, awkward boners, boob job, facials, creampie and/or breeding, damn this shit kinda long :/

note. this was supposed to be a 500 word thirst but i ended up writing this 2.3k monstrosity. so enjoy!

zoro who’s dick is so big & thick he doesn’t know what to do–every time he’d get a hard-on it’d always end up being awkward cause’ anyone who’d be there present with him would be able to notice it. The baggy clothes he’d be wearing would sometimes help him cover up his ridiculously huge erection but zoro still thinks it wasn’t enough coverage.

And when zoro thought it coudn’t get any worse, you suddenly came in the picture. Making the poor man suffer from even more awkward boners.

When he would be hanging around the crew but suddenly he’d get a sudden flash of your face & then he’d be put into this awkward situation. Having to rush to the nearest bathroom in the sunny to take care of his hardening cock.

The whole time zoro was in the bathroom, he would be letting out frustrated groans, he was stroking his cock in an aggressive manner–throwing his head back in frustration and groaning cause’ he was nowhere near his release. And he wishes you were there with him. Because, come on, you were the reason for all this to being with.

Despite zoro’s huge dick, he had heavy breeder balls that’re filled with his hot sperm <3 And zoro sometimes wishes you were with him right now, so he could empty his balls deep insides your cunt. It’s a real shame you aren’t a member of the straw hats, otherwise, zoro would have you stuffed with his massive cock all the time.

Everytime zoro goes off to jerk off, it’d always end up with him edging himself. He thinks he’s doing something wrong at this point–no matter how fast and rough he would be stroking his shaft, it was nowhere near enough and he would never be able to orgasm. Zoro started thinking that the reasoning for this is his ridiculously huge cock. That has to be the reason.

Every time zoro would finally be close to having sex, the person he’s about to fuck always ends up running away as soon and they see his sheer size. So he has been always insecure about his dick size, he’s supposed to be the greatest swordsman for fucks sake. And here he is worrying about the size of his dick.

Maybe if he had a medium sized dick–he would be able to cum as many times as he wants. But with this big one? Yeah, zoro doesn’t think he’ll be able to know what an orgasm feels like any time soon.

That was until zoro bumped into you coincidentally, you greeted him with a sheepish smile and pulled him into an unexpected hug, the poor man felt his face grow hot,, and suddenly his cock was slowly hardening. Zoro curses under his breath, scolding himself mentally, this was not the right time for this.

You were babbling about things you saw on your journey, all while using hand gestures to explain things, you had a small spark in your eyes and zoro could almost feel bad for ignoring whatever you were saying and instead focusing on the way your tits bounced with every move you made, and his eyes travelled downwards to where your crotch was. Your pussy was covered from the layers of clothes you were wearing.

Zoro couldn’t hide it anymore, his erection was poking his clothes and zoro’s face immediately went pale once he saw you take a glimpse of his hard-on. “Zoro we can continue talking in the sunny if that’s alright with you? ’M just tired of standing” and zoro immediately agreed, thinking you actually just wanted to talk–cause what else would you do? A sweet innocent, angel like you wouldn’t pull anything inappropriate.

Zoro had a confused expression when he saw you enter his room instead of just going to sit in the main area, he had an even more confused expression when he saw you lock the door–leaving you two trapped in his room. And when you made zoro sit on the edge of his bed as you went down on your knees, that’s when zoro completely lost it, finally understanding your true intentions.

His lips curved into a smirk once you started tugging on his baggy pants, “oh?” he chuckles, zoro really wasn’t sure about this. He was worried that you might get scared and leave if you saw his ridiculously large cock. “you sure ya’ wanna do this?” and you looked up at him with pleading doe-eyes, you pulled down your shirt, your tits bouncing from the impact; “mhm, wanna have you cum on my face n’ tits, please?”

Zoro’s breath hitched, completely mesmerized from the view in front of him. You finally tugged down his pants, his cock slapping you in the face–zoro immediately muttered a ‘sorry’ his face already turning red. But you honestly didn’t mind, what shocked you more was how big zoro was, you knew he was going to be big by the way his erection was poking his pants but not this big.

His tip itself was huge, it was mushroom shaped and had a pinkish color to it, his shaft was a very light shade of almond, pre-cum dripping down his base and you couldn’t help but worry if it’ll be able to fit inside your mouth or if it’d be able to go between your tits. While you took your time eyeing it, zoro immediately grew worried & insecure–is it too big? did you not like it? And then zoro thought that what if you won’t be able to make him cum as well? He had so many futile jerking off sessions he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to cum anymore.

Zoro was snapped out of his thoughts when you wrapped your small hands around his dick, you had to use both hands to be able to fully satisfy zoro. You started with his tip, circling your thumb around the head until zoro started groaning from the feeling. Slowly moving down to the base and giving it small strokes using both hands, zoro gripped the sheets of his bed–it was completely different from what does.

Zoro would usually just go straight into it, moving his hands rough and fast to get himself to cum but it never worked. But now that you were the one doing it for him, it felt way better than when he does it alone. You were cradling his cock, kneading the tip gently, moving your hands very gently and slow. It was like you were teasing zoro the difference was that it felt so fucking amazing.

You withdrew your hands and zoro groaned in response, his face was flushed red as he took a quick glance at you, his eyes fluttered shut once he saw you positioning his dick between your breasts. He moaned at the soft feeling of your tits around his cock, swallowing his saliva when you took his tip in your mouth, sucking on the fat head of his cock sloppily.

“A-Ahh–shit–” he murmured, running his hands through his hair as he watched your tits swallow his entire length once you squeezed them together. The tip of his cock remained in your mouth, your tongue was wrapped around it–while you kept sucking on it messily. Drool kept dripping from the side of your chin and coating your tits, you looked up at zoro, his head was thrown back as he gripped the sheets beneath him.

When zoro decided to take a small glimpse of your state right now, he immediately regrets it. His huge tip was bulging in your mouth, a few tears covering your lashline, you were squishing your breasts together as you slightly bounced your body. And now, zoro was letting out low hisses, his thighs trembled, cock twitched, and now he was cumming all over your face and tits.

You looked up at zoro with a shocked expression and a cum covered face and zoro himself was shocked as well. He was trying to process this, is this how am orgasm feels like? ’cause fuck, he’s already addicted to the feeling of it.

You licked off the white stains from your face, you got up and pushed zoro back on his bed. “Can i ride you? Pretty please?” zoro’s eyes widened, face becoming even more flushed that even his ears turned red. “I-uh, Are you sure?” you nodded your head, you just had to prepare yourself before taking his stupidly big cock.

You grabbed zoro’s hands, pulling out his middle and index finger, you placed them above your panties, moving zoro’s hands–causing his fingers to rub your clothed cunt, zoro lets you do as you please, watching in amusement as you used him for your own pleasure. Once you took off your panties, you guided zoro’s fingers to your clit, making him rub it until you were moaning from the feeling.

“I think i g-got it, so let me do it” zoro offers and you immediately agreed, letting go of his hands as zoro’s fingers trailed to where your small hole was. This is where his cock was supposed to go? Holy shit. He pushes in his thick digits & your walls immediately clamped down on them, zoro starts with slow thrusts of his fingers–and you were already dripping on them.

With only a few more thrusts, you were already close, zoro’s fingers were already too thick and fulfilling–you can’t imagine how’d it feel to be fucked by his huge dick instead of his fingers. You grabbed zoro’s hands which startled him, “s-stop, wanna cum on your cock instead, please” zoro raised a brow but obeyed nonetheless, retracting his fingers from your drooling cunt.

You placed your hands on his abs for balance as you positioned yourself on top of zoro’s cock, slowly pushing down, your body quivered, breath caught short as the tip was slowly penetrating you and you could already feel the stretch from just the tip alone. And shortly, his whole length was inside you, you still couldn’t move–trying to adjust his ridiculous size.

And zoro couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted you to move, the warmth of your pussy and the way it was sucking him all the way in felt all too good but he can’t stop thinking about how great it’d feel if you’d just fucking move. He then took ahold of your wrists and thrusted his hips upwards, a scream left you, “w-wait zoro!” you weren’t expecting for zoro to be this inpatient.

He thrusted into you one more time, as tears started covering your lashline–he was stretching you so good right now, particularly splitting you open. “Feels so good, fuck” he sighs, feeling your walls clamp down on him, zoro’s eyes fluttered shut, gripping your waist with both hands as he bounced you up and down his cock.

Zoro traces the outline his cock is leaving on your stomach, was this him inside you? He threw his head back, feeling you clench down on him every time the tip hits your cervix. “You’re so good, so good f’me” he coos, and all you could do was nod in response. Tears streaming down your cheeks as you try and bounce on his cock but ending up as a whimpering mess, leaning on zoro for support.

His cock was deep inside you, a bulge visible on your tummy, his hips were pressed against your ass, and his hands were wrapped around your waist. God, You couldn’t ask for more than this, no, zoro couldn’t ask for more. He already came earlier and fuck, it felt so good.

Everytime zoro would thrust upwards, he would let out a hiss, droopy eye’s looking down at your messy face. “shit, you’re so tight” he’d groan, watching as your body trembles with every thrust, as obscene sounds slipped past your lips.

“z-zoro,” and zoro swears he could cum just by the sound of you calling out his name, “gnna’ cum, so close!” you threw your head back as you gripped zoro’s hair, your eyes rolled back as your whole body quivered— pornographic moans left you as you came all over zoro’s cock.

Zoro brought up a hand to your face, wiping the tears from your cheeks, removing a strand of hair and tugging it behind your ear—zoro then gave you a quick peck on the lips. His hands finding their way around your waist once again.

And it wasn’t long after zoro was also near his climax, zoro pressed a hand to his mouth to soak up the moans he’s struggling to hold in while his other hand still held your waist down. Zoro’s thighs trembled, bucking into you until he was cumming deep inside you, stuffing you to the hilt with his thick, creamy cum.

