#he did not say my name so nobody knew it was me

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 10 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Anna knew now. She knew all about Bob's poetry and how he thought about her when she wasn't even with him. Instead of it making her timid, she told him she wanted to go to his bedroom. Instead of taking it slow, he took it all the way.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, smut, oral, 18+

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Having Anna in his house again was an exercise in restraint for Bob. When he thought about tracing her freckles with his gaze, he stopped himself. When he wanted to kiss her neck while she stood in front of him while they built the bookshelf, he made sure he did nothing of the sort. It was time to organize his books now, and he had to keep himself focused. When she started to head upstairs toward the bedrooms, he tried his hardest to block out the idea of guiding her to the left and into his room instead of the spare room on the right.

The sway of her hips in her black leggings was so enticing as she climbed the stairs ahead of him. It was taking too much of his willpower to keep from reaching out to touch her, and that's how he responded poorly when she said, You have to tell me why you like poetry so much."

He barely considered his words before saying, "What's not to like? All of the emotions are there. You're allowed to write about any combination of emotions that you're feeling at any given time. And I think that's pretty cool."

Anna's steps slowed a little. "Write?" she asked, turning to look back at him as he made his way up behind her. "Did you say write?"

Oh. Oh no. Nobody knew he spent his free time tapping away at his keyboard, coming up with ideas and letting his brain run wild. And there was no way he wanted Anna to be the one to find out, especially since he'd taken to writing about her. 

"Uh. I did. Yeah," he admitted, trying to think of a way to change the subject.

But she was way ahead of him. "What's something you've written?"

Bob laughed and recited a random line that was ambiguous enough for his liking. "Just some amateur gibberish like, 'Devotion woven into every breath I take. Love that knows no boundaries, no end.' Nothing amazing."

Anna was nearly to the landing at the top of the stairs when she twisted awkwardly, turning to look back at him with something akin to panic on her face.

"Bob," she croaked, and he rushed toward her as she sat down hard. He reached out gently, trying to figure out if she was hurt.

"Are you okay? Did you twist it?"

"Bob," she gasped, reaching for the front of his undershirt and pulling him closer so he was focused on her pretty face. "You're Sky Writing."

He froze, vaguely terrified by the knowledge that she was calling him by his pen name. But there was also a small part of him that was thrilled that Anna was the one saying it. Somehow it felt right for a second before it felt very, very wrong. Anna knew what he wrote. Anna knew about his romantic desires. Anna knew about his depraved wants.

"Oh, shit," he whispered as her gaze grew even more surprised. 

"It's really you," she moaned softly, licking her lips and tugging him even closer. His knee came down gently on the step as he held onto her ankle, and even though the position had him covering most of her, she must have known she was in charge here. When he nodded, she started to close the distance between their lips as she whispered, "You're incredible."

Bob let his lips slam into hers as she tangled her fingers in his hair. She knew his words, and somehow she was kissing him anyway. In fact, she was wrapping her other ankle his around his waist and pulling him closer. He was certain he'd never kissed anyone on the stairs before. He was certain he'd never had an erection on the stairs before either. 

He was very aware of everything right now. The sound of the rain hitting the roof and the windows. The feel of Anna's fingers tugging on his hair. The vibration of her soft moans as she kissed him. The friction between his sweatpants and her leggings. 

"Anna," he gasped between kisses, but she was back on him immediately. There was no way she couldn't feel him getting hard. His gray boxer briefs could only do so much to conceal how badly he needed her, but every time he tried to ease his hips back away from her, she dug her heel in harder against his lower back.

When she released his lips, her nose glided along his until she was bumping his glasses. Her breath was soft on his face as she said, "Bob, I want you to show me the romance section in your bedroom. Please."

There was no way he could say no to her ever again.

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Anna was shocked. Bob was Sky Writing. The poet of her wildest dreams. The man who wrote so beautifully, she could imagine herself being adored. The man who recently wrote about falling in love with a beautiful woman with intoxicating red hair. 

His body was warm and strong over hers, and she wanted him everywhere. Each kiss was more perfect than the last. He told her he kept his romance novels in his bedroom, and she wanted to be treated to the same fate. She wanted to go there. When she told him as much, he started to scoop her up to her feet. In the dim lighting, she could tell his cheeks were flushed pink, and she knew she did that to him.

Bob guided her backwards up to the top step, and she knew he wouldn't let her fall. A few more stumbling steps and they were standing in his bedroom doorway with her hands holding his face and his fingers digging into her hips. "Did you write about me?" she asked softly, afraid he wouldn't be able to hear her over the rain, but too scared to speak any louder. "The new poems about the redhead?"

"I did," he replied without hesitation. 

Two words and Anna's hands were trailing down the back of his neck, pulling him closer until they were kissing again. "I want you," she whimpered against his lips. "I've wanted you for months." She was weak. She was so weak for him and the way he smelled and all of his books. His hands tightened around her hips and slid down a few inches until he was holding her in place and slowly grinding his hard length against her.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Anna," he breathed as she kissed the side of his neck. "Since the first time I saw you in the bookstore."

She moaned and let him lift her up by the backs of her thighs and carry her to his bed with her arms tight around his neck. When he sat down, she was straddling his hips, and his sinful gray sweatpants did nothing to hide him from her at this point. He felt huge as she rubbed herself on his cock through all of their clothing. His big hands were up the back of her shirt, and his fingers felt rough on her skin while she licked and kissed her way to his ear.

"Show me the romance," she whispered with a smile. 

"Oh. Uh..." He shifted like he was going to move toward the books stacked on his dresser where the soft light from a lamp made the room glow warm. "I have-"

"That's not the romance I want right now," she told him, and in an instant, she was laying on her back with her hands on the waistband of his sweatpants. 

"Better?" he asked, running his hands up her sides where her shirt was hiked up, pressing soft kisses to her lips.

"Yes," she promised, spreading her legs wider so he could settle against her core while he pushed her shirt up over her bra. Her nipples were almost painfully hard, and then his fingers found them through the lace. "Bob," she groaned, earning herself his cock pressed to her clit. If he kept it up, she would soak her leggings. His handsome face was hovering above hers, cheeks tinted pink and lips parted, and she arched her back for him when he started to run his fingers to the back of her bra.

It had been so long since anyone touched her intimately, and here she was in a room that smelled delicious like Bob while he deftly unhooked her bra and guided it and her shirt away from her body in one smooth motion. Her body was okay; her boobs were too small, and her belly wasn't flat, but he was looking down at her and taking the time to memorize everything. Then he groaned her name before his lips found the valley between her breasts, and three seconds later she was panting.

She slowly peeled his white undershirt over his head as she could barely focus on anything except his mouth on her nipples. His glasses were crooked on his face when he looked up at her, and he sounded out of breath as she dropped his shirt to the floor. "Anna. What do you want from me?" She answered by rolling her hips up to meet his, and he squeezed his eyes closed as he said, "You want that? Because once I really get going with you, I'm not going to be able to stop."

God, that was the sexiest thing she'd ever heard. She reached down for the front of his pants and tugged at them, letting them slide down his narrow hips. He gasped a few obscenities under his breath, and goosebumps erupted on her skin. Then she slipped her fingers inside his underwear, and she was met with his thick cock.

"Yes, I want that," she promised, looking up at him and his messy hair and perfect face. "I want you."

She yelped as his big hands practically tore her leggings from her body, and then Bob settled in with his broad shoulders propping up her thighs and his mouth ghosting over her pussy. "I want you, too," he whispered before tasting her. One long swipe of his tongue turned into two and then three as she grabbed at his bedding and whined incoherently. "So fucking bad, Anna."

Had anything ever felt this good before? Bob's lips plucked at her clit as he whispered a line from his most recent poem, and she knew she was probably dripping on his bed. His hands were strong on her thighs, keeping her spread open. He buried his face in her pussy, fucking her with his tongue while she rode him. He was Sky Writing. He was Bob Floyd. He was the man her friends knew would be perfect for her from the very beginning. He was making her come.

"Fuck, fuck," she gasped as he sucked a little harder on her sensitive, swollen clit and plunged two fingers inside her. He was a bit rougher than she thought he would be, but somehow this was exactly what she needed. Her tits bounced as he finger fucked her until she got loud, and he circled her with his tongue before swiping it back and forth. He didn't rush it. He drew it slowly from her, just right. And then her orgasm left her with shaking legs and thrusting hips. 

The words that fell from her mouth were unintelligible, but she put them together a little bit better as the buzzing in her ears dulled to soft, muffled whir. "Fuck me, Bob."

When he kissed her, she could taste herself. He kept his mouth on hers while he wrestled himself the rest of the way out of his clothing, and then his fingers were stroking her slit, making her shake more. His wet fingers moved to her thigh where he traced a gentle pattern as he said, "All of these freckles. That's all I can think about. The shapes they make when you connect the pretty, little dots. How I could spell out my name with them."

"Oh my god," she moaned. "Oh!" His heavy cock came to rest on her pussy as he continued stroking her skin, and his lips found their way back along her breasts. 

"I wondered for months if your shirts were hiding more of them from me. Was dying to know if your tits were decorated as well." He ran his tongue in a lazy circle around one nipple as he grunted. "They are everywhere, and I want to taste all of them."

Anna was going to combust as Bob took a fistful of her red hair and slid himself down to her opening. He pushed himself in an inch, and she was already crying out for more. Another inch, and she was forcing her thighs open as far as they would go. He was licking and kissing her shoulders and collar bones while he slowly filled her until she hiccupped with need. He was so big, stretching her as her hands scrambled on his shoulders. And then he was fucking her, muttering like a mad man about freckles and the color red and how much he wanted her. His muscles rippled with intent beneath her fingers while he moved. This was already the best she'd ever had.

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

As the rain beat a rushed pattern on the bedroom windows, Bob moved at his own pace, needing this to last as long as possible. She was the woman of his dreams, panting and mewling beneath him as he fucked her. He couldn't keep his lips off of that one freckle next to her right nipple, and he didn't want to. Her skin felt like the smoothest silk, and she was beautiful when she was whining his name.

With a fistful of her red hair, he thrust harder, deeper, and his narrow hips pushed into those perfect thighs, already spread wide for him. She was soft everywhere as she took him, and the gentle bounce of her tits was mesmerizing.

Then he felt that first squeeze, and he shivered as Anna's fingers dug into the back of his neck. She looked surprised as he released her nipple in favor of her lips, licking at the pretty freckles on her cheek before he kissed her. He had her bottom lip tucked between his as she clenched his cock again and gasped his name. That's all he wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

"Say it again," he murmured, and when he bottomed out, he was treated to her gasping voice once more. He stroked her temple with his thumb, drawing his name out of her again and again as she looked up at him with wide, brown eyes. She knew exactly who was doing this to her, and Bob wanted to be sure she remembered how it felt when her pussy started to milk him. She had to be close, and he was too as he told her, "Say it one more time."

Her voice was soft and lighter than air. "Bob." Then her head tipped back as he fucked her with a dozen intentional strokes, pressing against her clit until she got loud. She was clenching him harder as her hips came up off of his bed, and she cried out as she clung to him. Her legs were shaking, and her fingers were tugging at his hair, and the next few strokes into her tight pussy were just for him.

"Anna," he gasped as his glasses slid down his nose. He felt the familiar pull at the base of his spine. It was a warning, and he knew it. "Do I need to pull out?" But she was just starting to come down from her second orgasm, and all she seemed to be able to do was look up at him with a dreamy expression that he didn't want to see vanish yet. He kissed her lips gently even as he thrusted deep and whispered, "Baby, do I need to pull out?"

She was shaking her head just slightly from side to side, and he was afraid to take that as the answer he was looking for, but he didn't want to pull out. He wanted to cum inside her. After he asked one more time, she finally whispered, "No." And then it was a done deal. He filled her up, practically shouting her name as she kissed along his jaw and chin, completely sated and soft underneath him. 

Bob smiled at Anna and buried his face against her neck and shoulder, fighting the urge to tell her exactly how much she meant to him. He was still deep inside her as he kissed her ear and whispered her name, and soft laughter bubbled from her lips. His fingers were still tangled in her hair, but his grasp was gentler now. He would get up and make dinner for her, and then maybe she would want to join him in the shower before snuggling in bed. If she wanted to go for round two, he wouldn't say no. Perhaps he could convince her to sleep over and let him drop her off at her place early on Monday morning. They could read some poetry together. Maybe he could even read what he'd written about her on PoetsAmongUs.

Feeling better than he had in months, he started to pull himself free from her inviting body. He let his soft cock slip free, watching as his thick cum dribbled out of her, and he moaned before she sat up slightly. He kissed her knee before he asked, "Want me to make you a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner? I usually burn them, but I'll make sure yours is perfect. And then maybe we can talk about us?" 

He was rubbing his fingers along her ankle where there was a particularly attractive cluster of freckles when she abruptly sat up. Her brown eyes were wild as she repeated, "Us?" Bob was nodding, his smile tentative now, but it faded into nothing as she yanked her ankle away and scrambled off of his bed. "Oh no," she whispered, and he watched in horror as tears filled her eyes as she pulled her clothing back on.

"Anna?" he asked softly, climbing out of bed next to her and reaching for his sweatpants. "What's.... did I do something wrong?"

"No," she sobbed, swiping at her tears while refusing to meet his eyes as she slipped her shirt over her bra and turned toward his bedroom door. "You always do everything right. That's why I couldn't help myself."

Now he found himself chasing her down the stairs. He watched her pick up her phone and shove her feet into her shoes. "I don't understand," he whispered, running his hands through his hair as he stood there and watched her wrench his front door open. 

The sound of the rain got louder as she pushed open the screen door, but he could still clearly hear every word she said to him with pure agony on her face. "I'm so sorry, Bob. I'm married."

And then she was gone, running out into the rainy night while his door swung closed with a loud bang.

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He really rocked her world, too. Why is he so hot? Why is she such a mess? I love them so much. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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#bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd fic #robert floyd imagine #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd fanfiction #robert floyd x oc #robert floyd #robert floyd fic #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #covering the classics

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 16: Please Come Back To Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter sixteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 7.6K (You know you love it)

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Alot of Angst, Crying, Heartbreak, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Additional Warning: This chapter contains severe amounts of fluff and angst. Ben is SUPER OOC and really soft in this chapter, I will not apologize for that, but I will say you're welcome 😉 If you don't like either of those things, then probably shouldn't read this?

***************************************************

When you wake up you think you dreamed it all, but one look at your blotchy red face in the mirror of your bathroom, dried snot on your shirt, and your inability to find your phone means that it did happen.

Ben was back and you didn't know where to go from here.

Bits and pieces of the conversation explode in your head like fireworks and your grip on the bathroom sink tightens so much that the countertop cracks beneath your hands.

Shit.

You extract your fingers from the marble that crumbled like gravel in your iron grip and glance down at your watch. You’d been asleep for 7 hours, which meant that now it was 10 pm and you probably weren't going to sleep tonight.

As if you could after everything that just happened.

Honestly, you were surprised that you had been able to, but you figured it was just the exhaustion of everything that happened, the heartbreak, the shouting, the tears, the inability of you to let go of the past, and Ben's confession of love that you waited 80 years to hear. You had wondered in the past if he wanted to say it the night that you decided to come with him, if he really did care for you as much as you cared for him all these years. Now that you knew, you wish you didn't. You wish that you could let him go, let go of the things that happened all those years ago, and wish that you hadn't fallen for him and expected him to catch you.

You think about crawling back into bed and hugging your pillow until you fall asleep so you don’t have to think about Ben. You wince at the thought of his name.

He apologized, admitted that he loved me, said that what he did was wrong, said that he wouldn’t leave- The urge to cry lodges in the back of your throat. How do I have any tears left?

You think about how much you wanted to run to him, to throw yourself into his arms, but you knew that you shouldn't want to. Ben broke you. What he did weighed on your heart everyday, but you wanted to forgive him.

How can I still want him as much as I do? How can I want him to fix this even after he did everything he could to push me away?

The look in his eyes when he confessed his feelings to you flashes through your mind in black and white.

Ben admitted weakness, said that he was scared of all things. Ben wasn't afraid of anything.

Over 40 years of friendship meant that you knew every part of him, but the part you had seen in your apartment, him practically begging you to forgive him was not one that you were used to and was not one that you had ever seen.

It was unusual for him to look broken and vulnerable.

The closest you'd ever come to seeing it was on the nights back in Philadelphia when he tapped on your window, on nights when his father gave him a hard time and Ben needed a place to crash. When the look in his eyes made you want to pull him into your arms and never let him go, to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that he wasn't a disappointment. Because despite everything with Countess, Ben wasn't a disappointment to you.

Everything was easier when you were kids, when Ben would fall asleep beside you in your bed and when you woke up in his arms, you wished that he did it on purpose.

I guess he was trying to say that he did it on purpose. You sigh as you walk into your closet to find a soft t-shirt while avoiding the duffle bag that you threw inside the double doors before you collapsed onto the bed.

But even if he was sorry, how do I know he won’t just act like the boy I used to know and tomorrow pretend he doesn’t exist? It was so easy for him to do that, to say that I meant nothing to him, to act like he didn't care.

You think about the morning after your birthday, when he looked soft and happy in your bed and how quickly he shifted into the cold mask he wore as Soldier Boy. How easy it was for him to push you away and ignore you, act like you didn’t exist and cling to Countess at the premiere.

How do I know he won’t do that again? How can I trust him? How can I forget everything he did?

You think about the night you found him with Countess, think about the moments before at the premiere, when she made you believe that you were the ugly little girl who watched Ben prance around your birthday party with Missy Callahan. Your mind stutters on her name, remembering the last time you heard it in conversation on the night that you wished would never end.

"Don't be jealous of Missy Callahan. She's nothing compared to you. Never has been, never will be."

You hear Ben whisper it to you while your song played and remember that it made you feel like you were floating, made you feel understood and seen for the first time in your life. The memory of the night you spent together rises to the surface and you allow yourself to remember, remember how it felt to finally have him completely, how much it meant to you for him to be there with you, and how he made you feel special and loved.

Your jaw clenches as the image of him with Countess sours the memory of the perfect night you had together, as the memory of the words he shouted at you rip through the happy glow you had the morning after your birthday when you told him everything you'd always wanted to.

And then the memory of what he said to you a few hours ago rises.

"We made love. I understood that when I woke up the next morning and I was happy to be there with you. I knew that I loved you and I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up instead. I fucked Countess because I was scared of what loving you meant. But I'm ready now, I'm not scared anymore. I love you!"

Damn it why does it have to be like this. You clench your teeth together in anger and frustration. Why did he have to do this? Why did I have to love him? Why couldn't he have just stayed gone? Why did he have to come here-

"No. I love you and I'm not leaving!"

The words reverberate around in your skull, shaking through your body like an avalanche, shaking the foundation that you built to push him away. Because you didn't want to. You didn't want him to leave. You didn't want him to leave ever again. But you weren't sure if you could survive again if he did that again. If you opened your heart to him only to have him crush it under his heel all over again.

It was so long ago. 40 years. 40 years that he said he spent regretting what he said that night. We both said things that night.

Sometimes you wondered if Ben was as broken as you were after the fight. You think about how he looked when you went into your room and think about what he said.

Maybe he was.

Apart of you didn’t want to forgive him and didn’t believe that he really understood what he did to you. The other part wanted to leave your apartment and find him, ask him to stay, forgive him and let him back in to your heart.

More frustrated tears slip down your cheeks as you look for a pair of your soft sweatpants. When you walk out of your closet you think about going back to bed again, but you knew that sleep wouldn't come.

Maybe I should call Rosie. She'd be proud of me for not forgiving him, but probably would be mad that he came here. And I should probably tell her that I didn't have to go to Russia.