And after that incident, you were zoro’s personal flashlight. Always having his cum on either your tits, face or inside your mouth or/and cunt. You were always getting fucked by zoro, well this was bound to happen — he finally found someone he could give his cum to.

You couldn’t say that you were used to his size, you’d still always get shocked whenever his cock would basically slap you in the face. Always having to do hours of prep to make it fit. And as always, you’d getting fucked too dumb you’d pass out while zoro was still thrusting into you.

Sometimes he’d get too riled up and would slam his cock into your “too small” cunt without any prep and would finally release you when he has already stuffed you with his cum at least five times. He would sometimes make you walk around with his cum dripping down your legs and would watch from afar as you try to run to the nearest valley to clean yourself up.

Despite being stretched by his cock way too many times, you’d always feel tight for zoro and you’d also always feel like his splitting you open every time.

And you’re not sure if you’re supposed to be happy that you got yourself a dumb boyfriend with a stupidly big cock which he doesn’t know how to use without your help.

#zoro roronoa x reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut #zoro smut #zoro x reader #op smut #op x reader #op zoro #zoro x you

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chillyfeetsteak · 3 months

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I first became fascinated with it a few years ago when I noticed it out an airplane window on a flight from Texas to Southern California. In an expanse of endless desert, suddenly, a vast body of water. When I got home, I immediately looked it up on a map. The Salton Sea.

It’s the largest landlocked body of water in California. It sits right on top of the San Andreas Fault at over 200 feet below sea level. It is more than twice as salty as the Pacific Ocean. It is completely toxic. And I had never heard of it before then.

(photo essay under the cut)

In the early 1900s the Colorado River was diverted through a series of irrigation canals in order to provide water for the farmlands of Imperial Valley. One of the head-gates broke during a flood, and the desert basin filled with water for 2 years before it was fixed. The unexpected lake soon became a popular vacation destination; it was stocked with fish, and resorts and hotels popped up along its shores. It became known as a great place for sport fishing, waterskiing, and yacht parties. Big name celebrities visited. At one point, it had more annual visitors than Yosemite.

Salton Sea has no outlet, and is only filled via agricultural runoff. As the water evaporated in the hot desert sun, the lake became more and more saline. Chemicals began to build up from the run off causing toxic algae blooms, and mass die-offs of fish and birds started in the 80s. By the 90s, the beaches were littered with fish gills and bird bones and the resorts were abandoned. The lake began to dry up as irrigation run-off was diverted away. The exposed lake bed is also toxic, and the high desert winds kick up the dust, making the air poisonous.

Despite the unpleasant odor, the noxious air and the summer temperatures regularly reaching 120°, a renaissance of sorts began in the early 2010s. Artist and nomad colonies began to spring up around Salton Sea. Bombay Beach, once a popular resort destination, is now mostly a ghost town, but the folks who remain have turned the ruins on the shores into an outdoor art installation gallery where the found-art sculptures are cyclically destroyed by the elements and then replaced with new ones. Many of the houses and RVs in town are themselves art pieces.

In nearby Slab City, a settlement of off-the-grid lifestylers, you can find even more folk art. Salvation Mountain is a manmade hill painted with bright colors and bible verses and maintained by a community of volunteers. East Jesus is a sculpture garden and art installation.

This past weekend my partner and I finally made the pilgrimage to the Sea. California has the benefit of being home to a huge array of biomes. In just a couple of hours you can travel from snowy mountain peaks to lush oases to endless sand dunes. Driving the hour or so south from Palm Springs towards Salton Sea is like driving towards the end of the world.

Bombay Beach especially enamored me. The beach is crusted with salt and millions of tiny shells and bones. It smells awful, like sewage and chemicals and low-tide and rotting fish. You drive out onto the beach and park anywhere amongst the sculptures and deteriorating resort ruins. The art feels raw in a way I haven’t experienced before. It reminds me of seeing paleolithic cave art. Humans made this, with no motivation other than to create something intriguing or beautiful or sad. Not much can live out here, but what you find fills me with a great adoration for humanity. Despite the asphyxiation of the natural world, the human spirit persists.

#im sure most people know about this place but i didnt so!!#i hated writing essays in school but now in my 30s i do it for fun apparently #photos are all mine except the first one #salton sea #bombay beach #slab city #salvation mountain

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tojirights · 2 months

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I'm sure we've all the "Alastor in a rut" fics but can I mix it up a little and request Alastor in a rut and so needy he's willing to give reader control?

a/n: omg baby's first rut, spawned by his attraction to you and he doesn't know how to get it to stop so he asks for help? :'))) i am def a subby person but every now and then i can write our mens being the needy ones 🩷

tags: 18+ smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, alastor cums a lot

you had an unexpected knock at your door late at night after you'd already gotten into bed, and at first you ignore it. then, it happens again. you groan and throw off the blanket, about to get up when alastor appears from the shadows next to your feet.

you go to scream, not even able to comprehend who or what is grabbing you in the darkness, but there's a hand covering your mouth before you can do so. there's also something... stiff hitting your back. you calm when you recognize the hand and you take a deep breath when he removes it. "what the hell alastor?" you whisper-yell, spinning around to face him. you barely recognize the demon standing in front of you.

he's disheveled, shuddering, and looks completely exhausted. he's in what you assume he sleeps in, which is an interesting looking robe. "al?" you frown, reaching out to touch him but he grabs your wrist before you can. "please, darling... for your own good, be careful with your next move..." even his voice is shaky. your eyes finally catch his, and you gasp when you see the deep, dark desire seeping through them.

“i need… need you.” he speaks, still breathless and you’re sure you’ve never heard something so sexy. your eyes widen, taking in the fact that alastor's cock is what was poking you when he grabbed you. alastor has barely said anything other than a quick casual sexual remark in your direction the entire time you've been here at the hotel, and now he's asking for your help.

"o-oh um... yes! i mean-" you speak way too fast, embarrassing yourself with how fast you're interested in 'helping' alastor. before you can say anything else, alastor's lips meet yours and you're instantly melting against him. he steps backwards until he's falling flat onto the bed, tugging you on top of him. your hips straddle his, and the friction against his cock has him arching into you. you swear he whines when you grind your hips, that you can feel his cock pulsing under the small layer of clothing.

you've heard of demons going into a rut, but you've never seen alastor acting quite like this. his hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his ears stand more alert. he physically looks... needy. and his breathy pants beneath you only spark your desire to help. you decide to push your luck just a little bit and interlock your fingers with his before pushing them above his head and holding them there while you rub against him.

alastor looks mad at first, that you dare try to pin him down, but the second he feels the sweet drag of your cunt over his barely clothed cock, he almost cums. "please." you're not sure alastor's ever begged for... anything before, but his pleas make your core pulse, heat pooling between your legs. "mmm, please what?" you smirk, watching frustration bubble up in his eyes. "please- i just... i need to be inside of you." he sighs, not putting up as much fuss as you thought.

you hold back a moan of your own, wanting to maintain some semblance of control over alastor, since you're sure this won't happen again. "ah~ good boy." you coo, again watching as something flashes in his eyes that's a mixture of anger and lust. "need you, darling." he pleads, grinding his aching erection against you. biting your lip, you tug off your shirt and wiggle your hips enough to slide down your sleep shorts. "make me cum." he gasps, giving into every carnal desire flooding his system.

as soon as the head of his cock presses against your pussy, he's trying to push you to take it all. "ah ah..." you warn, once more reaching to pin his hands above his head. "i will make you cum. don't move." your tone is strict, and alastor hates how much it makes his cock throb. he'll get you back for this brazen attitude at a later date...

for now, all he can think about is emptying every last drop of his seed deep within your sweet, wet cunt. after an agonizingly slow descent, you find yourself fully sat on his cock. alastor's eyes are shut, his chest heaving as every breath he's holding back the urge to cum. "hey al..." you whisper, leaning down so your nose touches his. alastor swallows, his hips wiggling ever so slightly. "y-yes darling?" he shudders, feeling every inch of your pussy squeezing around his leaking cock.

"cum as many times as you need..." the hitch in his breath is so audible, and all the tension in his body snaps like a twig. "you-" he gasps, legs spasming as he tries not to lose it just yet. "-don't know what you're getting yourself into." it's a warning, and you know that, but your cunt clenches at the idea of spending the rest of the night like this. "use me." you murmur, watching as alastor's eyes roll into the back of his head.

the groan that follows is primal, and you give in to his thrusts from below you. the force pushes you forward, your chest flat against his, every thrust upwards pushes more and more of his seed so deep inside of you. and even with his cock nuzzled deep against your cervix, the amount of cum seeps down his cock and covers your inner thighs.

you expect alastor to look worn out, but he looks even hungrier now. wasting little time, alastor flips the two of you so you're now under him. "now then..." he begins, his head slightly clearer now and he's not going to tolerate your behavior from earlier. "i think i like you beneath me a whole lot better, dear." you bite your lip and smile, mischief forming in your eyes. "i like this too."

the look in alastor's eyes tells you that you won't be getting any more sleep tonight.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel imagines #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor smut #hazbin hotel alastor smut #alastor x reader imagines #hazbin hotel alastor x you #alastor hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut

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peachesofteal · 6 months

Text

Simon discovers something unexpected:

Light on masterlist

Simon Riley/female reader (single mom)

The first time Simon meets you, it’s on the rooftop of the apartment building in the middle of the morning.

He’s up here for a smoke, his first in hours, his body anxiously craving the nicotine after sitting on a cramped train for too long after the final debrief. His muscles are sore, stitches in his leg bothering him, mind is exhausted, and all he wants to do is smoke a cigarette and then collapse on the bed inside the flat that he hasn’t seen for months.

When he gets to the roof, after climbing four flights of stairs because the bloody elevator is broken, he’s greeted with two surprises. One, there is a garden up here now, multiple raised beds enclosed in sturdy two by sixes, and two… you are kneeling on the brick between them.

You’re on your knees, digging around, dirt smudged on your clothes, purple garden gloves caked with soil. You’re talking aloud too, rooting around in the plants and singing out names of vegetables and their corresponding colors, occasional pulling something green loose and stuffing it in a bag. He glances around the roof, confused, but sees no one but you, your voice carrying on the wind to where he stands by the clunky metal door.

When he gets closer, he realizes you’re not talking to yourself at all, but to a baby. A tiny baby tucked into a carrier, who’s eyes are wide and somewhat tracking your hand movements while you point to things in the garden bed, in the sky, on the ground.

“And this is a parsnip.” You say, brushing some rust-colored earth from the root and turning it in your hand. “They’re not very tasty raw but aren’t terrible cooked.” The baby watches you in awe, little feet and arms kicking and swinging while you smile and nod at them, like you think they understand anything you’ve just said. “Yeah! A parsnip!” You’re smiling, your face is bloody radiant as you nod down to the baby, one of your hands rubbing dirt from your skin onto your pants before you’re reaching out to grab a cloth from the baby’s lap and mopping up something on their chin. The action causes you to shift, your head turning enough to catch him in your peripherals, body tensing like you’ve been frozen, shoulders raising under your ears before you loosen and relax, squinting up at him in the sun. “Hi.” You blink, glancing back down to the carrier. “I uh, didn’t realize anyone else was up here.” He swallows, trying to give you a response, brain fracturing at the seam as it frantically attempts to recall words, civilian words like hello, or hi, or sorry. It’s difficult, because he’s a little distracted by how the light refracting in your eyes, the way it’s shining on your skin and hair, bathing you in the early morning glow like you’re some sort of angel. He’s still a few feet away, but he thinks he can see entire universes in your irises, every color ever imagined shimmering in the rays of the sun.

His brain finally catches up, and his mouth thankfully remembers how to form words.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you.” He’s polite and you shrug, nodding to your little companion.

“You’re not disturbing us. We were just harvesting some vegetables.” You smile brightly, casually stripping off the gloves while you rock up from your knees into a standing position. If the mask bothers you, you don’t outwardly show it, and your posture is relaxed when stand in front of him. “Isn’t that right, Emmaline?” You coo down to the baby, who wiggles in her carrier as a response, face lighting up at the sound of your voice, or her name. He’s not sure. Do you live here? Are you… her mum? The babysitter? Who are you?

You give him a once over, briefly, and he watches your smile shift from genuine to forced when your eyes land on his hands. The smokes. He’s holding a pack of cigarettes in one hand, and you clear your throat, brushing some dirt off the front of your clothes. “We were actually just finishing up.” You bend at the waist to pull the carrier into the crook of your elbow, supporting its weight with your hip, and slide the handles of the bag full of green things onto your opposite shoulder. “Roof’s all yours.” He feels a pang of regret, like he doesn’t want you to go, the sentiment unnatural to him, unsettling. You obviously live in the building, he thinks. But where? Do you lug that carrier up and down the steps all the time, just to get up here? He frowns.

“I can wait.” He tries to stop you, guilt running thick in his veins, and you shake your head.

“It’s lunchtime anyway.” You incline your head to little Emmaline, who’s face is growing a little scrunchy, like she’s upset, and he swallows.

“Alright, then.” You give him another nod, and head off towards the door. He grits his teeth, fingers tensing around the thin carboard in his hand, the little box holding his salvation safely in its grasp, but his eyes slide to where you walk away, and he can’t help but notice the way the carrier lightly bumps against your hips as they sway. Bloody hell.

#peaches writes #light on #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #female reader #give this man a baby #please

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joelsgreys · 1 year

Text

weakness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s place takes one hell of an unexpected turn for you and Joel when hidden feelings start coming to the surface.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of reader’s size, but there is a brief mention of the dress fitting loose on her, Frank is sweet and makes her feel pretty, Bill is a grump, Joel is kind of soft, hidden feelings. dashes of angst, fluff, and an abundance of Frank being an absolute angel.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY. NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 5.7k

“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolds you lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moves his hands back up to your hair, which is out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much, much needed wash. The sickeningly sweet scent of the floral shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingers deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing and welcome change from what your hair normally smells like—grime and smoke from hours of work detail in the Boston QZ. After coming out all of the stubborn tangles that he can find, Frank then picks up a boar hairbrush and he carefully begins to run it through your locks. He starts from the roots of your hair and brings the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. He chuckles and says, “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”

You sigh softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he has you perched on before finally giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You can’t see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Franke’s face as he continues brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” you question him just a minute later, as if he hasn’t already explained it to you about a hundred times—he wants to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think so?”

“We’re doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he’d imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it’s something of a special occasion today,” he adds. “It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”

You can’t help the way the corners of your mount turn upwards into a small smile. One might think it was all rather silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you have to admit, you admire the way Frank manages to find genuine happiness and joy in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looks like. He has such a beautiful soul, something that very, very few people in this new world possess.

“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observes a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. Taking two handfuls of your hair from the front, he twists them gently and brings them around to the back of your head. He then secures them with a clear, elastic band and runs his fingers through your soft locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascades perfectly around your shoulders. Frank walks around your chair to face you, fussing until he makes sure that every stand is neatly in place. He smiles. “You should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.”

“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do,” you swear. “It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my normal clothes.”

“Exactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?” he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.

“But Frank—”

“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as you’re told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise.

“What the fuck,” you murmur underneath your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looks absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of blush on your cheekbones—the color he’d found was one one that flatters the tone of your skin—and the thin coat of decades old mascara that he’d applied to your eyelashes; the tube had been bone fucking dry, but Frank used a few drops of water to bring it back to life, swearing up and down it was fine to put near your eyes. And then there was the dress, the goddamn dressed he’d force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite.

“Wait until you see what I found for you to wear,” he’d told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. “You’re going to love it!”

Skeptical, you had asked, “Am I though?”

Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it, pulling the fabric taut. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside.

“You look perfect,” he gushes. “Like a daydream!”

You look different. But that isn’t what brought on the shock. More than anything, you’re completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look.

Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, gave you the opportunity to properly wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into a new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

You’d never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime.

Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how you’re feeling. Standing behind you, he places his two hands on your shoulders and leans his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes meet your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve it. You deserve so much more, but if I can at least give you this much, then my mission is accomplished.”

You open your mouth to speak, but words fall short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamp your mouth shut and give him the tiniest little nod of your head accompanied by a quivering smile of gratitude.

Frank smiles back. “Good. Now, come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands fall from your shoulders and he ushers you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gives you a wink. “I’m really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”

“What?” you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.

What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?

What’s he going to think?

Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, that’s what.

“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorts. “Yes, I’m talking about Joel.”

You glare at his back. This isn’t the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times you’ve sworn to him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insists on believing otherwise, adamant that there has to be something more there. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”

“He might as well be,” Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.

“Frank, I’m being serious,” you say. Normally, weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you’re not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while you’re wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. That’s it.”

Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, you sleep in the same bed together, you spend every waking moment from sunrise to fucking sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”

Stubborn, you shake your head. “He’s like fifty!”

“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap?” he questions. “Really?”

“Frank,” you plead his name, groaning. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”

He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,” he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say that’s pretty accurate?”

“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” you have to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.

“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what is his,” he further explains. He pauses and then asks, “Let me ask you something. You trust him, right?”

You don’t even miss a beat, answering, “Of course. With my life.”

He ticks his index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly!” he exclaims. “You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”

You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”

Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.”

For a moment, it feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you.

Could Frank actually be right?

Do you actually mean something to Joel?

No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything—all he cares about is surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day, and even then, he never speaks of his younger brother too kindly. He’s been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.

“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmer, speaking a truth he’s been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”

“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” you confess, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”

Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. “What? Realize what?”

“You are his weakness.”

He’d said it so simply, and yet there goes the rest of your air leaving your lungs, an invisible first driving itself right into your gut.

“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.

“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. “You’re wrong, Frank.”

“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He speaks gently, but with purpose, with such seriousness that it makes your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.

When you speak again, your voice is strained, thick with emotions you’re trying so desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.” Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”

Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.

“Of course. Come on” Frank takes your hand. He opens the front door and leads you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.

As soon as he sees you two approaching, Bill throws up his hands in a dramatic fashion. “It’s about goddamn time!” He grouches loudly. “Jesus Christ, Frank. I’m fucking starving!”

“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. “But look, I found myself something pretty!”

Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about your new appearance. “Frank, please. Don’t.”

“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”

Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrows his eyebrows and he glances over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widen just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown curls might have even had a comb run through them, but it;s difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.

“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.

Joel doesn’t respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.

“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” you mutter, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticks by. You silently urge yourself to get a grip as you reach for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and drape it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up for lunch smells heavenly—Frank knows it’s your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu, bless his heart.

Joel still hasn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldn’t.

“Joel?” Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, “Frank!”

Finally, Joel sets down his glass of wine and turns slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, but clear as day as he looks at you, “Yeah. She looks very pretty.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest and a strange warmth to bloom in your belly.

Had he actually meant that?

“You look real nice,” he adds, giving you a subtle nod of his head. He lets his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He then turns back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again, chugging what’s left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another.

Bill clears his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”

Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant.

Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant.

Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies. Only then would he step in.

As you’d tucked into your meal of wild rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was so used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grime caked onto your skin and in your hair.

Surely, he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his smuggling partner.

About an hour later, once everyone has finished eating, you offer to help Frank clear and clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settles for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shoos you away before you can even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggests. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.”