That thought gives you the strength to leave your bedroom, bare feet padding down the cool floors of the hallway back to your living room. The lights are all off, save from one single lamp on the coffee table next to the plush leather couch, the same one that you'd thrown Ben over when he grabbed your arm.

But when you cross from the hallway into the living room, you realize that you aren't alone.

Ben is sitting on the couch, leaning forward on his forearms, a blunt perched in his right hand where his arm rests against his knee, looking down at his feet. He looks up at you when you walk in, eyes piercing in the warm light of the lamp, familiar in a way that almost makes you start crying all over again.

"What are you still doing here? I thought I told you-" You begin to say, voice hoarse from crying, trying to summon up enough anger to push him away, but then your eyes shift to your kitchen counter.

A pretty glass vase of fresh cut lavender sits on the counter, the sharp clean smell floats through the air soothing the anger and frustration that you drew on to speak.

Despite your age and the way most considered them to be classic, you thought that over the years roses had become generic. But you loved lavender. It reminded you of the country home your family lived at over the summers when your mother declared that the smog in the city was too much and you all needed a holiday. She always seemed softer in the countryside, all the sharp edges of the city melting away. She didn’t snipe at your figure or your paint stained hands, if anything she gave you more freedom. You spent your summers outside in the garden staring up at the clouds missing Ben, painting and sketching, while the smell of the flowers enveloped your senses. You used to send letters to him and some sketches of flowers or small painted doodles after pressing fresh lavender into the envelopes so they would smell like it when they got to him. You wanted him to think of you whenever he smelled lavender.

He remembered how much I loved lavender?

Your eyes shift to the cigar box that lays open next to it, focusing on the slips of paper that seem to spill out over your countertop.

Are those-

You reach into the box and pull out the yellowed pages of letters delicately, eyes drifting across the paper, recognizing your handwriting, remembering the painstaking moments you spent writing them to Ben, hoping that he got them, and hoping that he missed you as much as you missed him. Underneath the ones from the summers are the ones that you sent him when he was at boarding school and then finally the faded pencil sketches and faded watercolor paintings you sent him. Each piece is folded and refolded as if someone continued to look at them over and over again.

Your fingers drift over a small doodle that you did of Ben and you sitting on a bench in Philadelphia, the one that captured you laughing at something Ben said.

It was so much easier then.

“You kept them?” You breathe while looking down at the pages.

Ben stands from the couch, putting out the blunt in one of the decorative glass ashtrays on your coffee table, watching you with the same expression in his eyes that he had when you were there earlier, when you told him to leave and not come back.

"Ben-" Tears begin to fall all over again as you meet his gaze.

"I hated those summers when you were gone. I used to sleep in your room and read the letters." He whispers. "It made me realize how much I needed you in my life. I never needed anyone before." His jaw clenches together as if the thought makes him angry.

“You asked me once why I didn’t stay at those schools. It’s because when I was at all those shitty boarding schools the only thing I could think about was getting back to you, coming back home.”

The word rings in the air between you and you suddenly understand what he is saying, remember what he said the day you were together at your first baseball game and you asked him why he didn't like staying at the boarding schools.

"I don't like being there. It's not home." He had said it so casually, but you remember being confused at his reply, but now you know.

He was saying that home was with you and it made your heart feel like it was ripping itself in half because you were still so angry with him but you didn’t want to be. Not when he was saying the very thing you’d known from the beginning. That being with him was home.

“Ben-“ You say, trying to strengthen your resolve, trying to summon the anger you’ve kept close to your heart for forty years.

"Every time I came to see you, tapped on your window I thought you would push me away, turn your back on me and you never did. And when all this supe shit happened I needed you with me too, that's why I asked you to come with me. Those years before and when we were on Payback, you put up with all my shit. Even when I did horrible things to other people, you stood by me. You know more about me than anyone else, have known me for longer than anyone else-" He takes a cautionary step forward.

Tears continue to fall from your eyes, sobs shaking your shoulders, but you can't speak.

"That night with you, felt different. Even before when we were at that restaurant it was different. I didn't want to leave. It was like nothing changed, like we were in your room again just talking, before all this, when we were still in Philadelphia. The only memories that I have from Philadelphia that are worth remembering are the moments I spent with you.  And when I asked if I could come back to your place I-" He sighs rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought you would say no, but you didn't. And then you told me that you had wanted me almost as much as I'd wanted you all those years, that you needed me. I always thought that it was only me that needed you."

"Ben I can't-" You voice breaks looking away from him.

Ben is close enough now that his fingers come under your chin to tilt your face up to his. “I shouldn’t have said what I said or did what I did. I didn’t want to need anyone. I thought that I had to push you away because loving you meant I was weak. But it’s not true. Loving you is the only good thing that I’ve ever done and loving you is the only thing that makes me strong.”

You close your eyes to avoid his gaze, you wanted to believe him, but you weren’t sure that you could.

"I've fucked a lot of women in my life y/n, I won't apologize for that. But I've only made love to one." His thumb brushes away another tear that falls from your eyes. "And when you told me that you wanted me to be your first, it did something to me. I wanted to be everything you needed. I didn't want just one night with you. I wanted all of them. When I woke up the next morning with you in my arms, I didn't want it to end. All those nights when I showed up at your apartment, I didn’t want to go home. I just wanted to stay with you because it was home. Even when we were kids, being with you in your room it was the only place that I felt like I belonged.”

Your hand can't help but come up between the two of you, resting solidly on his chest. Apart of you wants to push him away, but you can’t.

Ben is still touching your face, holding it up to his. Your bodies are so close together that you can feel the heat of his skin through the air between you. Another tear falls and Ben's thumb brushes it away. The smell of the lavender is intoxicating, broken up only by the familiar smell of Ben's aftershave and soap.

And somehow you find your voice. It shakes, but you hold his gaze. "I hated you for a long time. What you said broke me. I was broken so many years. I still am-“

“Sweetheart-“

“No.” You inhale sharply. “I want to believe you, but I don’t think you understand what you did. I want to believe that you’ve changed but this is exactly what happened that night on my birthday. Don’t you see? How can I believe you? How do I know that you won't pretend to be everything I want, pretend that you’re the boy I fell in love with and then the next morning you’ll push me away and act like he doesn’t exist-“ Tears leave warm trails down your cheeks.  "I’m not strong enough to go through that again.”

“I promise-“

“Ben you’ve promised in the past. And I-“ More tears come. “I’ve tried so hard to put it behind me. I want to believe that you’re still you but I don’t know if I can trust you again like I did.”

"Y/n." Ben looks deep into your eyes. "I didn't pretend that night. The only time I pretended not to care was in the morning and at the premiere-"

"And how do I know you won't do it again?" You sob. "When you think that it's too weak to admit that you care about me?"

"I do fucking care about you."

"You say that now."

"I love you."

"Ben I can't-"

"I said those things because I-" He sighs, shoulders tight in frustration and anger. "I thought that I needed to push you away, that I shouldn't care about anyone as much as I care about you. But I do.  I fucking care about you more than I've ever cared about anyone in my life. I didn’t want to need anyone but I do. I need you. That’s why I kept showing up in your life. That’s why I spent so many nights in your bed. I couldn’t survive the night alone and I needed you with me, even after we took the damn serum.”

“But-“

“That night when you told me that asshole, Howard proposed I knew that I couldn't lose you. I didn't want you to marry that fucker. I wanted you to be with me. He didn't know you the same way I did, he didn't understand you. He didn't deserve you. And the night we danced together I called you ‘my girl’ because I wanted you to be. I wanted you to be mine. Not because I wanted to piss him off. Because I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you. You’re the one, the only one.”

You drop your gaze to his chest, sobbing quietly to yourself. Ben tilts your head up towards his one more time, to look deeply into your eyes.  There's an unfamiliar vulnerability that stares back at you, the same one you saw when Ben would come to your bedroom and wait for you to ask him to stay because he thought you would push him away the way everyone else did.

"I promise that I will never do that to you again. I know it doesn't make what I did or what I said okay. But I will spend the rest of my life trying to fix it because I can't lose you. I’ve spent forty years away from you and I don’t want to spend anymore time away. I love you. And I hate that I fucking hurt you this much."

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, hear the raw emotion in his voice, but you’re still unsure.

“Please y/n I want to fix this." He says again.

“I know you do. But you can’t just show up 40 years later And expect to fix it in one night. I know it’s not your fault that you didn’t come sooner but, you hurt me-“

“I know I did-“ his eyes drop to your shoulders as the memory of how he grabbed you that night blankets his mind.

“No not like that. Ben you don’t understand. Sorry isn’t enough. And yes hearing you say all these things was nice but it’s not enough to make me forget everything that happened.”

“But-“

“No. Ben I loved you, more than I’d ever loved anyone I-“ You shake your head tears falling fast. “I lost pieces of myself to make you happy  to make sure that you had someone in your life that cared for you. I stayed for so long with you because it was all I thought I could do. And every time I thought I could leave to do something for myself you would do something to pull me back in like you had a fucking radar and knew oh if I do something that she wants I’ll get her to stay with me a little longer!”

“I knew you were unhappy! I was trying to make you happy! I wanted you to stay with me-“

“By manipulating me?”

“No it wasn’t because I wanted to manipulate you I-“ He exhales in frustration. “You told me that you wanted someone to come home to, someone who loved you, a family, I wanted to give you those things! I saw how you were looking at the other couples, I knew what you wanted. That’s why I held your hand at dinner, gave you the necklace, and that’s why I kissed you-“

“But then you pushed me away. You pushed me away when I needed you the most, when I finally said what I'd been trying to say for years.” Your voice shakes. “I can’t go to bed every night with you and wake up with the dread that you’re going to push me away again and say that I mean nothing. That you’ll be cold and unfeeling and- I can’t do that to myself again.”

“I promise I won’t-“

“I don’t know if I believe you. If I can after everything."

"Please just tell me what I can do to fix it."

"I don't know!" You shout running your fingers through your hair pulling back from him. Because you wanted him to fix it. You loved every bit of the words he said, the love he confessed to you. You loved the way he was looking at you, the way he wanted to make this up to you, but your heart wouldn't let go. It couldn't let go of the things he shouted at you, couldn't let go of the image of him and Countess, couldn't forget how happy you were to tell him you loved him and then he just acted like you were nothing. The words he said that night begin to circulate, bringing you deeper into the dark pit that threatened to swallow you whole, the pit that you'd fallen into when you thought he died.

"Ben I-" Your voice catches in your throat. "I wish that I knew what you could do to fix this. I want you to. I want to forget all of it. And I want to forgive you because I still fucking love you, but I can't do it in one day. I can’t -" And despite your better judgement you crumple against his chest, tears smearing against the front of his shirt, body shaking with sobs, and trying hard to not think how it feels the same as it always has to be pressed against him.

Ben's arms come up around you to wrap you in his embrace, tucking your head under his chin as he begins to drag his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion.

The gentleness of his touch makes you cry harder against him, hold on to him so tight that you think you'll break him in half, but he doesn't complain, he just stands there with you. It reminds you of when he came to hold you in the hotel room when your brother died, when he drove for hours to be there for you. Because despite everything that had happened between you, Ben was always there with you before that night with Countess.

You don’t know how long you standing there together, but finally Ben picks you up and carries you down the dark hallway to your bedroom and deposits you on the bed.

He waits a minute on the edge, standing as if he's unsure, brow scrunched up in frustration and anger.

"I didn't mean to hurt you this fucking much. And I don’t know how to-“ His jaw tenses and he shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut like he can't look at you. “I don’t know how to- fuck- I can’t lose you.” Ben grips his hair so tightly you think he’s going to pull it out.

“Ben.” You sigh and despite everything , you stand up from the bed to hug him, allowing him to press his head into your shoulder and hug you so tight it hurts.  It breaks something deeper in your chest because you can see how broken he is, how much he wants to fix this, and how much of him he was willing to let you see.

You didn't understand how he was being so open, how he was allowing himself to be like this after all the bullshit toxic masculinity he usually spouted and how he pushed away his feelings for so long. You wondered if after this he would push you away because you had seen him like this, or if he really did love you and that was why he was doing it.

“It’s okay.” You soothe, running your hands up and down his back. “It’s alright.”

But you’re not sure it is. 

"If you still want me to leave I will. I can sleep on the couch.” Ben whispers. The emotion that flashes in his eyes when he says it, breaks your heart. It's vulnerable and raw, so different that the mask Ben wore as Soldier Boy. “But please don’t make me go.”

"I don't want you to go." You whisper. “Even after everything. I want you here with me, it’s just hard.”

“I’m sorry-"

“I know you are Ben.” You both stand there for a minute and you weigh your options.

You think about making him go back out on the couch, making him sleep alone, but you don’t want that. You knew that you’d spend the whole night thinking about him. And as much as a part of you wanted to push him away, you couldn't. So you do the opposite.

You take his hand and gently entwine your fingers with his. Ben stares down at them for a moment confused, before you sit on the bed, scooting back and tugging softly, but he hesitates.

“Are you sure?” He asks in a whisper, gaze raising from your hands to catch your eye.

You nod once tugging his hand again and this time he follows you down into the mattress.

He slides in next to you beneath the covers, keeping your hands entwined between the two of you so that they are locked against his chest as you face one another on the bed, heads resting on different pillows, but close enough that you can feel his warm breath every time he exhales.

Ben's eyes search yours. “I tried to call after. I picked up the phone but every time I did I couldn’t-“  He sighs. "I was such a fucking pussy. I didn't know what to say. I should have just come over-"

"I wouldn't have let you in." You breathe. "I didn't want to see you, didn't want to see anyone. Stan Edgar tried to come talk to me and I broke his nose."

"Really?" Ben smiles.

"Yeah." You try to smile back, but you can't.

Ben raises his free hand to push back your hair and tuck it behind your ear, but his eyes drop to your shoulders tracing the imaginary bruises that he left behind all those years ago. "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I didn’t mean to-“

You press your lips into a tight line. “I think that’s the only time I’ve ever been afraid of you.” You say in a whisper. You hadn’t wanted to admit it aloud, but it was true. You had been angry and heartbroken, but the fact that Ben had laid a hand on you, was prepared to hurt you had scared you. It was what solidified that the thought that boy you loved was gone.

But the look on his face breaks something inside you, pain and anguish flashing in his eyes.

"Ben-" You sigh, shifting forward closer to him, but he releases your hand and instead wraps his arm around your waist to pull you into his chest, pressing his head into your shoulder. You know that he can't say what he's thinking right now, but he doesn't have to.

“I also remember doing something to you.” You say because you don't know what else to, you’re not used to seeing him look so broken.

“I deserved it.” He mumbles into your shirt.

“You didn’t deserve what I said about your dad-“

“I did. You were right.”

“Ben you’re not like him.”

“But I am. Everything I did to you, is something he would have done.” He mutters, pulling you tighter against him. “I don’t know how to fucking fix this.”

“This is helping a little bit.” You whisper against your better judgement, while you inhale his shampoo and lean further into his chest. It was weird to be here with him after all these years, after all the years you spent hating him. You didn't want to forgive him, you wanted to be angry but at the same time you wanted to believe him, you wanted to believe that the boy you fell in love with was still there.

And laying here with him holding you the way you always wanted him to, made you remember that boy.

“Yeah?” He breathes, raising his head from your shoulder.

“Mhmm.”

You lay there for a minute in his embrace and it's like he never left. It's the same as when you were kids and you laid in bed together. And finally you say. "As angry as I am, I still love you. You matter too much to me for me to let you go. I think that's why it hurts so much, because you're all I had Ben and I-"

"That's why I can't lose you. You're all I have and that’s enough. You are enough. You always have been and always will be.” Ben states his eyes are wide with his confession, the pain of what he did to you flashes through them. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I never could think of a way to say it.”

More tears spring from your eyes and you wonder when you’ll stop crying.

Ben leans his forehead against yours. His expression softens as he looks into your eyes, his touch gentle against your cheek. “But if you’ll let me, I’d like to show you how much I love you and how sorry I am.” The look in his eyes is softer than you’ve ever seen it, reminding you of how he looked on those early mornings still half asleep and reminding you of how he looked the morning after your birthday before he ran.

You know he means well, and you understand what he’s asking, why he’s asking. He’s trying to make it up to you the only way he knows how, but you can’t do it. It's too soon. Too much after everything that happened and too much considering you're still trying to come to terms with the fact that he's here and he's finally saying everything you ever wanted him to. Not to mention that you haven't completely forgiven him.

“Ben?"

“Yeah?”

“Can you just hold me tonight?” You breathe. You felt disgusting. You had snot and tears all over your face and your cheeks were bright red and splotchy from crying. “I’m not ready for that. Not after everything. I don't think I can-”

You watch disappointment flicker in his eyes but he recovers with a soft smile. "It's okay. We can take this slow, whatever you need."

Ben drops the hand that was against your cheek and wraps his arm around your waist to pull you into his chest. You snuggle into his arms breathing in the familiar smell before bringing your arms up to wrap around the back of his neck in a tight hug.

“Did they hurt you?” You ask before you can stop yourself.

Ben’s arms tighten around you and you know that he must be remembering the past 40 years.

“What they did doesn’t matter.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t come for you." You pull back to look into his eyes. "The others told me you were dead. I wouldn’t have left you there if I knew-“

“I know.” Ben leans his forehead against yours. “I would have come for you too.”

“I know.”

 “It means a lot to me that you were still willing to come get me after everything I fucking put you through.”

“That’s what love is.”

“No.” Ben whispers. “That’s you.”

“Ben-“

“I don’t deserve you. You’ve stood by me, put up with all my shit all these years and you never turned your back on me. What I did to you is unforgivable and yet you want me here with you-“

“Ben.” You sigh. “I know that I shouldn’t want you here and a part of me wants to push you away. I should make you leave, but I can’t. You’re my best friend and I love you. And that means that even though you’re the one who hurt me, you’re the only person that I want here, comforting me. As fucked up as that is, I don’t care. What you did was horrible, but I promise that I’m going to try my best to forgive you. It might take a long time, but I want to trust you again, because I love you and I never stopped.”

He frowns despite what you confessed. “You don’t regret-“

“I said a lot of things that night. And you did too." You push his hair back over his forehead. "And for the record, I don't think your father would care about making it up to someone else. We both know that he didn't care about anyone but himself. And even after everything that happened you're proving that you aren't him, right now, by being here with me."

He presses his lips together in a tight line. "Okay."

It’s quiet for a few moments as both of you stare at one another in the dim light of your bedroom.

“Have you really loved me since we were 8?” Ben whispers.

“Yeah. Since the study.” You're not sure if you should be embarrassed or not.

He smiles. “I was 10. It was the night of my mom's funeral. My dad was giving me some shit about something, but I couldn't stop thinking about you so I climbed up the tree outside your window. I wasn't going to ask you to come in, I was just going to sit on the ledge and watch you draw. I like watching you draw, it's like you're in your own little world and you forget about everything else. You always seem so happy." Ben smiles wider. "I like seeing you happy."

You remembered that night. You had a weird feeling that someone was watching you and when you looked out your window you had seen Ben sitting there. You had made a joke about him stalking you, but then invited him in. It was the first night that he had ever spent in your bed.

"And then when we woke up the next morning, you were laying there snoring-" Ben snorts.

"I do not snore." You smile with a sniffle

"You do. It's cute." Ben's smile turns softer. "And I didn't want to wake you up, because it meant that we'd have to move and I didn't want to ever move. Because moving meant that I would have to go back to my dad and I didn't want that. I just wanted to stay there with you."                                     

More tears pour from your eyes with his confession because again you can’t see Soldier Boy, you just see Ben, but you know it’ll take a long time until you’re completely healed.