“But I forgot my library card at home,” you joke lamely, although it earns you a sincere laugh from your friend. You pad out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that is packed tightly to the brim with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been all that much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months, a sweet little escape that took you out of your shoddy apartment in the zone and into another world. You start searching the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that it’s play—you’ve never read a play before. Still not convinced if it’s one you would like to take home with you, you flip back to the first page and start reading with a curious little hum.

You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, “Find somethin’ good?”

Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not my fuckin’ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he states, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the doorframe.

A chuckle escapes you, almost nervously, as he slowly starts walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He takes the book from your hands, humming as he reads the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”

“You know Shakespeare?” you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, “He from your time?”

Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He hands it back over to you. “Here.”

“Sounds like a real fucking dream,” you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. You’re trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes glaze over you from head to toe.

“Y’know, it’s kinda nice,” he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. “What? In a dress?”

“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He pauses, then adds, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckin’ better, though.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, it’s the genuine tone in which he had said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.

You force a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his gaze, you turn around and walk over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shove the book inside.

When you hear Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.

“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay here?”

“You kidding?” You snort in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that. Never.”

Joel’s hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”

You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close he’s standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?”

Joel quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that—” He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content—” He trails off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence, y’know? You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frank’s help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.”

The second you realize he’s being serious, your smile fades.

“What? But what about you?”

“Darlin’, Frank’s good, but he’s not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”

Bill and Joel being neighbors?

Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.

“I know that much,” you reply with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”

“That ain’t no fuckin’ life—”

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”

The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen.

The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.

“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy here, not without you.”

Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”

“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body can even make the connection, you find yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You glance up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”

Joel exhales the breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.

“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass fucking world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. “Okay?”

“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”

“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”

You lift your hand to his face. At first, there’s minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel can’t help but wince. Not because he doesn’t want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking long since anyone had ever touched him like that.

Since he’d let anyone touch him like that.

He closes his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allows himself to relax his tense muscles and he sinks into your touch.

Joel lets himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gives a subtle tremble when you softly start to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully tease him about now that it’s beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.

“Hey,” you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you assure him. “My place is with you, Joel.”

Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, darlin’.”

You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”

“‘Cause. Shit like that is dangerous.”

“Dangerous,” you repeat, almost laughing. “Of all the things—”

Then, Frank’s words from earlier come to mind.

He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.

Joel’s dark eyes flicker to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he can even think to stop himself, he reaches out and pulls it up back into place, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed together, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.

“Joel…”

Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.

“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he starts to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish of me, but I’m real glad you said it. ‘Cause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”

Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lift yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with fills your senses and you yearn to have more of him, you nearly ache to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knows to take over from here. One of his arms snakes its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reaches up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swipes lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.

You eagerly grant him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.

Much to your surprise, Joel remains gentle.

The way that he kisses you, the way he holds your body against his, the way his large hand—the same hand that slits throats and breaks bones—delicately cradles the side of your face like you’re made of porcelain.

“Joel,” you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.

His face remains just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon.”

“I know.” You nod, hoping you don’t sound as disappointed as you feel. You can sense that Joel, much like yourself, is at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly don’t, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line you’ll never come back from was daunting.

Joel lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forces himself to release you from his arms and steps back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Y’know, get my pack ready before we take off.”

You nod again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened—”

He silently shakes his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.

This kiss is short and quick, and when he pulls away, he says nothing. He turns on the heel of his boot and disappears, heading out to meet Bill in the garage.

Your hand flies to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.

“Well, well, well.”

Looking over your shoulder, your throat goes dry when you see Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a knowing, smug expression on his face.

“How long have you been standing back there?”

“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”

You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.

So maybe he’d been right after all.

Maybe you were Joel’s weakness.

But he was yours too.

#joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou imagine #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

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h0ttestgrlinm0urgu3 · 3 months

Text

𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔶 𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔟𝔬𝔴

𝖍𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

summary [henry let's you play with bows and you get carried away]

warnings [smut, mouth stuff🎀, bimbo~ish ig, no p in v, pet names, soft dom henry🎀]

being the type of girl you were you loved ribbons and bows. they weren't something you indulged in often as a child, growing up in the country and all, but once you got older you feel in love with them.

you'd put them everywhere, in your hair, on your clothes, there's even some on your walls and others tied around stuffed bears.

Henry had recently gotten you these really cute ribbon bow clips and you were currently sitting beside him putting them in his hair. he's not really paying attention to you, he's used to this kind of treatment and just sat scrolling on his phone. you dropped one of the clips from his hair and in to his lap. as you go to reach for it a thought flashes in your mind. 'can I put a bow on your dick?' you ask your boyfriend after retrieving the clip.

you see the way henry freezes and hurriedly say 'not these, like ribbon' you clear up. he lets out a breath and laugh before looking at you 'I was scared for a sec baby' he says tucking a peice of hair behind your ear making you smile. he returns your smile and leans in for a kiss. 'of course I'll let my pretty girl dress me up' henry says sitting back up with the clips still in his hair.

so excited you jump up and let out a squeal 'omg yay' you scream about to go into you and Henry's shared room for some ribbon. turning to him before you go saying 'don't get hard' which earns you an eye roll as you leave 'you wanna do it or not' he mumbles as your walking but you hear.

in the room your trying to figure out what color ribbon you wanted. you got it down to pink and purple, so you bring them out to henry. 'which one do you want?' you question, you sit beside him on the couch, getting comfortable with your upper half mostly on his lap. 'whatever matches my hair' he says as he scrolls through something.

you go with the pink since he had pink in his hair. unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out your really happy to see the he wasn't hard. it might sound odd but you liked playing with his soft cock. cutting the ribbon to length before throwing everything on to the floor. you start to tie the ribbon at the base of his dick, humming to yourself as henry continued on his phone, you could care less.

looking down at the pretty pink bow you made your so proud in your self. you let out a giggle in excitement and notice the way Henry's cock twitched when you laughed. your mouth begin to water. trying something else you lightly blow making it twitch again.

you mouth became the ocean and you desperatly needed to taste him. opening your mouth and letting droll drip onto the head of his cock before lowering your head and licking it up. 'ohh fuck baby' henry moans out at the unexpected pleasure, finally placing his attention on you.

you take the tip of this cock in your mouth savering the taste of him. opening your mouth wider you take his full soft length in. feeling the bow brush against your lips. feeling him swell you come up for air letting out a little whine at the fact that this is the first time he's ever fully fit in your mouth, and it's because hes never let you suck it soft. and it's not gonna last much longer, but you'll enjoy having him in your mouth either way.

looking up to meet his gaze he grips your jaw and squeezes your cheecks together. sticking out your tounge he roughly brings you up for a sloppy kiss, gripping the back of your scalp. he breaks the kiss to leave kisses all over your face before letting you go back down to his cock, which is now fully hard.

bow intact.

you lick from the base to the tip repetadly. bringing your focus more to the head of his cock you bring one hand to the base and the other to his balls. 'fuck baby you know daddy likes that' he moans out as his hips buck forcing the tip of his cock all the way into your mouth. you gag a little before you adjust to it returning to your pace.

henry looks down to the ungodly display infornt of him. you desperatly sucking his cock, pretty hands playing with his balls with a pretty pink ribbon rapped around his cock, your eyes are watery, the floor beneath you full of droll and pre cum. your looking up to him eyes glossed over moaning every so often telling him just how much you love his cock.

'ahh- fuckk, baby im gonna cum' he moaned out. forcing the rest of his cock into your moth and down your throat henry couldn't hold back any longer. his cum being forced down your throat and falling from the sides of your mouth around his cock getting your bow all dirty. removing him from your mouth with a giggle and a smile so happy that you grew into loving bows.

[a/n: this randomly came to me and I wrote it right away so if it's bad blame it on that. 🎀]

#henry cavill #clark kent #bimbo reader #black fanfic writer #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x black reader #x black fem reader #clark kent x reader #henry cavill smut #bd/sm kink #bd/sm daddy #smut #clark kent smut #coquette #girlblogging #daddy's good girl

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a-hazbin-reader · 2 months

Note

A Alastor x wife!reader where reader has been wanting a family and finally by some miracle she discovers she's pregnant

Just a thought 🫠

You are not even the third person to ask for this and we're all already delusional here soooooo-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Sadness, Reader has baby fever and spreads it to her husband unintentionally, A little angst, Implied baby making 😉

Description: 👆⬆️

Alastor would do anything for his wife, spare no expense for her happiness and it shows

You two have talked previously about your obvious desire for a family with him

He would be willing to give that to you even though he's admittedly not the biggest fan of the idea

Part of him is scared of being a father but he won't ever admit that

You two both knew that sinners couldn't reproduce, and it crushed you that the opportunity was taken from you

You were still happy to have your husband and your found family at the hotel

You just still had that desire to have a baby, your husband's baby to be exact

Alastor hates seeing you so hurt over this, he wants to fix things for you, but this is out of his control

He couldn't give you a baby no matter how hard he tried, and that makes him feel helpless, which makes him angry

Sometimes the longing for a baby and the despair of knowing you can't have one gets to be too much for you and you unintentionally draw into yourself

Not amount of hugging or soothing words from your husband can console you, no matter how hard you cling to him and seek his comfort

You're just so sad sometimes

Which leads to Alastor being frosty and agitated with the others around the hotel, upset that he can't just fix it

He would give you the biggest family if he could, whatever he could do to make you feel whole

It's not like you two are neglecting each other or growing apart, there's just this heavy feeling hanging between you two

Everyone knows something is up with you two, but nobody is brave enough to ask, except maybe Vaggie, but she's respecting your privacy as a couple

Of course, it's Charlie who tries to get to the bottom of things for the two of you, everyone is just worried you two are fighting

So when you finally relent and tell her the truth, she's relieved that you and Alastor only want to have a baby-

YOU AND ALASTOR WANT TO HAVE A BABY!?