“I didn’t want to say anything. I thought that if I did you would push me away and I didn’t have anyone else that mattered in my life. And you deserved better than me. I was always getting kicked out of boarding schools I was a fuck up. A disappointment.” Ben sighs, brushing away your tears again. “Even after we took the serum I was.  You deserved someone who was-“

“I didn’t think you were a fuck up, Ben. I’ve never thought that. I hate what your father said to you, what he did to you. I hate that he made you feel like you didn’t matter.”  You stroke your fingertips through his hair and Ben sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. “You are worth so much more than what he told you. You mean so much to me, more than anyone else ever. That’s why I never told you. I didn’t want to lose you. You’re everything to me.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I promise I’m never going to leave you again. I missed you so fucking much sweetheart.”

“I missed you too.” You continue to move your fingers through his hair. In the past you had avoided the urge to do so, but now you wanted to comfort him. Because as much as you wanted to forget the last forty years, you wondered what they had been like for him. You wanted him to tell you what they did to him.

“Feels nice.” He murmurs, arms tightening around your waist.

“Your hair’s a lot longer.” You can’t help but smile at his reaction.

“Didn’t have time to cut it.”

“So is your beard-“

“If you don’t like it I can shave it off-“

“No don’t.” You say it quickly and Ben opens one eye to smirk at you.

“Guess you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Then I’ll keep it just for you Sweetheart.” He leans further into you. “You know I think you look pretty good too.”

You snort. “You don’t have to butter me up just because you feel bad. I’m wearing sweatpants, I haven't brushed my hair, and my face is all puffy-“

“You look beautiful.”

“Well-“

“Stop. You do.”

“Ben-“

This time Ben raises his hand to cup your chin. “Will you just let me compliment my girl?”

The nickname is familiar. You remember the last time he called you that, when you were dancing and he finally kissed you for the first time. “Do you really mean it this time?”

“I always meant it. You are mine and nothing else matters.” The look in his eyes is determined, as if he wants you to understand how much you mean to him.

“Does that mean that you're mine too?" Your voice is almost a whisper, frightened of his answer. Although he had apologized and said that he wanted to make it up to you, you were still afraid. Afraid that Ben couldn't do this.

"Y/n." Ben's expression is pained. "I promise I will never do that again. I will never hurt you like that ever. Believe me when I say that."

"I'm trying to."

“What can I do to fix it?” He asks again.

“I don’t know.”

And you don't. Because you understood that Ben was trying his hardest to make up for what happened, and yes you loved that he was like this now, but you were afraid, afraid that the next day you'd wake up and he'd be gone and Soldier Boy would be back.

Ben sighs. "I am yours and I don’t want to be anywhere else." His eyes are focused on you, determined, but filled with a softness that turns the beautiful emerald into a clover that reminds you of the soft grass at the park the day you painted him.

You weren’t used to him looking at you like that, like you were the only person in the world. It had only happened one other time, the morning after your birthday when you were more happy than you'd ever been in your entire life.

“Okay.” You whisper back because you don’t know what else to say. “Ben?”

“Mhmm?”

“What did they do to you?”

Ben’s body tenses. “It doesn’t matter now.”

"Please tell me.”

“Why?”

“Because you were there for forty years and I-“

“It doesn’t fucking matter. Just drop it.” Ben snaps, eyes blazing green.

You wait for a beat, watching the blaze of his eyes turn down to a simmer. “It’s okay to admit that the last forty years haven’t been easy. I won’t judge you for that or think less of you Ben. And if we’re going to do this, be in a relationship, you’re going to need to share things with me. It can’t be one sided-“

“It’s not going to be one sided, I just don’t want to talk about that.”

“Okay.” You sigh, settling back down next to him. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed. You knew that Ben kept his cards close to his chest, but you wanted him to be open with you about things like that.

The silence grows between you filled with unspoken things.

“They wanted to see if I could die, if they could make me fucking normal again.” Ben mutters into the top of your head. And then he tells you, tells you what happened that day in Nicaragua, tells you about the testing, about the nuclear bomb they put into his chest, about every single thing they did to him over the past forty years. With each revelation of the last forty years your arms tighten around his body in a hug, holding him to you while his words make anger surge in your chest like an uncontrollable fire.

How could they do that to him? How could they hurt him like that? And Payback? They were our teammates. How could they turn their back on Ben like that? Give him up so easily and not for any kind of money?

You think about what Countess confessed to you, when she said that she purposely drove you two apart.

They were right to. If they had tried any of that with me there, I would have ripped them all apart if they tried to take Ben away.

Your fingers fall into Ben’s hair, gently dragging back and forth at the base of his skull while he continues, trying to bring him some comfort.

“Ben I’m so sorry.” You say when he finishes.

“It’s okay-“

“It’s not. Nothing they did to you is okay.”

“I deserved it.”

His words make an ice cold chill travel down your spine. It was the second time that he had said something like that tonight.

“Ben.”

You lean back from him to look him in the eye, but he won’t meet your gaze. Your hands cup his cheeks, his scruff prickling against your palms as you bring his attention to you. He looks lost and it scares you. Ben never did that. He was always together, it was you that usually had that haunting look in your eyes, but you could see what they did to him reflected in the familiar green. He looked worn.

“You didn’t deserve what they did to you. No one deserves that. And yeah maybe you said some shit you shouldn’t have and maybe you did something bad, but I never want to hear you say that again. Do you understand me? Never say that again. You didn’t deserve that. And I promise you that you’re never going back. I will not let them take you again.”

Ben nods once and your hands slip from his cheeks to go around his neck once more to pull him into a tight hug.

“I didn’t mean to hurt those people.” He mutters into the top of your head remembering what happened in Mid-town.

You had heard about it through Rosemary, who had several patients who had been hurt in the explosion, not to mention every news station seemed to have it on 24/7.

“I know. It’s okay. You just lost control. It happens to all of us.” You think about killing Countess. “It doesn’t make you a bad guy.”

“Hmm.”

It was weird for Ben to allow this, to allow you to hold him, but somewhere deep down you wondered if he always wanted you to, but he just never said and didn’t want to admit it out loud.

Weirder still was that he was holding you to him too, curling his arms around you and pulling you into his chest like you belonged there. And despite everything that happened, despite how angry you wanted to be, being here with him felt like you were coming home.

“You should sleep.” He whispers after a little while, as his hand trails down your spine, moving up and down in a soothing motion.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“If you want me to be.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I always want you here.” You breathe into his skin. “I lied when I said I never wanted to see you again.”

“Then I will be.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head that makes you cuddle further into him, tightening your arms were they wrap around his neck to pull him into you.

And you hope that one day it won't hurt, that one day you won't hear the words he yelled at you, and that one day you can believe and trust him again like you did.

******************************************************

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[paradiseprincesss]

Jonathan Crane with a cam corder… 📸

mind games - jonathan crane x reader

hello anon! you asked and you shall receive. please enjoy xoxo. this gave me a fucked up idea about the whole camcorder thing...oops. i am SORRY.

summary: as fate would have it, you meet handsome stranger who you learn is named jonathan, and the two of you hit it off well - so well, that he invites you back to his place after a romantic date. what you didn't realize was that this wasn't the doing of fate at all, it was a plan jonathan had in the works for a long, long time.

warnings: NON-CON, jonathan is in his joe goldberg era (he's stalking), manipulation, voyeurism (no like, really), non-consensual filming/recording, obsessive behaviour, p in v, guys this is just super fucked up i have...no explantion

you didn't see it coming. you wouldn't have gone running into his arms if you did. jonathan was the loner type - never opening his heart to anyone.

that was until he saw you - he was taken with you from the moment he laid eyes on you. you had to be his; he wouldn't have it any other way. he was set on having you succumb to him.

this man had an immense amount of self control. he had prowled, waited, stalked and targeted you for months and you didn't have a clue. he first saw you on the street by his apartment at 9:48 pm exactly on a fateful friday night - you stole his tainted heart.

on that particular night, you were heading to your favourite bar with your friends, and he watched you as you stepped out of your uber. his eyes lingered for much too long, and before he knew it; he was plotting.

he lurked in the shadows of the night to see when you would leave, and he got his answer - 12:58 am. that was the time when he saw you leave the bar, waving goodbye to your friends as you waited outside momentarily for an uber to pick you up.

he noticed everything about you down to a t. the way you parted your hair, the colour of your nails, the way you did your makeup, what kind of clothes you wore - everything.

while you waited for your uber, your intuition kicked in - was someone watching you?

but you tried to shake the feeling - it was probably just paranoia, it was late, after all. he watched as you stood there waiting, and knew he had to make a move then and there.

"excuse me, miss!" you hear a mans voice say from behind you, causing you to startle slightly, and he noticed. "i apologize, i didn't mean to startle you. i just came over to say that perhaps you should wait inside the bar rather than outside on the street. this part of gotham isn't exactly known for it's...friendly townspeople."

the way he spoke calmed you down - he had a gentle, caring aura and you took a good look at him as well. he was handsome - my god was he handsome. he was perfect; every detail about him was almost godlike. the first thing you noticed about him were his striking, blue eyes. you didn't know someone could have such beautiful eyes.

"oh," you managed to softly say after an awkward moment of checking out the handsome stranger in front of you, "thank you for letting me know, but it's okay. my uber should be here in a minute." you thank the seemingly kind stranger, and he nods.

"right, well - be safe. have a good night." he says softly, and you almost got lost in his eyes again.

"thank you, you as well." you reply, a small smile on your lips.

and with that, he was gone - walked right back into his apartment building without another word. well, that's what it looked like, anyways. however, that was far from the truth.

your uber arrived within mere seconds, and you got in. jonathan watched from the shadows of an alleyway behind you, and as you and your uber set off, he hailed down the nearest cab he could find.

"just follow that white car over there." he tells the cab driver, and the guy doesn't question it. this was gotham after all, nobody ever questioned anything - nobody had any morals.

you were too focused on texting your friends, still a little tipsy, in the uber to notice that a cab had been tailing you for the last fifteen minutes.

whoops.

as the uber driver pulled up to the curb of your house, you get out and thank him tiredly. you grab your keys out of your purse, and unlock the front door of your house. closing the door (and thankfully, locking it) behind you, you switch on the lights of your home.

you threw your jacket on the couch and slipped off your high heels with a sigh. unbeknownst to you, someone was watching your every move through your curtains - which you habitually left open a little too often. jonathan let his sinister thoughts run wild as he watched you from the street in front of your home, standing just far enough so that he wasn't noticeable.

he watched you like a lion stalking it's prey - silently and from a distance, undetected.

suddenly, his eyes widened as he saw you start to undress in your bedroom upstairs, too focused on his lewd thoughts about you to notice that you had even gone upstairs.

foolish girl, he thought to himself as he creeped on you. slowly, you slipped your dress off, and to his surprise - you weren't wearing any panties under your dress.

where you an exhibitionist? a thrill-seeker? a huge freak? just mental? maybe you were just slutty, who knows. but as he was trying to collect his thoughts, he frowned.

you threw on some baggy pyjamas - disappointing. he wanted to see more. but what came next perhaps shocked him more than the whole no panties thing; you got into your bed, and held up what appeared to be pictures of some sort in your hands.

and you started crying.

you were actually crying, and that caught jonathan off guard.

why were you crying? did someone hurt you? did someone break your heart? shatter it in two? ruin you?

the questions ran through his mind endlessly, and he felt himself wanting to know. so, he decided to document this moment so that he could get to know you better.

jonathan liked to document things. that was a habit of his that he couldn't quite seem to kick.

unbeknownst to jonathan, you were crying over old photos of you and your ex-boyfriend. he wasn't a good person by any means, quite the opposite - but that didn't mean you weren't going to mourn the relationship. it had barely been a month since the two of you split; and you were so vulnerable right now.

at that very moment, you wished someone else could be there for you. that you could run into someone else's arms and they would save you - because you craved it. you needed it. and jonathan seemed to sense that without you even having to say a single word to him.

he could save you, he thought. he could be the one to show you what real love looked like.

taking the little, handheld camcorder out of his suit pocket, he started to record you from afar; recording you crying. it was rather innocent, really. at least, it started out that way anyway.

god, some sick, twisted, creepy individual could be watching you - you should really close your curtains, jonathan thought to himself as he watched you, smirking coyly at the irony of it all.

after filming you for a few more minutes, he slipped the camcorder away, and hailed a cab down the street from yours back to his apartment.

the sun was shining beautifully, the birds were chirping, and the weather was divine on this pleasant summer day. you were loving this summer weather, and you were currently standing in line at your favourite coffee shop, waiting to order an iced latte.

but jonathan already knew that.

he watched you get ready to go out as he stood on the street in broad daylight staring at you through the windows, since apparently you didn't know how to close your fucking curtains.

he got some good footage that day on his camcorder.

as of now, jonathan was stood behind you in the coffee shop, acting like he hadn't just filmed you like a sick freak for the last few hours. as you went up to the barista to order, you reached into your purse to pay - only to realize you had forgotten your wallet at home.

but again, jonathan was aware of this because technically, he was there in spirit when it happened.

so, what did he do? he offered to pay, of course. because he's just that kind.

"here, i got it-" he said from behind you, pulling his card out to tap on the machine. you looked behind you in surprise - but you recognized those striking eyes immediately.

it was the kind stranger from the other night! he really was a sweetheart, wasn't he?

"oh, gosh, thank you." you say, flustered at the interaction and slightly embarrassed. "it's no problem-" but he pauses, smiling at you for a moment, "hey, you're the girl i saw the other night. i'm glad you made it home safely."

you smile back at the stranger, yet to put a name to his gorgeous face. "yeah, yeah that was me." you say, the two of you stepping aside so that other people could order. "thank you again - i'm so embarrassed." you laugh softly.

"don't be," he says gently, "i'm jonathan, by the way."

he finally introduced himself - but he already knew you quite well. a little too well. you gave him your name, briefly introducing yourself, and he looks at you through his glasses.

"well, it's lovely to, er- meet you again?" he laughs softly, and you giggle - your voice giving him butterflies. "right, nice to re-meet you." you tease, making him smile again.

"are you doing anything today? hopefully not getting too tipsy, i hope - kidding." he says to you with a friendly tone, and you shake your head laughing. "that wasn't on the agenda today, no."

he knew that it wasn't. he knew that today you had nothing planned. you just wanted to enjoy the pretty weather, maybe go for a walk or something with your iced latte. and how did he know this, you ask? well, that's simple.

he stood by your window last night, camcorder in hand, and recorded you talking to your friend about it on the phone in bed - in just your bra and panties.

"i'm taking the day off today." your voice brought him back to reality. "i think i'm just going to enjoy the beautiful weather today. i love the sun, it makes me feel so energized - i dunno."

"i agree with you there." he says, nodding as if he was hearing about this for the first time. but your next question actually caught him off guard. "d'wanna join me?"

he looks at you for a moment, and you start to get flustered again. "sorry- i'm sure you have a girlfriend or something-"

"hey, hey-" he says soothingly, "first of all, i do not have a girlfriend. and secondly, i would love to. it's my day off as well, actually."

you beam at him, and he finds your smile so cute. god, he just wanted to fucking choke you right then and there - but of course, he had some self control.

the two of you spent the day together, enjoying the gorgeous summer day, and you hit it off instantly. you learned that his full name was jonathan crane, and that he was a doctor at arkham asylum. you told him about what you did for a living, and he told you he found it "fascinating."

before you said goodbye, he asked for your number which you willingly gave over. the rush of being able to actually talk to you was almost too much for him, and his brain was short-circuiting at the mere thought of it.

that night, the two of you parted ways - but you both ended up back at your place; you just weren't aware that you had company.

this time, taking your photos and filming you from afar wasn't satisfying the urges in him anymore. he needed more. as the sun set, you finished doing the dishes and cleaned up after cooking dinner. you made your way to your living room, switching off your lights - except a slim lamp that stood beside your couch.

getting cozy and comfortable in your house wear, you put on your favourite show to watch, and sat back blissfully on your couch - while someone else was watching you in the dark.

he had managed to make his way in through the huge window - which you stupidly left unlocked - by your living room hours earlier while you were preoccupied upstairs getting changed.

he did a pretty good job at hiding out of sight from you - and he internally applauded himself for that.

suddenly, you got up from the couch, startling him, and he hid closer to the shadows - lurking in the darkness of what you called home.

he watched you finally close those fucking curtains, then returning to the couch you previously sat at. he wondered why now of all times you decided to close your curtains-

oh.

that's when he heard it.

soft, little moans were being drawn out of your pretty lips as your fingers ghosted over your clit. he could feel himself getting painfuly hard at just your sounds - because remember, he couldn't see all of you from where he was hiding.

so, you were indulging in a little self pleasure - was that so wrong? to be fair, you thought you were all alone. your moans got breathier, louder as you slowly slipped two fingers into your aching hole.

jonathan - being the sick psychopath he was - snuck his way around the darkness of your downstairs floor, trying to be as stealthy and quiet as possible. finally, he saw what he was so desperately trying to see.

you with your baggy shirt, which had ridden up, exposing your pretty tits and your fingers in your pretty pussy, panties thrown on your living room floor.

he watched, and he had to physically hold himself back from taking you right then and there - trying his hardest not to moan at the sight of you fucking yourself with your fingers.

slowly, he slipped his hand into his pocket - and pulled out his camcorder. pressing record, he started to film you from where he was. he was definitely going to jerk off to this later. he filmed all of it - you fingering yourself, your pretty moans, and of course, when you came all over your own fingers.

after you came down from your high, you laid breathless on your couch for a good while. jonathan took this opportunity to sneak out of your house - undetected.

that night, he watched that video of you on repeat, over and over, cumming all over his fist as he breathlessly moaned your name.

you shook your head as you laughed in the dimly lit restaurant, "it was the worst date i'd ever been on."

jonathan looked at you, smiling and laughing along with you. "that sounds...brutal, if i'm being honest."

the two of you were on your first official date - which you had been discussing over text and on the phone, and now it was finally happening. jonathans obsessive little heart was overflowing with joy.

the two of you were currently drinking expensive champagne and sharing "worst first date" stories - and you really thought this man, this stranger who fate brought into your life, could be the one.

he was so funny, so kind, so charming - it was like you knew him for ages.

as the date came to an end, he took your hand, holding onto it softly after paying the bill (because he's still a classy guy, after all), and spoke to you in a saccharine voice.

"would it be so terrible if i asked if you'd like to come back to my place?"

you blushed and bit your lip, shaking your head. "not terrible at all - count me in."

and that may have quite literally been the biggest mistake of your life, maybe even bigger than the mistake of not closing your curtains.

as he parked his car in the parking garage of the apartment complex, he helped you out of his car and held your hand as he took you into the elevator and then to his apartment.

unit #303 - you'd come to never forget it.

as the two of you got inside his place, you took a moment to admire the classiness of his apartment. it was clean, minimalistic and dark, and just like him, it appeared to be a perfectly normal from the surface.

"you truly are stunning." he said lowly, pulling you close by your waist, making you blush.

"i really like you, jonathan." you tell him softly, and he gives you a gentle kiss. willingly, you kiss back - unaware of what was to come next.

"i knew i had to make you mine the night i first saw you." he says, looking at you with a soft smile. you didn't think about what he really meant here - you weren't even aware of what he really meant. "that's so sweet." you whisper, and his grip on your waist tightened suddenly.

"no, really." he says, tone growing slightly impatient, "i couldn't stop myself."

your breath hitches in your throat as you aren't too sure what he means by this - but you try and give him the benefit of the doubt. "uh," you laugh nervously, "t-thank you, i guess?"

then he went quiet.