Sinners can't reproduce so you're just riding out your baby fever until it's manageable again

But no sinner has had a friend in the Morningstar family before

Not even a day later Alastor is greeted by Lucifer while you're out with Charlie and the others

"Hey man, heard you wanted me to get your wife pregnant! Lucky for you, I happen to have a thing for married women~"

When you come back home you're surprised to see Lucifer and your husband talking amicably, both turning their heads towards you immediately

"Ah! Would you look at the time? I should really get going, things to do, ducks to make-what?"

Lucifer gives you an unexpected side hug on his way out, hand resting momentarily on your stomach before leaving

You rub where he touched, surprised by the sudden warmth that lingers there

Your husband is looking at you strangely too but kisses you in greeting before you can even question it

Alastor acts rather clingy the rest of the day, following you around, asking you how you're feeling, giving affection more freely

You can't deny that you're loving the attention and soaking up every bit of it, the warmth in your stomach having spread throughout your entire body now

If Alastor's sudden neediness is anything to go by, he's feeling the same as you are

How either of you manage to wait until everyone has gone to bed to indulge in each other is beyond you

The entire night is a blur but when you wake up the entire bed has nearly been torn apart

Feathers are all over the place, the blankets have all been kicked away or shredded, the bed frame is clawed and cracked

You would almost feel embarrassed, but when you look at your handiwork on your husband, you can't help but feel proud

Things mostly go back to normal after that, except Lucifer visits more often and seems to pay special attention to you

You feel like everyone is watching you lately and you don't know why, you're never alone anymore, your husband especially is very hovery

But it ends up working out in your favor because one day you wake up, overwhelmed by the urge to vomit, your husband holding back your hair

And it keeps happening for days on end, and you start gaining weight without explanation, and your cravings are suddenly intense and-

Your husband is looking a little too pleased with himself, rubbing your back soothingly as you poke at your mysteriously changing body in the mirror

"You did this to me somehow, didn't you!"

"Why honey, why would I need to babytrap you when we're already married?"

"Because you-what?"

It takes a few moments to register what he said, all the strange things in the last few months clicking into place

"You got me pregnant..?"

He actually starts to look a little embarrassed, suddenly unsure if he really did the right thing after all-

When did he end up on the bed?

Is definitely sure in his decision later when he exits the bedroom, fixing his hair and clothes while he leaves you sleeping in bed

Luckily, the hotel has a lot of people who are willing to help out with your pregnancy because Alastor is worried he's actually in over his head

Your mood swings are more like mood hurricanes and sometimes he needs help knowing the right things to say

"Y/N, don't worry about not fitting into your own clothes, this is uh...just an opportunity to get new ones!"

"T-Thanks Vaggie..."

The cravings start to get fucking weird, Alastor genuinely repulsed by some of the things you're asking him for

"Darling, I can get you fresh meat as bloody as you want but do you really need to eat it with cake and ice cream?"

"Don't you love me..?"

He'll be back in 10 minutes

The bigger you get, the more sore and tired you are, constantly needing help around the hotel as you waddle around

"Thanks for helping me, Husk...I was getting really tired."

"Charlie, is it alright if I sit in that chair? My back is killing me.."

Alastor is scared with how vulnerable you are like this so he sticks close to you but silently appreciates the help from everyone

Even the other overlords come to see your miracle pregnancy, which doesn't help with Alastor's paranoia over how defenseless you are right now

They just want to see

As if Carmilla or Rosie would let anything happen to you anyways, Rosie loves the crap out of you and Carmilla wouldn't hurt an expecting mother

Rosie is constantly visiting and bringing baby gifts, so many that they're starting to pile up around the hotel

"Oh darling, you're practically glowing! Alastor! Have you told Y/N how radiant she is with her pregnancy?"

She wants to be Aunty Rosie so bad

Alastor genuinely admires the changes in your body, feeling pride in the thought that he did this to you

"With a little help from the big boss of-"

"You haven't left already?"

"I want to talk to my god child~ Can you stop hogging Y/N's belly for five minutes?"

"Your what now?

Alastor rubs your belly a lot, baffled by the idea that his spawn is in there and how happily you carry it

How you're so proud to be having his kid is beyond him, he knows what a wretched man he is and you still love him, take pride in him

The first time he feels the baby kick, he's a little unnerved but then you guide his hand back, smiling at him in a way that makes his heart ache for you

"Our baby wants to say hi to you..."

Okay, now his heart is melting, give your husband a kiss right now

Starts kissing and talking to your belly more after that, talking to the baby about anything and everything as if you're not even there

"Now your mother, you have no idea how lucky she is to have me as her husband~"

Confides in you late one night, about his fear of being a father and failing you and the baby

Not him having tears pinpricking in the corners of his eyes as you kiss him and reassure him

He doesn't particularly care about the gender of his child, just that you and the little spawn are okay

But if the baby is a girl, then he would like her to have his mother's name, that's all he would ask really

If the baby is a boy then he'll let you pick the name out as long as it's something fancy sounding

Does all the work when it comes to the nursery and baby proofing but has no idea what that actually entails, so you'll have to help him out

He's so proud to show you the finished look

The closer it gets to your due date, the more out of sorts and anxious he is but he tries to put on a brave face for you

He makes sure you never have to lift a finger, doing everything he can to make you comfortable and spending all his free time with you

Carmilla and her daughters all volunteer to assist in the labor, Zestial coming for the sake of tagging along

Alastor is in genuine anguish when you actually go into labor, the sound of you in pain and him being helpless to help is torture for him

Refuses to leave your side the entire time, blocking out everything else but you and encouraging you as best he can

Focuses so hard on taking care of you that he hardly notices that you've finished, surprised when Carmilla suddenly puts not one but two babies in your arms

You're visibly exhausted but seem to gain a renewed energy at the sight of your babies, looking at them in wonder before giving Alastor a tearful smile

"A boy and a girl, a miracle on top of already being miracle babies. Congratulations, Alastor."

Carmilla pats him on the shoulder before leaving, pulling Zestial and her daughters along with her

Alastor doesn't even register what she said, still dumbfounded at the sight of you cooing at two squirming infants

TWINS!? Lucifer, you sneaky son of a bi-

"Do you want to hold them, Alastor?"

"I would love nothing more, my dear..."

He definitely doesn't immediately fall in love when his babies cling to him like they'll never let go, holding his fingers in their unbelievably tiny hands

A LITTLE TREAT FOR ALL OF YOU WHO WERE BEGGING FOR THIS

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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feyascorner · 4 months

Text

before my nails dig

summary. in which one of Astarion's especially vivid nightmares results in him waking up to Tav at the mercy of his own hands...and the shame that comes with it.

warnings. angst, fluff, comfort

pairing. Astarion x GN!reader

a/n. someone pls get this man therapy that's all i ask,,, also this takes place sometime during act 3 before you confront cazador!! first post too so pls forgive typos

Had breathing always been this hard?

It's not like he had to breathe anyway. The undead have more perks than one would think, and having no need for air was one that became particularly useful in unexpected ways. Yet as he stands in Cazador's dungeon again--a place he longs to rid from the darkest corners of his mind--all he can do is stumble over his own breath, crimson eyes darting around frantically in search of an exit.

And suddenly, his siblings are at the mercy of the ascension, floating helplessly in the chains of a red aura--Cazador's aura. Despite the chaos, Astarion's eyes narrow in on the one pedestal with no occupant, and he realizes it's his own designated place.

It's getting harder to breathe now.

A breath creeps up behind his shoulder, sending pure dread throughout his entire body as he hears Cazador's voice far too close than he ever wanted it to be.

"Wake up, child. This is all you've ever been meant for."

Astarion whips around and lunges at the man, his hands wrapping viciously around the throat he's fantasized about ripping apart for the past two hundred years. His nails dig into the flesh of the vampire lord's neck, leaving indents in the shape of crescent moons, just enough to cause panic but not enough to draw blood. But Cazador only cackles, his eyes staring right into Astarion's as he hollers over and over again.

"Wake up."

"Wake up!"

"--Astarion!"

The spawn's eyes snap open, recognition finally flooding his expression as he finds himself staring down at you. The very face he sees in the softest of dreams, the lips he longs to kiss at every waking moment, and the eyes that gaze at him with the love and adoration he's been missing for most of his wretched eternal life. Though he'd never admit it, you saved him. From the moment he'd threatened your life at the nautiloid crash to the moment he held you close to his chest in the confines of his tent, he would be by your side until you tired of him and threw him away.

All he wanted--all he could wish for--was only a fraction of it in return. And you'd given him that, and so much more.

But now, you're scared. Terrified, even. Of him.

With horror, he realizes his fingers are digging into your throat. Your precious, tender throat that you offer him not for something in return, but simply because you care for him.

All at once as he tears his hands away, he wants to cut them off and bury himself in his own grave again. He doesn't meet your eyes, afraid of what disgust might be held in them, but he knows you're too kind for that. Too kind to see the kind of monster he is.

You're gasping for your breath, and his stomach knots in a way that would have sent him hurling if it weren't for the fact that he's too occupied drinking in what he's done. To you.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, Astarion," you choke out, perching on both your elbows as you struggle to recover. Even now, all you seem to care about is him. He almost hates you for it--hates you for not stabbing a stake through his heart the moment his hands met your neck. "Astarion-"

"Your throat," he croaks, despising the slight crack of his voice as he reaches for your cheek, but stops before he even gets close. He doesn't trust himself to open his mouth again.

"It's okay, really, I can just get Shadowheart to heal me," you shake your head, and he finds himself in disbelief as you crawl toward him, tossing the sheets to the side. He shifts the slightest away and you understand, immediately sitting back down. You look like you want to say something, but you close your mouth and watch him patiently, as if waiting for him to make the first move.