"would you like to see my mask?" he asks, after a moment of silence - and you look at him confused and slightly scared. "your...mask?"

suddenly, he's guiding you into the bedroom, and you're feeling both confused and very anxious - but your anxiety skyrockets as you take a look at what was in his bedroom.

photos of you covered the wall - pictures of you that you weren't aware had even been taken. there was photos of you talking on the phone to your friends, cooking, watching shows - and then there were the not-so-innocent photos.

pictures of you with your fingers buried into your cunt, pictures of you walking around naked, and pictures of you posing in your lingerie on the bed; taking pictures of yourself in the mirror to send to someone else.

your body went into flight or fight - and you tried to make a run for it but a cloudy gas filled your senses, causing you to scream erratically. what appeared in front of you was horrendous - your worst fears brought to life, clouding your vision.

and there stood jonathan in the midst of all the chaos - in what appeared to be some sort of burlap mask. staring at you with those deadly yet beautiful blue eyes through the small holes in his mask. as his toxin started to creep into your system, you noticed he was holding something in his hand.

a camcorder.

judging by all the pictures of you on the wall, you knew where this was going and it made you fucking nauseous.

"n-no.." you whimpered, shaking as he took hold of you and threw you onto the bed. he propped his camcorder up onto the bedside table, the red light flashing; indicating that he was indeed filming this.

he ripped your clothes right off you, and at this point, you were a sobbing mess. "please don't do this - you don't have to do this, jonathan."

you begged, you screamed, and you cried; but to no avail, he kept going. kept undressing you and forcing you down onto his bed - scarecrow mask still covering his face.

"keep screaming like that and i'll cum." he says, pinning you down on the bed with such force you didn't even know if it was humanely possible. the hallucinations of the toxin had you thrashing and screaming, and while you were busy fearing for your life - he was busy undoing his pants and belt buckle.

"no, no, please no-" you pleaded with him, but he didn't give in - he was never going to set you free. "shh, let me see your fears consume you, my love." he whispered, picking up the camcorder again.

you were drugged up out of your mind at this point, the toxin taking it's full effects on you. just as your high was reaching it's deadly peak, you felt the tip of his cock poke at your cunt.

you sobbed at the feeling of it - just by the tip you could feel how thick he was - how big he was. he was going to rip you open; you could just feel it.

"say hi to the camera, my love." he tells you, while spitting onto his cock to try and fit it in with a little more ease. as you sobbed with the camcorder in your face, he pushed himself into you with a staggered thrust.

the feeling of him forcing his cock in was brutal.

"i-i can't take it!" you thrashed and screamed, but he kept your wrists pinned down with one hand and the camcorder in the other. "too big?" he cooed, "fuck baby, you can take it. and if you can't - i'll force you to."

he fucked you roughly, your tight cunt squeezing him in all the disgustingly right ways. you weren't trying to get wet - it was just your body's natural response. at this point, you had stopped crying from either pure shock or from the drugs - probably both.

"jon-"

"fuck, that's right baby. say my name." he groans, panning the camcorder down to film your abused little cunt taking his huge cock - pounding into you mercilessly.

"should i cum inside?" he grunted, fat cock pushing into your cervix - undoubtably bruising your insides. "yeah, i think i will. you'd look so pretty with my cum dripping out of you."

you shook your head no, pleading with him to pull out since you weren't on any contraceptives at the moment - but it dawned on you that he probably knew that.

"please no, pull o-out, ah- jon, pull out!" you wriggled around in his grasp, begging and pleading with the psychopath who was balls deep in your cunt right now.

"no." he spat, and continued his assault on you. "you can fucking take it." you tried your hardest to push away from him, scratch him, bite him - anything to try and get away but it was no use. his grip was unwavering.

after a few more excruciatingly painful thrusts into your abused cunt, he painted your walls white with his sticky cum, filling you up to the brim.

"god, i love you." he whispered as he spilled his seed into you, and you sobbed at his words in pure disgust. as the toxin slowly wore off, you laid there lifelessly, the light inside you draining minute by minute. your eyes darted around the bedroom, taking in all the eerie pictures of you scattered all over the walls.

your mind flashed back to the fateful night you first met him; your intuition was right - it never lies.

someone was watching you.

a/n: i will be writing a bunch of soft, fluffy crane fics and drabbles to recover from THIS. ok bye

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy imagine #cillian fic #cillian x fem!reader #jonathan crane x f!reader #dr jonathan crane #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x female reader #jonathan crane x y/n #cillian fanfic #cillian x y/n

[my-love-is-sunlight]

Ok now I need the strawhats meeting with laws Mexican s/o plz🙏🙏🙇‍♀️

your mind anon!!! absolutely

Law + mexican s/o meeting the strawhats

Masterlist

Pt.1

You finally had the opportunity to properly meet the strawhats until after the events in Wano, during a huge celebration for their victory

At the beginning of the alliance Law had asked you to keep your relationship a secret as to not put you in danger or give information that could hurt him away to other pirates

Eventually you broke and made it a little obvious that both of you were together and honestly he didn’t mind it that much anymore, of course Luffy wasn’t gonna be able to shut his mouth about it but after all, he had warmed up to the strawhats even if he wouldn’t admit it

Honestly they’re just surprised anyone would date Law, they know him as this brooding grumpy methodic of a Captain

They are asking a million questions about you and how did you guys got together making a fuss out of it

“How did you and Traffy met?”- you arch an eyebrow “Traffy?”

You are not letting the new nickname die and Law is absolutely livid, every time it leaves your lips he rolls his eyes to the back of his head

The first one to ask about your history was Robin after she picked up on your accent and antics. She was so amazed by you and wanted to know everything about where you came from

Suddenly everyone wants to learn spanish

“How do you say my name?” -“How do you say this in spanish?” -“Can you teach me some curses?”

Zoro and Sanji individually ask you for phrases to say that the other wouldn’t understand and piss each other off; you tell them the same ones and screw their little plan

When Sanji hears Law talk about your amazing cooking he is asking you for a million recipes, spices and just overall tips and techniques, notebook in hand

“Keep your hands to yourself you stupid cook” he grumbles as he sees Sanji swoon all over you

I hc Luffy as mexican (thank you Iñaky) so I see you and him bonding on that, having full conversations in spanish that Law can’t keep up with so he’s pouting in a corner not understand a thing

Nobody knew Luffy was mexican and they’re so taken aback “Nobody asked me” he says laughing

You talk about stuff you grew up with and things you miss having around now that you live on the sea

You end up being Luffy’s favorite heart pirate out of this alone and he makes you feel like home which is something both of you appreciate

No one is leaving the party until you make tamales for everyone

“Sanji you better learn to make some tamales” Luffy exclaims with his mouth full

You tell Usopp there are tamales made out of deer meat and he uses that information to scare Chopper

He’s traumatized

Nami asks you about your outfit and you tell her about the history of it and how it’s made and she even offers you some berry if you get her a set (which shocks everyone, Nami paying for stuff? Crazy)

Brook is 100% learning how to play some of your favorite songs, everyone is out of their seat vibing to some cumbias and Luffy eating that shit up

Everyone is all over you and Law is not having it, this should be quality time for both of you; he doesn’t want to share you, but seeing you having so much fun smiling and laughing with everyone while you sit by his side the whole night makes his heart full, he’d get you for himself later

#one piece #trafalgar law headcanons #trafalgar law one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law #law x y/n #law x you #law x reader #law headcanons #trafalgar one piece #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #x reader #one piece hcs #one piece headcanons #mexico #mexican reader

[marmorafarms]

My King

Pairing: Labru (Laios/Kabru)

Rating: Mature for sexual situations

Summary: Laios is concerned about potentially getting married, as he has no idea how to even kiss! Maybe Kabru will be willing to teach him a thing or two. Fic is a gift for @wasabi-gumdrop

A/N: The name "Modern Standard Elvish" is a play on "Modern Standard Arabic." The difference between "hot" and "horny" is in reference to the Spanish word caliente. Also, Kabru is trans in this fic!

You can find the fic on ao3 or read below!

___

Night was falling, but Kabru was still awake, pouring over the latest letters sent from the Elves. As he was fluent in Elvish, Kabru was able to read through the letters and translate them for Laios to read. Marcille had offered to help, but unfortunately she knew Modern Standard Elvish and wasn’t familiar with regional sayings and phrases.

“But it’s all the same language!” Marcille had burst out as Kabru tried to explain the differences between the regions.

“True,” Kabru said, “But differences arise, and different slang and turns of phrases come about. And you almost made a horrible mistake, Marcille.”

“How was I supposed to know that this is slang for ‘horny’ where the Queen lives?” Marcille said, frustrated. “I was taught it means ‘hot’ like temperature!”

“And it does,” Kabru said calmly, “But in this region, it’s more commonly used as slang for horny. There’s a different word they use for hot.”

Marcille had left the translations and letter writing to Kabru ever since then. So here he was, nose deep in his work, laser focused on his task. So when the door slammed open, Kabru jumped a mile into the air. He whipped around to see who had caused the disruption, fully ready to snap at whoever it was. But when he saw who it was, his anger melted away and turned into concern.

In his doorway stood Laios, his cloak lopsided and eyes wide with panic. He was breathing heavily, highly alarming Kabru. Was he drunk? No, that’s not how drunk people acted. Did Fleki leave her drugs here? Had he thought they were regular mushrooms? No, she usually passed out when she got high. So what was going on?

“Kabru!” Laios finally said, and stood up straight. “I need help!”

“With what?” Kabru asked. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Laios grumbled. “I’m not.”

There was something about his tone though. He didn’t sound as though something was truly wrong. He sounded like a child being told they needed to do a task that they really didn’t want to do. What was Laios trying to get out of this time?

“What’s going on?”

“Yaad says I have to get married,” Laios said frantically. “He said that it’s important that I have a queen.”

A flicker of annoyance sparked in Kabru’s chest, but he did his best to ignore it. “And what’s the issue?”

“What’s the—Kabru! You know I don’t want to get married!” Laios said. “We’ve been over this!”

Laios wasn’t lying, the discussion of him potentially getting married had been brought up more than once. Laios had shot the idea down each and every time. He had been engaged once before and wasn’t interested in doing that again.

“It’s just not for me,” Laios had said, so everyone had sighed and decided to leave it be. But it seemed as though Yaad was really putting the pressure on this time.

“You never said why don’t want to get married,” Kabru said. “There are plenty of women out there who would be great candidates. Wasn’t Marcille your succubus once?”

Laios turned bright red. “Don’t bring that up!” he said, looking away from Kabru. “I told you that in confidence, nobody else can know!”

“And they won’t,” Kabru said. “I just think that it’s interesting that no woman seems good enough. Is it maybe that no woman is good enough? That maybe you’d rather someone else?”

Laios blinked in confusion. “What?” he asked, and Kabru’s lips twitched in amusement. Laios was always a bit slow on the uptake.

“Do you want a man?” Kabru asked.

“Oh!” Laios said, and for some reason looked slightly uncomfortable.

“Um, I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never thought about that before. Is that allowed?”

“You’re the king,” Kabru pointed out, “You can decide. And you can also decide to tell Yaad that you don’t want to get married.”

“It’s not that easy!” Laios said, and began pacing the floor. “The way he seems so…so terrified when he thinks about the future of the kingdom! He really seems to think I need to get married, and it’s just so hard to say no!”

“You know,” Kabru said slowly, “You should really tell me why you don’t want to get married. What’s the real reason?” Laios stopped pacing and turned to look at Kabru, his face suddenly bright.

“Yes!” he said in a weirdly cheery voice. “That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you!”

“Oh?” Kabru asked. Laios nodded.

“You see, Yaad keeps talking about babies. And well…I wouldn’t really know where to begin with making one. I mean, I know how, but I don’t know what to do. I’ve never even kissed anyone!”

“I. You. Wait hold on,” Kabru said, pinching the bridge of his nose,

“You want me to give you sex lessons?”

“Well I mean you’ve been with a ton of girls,” Laios said. “I thought you’d be the right! I thought about waiting and writing to Chilchuck but that would take way too long! Will you tell me what to do?”

“Laios,” Kabru said, trying to keep his voice steady, “I can tell you how to kiss someone and how to make them feel good in bed, but it’s something you have to just…do.”

“Oh,” Laios said, face falling. “So you can’t teach me.”

“I didn’t say that,” Kabru said, heart beating fast.

Laios cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy, and Kabru cleared his throat. “I could show you.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Kabru wanted to snatch them up and shove them back down his throat. There was absolutely no way he could do this! He couldn’t just…just fuck Laios! Not only was he his friend, he was the king! This was twelve kinds of not okay, and yet…here he was. Offering.

“You want to…?” Laios started, and Kabru quickly cut across him.

“Only if you want to, and it would just be kissing,” he said. “Practice makes perfect, right? And you’ve got to learn the basics. With most people, they start of with just kissing. So…that’s where we’ll start,”

Kabru said, and stood up from his chair. “Now. Do you want to?”

Laios stared at him for a moment before slowly nodding.

“Sure,” he said, and Kabru frowned.

“That’s not what I’m looking for Laios,” he said, his voice dropping a few octaves. He walked over to Laios and put his hand on large expanse of his chest. “Tell me, do you want this? Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Laios said in a breathy tone, and Kabru nodded.

“Let’s go to your room,” he said, “People probably won’t interrupt us there, you’re the king after all.”

“Oh, right. I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, and Kabru shook his head. Of course he hadn’t. Had he really expected Kabru to rail him in the study?

But they weren’t doing that, Kabru reminded himself. It was kissing, and only kissing. They weren’t going to go further, no.

At first the two walked slowly down the hall, trying to be cool and casual. But it didn’t take long before they were walking at a brisk pace, practically racing each other to Laios’ room.

Kabru had wanted this for a while, and everyone in the castle knew. Everyone except Laios, that is. According to Marcille, his feelings were extremely obvious, and Kabru hated that. He was usually so good at keeping a facade. At first he had brushed Marcille off, but it was Falin who really made him realize that yes, his feelings were obvious.

“Why do you keep looking at my brother with sad cow eyes?” she had asked one day.

“With what?” Kabru asked, throughly confused.

“Our cows back home used to have this look on their eyes…kind of sad almost…big beautiful eyes just staring at you. When you look at my brother, you look like them. Your eyes get all big and…sad? No…not sad. I’m not really sure. It’s just odd, that’s all,” Falin had said with a shrug, and Kabru was frozen in his tracks.

So yes, Kabru was excited for this moment. But was Laios really okay with it? He had said he was but Kabru still had his doubts. He would need to make absolutely sure. They entered the room, and walked towards the opulent four poster bed, and sat down on it. Laios was loose and casual, and Kabru couldn’t understand it. Shouldn’t he be nervous?

“So what do we do?” Laios asked.

“Well first take the cloak off,” Kabru said, and Laios complied. It was big and bulky and would just get in the way. He gulped as he looked down and Laios’ chest. The bigger man had bulked up a bit since they first met. He worked hard to maintain his original physique, but he still had decent meat on his bones. Laios’ shirt could barely contain his barrel chest, the buttons fighting to stay closed. Kabru would have to put in an order for the tailor to come and refit him for clothing.

“Okay, so…it might be easier if I start, okay? And then you can kiss me back,” Kabru said, voice shaking. Laios nodded, and Kabru slid over.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, cupping Laios’ cheek softly. His friend complied, his lashes like beautiful dark fans as they fluttered shut. He looked so trusting, and Kabru couldn’t help but wonder if this was really okay. But he couldn’t keep Laios waiting…

Kabru leaned in closer, his lips gently brushing against Laios’. But something was off.

“You’re too stiff,” Kabru said. “When my lips touch yours, press yours against mine.” Laios nodded, and Kabru tried again. This time, Laios kissed back and oh. Kabru didn’t know what he was expecting, but he wasn’t expecting such tenderness, such care. He expected awkward fumbling, perhaps Laios trying to use his tongue and being clumsy about it. The soft sound of lips on lips filled the air, and finally Kabru broke away.

“Now your turn,” Kabru said. Laios frowned, his cheeks pink.

“My turn?”

“You kiss me,” Kabru said, but Laios’ frown only deepened.

“I thought I was?” he said, and Kabru laughed lightly.

“No, I mean you start,” he clarified. “Show me how you’d kiss your queen.”

Laios nodded, but this time it wasn’t soft and gentle. It was like a match being lit, flame bursting before them. Laios sometimes took a second to pick up on things, but when he did, he threw himself into it. And he really was throwing himself into it. Their kisses grew deeper, more needy. They were desperate kisses, and Laios was kissing Kabru like he’d never get to kiss anyone ever again.

“Was that okay?” Laios said, breaking away. Kabru wanted to pull him back in, and kiss him more and tell him to never stop.

“More than okay,” Kabru said hoarsely, and Laios beamed at him. “But I got more to teach you. There’s another thing…kind of a kiss…it’s called a hickey.”

“I know what a hickey is,” Laios said. “You just suck and bite a little, right?”

“Yeah. Do you want one? Do you want to see how your queen will feel when you give her one?”

Laios nodded, and Kabru felt a little bad. He was indulging himself in his desires, but fuck did Laios seem to be enjoying it. Kabru pushed Laios down on the bed, crawling on top of him. And oh wow, Laios definitely was enjoying himself, because Kabru could feel his friend’s bulge pressing against him. Pure lust began to pool in between Kabru’s legs, and he tried to calm himself. They weren’t going to go all the way. Just kissing, that’s it.

But as Kabru began to kiss and nip at Laios’ lips, he found his hips instictively grinding downwards. A deep groan issued from Laios’ throat, and Kabru swore.

“Is something wrong?” Laios asked.

“You’re just…you’re so hot,” Kabru said, and began kissing at Laios’ jaw. “You’re so hot, so sexy. You’re gonna make someone very happy, my king.”

At those words, Laios let out a whimper, and Kabru internally raised a brow. Did Laios like being called that? He peppered Laios’ neck with kisses, continuing to grind down against Laios’ clothed cock. Finally, he moved down to Laios’ collarbone, and bit him gently before sucking hard.

“Fuck!” Laios shouted, and Kabru released him. But as he did, he realized something. Laios didn’t feel as hard anymore. And then it clicked.

“Did you just…?”

“I’m sorry!” Laios said, covering his face with his hands, bright red. Kabru sat up, a small smile on his face.

“Hey. You don’t have to hide.”

Laios peeked at Kabru from in between his fingers and gulped. “I shouldn’t have…you know…just from that,” he whispered. “Isn’t it bad? To be so fast?”

“Maybe we can try that again,” Kabru said, voice deep and dripping with honey. “We can get your stamina up. With lots and lots of practice.”

Laios laughed, and pulled Kabru back down. They nuzzled noses and began to kiss again. Kabru knew this couldn’t last. But for now, he’d indulge himself. For now, he’d allow himself to be happy.

#labru #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #kabru #laios

[bones4thecats]

It's You And I, Till The Day I Die

Type of Writing: Random Idea Name: It's You And I, Till The Day I Die Characters: Adam (Hazbin Hotel) Idea-Giver: Random Thoughts

A/N: This honestly almost made me cry, because imagine Lute had saved Adam during the final battle and he realized how much he cared for her at that time. Okay, I’m gonna go coddle up with my among us plush now😿

⚠️ TW: Death, Swearing, Mentions of Blood (golden), and pure angst-to-fluff ⚠️

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Third-Wife! Reader ; Angst-turned-Comfort

🎸 The extermination was supposed to be flawless… it always was! So why… why did such an imperfect thing happen?

🎸 Adam had a small cyclopian-demon behind him holding an angelic weapon! What were you, as his spouse, supposed to do? Protect him, of course!

🎸 And you did just that

" Y/N?! Oh fuck! H-hey! C'mon, stay with me! "

🎸 The residents of the Hazbin Hotel starred in shock as the first man, the man who pledged himself on being hard-to-break, the same guy who killed hundreds, possibly thousands of demons, cry over the dying angel

🎸 His large wings wrapped around you as a small amount of blood began to come out of your mouth from the large amount of wounds coming from the sinner's angelic weapon

🎸 The blood's golden color was beginning to fade in with Adam’s wings, making him tremble at just seeing his wings that he was once prideful over, just get shinier at the cost of his lover's life

" Lute! Gather the others, we're retreating! " " Adam…? " " Y/N…? " " I love you… " " Don't say that now! I know what that fucking means! "

🎸 You held your hand on his face as your husband's tears began to fall freely, like waterfalls were originating in those gorgeous eyes of his

" I love you… Adam… " " Hon'? Rockstar? Love? Y/N! "

~

" Y/N! "

🎸 The sheets were pushed back in surprise as you heard your husband yelling in his sleep. And as you sat up and comfortably stabilized your breathing, Adam looked around frantically

🎸 You knew that ever since a few months ago, Adam was especially jumpy with his nightmares. They seemingly had grown in comparison to the last few years of you two being married

🎸 You adjusted your eyes as Adam breathed heavily and caught sight of you, you had no injuries behind you, there was no blood, he was back in Heaven… you were in Heaven

" Adam? Are you okay? " " I'm fine now, Hon'. "

🎸 Chuckling as he readjusted and laid you so your back was facing him as his arms wrapped around both your chest while the other laid on your stomach, rubbing the bump that bonded both you and him forever

🎸 He was going to protect you forever. Nobody, not even God or Lucifer, would harm you or his baby if he was there

" It's you and I, till the day I die. "

#Hazbin Hotel #Angels #Heaven #Hazbin Hotel x Reader #Angels x Reader #Heaven x Reader #S/O! Reader #F! Reader #Angel! Reader #Hazbin Adam #Hazbin Adam x Reader

[dirt-str1der]

I literally had a dream about reading the worst fan fiction like fucking ever kiryu was just randomly a yandere and nishiki was trying his best to survive also kiryu turned into a dragon (deez nuts) halfway and let nishiki kill him for being a bad boy but he was so upset about having to kill his bro that he just lay in the corpse for a bit and thats when i decided to stop reading and i literally opened tumblr in my dream to complain about how bad it was like the writing went back and forth from being terrible to incredible and i found myself enjoying some parts and despising others. I skipped the first few chapters so i had to tab back out and read the summary like why are they in a beach resort and the summary didnt just tell me nothing but it was also double spaced between each line and very fucking irritating and while reading it i kept thinking this is extremely ooc and boring like they would not fucking say that

#Listen to my problems #i cant stress enough that i dont even ship them why did i read a sex fic about kiryu and nishikiyamer #like i believe they are the bestest of friends forever and ever and like as hotblooded young men growing up together they must have tried a #few sex moves on each other at least once but i dont think they see each other as romantic prospects. like unlike majima and saejima #(seajima) who are literally together all the time and will never travel anywhere without the other unless its to prison. kiryu and nishiki #have this understanding that eventually theyll have to part ways and find their own path. while they would always remain in each others #hearts and thoughts they knew that they couldnt be holding hands forever and besides they have to focus on getting kazama to the top not #each other !! so nishiki was very happy that kiryu was getting his own family soon even if it meant that kiryu was getting ‘ahead’ of him #and kiryu who can accept consequences for himself but no one else was just like um ... well nishiki please give me the gun and take yumi #your sister needs you or whatever <3 i am definitely expendble and prison life is for me yayy yayyyy i love going to jail so nobody can talk #to me ever again. i keep asking myself how difficult it would have been for kiryu to just pop in by the hospital every now and then to check #in on nishikis sister. its not like he cant take care of her. its not like he doesnt know how to earn money. he just straight up thinks that #nishiki is better than him so he should be the one to get locked up ... because nishiki can take care of yumi and i straigh up forgot his si #sisters name and reina and kazama without him. and nishikis like damn i wish kiryu was here so bad (looks at his wwkd bracelet) hm think ill #go insane. i literally forgot what my original point was but that fic was so bad guys im so glad it doesnt exist #in it kiryu was trying his best to keep nishiki in one place and he kept being very. well kiryu was just kiryu but he kept apologising #saying things like you cant leave yet ... and looking at him with his big sad eyes and nishiki would always be like f-fine ... (he doesnt #like it here) also nishiki was one hell of a princess type and had a nurse costume on at some point which means the yakuza server nishiki #propoganda is working on me. very weird. love the part when kiryu was randomly a big dragon because he utterly filled the hallways of their #little beach shack and his scales were nice and soft and he was lovely. little guy

[david-watts]

nothing makes my blood boil more than seeing the piece of shit school I used to go to flying a pride flag outside. what do they have to take pride in? fraud?

#great that they're at least pretending to be inclusive but I doubt the place has changed in the past three years #I mean. they pretended to be inclusive of more than just christianity but iirc they wouldn't let other religious freedom of expression #but they got rid of the compulsory chapel and religious studies so of course they're all inclusive!!! #like these are choices deliberately being made to make the school look better not any deep choices of trying to be better #it's a shitty old surname gets the best treatment excuse of education #when I say 'shitty old surname' I mean if you're from a family that gives them lots of money you get privileges #if your grandfather idk is the only reason that school exists in its current form but you're not picture perfect you're outta luck #I mean. not like I was ostracised for 'being a weird lesbian' because I dared to be oblivious to someone having a crush on me #and being autistic #and that was just totally fine!! 'maybe you should stop being so easy to pick on' was the legit answer I got when I told a teacher #well. it went to my house head and she said that but she's a cop now and she DEFINITELY was horrifically ableist towards me lol #autism? not in girls. that can't affect physical movement anyway. asthma is an excuse so's your damaged ankle #god. I wasn't and still am not a lesbian but sure. #what I WAS though was trans and oh boy!! height of attack helicopter jokes that nobody did anything about #other than 'you're being too loud' #oh and I swear to god if they say that they're not homophobic because they uplifted asshole [guy with the same name as two other guys] #then I'd LOVE to point out the fact that they banned dressing in the opposite uniform. #I'd LOVE to point out that they banned someone I knew from wearing a kilt because 'it's a skirt and boys cannot wear those' to the formal #despite there literally being an official kilt that the pipers wore #I think he actually got in trouble for wearing non-black trousers #I would also love to talk to them about how they mentally tortured at least two people one of whom being myself #and this was led by the school psychologist. #goddamn. #it makes me so mad because they just. I am genuinely so mad #great that they're pretending to be inclusive for brownie points I guess #still makes me super upset to see them claim to be inclusive when they really are not and never have been

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

#spilled ink #writeblr #this is a real story lol #looking back i liked larry as a person SO much more than my ex hollyyyyy shitttt #compulsory heterosexuality will do you DIRTY #edit to correct effies name my apologies to effie and effies family

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

hihi!! idk if ur requests are open so ignore this if they aren't!

reader was cheated on so she goes to simons house for comfort. one thing leads to another and hes saying "i bet he couldn't fuck you like this" while absolutely destroying her

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” Simon grunted as he placed a gentle kiss to your temple. “He’s such a damn fool for what he did.”

You honestly don’t know how you ended up here. One minute you found out your boyfriend of 3 years was cheating on you, and the next you were laying underneath your best friend of 10 years as he completely worshipped you.

You should’ve known better, your boyfriend (well ex-boyfriend now) had so many red flags you’d lost count, but you always tried to see the best in people, never truly realizing just how hurt you could end up because of it.

Simon Riley was the one person in your life who was always your rock, always was there for you, always cared for you when nobody else bothered to. He was the only person you wanted to comfort you tonight.

He welcomed you with open arms like he always did, his hugs able to cure any emotion or ailment you may have. You’d cried your eyes out to him, let out all your frustrations into his chest as he held you close.

You never, never expected to end up kissing him, let alone finding yourself in his bed, being utterly ruined by him later that night. It was everything you never knew you hoped for. After the many years you’d been friends with him, you finally realized that he was the one you’d always wanted to be with.

“I don’t deserve you, Simon. You’re too good for me.” You cried out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix after a particular rough jut of his hips. “I’m so sorry it took me so long to realize.”

“You’ve got that backwards, love.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips before he slotted them against yours. His kiss was gentle, but so full of emotion it had your heart swelling. “I’ve wanted you to be mine since the day I laid eyes on you. I’m a patient man, sweet girl.”

You’d never been fucked like this before, never been worshipped like this. Your body felt weightless, a warm heat spreading throughout your body as Simon’s cock rubbed against your slick walls.

A guttural moan escaped your lips as he increased his pace, the sound of slapping skin filling the room. You felt your high rapidly approaching, as your toes started to curl, and your eyes fluttered shut. He was so fucking good at this.

“Did he make you feel this good, sweetheart?” Simon groaned, his breath fanning over your ear. “I bet he couldn’t fuck you like this, could he?”

You weakly shook your head, your mouth falling open slightly as Simon nipped at your earlobe, his thick length sliding against your walls at a frenzied pace. You��d never felt this full before, this stuffed. It felt like his cock was made just for you.

“That’s what I thought.” He purred, moving to capture your lips in his once more. His tongue darted out, exploring each and every inch of your mouth, committing your taste to memory. “Being so good for me. Can’t believe this is what I’ve been fuckin’ missing out on.”

“Simon.” You chanted, your nails digging crescents into the toned skin of his back. Soft moans and sounds of slapping skin deliciously filling the air as both of you lost yourselves in one another.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Say my name. Let me know how good I’m making you feel.” Simon cooed, his hands lacing with your own above your head as his cock continued to slide in and out of you at a brutal pace. “You are so incredible, love. I should’ve made you mine a long fuckin’ time ago.”

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes, every emotion you were feeling bubbling to the surface. You let your eyes flutter open, your heart skipping a beat as you found Simon looking down at you with complete and utter adoration.

Any self consciousness or self loathing thoughts you may have had before being in your best friend’s arms suddenly vanished, and were now left feeling completely and utterly cherished.

You slipped your hands from Simon’s, and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him impossibly close to you. You never wanted this moment to end. “I’m yours, Simon.”

“That’s right, love. All fuckin’ mine now. I am going to ruin you for any other man, love. Gonna treat you like the princess you are.”

And he fucking did.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #female reader

[the-offside-rule]

Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing) - Explain

Requested: yes

Prompt: 18) "My mum thinks we're dating."

Warnings: Max being dumb asf

Y/n and Victoria had been friends for as long as they could remember. They would visit eachothers houses, carpool to school, go shopping on the weekends; you name it, they did it and they did it together. Now both girls had a set of rules for eachother and Victoria's number one rule was not a surprise at all; her brother was off limits. Y/n didn't have a problem with it because well, Max was older and they rarely talked. Even as children she didn't like him that way, mainly because as a child she thought he looked like a strange lizard of some sort. When Max became a Formula One driver, Y/n found herself with Victoria less and less due to her still having to stay in school, whilst Victoria travelled the world with her brother for a good part of the academic year. But it didn't tarnish their friendship in any way.

In fact, once Y/n graduated from high-school, Victoria managed to get her to a few races that the whole Verstappen family attended. She grew closer with the family as a whole and even became one of the regulars in the paddock after a while. However, Y/n went on to study in Italy and her paddock appearances were significantly lowered to once or twice a year.

The weekend of Monza 2023 was a special one to say the least. Y/n smiled as she walked into the paddock with Victoria, like she did every other time. The cameras took photos, like they did every other year and they walked straight to the hospitality. "I missed this place." Y/n sighed as she looked around the hospitality, holding her godson Luka's hand as he waddled about the place. "I know. They've changed a few things since you've been here last." Victoria smiled as she wheeled the stroller through the paddock. "And where is the golden boy himself?" Y/n asked, obviously referring to Victoria's now two-time world champion brother.  "He's with Mama. They're having their weekly lunch like they usually do." Y/n nodded. "I can't wait to chill in the hospitality. I'd argue it'd my favourite place."

Just as she said she would, Y/n sat in the  hospitality of Red Bull. She got her usual place; a table by the window that overlooked the whole paddock, and close enough to Ferrari so she could get a glimpse of Charles Leclerc walking by. All heads snapped around as the heard large footsteps pounding up the stairs and there appeared a delirious looking Max Verstappen. They locked eyes and Max began walking over to her quite quickly. Did he really miss her that much?

"Hi, Max. How are you-" Max sits down rapidly, making Y/n freeze and look at the dutchman as if he had two heads. "I have a problem. Well, no. We- we have a problem." Max said, stumbling on his words. "You look like you've just seen a ghost." Y/n chuckled as she continued to scroll through her phone. "I- I think I really messed up." Max muttered. Y/n scoffed in reply. "Can't be worse than the time you-" She paused and looked at the familiar face of Max's I fucked up face. "What did you do?" She asked, not putting the phone down. "I- You're going to hate me." Max said. "What have you done?" She asked again. "My mum thinks we're dating." Max blurted out, leaving both of them in stunned silence. "She what?!" She put her phone down and stood up. "I know! It was really dumb!" Max repeated over and over again. "Max! Why did you tell her that!"

"It was an accident!" Max replied defensively. "What exactly did you say?!" Y/n asked. "Well she said we would make a cute couple and I kind of joked that well, what if we were but nobody knew. And then she started smiling like that and asking questions so I just went with it so now-" He paused. "Now she thinks we're together." Max mumbled the last bit. "Max, you need to tell her we aren't!" Y/n said. "But why? She seems so happy-"

"Max! Victoria might actually murder me! I have known her since we were seven!" Y/n whisper shouted. "It'll be fine! She won't know, I am sure of it-"

"Y/n?" Y/n froze as she heard her loving friend Victoria call out her name. Max and Y/n turned to see Victoria walking towards them, almost in the same fashion that Max walked over just a matter of minutes ago. "Victoria, I can explain!"

"Oh I'm so happy for you both! It makes so much sense now! Why you were looking for him this morning, I mean." Vuctoria squealed, engulfing Y/n in a hug. Max stood up chuckling along. "You- you're not mad?" Y/n asked, audibly confused. "Mad? Of course not! Me and Mama have said it many times; that the two of you should be dating. It's about time, to be honest." Y/n smiled and looked between the two Verstappens. "And you! Oh thank goodness you found a nice girlfriend after that last one, she was horrible." Max nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Even Dad is happy about you two!" Max and Y/n didn't know what to say. "And you all want us to...date?"

"Yes! For the longest time. It was so obvious you liked eachother too. So, so obvious." Max looked down at Y/n. The pair's faces turned as red as the Ferrari garage next door. "Well, I'll let you two lovebirds have some alone time. Ill see you both later?" Victoria asked, getting ready to leave. "Yes. Definitely."

"That didn't go how I thought it would." Y/n muttered. "Are we missing something? Do we like eachother but we're just too stupid to tell?" Max asked. "I- I don't know." She whispered. "But, I think we should tell them we aren't together before this gets out of hand." Y/n went to walk, but felt her hand being grabbed. She looked back to see Max. "Or we just play along until it dies down." Max suggested. "That is possibly the most stupid thing you've ever said." Y/n retorted. "Bot really. We both get benefits out of dating. You get recognition for being my girlfriend which comes with brand deals, magazine shoots-"

"I would never date you just for the benefits. I date someone because I love them."

"So so you love me?" Y/n didn't really know how to respond to that. Her mouth opened and closed, searching for the words but she couldn't couldn't a singular sentence. Max's grin widened. "Don't even! I'll see you around." Y/n said storming off, her face red from embarrassment. "Okay. Bye my love!" Max teased. "Shut up!" Did she like him? Did she love him? No! Of course...well....maybe.

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen

[pinkmirth]

⸻ 𝒦ℰℰ𝒫ℰℛ!

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ you’ve fallen for your darling bodyguard, and you’re over the moon to discover that he feels the same. but this feels borderline forbidden . . . for just how long can you keep what you have with reiner under wraps?

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ( 5k+ words of . . . ) bodyguard!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), fluff, nsfw, modern au, scion!reader (descending from a rich family/influential bloodline), hyperfeminine ‘girly-girl’ reader, reiner’s german, mutual pining, secret relationship / sneaky link, public display of affection (pda), food play, car sex (unprotected), slight dacryphilia, creampie, use of pet names ( e.g. mama, baby, honey, princess), reader calls reiner ‘ papa, ’ explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇! ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ this post is an answer to an anonymous ask: ‘ what about secret dates (turned sneaky links) with body guard! reiner??? ’ oh. my. goodness! nonnie, you’re a sexy genius and you should know it. tagging the amazing @ramonathinks! she’s the one who even introduced this bodyguard!rei-rei concept to me, and for that i’m so grateful :) ramona my love, thank you again for all the delicious reiner thoughts you always send my way! now enjoy, xoxo ♡︎

reiner’s your bulking shadow, always trailing not far behind.

he’s been hired by your parents to ensure your safety. nothing more, nothing less. he’ll follow your every step and drive you wherever you please; after all, it’s what he’s paid to do.

things started off the way they should— professional. from the very beginning, reiner knew to keep his distance, and that he did. but he soon realized just how hard that would become . . . you’re effortlessly gorgeous, sharp with your words and caring to a fault. his growing affection was only a matter of time.

nowhere on the criteria for the job does it say that he should be developing feelings. observing your habits, committing them to memory and predicting your behavior is the only thing he’s got any business doing. yet, he loves to feel the softness of your palm in his hand when he helps you into the backseat of your car, even if the contact is just for a split second at most. he finds himself peeking glances at you from the rearview mirror, soaking in how pretty you look when you’re unaware of his gaze. in truth, reiner wishes you didn’t have such an effect on him; that would make work-life much easier on his poor soul. well, love isn’t known for being simple, now is it?

it takes about four weeks on the job for him to grow a soft spot for you. reiner’s always been a hopeless romantic, oh-so quick to fall. he’d willingly lay down his life for the sake of your own, and not just because he’s getting a paycheck for it. thanks to the job description, his devoutness isn’t questioned.

before long, reiner can tell you’re becoming attached to him as well. on a fateful night, he even overhears the phone call between you and your friend, something about ‘ mister braun being so sexy that it hurts . . . ’ your bodyguard is nothing if not a man of dignity. he never meant to eavesdrop! it’s just that he's stationed outside your room for night patrol. he’s now especially glad about being up at five in the morning; he wouldn’t have been able to hear this otherwise. your confessions pry a subtle grin from his lips. there he stands, smiling to himself in the dimly lit hallway where nobody can see him blush like a schoolboy.

‘ nuh-uh, i can’t! that man works for my parents . . . he’s completely off-limits. it's a damn shame, isn’t it? ’ you release a sigh, one so exasperated that he can hear it through the other end of the door. call reiner crazy, but it sounds to him like you’re yearning to have him all to yourself. in a sudden moment, you're emerging from the room, donned in a tiny pink nightgown. cute, but thin as fuck. leaves nothing to the imagination, even. it’s the flimsiest thing he's ever seen you wear.

reiner’s cheeks burn so red that is downright embarrassing, thankfully you're unable to see him. he’s quick to lift his head and look towards the ceiling instead— much more suitable than ogling the tits of his very own client. you wouldn’t be able to catch him staring regardless, considering how the entire corridor’s tainted with darkness, but he wouldn’t dare try to steal a peek anyway.

what he can see, though, is your leisurely smile as you tell him you’re headed to the kitchen to grab a cool glass of water.

“would you like to escort me there too, mister braun? or can i go do something by myself for once?”

you’re playing with him, he realizes. just mere teasing meant to be absolutely harmless. your voice sounds much sweeter at this hour; soft and casual, coated lightly with fatigue from a busy day’s schedule.