After a suffocating silence, he turns his back to you. "I'll be sleeping elsewhere tonight."

He intends of never sharing a room with you again, in fear of what he could possibly do to you as a result of his selfish desires to keep you close, and you seem to pick up on the tone of his words. You always do. "Astarion, please."

"I do apologize, sincerely. I'll form a better apology tomorrow, but for now, I'll fetch Shadowheart or that damned wizard and-"

He fights the urge to shiver when he feels your hand on his. How you manage to have such an impact on him with a simple touch he does not know, and does not care because all he wants is more. To pull you close, to beg you to keep him, to use him, to punch him, strangle him for all he cared, in hopes you'll even consider ever speaking to him again. Instead, he turns to look at you.

Gods, you're beautiful.

Even with those terrible bruises he'd go to hell and earth to take back, your beauty in unmatched with anything he's ever seen. Even with the bed hair and the anxiousness pursing your lips, he can't bring himself to look away again.

"Please stay. I'm not mad, nor afraid."

The words sound like honey on your tongue.

"Please," You say again, slowly this time. "Stay."

His chest feels tight, threatening to tear itself apart as his voice comes out in a crooked whisper. "I could have killed you."

"You didn't."

"If you died too, I don't know--what would I even do with myself? What would I-" He hates it when he sounds like this. Vulnerable, or as Cazador liked to call it: pathetic. But he can't help the words tumbling out his blasted mouth with the way you're gazing at him with nothing but worry. Somehow, with you, it feels strange.

Refreshing, almost.

Your hand squeezes around his as if to remind him you're still here. He meets your eyes again and it's all it takes to break what little will he has left, as he lets you pull him close in a crushing hug--one that's all too welcomed.

And as the two of you lie awake in each other's embrace, he thanks all the gods he doesn't worship for putting you on his path.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate astarion #fluff #angst with a happy ending #light angst #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 x reader

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eupheme · 2 months

Text

— are you mine?

joel miller x f!reader

rated t - 4.4k

tags: over-protective and soft jackson!joel, partners-to-lovers, mutual jealousy, secrets, miscommunication and rumors, light angst, valentine’s day

a little valentine’s day gift for the lovely @sweetercalypso - I was so thrilled to get you for the Space Sister’s exchange! I really hope you like it! 💌💕

A change in your usual patrol schedule, a dash of over-protectiveness, and a gossipy partner leads to you desperately wish you could turn back time.

Because how can you face Joel, after this?

"I don't like it."

His voice comes from next to your shoulder. Rough and low - your eyes drifting over heavy, muddied boots, then up. Trying not to linger where his strong arms cross over a broad chest, the pull of fabric against skin where the sleeves are rolled up to elbows.

"Don't like what?" You ask, as your plate and mug join the pile of others in the bin to be washed. Finishing up a quick breakfast in the mess hall before your patrol shift begins.

A second lingers, before Joel answers.

"Don't like the thought of you out there without me."

His answer makes your stomach flip, butterflies already sprouting at the unexpected encounter. You hadn't thought you'd see Joel until later - an unexpected change in last night’s schedule. Sending him out from evening until dawn, and leaving you with a new partner for this morning.

"You're the one that swapped shifts." You point out, finally glancing his way. Seeing the pull of his brows, the shift as he leans against one of the heavy wooden support beams, "Anyways, I won't be alone. They have me with William."

The mark between his brows deepens, "Don't know if I like that, either."

Your own eyebrows raise, "What's wrong with William?"

He doesn't answer - the dark pull of his gaze breaking, as his eyes drop.

"Heard rumor there might be someone in the woods," Joel changes the subject, "Dirt kicked over the ashes, footsteps leading off to the east. No sign of anyone, but that don’t mean they ain’t hangin' around.”

He's worried, you think. Your hand reaches out, hovering for just a moment before you're clapping his bicep, instead of his bare forearm.

"Just because there was someone there, doesn't mean they're bad." The touch lingers for a moment, before your hand is dropping - shoving into your jacket pocket, "Besides, it’s daylight now. We'll be fine. Always are."

His look is dark, at your words.

An optimism lingering in you that has long been leached from his system. An uneasiness that lingers in his blood and bones - a shift of his his as he reaches to draw something out of his back pocket. Pressing it into your hand, when you reach for it without thinking.

"Know how to use this?"

It's a knife - his knife - the folded handle fitting his broad hand but feeling more like a dagger in yours.

“Joel, please-” You all but huff, torn between annoyed and touched. Reaching out to hand it back, but he’s shifting sideways to dodge you.

“Humor me, alright?” He’s grumbling - but he's not done - fishing something else from his jacket pocket. Holding it out for you to take as well - heavy and plastic in your other hand.

You flip it over, seeing the small antenna fit above the speaker, the buttons worn bare and smooth beneath. A gleam of red, the light already on and winking.

"Ellie's got the other. I'll get it from her this morning." He explains, "Two-way radio. You need anything or run into anyone, I'll know."

It would be stifling, if it were anyone else.

Insulting, perhaps.

But knowing that Ellie does this for Joel soothes you, teeth biting into your lip to hold back your smile.

And you can’t deny that you did feel a little uneasy, heading out without your partner.

"Fine.” You tell him, with a sigh.

“But just this once."

The ground crunches beneath your feet, a frost and thin snow freezing and blanketing the green pokes of grass overnight.

You’re already ready for spring, even though the world has just creeped into February. Missing the crunch of leaves instead of ice. Yearning for the daffodils and crocuses to pop up, as the earth thaws.

But for now - you’re content to concede that it’s easier to do your job, at least. The only damaged grass around you, the only marks in the dirt, are your own.

Quiet, idle conversation with William passing as you take the usual route - your rucksack a familiar weight against your shoulders. Padded with the faded and patched feather-down of your coat as you weave between trees.

Checking traps for food, finding nothing. Not unusual when the rest of the world seems to be sleeping.

The sun is nearly overhead when you reach the watchtower, the spindly legs that hold the narrow room high in the sky. The rungs leading up are wide, but you still hold your breath as you climb. Only exhaling at the top, when both your feet are firmly on the metal platform - cold air sharp in your lungs with your inhale.

It's pretty up here. A clouded blue sky above, a suggestion of snow. A wistful hope that it will hold off until tomorrow, as your patrol partner unlocks the door - checking the inside before you follow.

Your rucksack lands with a thud just inside the door, which closes behind you. The windows are cracked, spider-webbing from the corners, but still holding firm enough that it shields you from some of the chill outside.

Looking out above some of the trees, giving you a peek of Jackson when you stand in the southern corner.

Here, you can take a minute to breathe. To talk, while keeping watch and warm.

You can’t remember the last time you've been out with William. You didn't run in the same circles - he had a regular rotation of patrol partners. You had Joel, and sometimes Ellie, and you never found a reason to stray.

That thought, the change, had kept you busy on the patrol. Your mind wandered as your feet moved on your own, through well-known paths. Eyes seeing but your thoughts elsewhere.

He had seemed worried, at the mess hall.

Or - on edge, at least. Distracted.

There had been a quick rap on your door, a mumbled excuse about them needing him last night. Letting you know you'd be with someone else for your shift in the morning. A glance over his shoulder, nodding towards the figure that was waiting for him, before he was off.

And although he had made the switch, he sure didn't seem happy about it this morning.

William was friends with Jesse, who was friends with Ellie and Dina - you couldn't think of a reason for the ever-present mark that had deepened between his eyebrows.

You wonder why - because surely, a set of trained and fed partners would be more than a match for anyone drifting through the woods on their own. Even you weren't so nervous, and you didn't have the years and grit of someone like Joel.

And it wasn't like William was unprepared. He'd been doing patrols just as long as you had, maybe even a little longer.

It's here that you're drawn away, your companion’s voice breaking through your thoughts. His foot tapping yours, where you both sit on the old, wooden floor.

“Been a while, huh?”

You nod in agreement, offering the slightest lift of a smile, “Yeah. Been couple months, at least.”

“More than that. Bet it’s been close to a year.”

“Oh.” You blink, thinking back.

Wondering if that’s why his gaze has been on you so often this morning - that he’s nearly forgotten what you look like, “Guess I hadn’t noticed.”

You hadn’t realized it’s been that long. And at the same time, only that long.

Joel had drifted for a while in Jackson - untethered, but never far from the nearest door, the nearest wall. Content to watch from the fringes, to stay unnoticed. To slip out, when he’s had enough.

It still took a few months until he was rotated into the patrol. Until you met him, fully. Needling conversation out of him in these morning walks, or when the stars stretched out in the inky night.

Fully expecting him to trade out, when he could. Others often did - preferring a variety of company.

He never did. And neither did you.

Things worked with Joel. And more than trust had bloomed in those lone hours together, something that had planted in your first days of seeing him. Carefully tended, nourished by the slivers of traded secrets and shared looks and moments where you had thought that just maybe…. maybe… you weren’t alone.

"Don't know how you can stand patrolling with him. He’s a scary dude." William mutters, the sound low as you hunker down below the rim of the metal railing.

You frown. Joel's not scary. Not really. Not to you.

A grouch, for sure. All bark and bite, but it's never once been directed at you.

“Joel?” You ask, clarifying.

“Yeah, Miller.” He gives you a sideways look, “You know he's killed people, right? Like, not just infected. People, people.”

The stories and rumors aren't new to you, they cling to him like ghosts. The whispers when he came into town had never stopped - but with time, they had lessened.

He had intimidated you, at first. A low voice and an angry look that would send anyone scurrying, but in the two years since he's been here, it's all faded at the edges. Gone soft.