“as long as we’re indoors, you can go anywhere you like, madam.” says reiner, “i’ll be here if you need me.”

you make your way to the refrigerator, prancing down the mansion’s luxe spiral staircase, and reiner’s rampant heart finally begins to calm. he wonders if you’d meant for him to hear you on that call. (by now, he knows just how cheeky you can be; it was definitely purposeful.) nevertheless, he's got a job to keep. neither your mother or father would respond kindly if they were to find out that he's become attached to you, or vice versa. he can hardly imagine playing the boyfriend when in reality, he’s supposed to be making sure nothing suspicious comes anywhere near a mile-long radius of you . . . it’s laughable! he’s sure your parents have more than enough money to make him disappear in the blink of an eye— that chilling fact alone puts him on his best behavior.

reiner decides to conceal it; the way he feels for you. keeps his back straight and arms folded to portray the unapproachable persona that got him hired in the first place. you eventually decide to question him over why he so-often wears that solid expression, ‘ like he doesn’t know how to smile, ’ is how you put it. it’s the very first time that you ever hear him laugh, and you turn out to like the sound. rumbly and full of bass. he couldn’t bring himself to admit that in every waking moment, it takes everything to suppress his smile whenever he sees you.

eight months of being in his company brings you to notice that reiner’s a decent listener. he makes for a great conversation, too. sure, he’s just your bodyguard, but he’s got a good ear and a smooth voice. your talks with him are always so lovely; he gives you the comfort to open up about things you’d never be able to tell your parents. pride washes over him when you admit that he’s the only one you genuinely trust. and in these moments, reiner allows himself to get vulnerable too. he tells you of his love for football as a youth, how he takes combat classes five times a week, and that he’s got tons of sisters, brothers and cousins back home in the countryside. the pair of you are so different that the contrast could almost be considered terrible. though, the longer you stay in each other’s presence, the less you can bring yourselves to care.

you and your bodyguard have grown . . . close, to say the least. the way you’re always latching onto his brawny form seems much more than friendly, especially to your parents. ‘ i feel secure with him! ’ is your claim. they’d beg to differ, but your wellbeing is enough to keep them satisfied. reiner excels at his job, and more importantly, the big blonde lug makes you happy. nobody they’ve hired in the past was ever able to get in your good graces; you utterly hated all your former bodyguards. they were much too controlling, lingered too close.

but mister braun was able to differentiate himself. he listens to your dreams and fears alike, treats you like a capable woman instead of some spoiled brat. it also doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly easy on the eyes . . .

reiner can no longer take it. the woman of his dreams is right in front of him, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. the smoothest advance he can make is standing at your right side and slinking an arm around your waist, with claims of it being for your ‘protection.’ but the both of you know it’s only the proximity he’s chasing after. the way he looms beside you was always more self-indulgent than it was for safety. he just liked the closeness of it all.

he feels so much for you, and he’s virtually dying to tell you. but there’s countless reasons why he shouldn’t— particularly the risk of losing his job. every now and again, reiner chooses to be a little bit stupid, all consequences be damned. he works up the nerve to release his confession with slow and careful words. you quickly reciprocate, arms thrown around the back of his neck and tugging him into a cozy hug. he takes you by the waist and pulls you closer in— god, he’s been wanting to do this for so long. reiner hums when your manicured fingers ghost his nape, nails grazing the ends of his hair, with your tits pressed to his own chest. the pair of you fit better than he ever could’ve imagined.

you don’t know whether to call yours and reiner’s relationship ‘ official ’ — can it really be deemed as such when you’re the only ones who know? you dare not mention this to your parents, ‘cause he’s got a job to keep and you couldn’t possibly bear him not being around.

so, you’ve both decided that it’ll be a secret. shared only between you and him, so nobody’s able to intervene. dating your bodyguard is fun— brief kisses being shared when you’re the only ones in the room. the way he snugly hooks his arm around your body when escorting you feels tighter, a little more intimate. in a way, keeping things under wraps feels exhilarating.

your particular relation with mister braun isn’t verified to the outside world, but people are catching on. whenever you go out, reiner’s sure to follow. paparazzi-taken photos of you are occasionally uploaded to the internet, and it’s always a given that he’ll be included. after several months of being seen together time after time, it’s typical of people to assume that this so-called ‘ bodyguard ’ of yours is more of a boyfriend. they aren’t too far off, but you clearly won’t go out of your way to confirm their suspicions. you’re always captured in a picture of you clinging onto his burly arm with a glossy smile. your sweet expressions contrast nicely with his forever-furrowed brows. he’s handsome in this intimidating way, the tabloids say.

it’s a slow-moving thursday when reiner decides to take you on your first date with him. he waits a good hour and forty-five minutes for you to get ready. he’s used to this, of course. by now, he’s got nearly a year’s experience of waiting on you hand and foot. but tonight, his nerves get the best of him. you finish up when he least expects you to— for fuck’s sake, you even catch him pacing in the goddamn kitchen. the sight of you melts his concerns, just a little. you’re done up glamorously from head to toe, and reiner can’t contain his smile, nor hold back his stare. your light lashes are curled and wispy, with blush scattered along your cheekbones. your plush lips are pink with tint, and you’ve got on this figure-hugging outfit that he’d love to tear off of you.

you scan your surroundings, peering at every angle of your spacious home in search of your parents. after ensuring the coast is clear, you engulf him in your arms, wishing you could kiss him but you’re all dolled up and your lips are lined and glossed. reiner nuzzles his nose into the crook in your neck, inhaling faint traces of your most beloved vanilla parfum.

“god, you look so fuckin’ beautiful,” his whisper is soft against your warm flesh. you rub your hands along his broad shoulders, then slide them down his firm biceps. “and you look sexy in black,” you perk up at him, eyes round and gleaming. he loves you, he’s come to realize. and the last thing he wants is to screw this up . . .

he’s thinking too damn much. you can easily tell. it’s obvious in the way his thin blonde brows wire downwards like something’s wrong.

“reiner . . . stop it.” you order, voice serious. you only ever speak that way when you want his utmost attention. to that, he fixes his posture and stands tall as if he’s on patrol.

“stop what?” is his vague response, hands loosely positioned at either one of your hips. you lift your palms to cup his face, feeling the definition of his high cheekbones and firm jawline beneath your fingertips. he’s gorgeous, you think.

“for one, you’re clenching your teeth,” you mention, caressing his rigid jaw line until the tightness lessens. his stubble’s rough and scratchy, but it fits him so damn well. “and you’re frowing, baby.” next, your thumbs trail up to his brows, gently kneading at the creased arch. “relax.”

“m’sorry,” reiner lets out, tone low and pleading. his hands rub at your sides in an anxious pattern. “it’s jus’ that you’re so important to me . . . i wanna do this right, y’know?”

“i bet you will, rei. no need to worry, hm?” you shoot him a soft smile, and he returns it; one of the rare times you catch a glimpse of his nice and shiny teeth. “now show me a good time, papa.”

right before taking your leave , your parents have questions for you— almost too many. you don’t have any business meetings or mall trips on your schedule, so where on earth is he taking you to? rei-rei claims that he’s bringing you to a new restaurant that you’ve been meaning to try. he’ll drive you there and stay on patrol; or so he says. they decide not to question the unusually neat way his blonde hair is slicked back, or how his black dress-shirt and slacks look sharper than usual. hell, he smells amazing too. it can’t be denied that mister braun cleans up nicely.

see, reiner told a partial truth to your family. you’re on your way to a new german restaurant that’s about twelve minutes out, it’s just that you wanted to try it out with him in particular. on the drive there, you just can’t seem to restrain yourself from gazing at the man. reiner looks so put together like this, in a strapping black outfit that‘s snug against his arms, chest and thighs. his side profile’s flawless— he’s got a perfectly defined nose that slopes down to his lips, and you yearn to lick on his protruding adam’s apple. he’s got one hand on the wheel, merging into lanes and making u-turns, while the other that’s unoccupied intertwines with your softer, smaller one.

upon reaching a red light, he takes the opportunity to lift your hand up to his face, trailing his lips along the back of it. “lieblich . . .” he murmurs something in his native tongue that you can’t seem to understand, though you know its meaning is a sweet one. your grin makes him forget all about the risk he’s taking.

upon reaching your destination, reiner’s back in bodyguard-mode. that’s how he gets whenever you’re in public. yes, you’re on a date, but your safety will forever be his number one priority. he escorts you in with a large hand fit snugly into the small dip of your back as he confirms the reservation. his touch never leaves you, not even for a second. he does that thing; where he takes a brief one-over of the area, scrutinizing his environment before making the next move. you go one, two, three stories up, to the VIP floor where your dinner seats reside.

it’s a lot, he knows— the velvet floors, fancy cream-white seats and glass-like walls that showcase an aweing view of the city. you’re more than used to the finer things in life, so the only thing he wants to give you is what you deserve.

you’re raving on about how nice everything looks, leaning back into your seat as you sip on a flute of sheer-pink rosé. he’s relieved to know that he was able to make you smile tonight. a waiter presents themselves, and reiner effortlessly engages with them in german conversation. his words are smooth and fluid as he translates all the entrée and sides you asked for. even when placing a simple order, he’s still the sexiest man on earth. would now be a bad time to kiss the hell out of him?

the next three hours go by quick. you’re chatting and laughing and trying bits of each other’s platters ( though, it's mostly you eating a over half of the food from his plate . . . ) you got yourself salted-caramel ice cream for dessert, and reiner’s mischievous enough to lean close and lick the dripping residue off the corner of your lips. you gasp at him and deliver a playful kick to his foot from under the table.

“what? you had somethin’ there.” is the given excuse for his rascal behavior. naughtiness twinkles in his golden-brown eyes. there aren’t many people up here on the expensive floor, apart from two other occupied tables located on the other end of the room, and a handful of waiters that leave the kitchen every now and again. he’s lucky there isn’t anyone to catch you both.

“you’re crazy,” your laugh is infectious, “don’t make me return the favor.”

in a quick motion, reiner swipes a finger into the ice cream, his touch meeting a subtle cold. before the caramel gets the chance to melt all the way down the length of his digit, he smears some across his bottom lip. his tongue juts out to lick up the rest of the treat from his index finger.

“oh, please do.”

being away from probing eyes has made reiner bold as ever. you take him up on his request, tilting forward so that your tongue can eagerly swipe over his lips and wipe them clean. mostly sweet, just the tiniest bit salty. you want more of him already.

there’s isn’t a soul watching, so reiner escalates it. in an instant he’s got your lips merging, his hand squeezing your thigh from under the table, hot puffs of air escaping you both. “oh my god— you’re g’na get me in trouble, rei!”

“so be it,” reiner mumbles in reply, his words ticklish against your lips. from underneath his fingertips, reiner senses how tightly you press your thighs together, hungry for friction. he’s even beginning to feel worked up himself. but, the pair of you haven’t gone that far yet. the most you’ve done are hour-long makeout sessions on your king-sized bed in the earliest points of the day, when you have enough privacy to get away with it. but you wouldn’t mind feeling him in a new way tonight . . .

“you wanna get out of here, don’t you, mama?” reiner coos, cheeks rosier with his eyes slightly lidded. “mhm,” you’re quick to agree. so he puts the payment for the meal on his tab, takes your hand in his and leads you back down to floor one until you’re out of the building and back inside your window-tinted g-wagon.

mister braun is big. you’ve always known it from his appearance alone, but fuck, it holds a much greater meaning when he’s got you tucked into the backseat of your mercedes with his slacks pulled down to his ankles and your dress strewn sideways, making a slow attempt to press himself into you.

“fuck. let me in, princess,” reiner’s grunt is low, throaty enough to make you clench. your flesh feels hot and your pussy’s leaking all over the coffee-brown suede seats. he knows well enough to play around with your clit, reveling in the noises you make when his pressure increases. simultaneously, his lips suction at the smooth flesh of your neck. it feels like you’re burning up, and he’s the only one who can quench your fire.

experimentally, his hips tilt forward, and another two inches make its way in. he’s only got his fat tip and then some past that dripping hole of yours, but it’ll take much more to stretch you wide open for him. he’s groaning and muttering all sorts of profanities— about how tight you are, how good you feel, how fucking nasty this is of you.

“c’mon, woman,” reiner sucks a sharp breath into his lungs, goading you on, “lemme fuck this tight pussy.” he’s got you dangerously aroused, done by the effort of a few dirty words. wetness dribbles down from your slit to the place you and reiner carnally join, slicking up his girthy shaft as he continues to break himself past your tight rings of muscle. you claw at his solid arms, basking in the stretch. his size is imposing, forcing you open to accommodate all of him. it burns in the best way possible.

“m—more, papa,” you make out a pretty whine, knowing just how he loves your begging. you’ve got your lips agape, kissed raw from reiner’s earlier advances. you grow restless and begin to rock your hips, aching to take the entirety of him.

“mm, don’t worry, baby. i’ll give it to you so good,” it takes a little more of reiner bucking his pelvis, movements careful and shallow, for him to finally make it in. he’s bottomed out, and you can feel the throbbing from his underside. having you wrapped around him feels so incredibly right. you clench rapidly, enveloping him in an incomparable warmth.

by the time he’s made everything fit, you’re a darling little mess. your hair’s gotten frizzy and your eyes are all big ‘n glassy, with your lower lip tucked underneath your teeth. one moan after another escapes you, streaming into his ears like liquid gold. reiner throbs at the sound of every little mewl. he licks away your tears which you hadn’t even known began to fall, catching them before they can roll down the apples of your cheeks. you love the feeling, it’s just that there’s so much of him to handle at once— his fat cock, searing-hot tongue, large roaming hands . . . he's this close to consuming you whole, and you want him to.

reiner’s attentive with the way he fucks you. out, in, the pattern goes, hips drawing back before he slams back into your shaking frame all over again. he hits so unbelievably deep every time, like the width of him can’t help but prod against every spot you have. he manages to stimulate every inch of your walls, bumping every crook and ridge possible. not a part of you goes unattended to. reiner dips his head low to catch your beaded nipple between his lips, while his cock drives further inside and impels you to make more room, just for him.

as gentle as he may try to be, reiner’s undeniably a hefty man. taking it slow won’t make any difference; every deep plunge he makes into your cunt has the car creaking on its very own wheels.

“i fuckin’ love you,” he drops the heated words, punctuated with drilling thrusts; but the dick’s got you goin’ all dumb on him. it’s cute, he can’t deny, but reiner needs you to know exactly what you mean to him. so he grips at your chin from either side and lightly squeezes your cheeks together, tender with care but steady enough to make your eyes uncross and focus on him alone.

“you hear me? i— goddamnit, love you more than anything. love you so much,” the deeper he pushes in, the less you can manage to breathe. you feel the pulsing of his cock in your tummy, and it’s like the tip snags so deep that it nearly lingers in your throat. you feel yourself bounce against the seat, tits jiggling whenever he sinks inside, draws out, and snaps right back into you. your gut feels tightly wound up, and your pussy’s become impossibly more sensitive.

you’re close, he can feel it. your walls flutter with more ardor than before, squishing against the base of him with a tightness gratifying enough to spur moans from deep within his chest. you even bring your hands down to claw at his asscheeks, firm and round to the touch; the perfect source of leverage.

“r— reiner!” you cry out to him, and he’s sure his name hasn’t sounded so good up until now. he wonders if you can actually hear yourself and just how slutty you sound. “you’re close, aren’t you, baby?” to that you nod, head bobbing desperately. you don’t have to tell him, he knows. reiner’s knowledge is keen on the topic of you. what you like, what you don’t, and when you’ve had enough. now he’s truly taking his sweet time getting to know you from the inside out.

he presses a consoling peck to your forehead, maintaining that undoing pace of his. the repetitive ‘plat’ of his heavy balls smacking into your sticky cunt is dull compared to the huffing, panting and whining, but it’s there in all its vulgarity.

“ooh, i know exactly what y’need, princess. papa’s g’na take care of you . . . ” reiner doesn’t even say it above a whisper, just declares his devotion in the softest way he can. he slips a hand down the middle of your sweat-streaked bodies to bring some attention back to your precious clit, lewdly slick and much puffier than earlier. he gives swift strokes using the pads of his fingers, combined with the fluid roll of his hips, until you're arching into his broad chest and snapping your quivering thighs closed, trapping his wrist in between them.

reiner can unravel you with such ease, like he lives for the sole purpose of your pleasure and nothing else. you convulse against him, so he slows. but reiner hardly lets up. not completely, that way he’s able to ride you through it. he continues on, feeding you shallow thrusts to near his own high. his movements turn borderline erratic; thighs trembling, cock throbbing. he’s so close, “gonna cum,” his warning comes off as a groan, straight from the depths of his gut, erotic and primal. he’s clenching his teeth again— this time, for good reason. “where do y’want me?”

not a second is wasted before you plead, ‘ inside! ’ and with that, you’ve officially fucking broken him. never did he think his wildest dream would’ve come true by the very first date. lucky mister braun, getting to fill you up— especially when it’s what he’s been stroking himself to the thought of every other night. now, you’re practically crying for him to give it all to you. undoubtedly, he will.

he comes through one final, sloppy jerk of his hips. with a breathy grunt released into the car’s stuffy atmosphere , his warm seed spurts into you, tainting your womb. once reiner slips out, his thick cum pours down to present the most obscene view. it’s all so slippery, seeping down until there’s a wet puddle of your and his making beneath your ass. reiner’s body goes lax, thoughtfully balancing himself over you with his face propped onto your boobs. it’s only now that he realizes, legs cramped up, that he’s a bit too large for the backseat.

“ . . . i meant what i said earlier.” reiner’s voice comes off muffled, with his face stuffed between your tits and all. he looks adorable this way, gazing up at you with his lips curled into a slight pout. his arms loop your waist, snug and secure.

“mm, you said a lot of things earlier,” is your soft laugh, recalling his crude mouth and how worked up it made you. he allows you to rake your nails through his short blonde fringes.

“applying for this gig is the best thing that’s ever fuckin’ happened to me,” reiner makes an attempt to sit upright and show his conviction, but he ends up with his back hunched over in the restrictive space. he disregards his comfort and reaches for your hands, clasping them in his own. “i said that i love you . . . and i mean it.” his words are airy. he’s still winded from the sex.

“and i love you,” you mean it, too. with all your being. you love him in a way you've never loved anybody else. mister braun keeps you safe, sprinkles you with compliments, slips on your heels for you, puts you first. he makes you feel like this pairing has a chance, like you don’t have to hide it. besides, he deserves your all. you should be proud to call him yours, and that you are.

reiner always wants your kisses. in the morning when you wake, right before dinner, and as you’ve recently discovered, after sex too. you’re always eager to receive his lips pressed to yours. “i love you,” reiner adds in between pecks. he now says it like it’s second nature— he loves you. it makes your heart leap from beneath your chest. he kneads your bare thighs in his palms, slowly gliding his tongue into your mouth. without shame, you moan against his lips. slivers of spit tether you both even after you part.

“i want everyone to know that we belong to each other, reiner . . . my family, too.” you admit, peering up at his handsome face through your curled lashes. you’ve got your hands planted at his chest, feeling at the solidity of his pecs.

“tonight?” he asks, tone unsure.

“yes, tonight, rei!”

he adores your sudden zeal for honesty. he truly does, but—

“maybe another day would work better, princess,” reiner muses, “when your parents wouldn’t kill me for all those hickeys on your neck.”