Looking back, knowing now how he looks after Ellie, looks after you - you’re not sure how you ever saw him that way.

And you think, you hope, that deep down - he does care. That a part of him might feel the same.

It’s there in the way he sought you out this morning. More than a dislike in the change of his schedule - that wouldn’t have loosened the knife he carried.

It was there in your patrols. In the way you felt safe, with him - in how it flowed from outside those wooden walls to inside the town, inside his home.

"We all have." You reply, with a sharp finality.

You didn't really remember the days before. Your life had been filled with spoken memories, but they weren't yours. The days of lawfulness are akin to fairy tales - merely stories, in your mind.

Who were you to judge, when your own hands were stained?

The infected weren’t the only monsters in this world. You’re sure he had his reasons, as did you.

William makes a sound of agreement, before dropping the subject. Content to watch the sparkle of snow, caught in the wind where it drifts down from tall branches.

That silence is broken a little later, with another question.

"You goin' to the dance later?"

Your legs stretch, toes wiggling in the chill of the room. Even enclosed, the cold seeps in through the cracks and thin panes of splintered glass.

"Of course."

Everyone would be.

The dances in Jackson were few and far between. Even more rare in these cold months - people preferring to stay warm, keep out of the snow that gathers in the alleys, the chill that whips down the rows of buildings.

The day before had been spent decorating the church hall. There was an ache in your arms where you had helped Wendy roll out the dough for cookies - watching as the younger folks cut hearts out of recycled paper in the mess hall, to be strung along the walls.

Underneath the stars above and in the glow of the lights, it would be beautiful.

There's a steadying breath next to you.

A moment, before he's asking, "You goin' with anyone?"

The rest comes in a rush, "I mean, do you wanna go with me?"

He turns your way, as you slowly go still. Too surprised to form an answer, trapped in his gaze with your wide eyes and parted lips.

"I-" You begin, and then falter.

William was nice. A little older than you. Showy, when he was with his friends, ready to do anything for a laugh.

Nice, but not Joel. No one was.

And deep down, you know that it's not like Joel thought of you that way. Returned those feelings, despite your wishes.

But you knew he'd be there. He'd go for Ellie, who would make sure she was there to see Dina.

And you'd go for Joel.

Even if just to see him, even if only for a moment.

The silence has stretched too long, an uneasy shifting next to you as he waits for an answer.

"There someone else?" The lilt of his voice has turned sharp, accusatory. Slicing through your thoughts, demanding your attention.

And again, you stumble. Still unable to form words, still too caught off guard - tongue twisted in knots.

“There is, isn’t there?” Another verbal nudge, and it’s here that you find your voice.

"There is... uh, someone." You manage - not ready to spill your guts, but there’s no chance you’ll agree to go with him.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he scoffs, "Who, Joel?"

He laughs at his own joke - and it's only now, as it's turned on you, that you notice how cruel it can sound.

Your own eyes drop, head turning back towards the wall.

And it’s here that your eyes snag on the cherry red gleam that peeks from the outside pocket of your rucksack.

The radio.

Forgotten entirely, in the long walk over.

Panic courses through you.

Can he hear you, from here? Is he listening now?

You send up a silent wish, hoping that perhaps he's stepped out. That if you're lucky, the radio doesn't quite reach this far.

The silence gives you away, before you can brush it off - too caught up in the fear that twists in your stomach. A look had crossed your features that William had caught, the laughter dying as he pushes to his feet.

"You can't be serious." There's the mocking curl of his lip, a look of incredulity, "Miller? Are you out of your mind?"

There had been a flicker of thought - thinking that you could go over, switch it off. Or change the subject, tell Will to just shut up - but there’s something in his tone that distracts you - igniting your dread and embarrassment into anger and irritation.

Making you slip up.

"So what if it is? It's none of your business-" You begin, but he cuts you off.

He’s fully turned your way now. The melting snow of his boots soaking into the hem of your jeans, with how he close he sits. Close enough that you can see the grit of his jaw, as he flings another barb at you.

"You think he's going to treat you right? Do you even know where he was last night?”

It feels like a slap in the face - the way you flinch, cheeks burning.

“He… he was on patrol.” You stammer, unsure where this is headed.

“Could be. It’s easy to change logs when you got a brother out at the same time.” He shrugs, as if it’s nothing. As if your world hasn’t tilted on it’s axis, leaving you off-kilter.

Your heartbeat thunders behind your ribs, in your ears, “What do you mean?”

“I mean… Fred said he saw him at Esther’s house. Last night and this morning.”

Rumors spread like wildfire in a town as close-knit as Jackson. It wasn’t hard to see where he was going, even if it pained you.

Esther, who tended the greenhouse.

Esther, who Joel had once been set up.

Esther, who split last month with her husband.

Esther, who kept the house.

You’re frozen. As if the cold has sunken into your skin, bonded with your bones. An aching weight settling over your heart, stealing your breath.

Because in this moment, you truly realize how much you’d been thinking about him as yours. Suddenly realizing the depth of you feelings for Joel - how much he’s come to mean to you.

It’s devastating, thinking about him being someone else’s.

It just can’t be true.

But…

But wouldn’t it explain his actions this morning?

Did you misread worry for guilt? Or secrecy?

“Look.” He says, after a pause. Giving you a pitying look, his hand reaching out to touch your shouler, “All I’m saying is that I’d never-”

It was all too much.

You’ve had enough.

"Can you just drop it?" You hiss, suddenly, "I'm not going with you."

The focus of his gaze still rests on you, as you push yourself to your feet. Grabbing for your bag - it's still a little early, but you're not about to stay stuck up in this tower with him.

"Where are you-" He's asking, as you shake your head - slipping past him, through the door.

"I'll see you back at Jackson."

Letting it slam shut behind you.

It's stupid, to wander off by yourself. Even if you weren’t too far from home, no more than a thirty minute walk.

The rifle left in William's possession, where it still rested against the railing. Joel's blade heavy and cold in your hand as you fish it from your jacket pocket.

Matching the stone-heavy weight of your heart, as you follow your footsteps back towards town. Your thoughts twisting, as you silently bargain with whoever might be listening.

Wishing foolishly that you could turn back time.

Content with even just not knowing.

Because that’s the worst part, right? That you know he knows. And that he knows you do. That surely - he heard it all.

If you were alone, if you hadn’t taken that radio, you’d still have your secret.

Maybe Joel wouldn’t have his, but you’d try to bear it. Find a way to put the pieces of your heart together, and try to move on.

Cherish those few more days, weeks, before he would have told you. Maybe by then, you could’ve acted happy.

But now, you’re certain he won’t want anything to do with you. Certain that you’ve ruined a good thing - not just the patrols, but your partnership, and friendship.

Because who would want to stick around with a girl with a stupid little crush?

It leaves you feeling flayed open. Grateful for the whip of the wind, giving you an excuse for the tears that spring to your eyes.

For a moment - in your embarrassment - it leaves you even thinking about running away.

You'd survived for this long. It would be harder, on the outside. But perhaps, you could start over.

With a sigh, you crumple the thought up, and toss it away. It's no more than wishful thinking. No different than hoping the world would crack beneath your feet, and swallow you whole.

No…

You would have to bear it.

You're less than a mile from the wooden border around town, when you pick up the crunch of boots on snow. Fear prickles down your spine as the blade clicks open in your grasp, your pulse leaping beneath your skin.

The waver of a shadow, moving between the trees in front of you. You go still, squinting, tucking yourself behind one of the thick trunks.

They're alone.

It could be someone from town, but you'd heard there was only one set of boots near the fire they found, the night before. A quick glance over your shoulder - wishing you hadn't split off.

Wishing you had taken the rifle.

They move closer, and your breath catches as they call out.

Not just a greeting, but your name.

A wave of relief washes over you, you know that voice. This figure. The cock of his hip as he stands, the shoulders that slope when he sees you - a hand raised in greeting.

"Heard you leave. Shouldn't be out here by yourself."

The warm glow in your belly chills, at his words.

The acknowledgement that he had been listening souring your mood. It has you bristling at his tone, misreading his worry.

"I'm fine." You wiggle his knife at him, the blade glinting in the afternoon sun, "Didn't have to come all this way."

In the path you take to skirt around him, you miss the pull of his brow - the frown that forms. The way he breaks into a jog to catch up behind you, staying a few steps back as he does a visual sweep of the woods behind you.

Your strides are long, focused on the crunch of grass beneath your feet. Eyes fixed ahead as he follows, until the tall wooden posts loom up ahead.

Above, and then through.

If you can just make it home, you think that would be enough. The little house is only a few streets away from the edge.

Something that he hated - how it wasn’t safe enough.

Something that used to please you.

He’s still following, your silent companion. Chivalrous, you suppose, to make sure you get home okay. Even after everything.

You’re nearly there - feet taking you up the rickety steps for your porch - when that silence is finally broken.

“You know it ain’t true, right?

For as quiet as his voice is, it still seems to cut through the air, halting your step. Your eyes still fixed on the door ahead of you, but you find yourself stopping - waiting.

“There ain’t anybody else.”

There’s a weight in the way he says it. A confession, layered in the low pitch of his voice.

It has you turning.

To where he stands, where your shadows meld together. And it’s only now that you see him - the intensity of his gaze. The mis-matched buttons on his coat, the cold that burns at his nose and cheeks until they’re pink.

He’d been outside for a while.

Searching for you - leaving hat and gloves behind.

“Where were you last night?” You ask - and he watches you like you’re about to bolt. Palms facing you where they hang at his sides, finger stretching out and then curling.

Reaching up now, to scrub through his hair in frustration - loosening dark, peppered-gray curls.

“I was there.” Joel admits, and there’s the acid ache of jealousy welling up in your chest. Picturing him with her instead of with you - like in your wishes, your dreams.

“But-” His hands raise, when he sees your expression, “But I just stopped by. I was on patrol with Tommy, you can ask him.”

You want to believe him. But you know you’re both thinking the same thing - thoughts flickering back to William’s suggestion.

“Or, you can ask Maria. You know she won’t cover for me.” He adds - and that softens you, just a little.

“Why did you trade?”

The moment hangs, where you’re left staring at each other. Your heart gallops in your chest, as he fights an internal battle - before his eyes slide across your cheek, over your shoulder.

But then there’s the smallest, rueful smile. His dark eyes flipping up to yours.

“Didn’t think it’d be like this.” Joel sighs, moving closer - to the bottom step. Enough to where you could reach out and touch him. Enough to where you see the weariness etched in his face, from where he stayed up all morning to keep watch over you.

“Got some roses for you. They’re at the house.” The words come slowly, “Was gonna give ‘em to you tonight. Wanted to do this right.”

Wanted to do this right.

The words echo in your mind. Pieces of a puzzle starting to fit into place, but you still feel like you’re behind - forever out of step and catching up.

“That’s why I was out last night. Esther is… rekindling things with her husband.” He manages, “Traded his shift last night for ‘em so they could be together. Went back to pick ‘em up this morning.”

“Roses.” You echo, “Why?”

“Why?” Joel frowns, as hands brace on his hips. Looking flustered, looking like he wishes you could just understand.

And suddenly, you do.

Your own words come slowly now, “For me? For Valentine’s Day?”

Relief crosses his features, those dark eyes going soft.

“Yeah, darlin’.” He smiles, “For you.”

Emotions swirl and surge through you. Relief yes, but also something stronger, something that flutters behind your ribs and threatens to burst free.

“I didn’t-” You begin, and then stop. A tightness in your throat, as you gaze at him, “I was so worried that you heard what he said, that it was real-”

“I heard.” A dark look crossed Joel’s features, a grit of his jaw, “Heard what you said too. Made me hope, ‘til he opened his mouth again.”

He’s on the top step now, no more than a few feet away. Irritation prickling at him from the memory of you in that tower, tucked away with someone who wasn’t him.

Until his hand is scratching at the scruff of his beard, his look changing.

“But if I misread this-” Joel starts - almost hesitant, if a man like Joel could be.

It makes you want to laugh, after everything. Because you get it, now.

Just how foolish you both had been.

“You didn’t.” You’re quick to cut him off, “You... you heard right.”

There ain’t anybody else…. but you.

It’s always been him.

He kisses you under the eaves of your little porch.

Stepping into you as your head tilts up - cold fingers tracing your chin, cupping your jaw just as his lips skim against yours.

The lightest brush, as something electric sparks - radiating from that point of contact, skittering down your spine. A soft moan that slips from your throat, before he’s pressing closer - before your hands are slipping, gripping onto his shoulders beneath the thick canvas of his coat.

Everything fades - growing hazy. He’s all you can feel, as your eyes close. Something finally clicking into place, as your lips part for the brush of his tongue. Another moan as he licks into your mouth - stumbling footsteps in both of your haste.

Until your back is bumping against wood, and his arm is wrapping around you. Surrounding you, leaving you breathless as the frame of the door digs into your hip.

Finally sated, in your need for him.

And yet more hungry, than you’ve ever been.

The grip of your fingers loosen, as you reach for the door knob. Fumbling for a second before it’s loosening, and you’re stepping back - bringing him with you, your other hand still fisted in the fabric of his coat.

He groans into your mouth, a hand wrapping around your waist so you don’t stumble, as he follows you inside.

Then there’s low husk of his voice, the barest curve of a smile, “What about your dance, sweetheart?”

Teasing, in the way he spins you around. In the way you’re caged in against the door again, tucked away safely from the other side.

No prying eyes except for his.

Your answer close to a whine, with the way his fingers find the zipper on your coat, drawing it down.

“I think…” You manage, distracted by the press of his lips against your neck. In the fingers that dip beneath your layers, seeking bare skin.

“I think we can be a little late.”

happy valentine’s day, friends! 💌💕 and especially to elaine - these were such fun prompts! you are the sweetest and I hope you have such a good day!

#I tried to incorporate something from each of your prompts! 💖#SpaceSistersSecretValentine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine

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ghouljams · 4 months

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With Love, König tags: König x f!reader/f!oc, regency era au, manners, collaring, courting, king!König, reader is mildly insane, König is going to marry you and that's a threat Summary: Your fiance runs off, your reputation is in ruins, and worst of all König has decided he's going to make you his queen. He doesn't even ask your father's permission to do it.

You receive word that your fiance has left you in the short hours of the morning. It comes in a carefully folded note, with his seal, and his signature. It's cruel, but not unexpected. You'd known for long enough that this was an engagement for nothing but your title. Still, you shed a few tears onto the parchment at the loss of your future, bleak as it might have been. You can rest assured that your parents, and the rest of the social world, have already received the news. You expect they'll start looking for another match for you soon.

The second letter is somehow more surprising. You don't recognize the black wax seal, or the handwriting. You don't know how it slipped past your family without being opened, but it's tucked on the same tray as your fiance's letter and you break the seal with cautious fingers.

"My Heart," it begins, and you frown at the familiarity, "You have bewitched me, body and soul. My every hour is spent with thoughts of you. The memory of your touch is only remedied by my own hand, and even that is not enough. I hope that you will accept this small token of thanks for the dance we shared, and look forward to our next meeting with the same fervor I do."

You look up from the letter to stare at the wall. You narrow your eyes at the wallpaper and do your best to try and think of who the fuck is sending you love letters. Certainly not your ex-fiance, he never did more than send you a note asking you to wear something "more appropriate" for the next party. You look back at the letter. It's a bit stuck at the bottom, likely to keep whatever token it contains in place. You slip your finger carefully under the edge of the fold to open it. A silk ribbon flutters onto your lap as you stare down at the king's signature. "With Love, König" in perfect royal handwriting.

You scramble to ring for your maid, you need to get dresses and you need to speak to your father immediately. Your maid seems to either not know or not care that you are received a letter from a king because she helps you get ready with her usual compliments and coos. Disinterested in the day ahead of you, you always assume. She ties the ribbon behind your ears when you ask her what to do with it. The black clashes, but you don't have time to argue.

König is already in the sitting room with your father when you finally make it downstairs. He stands almost as quickly as you drop into a low curtsy. Your father stands too and you're taken aback by how small he looks next to König. Your father has always been a proud man, a man to be feared as much as respected, but next to König he may as well be a child. You drop your eyes to the floor, proper and polite.

"Gott in himmel," König breathes, and your eyes dart to him. His brows are drawn together, like he's in pain. You can't tell if he's displeased when you can only see half of his face, his mouth obscured by a dark black cloth. You meet his eyes and are quick to avert your gaze, lest the heat in his burns you.

You rise from your curtsy and keep your eyes on the floor. "My lord," you greet, and hear him hum. He's pleased you think.

"My lady," The way he stresses "my" makes you shiver, his lady, "look at me when I speak to you." You're quick to follow his command, the tightness in his tone is intriguing, but you can't see a reason for it when you do look up at him.

Your father attempts to raise issue when König stalks towards you, his voice drowned out by the way the king fills your vision. You barely flinch when he grabs your chin, and turns your head. His skin against yours is unfamiliar and rough, it makes your skin prickle with heat as he sighs.

"You're wearing this wrong, Hummelchen," He tells you, his free hand going to tug at the end of the ribbon around your head. The black silk is tugged loose, falling delicately into König's grip. His thumb teases your lower lip, improper and entirely hidden from your father. "You want to wear this right for me, ja?"

You open your mouth to answer and he pushes his thumb between your lips, presses down against your tongue to hold you open. Your eyes dart in your father's direction, panic rising in your chest. König's eyes crease at the edges, he tips his head to watch your tongue try to work under his grip. You settle for swallowing, your lips closing around his finger as you nod your head. What else can you do in the face of a king?

"Braves Mädchen," He praises sending another prickle of heat over your skin. You feel like all your manners are just being thrown out the window, it's making your head spin. His grip loosens, his thumb sliding out from between your lips to smear the wetness against your hot cheek. Warmth pools between your legs, entirely too familiar, and entirely his fault.

König makes a twirling motion with his finger, and you don't hesitate to turn. You can hear his fingers pulling the length of ribbon between his hands, and you're glad to have your hair off your neck when he loops the ribbon around your throat. You have to tip your chin up, you have the sudden --and startlingly appealing-- thought that he could very easily choke you like this. König's fingers pull the ribbon tight, and you make a quiet noise of... protest? Approval? You make a noise, and it loosens just enough to be comfortable. He's quick to tie a neat bow, the tails of it hanging on either side of your spine. You touch your fingers to the silk. Like a collar.

König's fingers linger on your neck, and you tilt your head to afford him space to touch. Each brush of his skin makes your heart race, this monster of a man is so gentle with you. As if you were some treasure he could hardly afford. He curls over you, one of his hands sliding down your arm. He grips your wrist tight, and raises it to his lips. You turn your head to watch him, his eyes are dark when he catches you staring. His teeth flash dangerously in the light where they scrape against your pulse. Not so gentle then.

"You will accompany me to the next party," He leaves no room for argument in his command, states it like a fact predetermined by God, "We'll announce our engagement there."

"Your what?" You father asks behind König, aghast at the breach in conduct. You hardly notice it, entranced by the way he presses his cheek into your palm.

"Kay," You breathe for him. He's just like one of the heroes from your penny novels, better for being real. You wonder if he's ever killed anyone, he'd look good with a little blood on him.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #König x oc #könig x f!reader #f!reader #regency au #king!König #oc: Bee #Bee I'm begging you #just notice one red flag PLEASE #Girl he's going to fucking get you

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