©PINKMIRTH! . . . all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ୨୧

#𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈.ᐟ #reiner braun #reiner smut #reiner braun smut #reiner #reiner fluff #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan smut #anime smut #reiner braun fluff #aot fluff #reiner braun x black reader #reiner x black reader #x black reader #x black reader smut #aot reiner #reiner braun x reader #reiner x you #aot #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot x reader smut #❥ — reiner! #bodyguard reiner #reiner x reader #reiner x reader smut #aot x black reader #౨ৎ — 𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈! #— (.reiner)

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 4 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As you and Bradley start to blur the line between professional and personal correspondence, you feel yourself falling for him even more. He has charmed your students as well as you, and you decide to continue taking a chance on him.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley sounding hot

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley spent an hour bundling up all of his letters to your students, getting them ready to be sent back to California. Sure, he wanted to impress you, but he also couldn't deny that he was attached to hearing from Oliver, Violet, Jayden and everyone else. And according to you, they were just as happy to hear from him.

Without giving it a second thought, Bradley went all in with your personal email address. An account where he assumed you could say and send anything you wanted to. One that nobody else was monitoring. His thoughts strayed constantly over the past few hours to what that might mean. What did you deem too personal for your school account?

You told him you were single, and you made it seem like you were into him. You said he gave you butterflies, and now he desperately wanted to see this thing through. When he closed his eyes, he could picture the photos of your smiling face, and he felt a little dizzy. He wanted you to tell him everything. He wanted you to wait for him so he could take you on a date. Or several. He wanted to know what your lips tasted like.

It sounded like your ex was a real tool if he didn't appreciate what you did and how hard you worked. You taught eighteen kids enough about aviation that they asked Bradley some pertinent questions and brought up information that was relevant to his job. He was impressed as hell, and he thought he could be better than what you had before. He already knew without a shadow of a doubt that you were better than Vanessa. It was obvious.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw."

He turned toward the voice calling his name as soon as he dropped the package with your name on it off at the mail center. "Hey," he called out to the mechanic who let him take those photos for your class a few weeks ago. He read his jumpsuit again just to be sure. "What's up, Marty?"

He jerked his thumb toward the main deck and said, "I just got around to unpacking some new engine components. You still writing to those kids?"

"Yeah."

"I'm about to do some repairs if you want to take some more pictures or a video for them."

Bradley had been planning on stalking his inbox for the rest of the day in the hopes that you'd write back and comment on his brief missive telling you he wanted the conversation to go further, but this seemed better than driving himself crazy. He could practically picture you and your kids flipping through some photos and watching a cool video he managed to snag for you. "Yeah, Marty. Let me grab my phone, and I'll meet you out in the shop."

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

After you read the email from Bradley where he called you Gorgeous, you were up most of the night. First, you screeched and almost spilled hot tea all over yourself as you rushed to set your mug down on the coffee table so you could giggle and kick your feet in the air. Then you read and reread the short email for about five minutes, curled up in a little ball with your phone right in front of your face. Then you sprawled along your couch and let yourself imagine what he might be like in person.

It was too early to get your hopes up about ever getting that far, but you couldn't seem to stop yourself from thinking about it. You hummed softly, because in your daydream, he lived in San Diego and asked you out on a date, and he was a perfect gentleman until you didn't want him to be any longer. You didn't even consider what reality might hold, because you were sure you wouldn't like it as much.

But for now, he was on board with going further. Your expectations of things included chatting about your likes and dislikes as well as learning more about him. "I'd like to take it further," you read softly, trying to imagine it in a masculine voice. But what did that sentence mean for him? You sat up on the couch. Surely he wasn't going to turn into a pig and start sending you anything too raunchy. Right?

You swiped out of your email inbox and looked at the photo of him standing in front of his jet and moaned. It was actually your mind heading for the gutter as you wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his big arms. What it would be like to tug the zipper of his flight suit down slowly, enjoying the feel of the pull between your thumb and index finger.

It was like the fictional leading man in a romance novel came to life and told you that he thought you were pretty and that he liked your students. You flopped back down on the couch and screeched into the pillow so as not to alarm your neighbors. You needed to respond, but you didn't know what to say since you were probably past the point of playing it cool. You chewed on your lip while you typed and then deleted several versions before sending him something that you thought was okay.

Bradley,

I'd like to take it further, too. I don't usually do this kind of thing (oh, who am I kidding... I never do this kind of thing), but there's just something about you that made me feel like it was worth the risk. I hope I'm not being too bold if I say that I found the photos you sent me quite distracting. However, it's not just your looks that made me share my personal email address with you. I like the way you give me butterflies. There's something sweet that comes through in your writing, and I want to get to know you better. On that note, if you feel so inclined, please tell me three things I should know about you.

Yours Truly,

Your favorite pen pal

Once again, you had written back to him so quickly, it should have been embarrassing, but you had nothing to lose here. You tossed out the bait, and he took it in the most spectacular fashion. You didn't want to miss an opportunity like this, even if he did seem too good to be true.

But he still hadn't written back when you got to work the next morning. The ping of the email alert on your phone made you reach for it immediately, but it was just a reminder to pay your bills on time. As you unlocked your classroom door and flipped the lights on, you considered that maybe your message was a little bit boring. After all, you were the one to bring your personal account into play. Perhaps he was expecting you to reply with some sort of dirty picture. Your cheeks burned with mixed embarrassment. You wanted to take it further, but you didn't know how. You just knew that you wanted to keep him engaged without compromising yourself.

You tucked your bag and your phone away in your desk drawer and pulled out your lesson plans for the day. You'd start things off with language arts and then work your way through math and science before your kids had art class. There was no reason you had to think about Bradley at all right now; he could just wait until later with his big hands and his thick thighs and his mustache and cute smile.

Just before your students were due to arrive, you opened your laptop and logged in to see which parents had emailed you with questions or concerns about their child. You froze when you saw an email that was sent a few minutes ago from Bradley with the subject line A visit to the mechanic's shop. When you opened it up, you found that he had attached a video and a handful of photos. 

You were a little bit annoyed that he didn't respond to the message you sent from your other account where you asked him to tell you about himself, but that melted away as soon as you clicked on the video. His face flashed up on your computer screen, and all of the features you'd shamelessly memorized were right there in front of you. Cute smile, tidy mustache, brown eyes, wavy hair. But then you heard his voice.

"Hey. I just thought I'd take all nineteen of my favorite pen pals on a little tour around the mechanic shop aboard the Theodore Roosevelt. Sound good?"

You slammed your computer shut and moaned, thighs pressed tight together as your heart hammered. He was too much. It was just a video. He wasn't even really here, but he was an absolute assault on your senses. He called you gorgeous, but meanwhile it was hard to look directly at him for fear that you'd burst out into a fit of giggles. You shook your tingling hands out and slowly opened your computer again.

"Bradley Bradshaw. How are you this hot?" you whispered at the video paused on your screen. His face was frozen mostly in profile as he looked to the side, and for the first time, you saw some long scars on his cheek and neck. "Oh." They weren't new, rather giving the appearance that they had faded over time. You wondered how pronounced they would feel beneath your fingers. Would he let you touch them? Let you drag your lips across them while your hands found their way to his tousled hair?

After taking a few deep breaths, you let the video play again. Another man joined Bradley on the screen, and he was holding up a long, metal rod.

"This is my friend Marty. He's been a mechanic in the Navy for twenty-six years, and he specializes in aircraft repairs. He knows more about my Super Hornet than I do, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. So I'm just going to stand here and hold my phone still while we watch Marty do his thing."

The rest of the video was fascinating. It was still interesting the second time when you watched it with your class instead of doing your language arts lesson. The kids sat at rapt attention, eating up that little introduction that Bradley gave just as you had. He didn't talk to them like a bunch of little kids who didn't understand anything, which you loved. He and Marty explained what they were doing without making it too juvenile. Then when the video ended, your kids started raising their hands with question after question.

"You know what to do," you told them, holding out a dry erase marker for Jackie to take. She wrote down the list of questions that everyone had for Bradley while you tapped through the photos, once again imagining how warm and rough his hands would feel wrapped around your own instead of an intake manifold.

The impromptu aviation lesson lasted for two hours until your kids left for art class, and now you were a little concerned about all of the additional, more personal questions you had for Bradley besides the ones your class came up with. You wanted to know how old he was and where his scars came from. You wanted to know where he lived now, but you were too afraid of the answer. According to one of the notes he wrote back to Violet, he went to the University of Virginia. He even sounded like he was from the east coast.

You sat at your desk alone, digging your snack out of your drawer along with your phone. There was a new email. You smiled as you realized he must have sent it to you just after he emailed the video he took for your whole class to watch. The opening greeting once again had you kicking your feet beneath your desk, snack forgotten. 

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'm still having a hard time believing that you want to get to know me better. Full disclosure, I'm a little nervous you'll get bored talking to me. I don't have much family, and I know it's cliche, but flying really is my passion. I spend a lot of my time on aircraft carriers which makes it hard to maintain relationships and friendships with people on dry land. 

Talking to my nineteen new pen pals has been the most exciting part of my deployment. But you're right... you're my favorite one. I could tell from the first letter that wasn't even specifically meant for me that you were funny and sweet. And then I saw what you look like, and I kept going back to the photo for another look. You're just as gorgeous as you are funny and sweet.

Three things you should know about me? One, I'm afraid of spiders. Like so afraid of them that I might have a crisis on my hands if you tell me you have a beloved pet tarantula or something. Two, I loved taking piano lessons so much when I was a kid, I actually still take them. (Now I'm sitting here wondering why I'm telling you embarrassing shit.) My next door neighbor is a retired music teacher, and when I'm home, I trade yard work for piano lessons. Everyone wins. Third, I like giving Gorgeous teachers butterflies. That's a new one, but I thought you should know about it.

I'm giving you some homework, hope you don't mind. I want you to send me a picture of one of those San Diego sunsets where the sky somehow looks both blue and orange at the same time. If you happen to be in the photo, I'm not going to complain. I would also love to hear three things I should know about you. 

Please tell your kids they have mail on the way. I hope to hear back from them. And you.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

Oh. This crush was even worse than you thought.

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

After days of running drills, Bradley was finally grounded because of a bad storm that was closing in, and he was given a few hours off. He stood out on deck, letting the first drops of hard rain hit his face. He was hoping to get a nice sunset photo to send to you, but the past few days had been terribly cloudy. And now he felt like he was being torn in three directions as his flight suit got wet: he was sweaty, hungry and curious. As a result, he couldn't decide if he should hit the shower, the mess hall or the lounge first.

He reasoned that he'd best appreciate an email from you if he was cleaned up and well fed. If you'd had time to write back to him, it would top off his night in the sweetest way possible. So he took a shower and unfortunately had to eat cabbage rolls for dinner. He chuckled to himself as he walked toward the lounge, picturing a bunch of fourth graders eating dinner in the mess hall and ranking the foods. They would probably love that, actually.

As Bradley logged in and watched his email inbox appear on one of the lounge computers, he muttered, "Hell yes." There was a new message from you, and he couldn't click on it fast enough. Before he started reading, the attached photo caught his attention, and he grunted softly. Fuck. 

There you were, on a stretch of beach in Coronado, not even a mile from his house with the sun setting behind you. Your features were in shadow, but your smile was a little shy and very pretty. You looked so soft, standing there on the windswept sand in denim shorts and an oversized sweatshirt with Mira Mesa Elementary printed on the front, and all he wanted to do was touch you. He could already imagine a picnic dinner on that beach, snuggling up with you as cooler temperatures moved in. Enjoying the blues and oranges until the sky got so dark, he'd lead you back to his house with your fingers laced with his.

Bradley,

I'm turning in my homework. I hope I get a passing grade. I'm not usually the student, so I'm a little out of practice. A Naval officer from Top Gun took this photo for me. Apparently aviators just like you are all over the beaches in Coronado.

I have some good news for you. While I'm not actually afraid of spiders, I promise I don't have a beloved pet tarantula. And I'm sorry, but the idea of you still taking piano lessons made me giggle for a solid minute. The mental image is just that adorable. 

You always seem to know what to say to make my butterflies go crazy, and that's just through the written word. As an educator, I always stress the importance of honesty to my students. So let me just say that honestly, I'm not going to get bored talking to you. I also can't lie about the fact that I watched the video you sent several times just to hear your voice. (Now I'm the one embarrassing herself.) And I really can't see how you would have a hard time maintaining a relationship while you're away. Maybe your previous partners didn't appreciate how rare it is to find someone who is willing to put in some effort. Or maybe they didn't find your arachnophobia oddly endearing. But I kind of do.

Three things you should know about me: 1. I graduated from college with a 4.0 GPA. 2. Sometimes I fall asleep during movies, especially if I'm snuggled up on my own couch. 3. I have a crush on you.

Hitting send before I can change my mind.

Bradley couldn't help the smile teasing at his lips as he tucked his hands behind his head and read your last few sentences again. He always wanted to continue talking to you, so maybe it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that you wouldn't grow bored with this. Maybe you'd care more about him than going out on dates, unlike Vanessa. He wasn't going to wait before responding to your email. What was the point? You were into him, and he was definitely into you.

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

"We got mail!" you announced, holding up the package that was waiting for you in the school office when you refilled your travel coffee mug on your way to your classroom. Your students erupted into delighted conversation.

"Is it from Lieutenant Bradshaw?" asked Jayden.

"Of course it is," Violet told him. "It must be. He's our pen pal after all."

"Did he send us more notes?" Oliver asked, practically bouncing out of his seat in anticipation.

"He did!" you confirmed as you tore into the package and enlisted Harrison to help you hand the individual notes to their recipients. The room went silent as soon as they all started reading, and then one after the next, the kids started to get out their notebooks to start their responses.

You felt warm all over. Bradley was on your mind a lot, and you didn't really want him going anywhere. You watched the video he sent again last night before you went to sleep, and you dreamed about a strong man with a sexy voice curled up behind you in bed. You knew you had a new email from him, but you were waiting until you could sit quietly during your lunch break to read it.

At some point, you were going to have to taper off the aviation curriculum and focus on other things, but you just didn't want to have to do that yet. Not when your class was so engaged. Not when it made you feel connected to a man thousands of miles away who you had feelings for in spite of the fact that you never met him in person. In spite of the fact that you were too afraid to ask him where he lived.

After you eventually walked your kids down to the lunchroom, you were free to read your email from Bradley in peace. But the more you thought about opening it, you started to get nervous. You already admitted you were interested in him, so there was really no going back. If he hadn't sent you something similar, you were going to have to crawl under a rock, but you got your phone out as you took a deep breath and started reading.

Hey, Gorgeous,

Now wait right there. I have some concerns. I'm going to address them in order, so please bear with me. First of all, you didn't just pass your homework assignment, you got an A+. I've never seen such a beautiful sunset in my life, and yet it was barely noticeable next to you. But here's my main issue. I can't have another aviator taking sunset photos of you and sweeping you off your feet. How about you just stay off that beach in Coronado for the time being? Give a guy a chance here?

I couldn't agree more about the importance of being honest. Honestly, I'm letting out the breath I've been holding, worried that you were going to send me a photo of you with your pet tarantula. And honestly, smart women really do it for me, so any time you want to bring up that 4.0 GPA, I'm going to need a minute. And honestly, nothing sounds better than watching a movie with you on your couch right now. Can't stop thinking about it, actually. 

Please, tell me in an overabundance of detail, what you would do if I promised I would take you out to dinner but then changed my mind and told you that I was tired from work and wanted to spend a quiet evening on my couch with some takeout instead.

You have a crush on me? Gorgeous girl, all I can think about is the couple days of leave I'm going to have once this aircraft carrier finally docks back in San Diego. Where you are. You and my eighteen other pen pals. I think I have a thing for fourth grade teachers. Or maybe it's just you. I can't wait to hear from you again.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

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

Okay. Some admissions have been made. Little bits of feelings have been established. She has seen him and heard his voice, and I think we're ready to keep taking things further. Maybe a phone call? Maybe another photo or two? We also can't leave the fourth graders hanging. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 5

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#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #yours truly bradley bradshaw

[fragilefable]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ minors DNI) Summary: When you and Joel get separated the night of the outbreak, you spend the next decade searching for him. Just when you've given up— a miracle occurs. Warnings: heavy angst, canon typical violence, character death (sarah), discussions of grief, very brief mention of suicidal ideation, alcohol used to cope, depression, suggestive language, lovers reunited, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Word Count: 6.6k Currently Playing: Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey ♪

A/N: This piece has been months in the making, hours of rereading and rewriting. This is my love child. I'm possibly (definitely) planning a part 2 with smut... ;) I am a full-time college student who unfortunately has other responsibilities, so please be patient with me. My first lengthy piece in a while, so please be kind & enjoy my doves!

Sleep was the most convenient temporary escape available in the post-cordyceps world. Oftentimes, if you were lucky enough, with sleep came dreams—glimpses of a divine, utopian life. One without spores or fungi of any kind. There was, however, always the chance that with it came nightmares—Polaroids of the past, the uprising of the infection. Mothers clutching bloodied children, decaying men ripping open flesh with their savage teeth, and, worst of all— losing Joel Miller. 

Joel was... everything—neighbor, friend, lover. Joel hated that word— laughed every time it managed to escape your lips in a hushed whisper, but that was what you were to each other. It transcended explanation. You'd moved to Austin after college in hopes of starting over, a clean slate. Instead, you'd stumbled upon a single father and his then 11-year-old daughter. You fit into their life like the missing puzzle piece— you completed them. Sarah needed a motherly presence in her life. There was only so much Joel could do for the blossoming young woman. 

And Joel— Joel never knew what he was missing until you came along. Someone to be able to rely on, to love unconditionally, a fixed constant. To say he fell head over heels was an understatement, but it became so much more than physical attraction. It became something far more profound and terrifying— love. The kind of love only poets write about. It was fierce, at times agonizing. That's what made losing him all the more heartbreaking. 

You were with Sarah the night of the outbreak— Joel's birthday. Lounging around in plaid pajamas, waiting for Joel to get home from work. Despite being exhausted, Sarah was beaming with pride over her birthday present for her dad— his broken wristwatch now repaired and refurbished. You smiled mischievously, "And just where did you get the money to fix this, young lady?" Sarah grinned slyly, "Just lyin' around, it's not like he noticed it was missin'!" Hours passed, you and Sarah slumped against the couch: Fast asleep, soft snores escaping mouths, drool dribbling down chins. 

The sight made Joel's heart quaver in his chest. Kicking off his muddied work boots, he carefully plopped down in between the two sleeping figures, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. "Hmm. You're home," you stirred awake, drowsy eyes met with a welcome sight: Weathered tan skin and dark chocolate curls. "Hey, Darlin'. You outta head up to bed. I'll be up soon." You nodded faintly, planting a chaste kiss on Sarah's forehead: "Goodnight, sweet girl." 

You fell fast asleep as soon as your body hit Joel's mattress, his scent engulfing you like a blanket of safety— a shield of sorts. The vague smell of sawdust and pine soap conquered your senses, a heavenly combination. An hour later, you felt the bed dip down, strong arms circling your waist.

Frantic hands shook you awake, calling your name weakly: "I can't find Dad. N' somethin' weird is goin' on outside." You sat up, Sarah's urgency pulling you from your hazy half-asleep state. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll call him. Go back to bed." Sarah ignored your suggestion and sat beside you as you reached for the landline. The call went to voicemail without hesitation: "Huh... That's weird." 

Sarah grew more anxious by the second, "I'm gonna go check the driveway for his truck." Sarah shot up from the bed, feet pattering down the stairs. "Sarah! Wait, I'll come with-" Throwing on your Converse, you hastily ran out after her. Your tired eyes scanned the pavement but found no signs of Sarah or Joel's truck. The Adler's door was wide open; you huffed: "Sarah?" 

The Adler's house was pitch black and eerily quiet, the family's dog nowhere to be seen: "Sarah? This is trespassing!" Tiptoeing through the living room, you halted at the sight of a ruby trail— blood. Grotesque, wet noises filled the previously silent house: "Sarah?" The teen bolted out of the kitchen, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the front door: "Run!" Mrs. Adler scrambled after Sarah, mouth dribbling crimson liquid, no longer bound to her wheelchair. 

"What the fuck–" Sarah's grip on your hand tightened as you passed through the door and stumbled onto the pavement. A pair of familiar brown eyes scanned Sarah's figure and then yours: "Sarah? Darlin'? Are ya'll ok-" Joel's words were cut off when Mrs. Adler dashed through the front door, her figure lunging for you. 

Joel struck the side of her head with a wrench as you made a feeble attempt to crawl away. His strikes were lethal, and yet the elder kept thrashing against the ground. "Joel, stop!" Only then did you notice Tommy, Joel's younger brother, behind you, coaxing Sarah into the truck. 

Joel exhausted Mrs. Adler with one final swing, dropping the bloodied wrench beside him and wiping his shaky hands on his jeans. His gaze softened when he saw your timid frame— shaking and unmoving. "Darlin'... Baby, are you okay?" His hands found your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on a patch of exposed skin. You hesitated; Joel had just killed Mrs. Adler in cold blood— but she tried to kill you and Sarah first. 

Joel hurriedly hoisted you to your feet, "We gotta go, okay baby? It's not safe here." You clambered into the backseat beside Sarah, the girl's arms thrown around you tightly. Kissing the crown of her head, you reassured her: "It's okay, sweetheart, everything's okay." 

Neighbors began to exit their homes, baffled and disturbed by the sight of Mrs. Adler's bloody, lifeless body lying in the yard. Someone called out for Joel. He immediately instructed her to go back inside and lock the doors. Tommy beckoned Joel into the car, exiting the culdesac and taking off towards the highway. After a fleeting moment, you mustered up the courage to ask, "Joel, what's going on?" Tommy replied, "They're sayin' it's a virus- some kinda parasite." Sarah spoke up, tears forming, "Are we sick?" Joel shot the idea down immediately. 

Tommy and Joel continued bickering, your eyes glued to the road ahead: "Joel! Look- It's Jimmy's place." The two-story farmhouse was completely engulfed in flames, unrecognizable. Your hands clung to Sarah, burrowing her head into your neck: "It's okay, sweet girl." Police sirens rang out through the darkness, interrupted by soft pleas for help. A family was stranded on the side of the road, begging for aid. Tommy began to slow the car. "What're you doin'?" Joel firmly questioned. Tommy shot back, "Got a kid, Joel." 

"So do we. Keep drivin'," Joel spat. Tommy sped back up, eyes searching Joel's for an explanation: "Somebody else will come along." As Tommy approached the interstate, the sounds of disgruntled drivers grew louder: "Fuck! Everybody had the same fuckin' idea. I can't get through this." Joel gripped the dashboard, "All right, all right. Let's think it through," he paused for a moment, "All right, take the field! We cut across, and we pick up on the west side." Tommy steered right, the truck jerking on the uneven terrain. As he drove over the hill, helicopters and tanks came into view, "Shit. Fuckin' army." 

Sarah peered out from behind the seat, "Isn't that good?" Your voice was filled with hesitation, "That's the highway we need to get to." Joel and Tommy argued, eventually continuing toward a town just east of the highway. Sarah stilled, "Maybe it's everywhere. Maybe there's nowhere to go." A booming roar erupted, Tommy twisting his body to get a better look at the night sky: "What the fuck?!" Commercial airplanes flew overhead, merely hundreds of feet above the ground. You instinctively covered Sarah's ears with your hands, eyes wrenching shut at the deafening rumble of their engines. Tommy swerved to avoid a police blockade ahead, turning into a nearby alleyway. 

The streets were flooded with screaming civilians, running in every direction— no one sure who exactly they were running from. A hoard of people fled from inside a movie theater, causing Tommy to shift the truck's gear into reverse. "Dad?" Sarah called out, "Dad!" Joel turned; an airplane was rapidly descending— heading straight towards town, "Shit. Move!" As the plane made contact with the ground, a mushroom cloud of fire and smoke bloomed, causing Tommy to lose control of the truck. 

A strong hand shook your leg, "Darlin'? Stay right there, don't move." Your side ached, cool liquid flowing from your head. Beside you, Sarah quickly came to, her eyes shifting to the figure hunched outside of the flipped car, clawing at the corpse of an older man. "Sarah, baby, don't look. C'mere, put your arms around me." As Joel carefully unearthed Sarah from the mangled truck, you climbed out of the shattered window: Hissing as you shifted against your arm. Sarah tried to put weight on her leg, provoking muffled whimpers and cries at the attempt. Tommy, equipped with his shotgun, called out, "We gotta get off the street!" 

As you approached Joel and Sarah, a flaming police car crashed into the capsized truck, separating the three of you from Tommy. Tommy roared from the other side of the wreck: "Meet at the river! I'll find a way." Joel turned to Sarah, "Can you run?" She shook her head wearily. He scooped her into his arms, "Keep your eyes on me." Joel shifted towards you, "No matter what, you keep runnin'. Alright, darlin'? Promise me." You hesitated, desperate eyes meeting his, "I promise." 

The three of you stumbled through the alley until you came across a cluster of bodies scattered across the pavement, crouched figures grunting over the lifeless figures. The end of the passage was clear. The only problem was getting past the rotted creatures without being noticed. There was no way Joel could outrun them in his condition. One of the creatures shot up at the sound of a remote blast, eyes landing on Joel. His voice was firm, "Go." You grabbed his arm, "Joel!" He repeated his command, louder— frantic: "You can't carry Sarah w'that arm. Go find Tommy. We'll meet you there."  

You pressed a hurried kiss to Sarah's head, the deranged man scrambling to his feet before you could embrace Joel. You took off towards the other end of the alley, Joel and Sarah barricading themselves inside the vacant diner across from the pile of carcasses. Your body throbbed with every step, head burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Your feet carried you across town, weaving in and out of injured civilians and infected until you reached the river. The stream was pitch black, sounds of gunfire and cries rang out in the distance. 

Suddenly, a bright light blinded you: "Put your hands where I can see 'em!" You obeyed, raising them as high as your injured arm would allow. Your voice raw with distress, "M'not sick! Just trying to find my family!" The man stepped closer, seemingly inspecting your physical state. He was clad in military gear, "You hurt?" You shook your head eagerly: "Just a sprained arm." He nodded his head, "Alright. We've got buses that can take you to a decontamination zone." 

Your head scanned the vast field, eyes scouring for any sign of Joel or Tommy: "I- I can't. I'm supposed to meet someone here. At the river." The soldier looked dissatisfied and slowly lifted his gun, "The river goes on for miles. S'not safe out here." Your eyebrows threaded together in confusion, "What- are you- are you gonna shoot me?" The soldier's grasp on his automatic rifle tightened, "I'm sayin' you have two choices. You can either come with me or you can-" 

A guttural scream sounded from behind him. But before he could turn around, a pair of arms seized his neck and began ripping into his military garb. The soldier flailed wildly at his attacker. While he was busy fighting off the deranged beast, you took off into the darkness, wandering aimlessly and calling out for your family. That night was the last time you saw Joel Miller.

16 Years Later

The bitter winter air overwhelmed your senses until you were gasping for air, limbs numb and cold to the touch. You wouldn't make it much longer without shelter, without warmth. You'd spent the better part of the last 16 years searching for him— for Joel. Ever since that night, you'd scoured every independent civilization, every QZ, within mobs of infected. Each night, you silently prayed never to find him like that— skin pallid and overcome with fungus, head split wide open, cordyceps blooming from within. 

You'd trekked across the country with the sole intent of finding him alive and healthy. The journey was brutal— raiders and infected desperate for blood. But by far, the hardest battle was pushing away the nagging thought that, even if Joel and Sarah were somehow alive, you'd never find them. Now, after nearly two decades of searching, you were reaching the end of your journey. You'd officially trekked across the entire nation. If your estimations were correct, you were nearing Wyoming— hence the formidable cold front. 

You'd heard rumors about a small civilization located somewhere on the skirts of Jackson County— your last stop. You knew the chances were slim; that feeling only fortified with each city, each civilian who hadn't heard of or seen anyone by the name of "Joel Miller." But you kept searching— because the day that you stopped would be the day you lost everything, lost yourself. It was as though he held onto you with a leash. If you tugged hard enough, could you finally break free? What else did you have to live for? Maybe one day you'd have some sort of epiphany, something to make sense of all the death and suffering. For now, Joel kept your hope alive— the hope that there was happiness and safety beyond all of the pain. The very thought of him kept you alive. 

You stood in front of thick and rusted iron gates, your posture crooked due to exhaustion— Just one more stop. The sounds of cocking guns drew your attention to the top of the gates. A young man and woman stand there, rifles pointed at you: "Drop your weapon! Let us see your hands!" You obey. This is standard practice amongst civilizations— you'd done it a thousand times by now. Unsheathing and kicking away your pistol, you then throw your backpack towards the gate. Hands raised next to your head. Your voice wavers as you half-shout, "I'm not infected! Just looking for someone!" 

The woman searched your face for a bit, presumably looking for any signs of deceit. She nodded towards her companion, the corroded metal walls unfolding. Two men approached you and picked up your discarded belongings. The younger of the two roughly patted you down and checked for bite marks. When they were satisfied, they led you past the gates into the town square. The village was pleasant, a handful of people milling about in the slushy streets. 

A familiar voice erupts from behind you: "Please excuse the initial hostility. We need to be careful about who we let in... I'm Maria." She extends her hand. You accept it gingerly and introduce yourself. "Welcome to Jackson. You must be freezing. Come on, we'll talk inside." — Maria leads you inside a small building, the exterior reminding you of the Lincoln Logs you used to play with as a child. The inside is... quaint. A lone desk sits near the lit fireplace. Maria leans against the desk and motions for you to take a seat: "So... You're lookin' for someone. And you have reason to believe they're here?" 

You sigh, allowing your aching body to relax against the couch's plush cushions: "No... I am looking for someone, but... Well, this is my last stop." Maria nods sympathetically, tucking a lone braid behind her ear— "I get it. You've been looking for a long time. It's about time to stop. To rest." You can't help the tears that form on your waterline. Your gaze shifts to your lap. Maria continues, "Who are you lookin' for?" 

You swallow the fist-sized lump in your throat, "Joel. Joel Miller." Your attention snaps towards her as a wistful sigh escapes her lips. A tight frown dawns on Maria's face, "I'm sorry. There's no Joel Miller here." You nod; you knew it was a long shot, but hearing it aloud was something different entirely. You rise from the couch, "Thank you. I apologize for takin' up your time." Maria speaks up before you can reach the door: "Now what? You got a place to stay?" 

You honestly hadn't thought that far, about life beyond looking. For years, finding Joel was your only purpose— your rationale for remaining on this infested hellscape. You had no home, no roots. Maria's voice interrupts your thoughts, "There's room here. We've got food and water— shelter. Hell, we're even working on electricity." You turn to face her. Her words dripping with verity, "Jackson could be your home." 

Despite having just met her, Maria's words touched something buried deep within you— hope. Hopeful of a new life, of new beginnings. You forged a small smile, "Okay." Maria smiled, but it was much different from yours: It was toothy, genuine— "Alright. I'll give you the grand tour then." For the next hour or so, Maria marched you around town. She showed you the vast dining hall laden with maple furniture. The stables filled with mare and their young. 

Then she showed you the schoolhouse. It was a small brick building. The walls were filled with colorful crayon drawings. Tiny handprints were pressed onto the wall in various colors of acrylic paint. The dulcet sounds of innocent laughter erupted from every corner of the room. Children from the ages of 5-12 were scattered around: Some doing arts and crafts, some reading, and others playing with worn toys. A tear slipped down your cheek. You brushed it away quickly before Maria could notice. 

You couldn't help but think of Sarah. About the first time she knocked on your door— she was selling chocolate bars for some fundraiser at school. Her bronze complexion dappled with freckles, and her wide smile revealed a missing tooth. She was eleven at the time, eyes bright and full of wonder. Blind to the atrocities that loomed at every turn. Sometimes, you'd think about what she looked like now— did her curls still rest atop her shoulders? Did she still laugh until she was panting for air? She's thirty now... Has she fallen in love? That was considering she is still... 

You didn't entertain the thought. Sarah was fine, alive somewhere with her father to look after her. Maria's touch pulls you from your thoughts, "How about I show you where you'll be living? Get you settled in." As Maria exited the schoolhouse, you stole one last glance at the room. A little girl met your gaze. Her dark curls were pulled into two ponytails. Her burnt mahogany eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, raising her tiny hand and waving it at you. You returned the sentiment, this time allowing the tear to fall down and onto the ground.  

Maria escorted you just outside of town, to a street lined with country-style two-story houses in relatively good condition. "This one here, the green one. It's already furnished. I'll have one of my guys come by later with some essentials from the pantry. Otherwise, you should be all set 'til tomorrow." Your eyes bore into the house. It was nice, but also... "It's big," you retort, "Don't know what I could possibly need all those rooms for." Maria lays the silver key in your hand, "You never know." 

You internally cringe at the connotation. Start over with some man? Have a big family and a white picket fence? You couldn't. It wouldn't be the same. You let out a shaky breath, "Thank you, Maria." She nods, "Come see me tomorrow, and we'll talk about where to go from here. Everyone in Jackson has a job, a role to play. Rest up... You deserve it." She departs, leaving just you and your great, big, empty house. 

3 Years Later

Jackson developed rapidly under Maria's supervision. The population rose from 50 to roughly 300 in just under three years. Jackson now had electricity, thanks to the Jackson County Hydroelectric Dam that Maria's team was able to get up and running. You'd become the head of patrol— in charge of organizing the schedules and determining the routes. You and Maria had become very close, practically family. She's the person who understood you, what you've been through. 

In an attempt to busy yourself and earn your keep, you'd thrown yourself into working alongside her. Not just with patrols but also with community relations and development. You'd completely reconstructed the greenhouse, built a jailhouse— that, luckily, wasn't used much— and helped fortify Jackson's defenses. Maria assigned you the title "community leader," but you much preferred what everyone else called you: "Maria's right hand." 

Your house was still too big, but now it felt homier— lived in. The walls were plastered with botanical paintings you'd found while out on patrol, vases of fresh cut flowers from the community garden placed upon every surface. Cable knit blankets were draped over the shabby leather furniture, the brick fireplace emanating warmth and bringing solace during the cold winter months. You'd even taken up baking in your spare time, frequently bringing baked goods to the schoolhouse. 

Nevertheless, when the sun set and the sounds of bustling downtown Jackson faded, your thoughts always returned to Joel. His bronze skin, tousled brown curls, and perfectly plump lips. Suddenly, it felt as though the house was mocking you, and the right side of the bed always grew colder. Perhaps it's why you worked yourself so hard; taking a day off was seldom. You couldn't escape the persistent feeling that Joel and Sarah weren't alive. That you'd failed to find them time and time again because somewhere, they were six feet under, buried in an unmarked grave. All it takes is one moment— one lapse between heartbeats— and suddenly, everything has changed.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The spring air was crisp with morning dew. A gentle breeze slipped through the cracked bay window. Three heavy thuds woke you— the sharp knocks cutting through serene silence. Your voice was raspy with sleep, "Coming!" You quickly pulled on the worn terrycloth robe that hung from the bedpost and stumbled downstairs. You swung the door open to reveal Stanley, a young man who worked in construction: "I'm so sorry to wake you, but Maria sent me to get you. She said it's urgent."  

You sighed deeply, rubbing the remaining exhaustion from your face: "Urgent like, 'don't get dressed' urgent?" Stanley's eyes roamed across the dark fabric of your robe before snapping back to your face. His cheeks bright pink, "Oh, um... no! Just meet her in her office ASAP." Sending him off with a nod, you traipsed upstairs and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making your way downtown. It was early morning, the streets empty save the early risers milling about, getting ready for work. As you passed a group of older women sipping hot beverages, you overheard whispers of "an outsider." As Maria's righthand, you were expected to greet all incoming arrivals. How on earth that could constitute a crisis, you did not know. 

As you approached Maria's office, the woman in question exited swiftly, shutting the door behind her. You grew closer, taking note of her fidgeting hands. She was... nervous? "Good morning, Mar. What's the emergency?" Maria's face was sullen. You'd never seen her like this, not in the three years you'd known her. Your hands clenched at your sides, "Maria? What is it?"

She took a deep breath, "This may be a false alarm, but... This guy's last name is Miller. Says he's originally from Texas." Her words stole the air from your lungs, a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. She said something else, but all you could hear was buzzing. Your vision blurred, the dark-skinned woman's features coming in and out of focus. Could it be him—had Joel finally found you? 

Maria called your name, pulling you from your trance. As your vision focused, you pushed past her. Your grip on the doorknob was bone-crushing, your knuckles turning white from the tension. You inhaled— don't get your hopes up. It might not be him. You exhaled, pushing the door open with a startling amount of force. You analyzed the man's figure, you recognized him— only it wasn't Joel. It wasn't the Miller whose calloused hands once traveled the expanse of your body, making note of each hidden crevice as though it may hold treasure. Whose lips once seared white hot kisses in the places he knew were the most sensitive— "Tommy?"

He looked dumbstruck, his lips parted in shock. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck. It took him a moment to reciprocate your embrace, but once he did, his arms anchored you in place. He spoke your name quietly against the crown of your head: "I can't... I can't believe it." You pulled away, "I hardly can either." His hands rested atop your shoulders as his eyes searched your face in disbelief. His resemblance to his older brother felt like a gut punch. You were afraid to ask— fearful of the truth: "Joel? Is he..."

Tommy's hand squeezed your shoulder in reassurance, "He's alive. Last I checked, holed up somewhere in the Boston QZ." A warm tear slipped down your face, the salty liquid resting just below your chin. You'd checked Boston QZ, but recent "terrorist" attacks had made it impossible to stay longer than an hour without drawing the attention of every FEDRA soldier in that godforsaken city. Your hands trembled as you clutched your chest, "And Sarah? How's my sweet girl?" 

Tommy's face went cold— No. No. She can't— "She's gone." The taste of bile rose in your throat, "Wh-when?" Tommy removed his hands from your shoulders, "That night. Shot by some military fucker. She..." He hesitated, "Joel held her. It happened s'fast." Your kneels buckled, threatening to send you towards the ground. You fucked up— you let yourself get accustomed to the idea of her being alive. Repeated it over and over again until you believed it to be true. This was all your fault. 

Your shoulders shook silently, as if you were crying— but no tears emerged, "I have to… I have to find Joel." Turning toward the door, Tommy caught you by your wrist: "I can't let you do that, hon. It's a damn death sentence." You tugged at your arm, desperate to break free from the restraint: "Let go of me, Tommy. I'm doin' this." Maria stepped forward, her hand resting at the base of your neck— "No, you're not. Jackson needs you here. I need you here."

Your breathing became labored. Deep down, you knew they were right— you were in no shape to travel across the country again. You'd barely survived it the first time. Chest heaving, your free hand found purchase on your throat, tightly grasping and constricting the airway. Tommy wearily let go of your wrist, his eyes wide and filled with fear. You ran for the door; you could hear Tommy call out for you as you fled homeward. Sarah was gone. Joel was alone.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

Days passed, and despite everything, the sun rose in the morning and the moon at night. You weren't quite sure how long it had been. You'd stopped counting daybreak after the first five came and went. Maria checked in after the first couple of days, worried that you hadn't been seen around town— or leaving your house, for that matter. Your grief was debilitating, all-consuming. You couldn't eat, could barely sleep, only finding relief at the bottom of a liquor bottle. You were tired… The kind of tired that sleep didn't fix.

Tommy came once. Sat and talked while you stared straight ahead at the empty wall. He could sense your anger, your resentment. How could he not? You silently judged him for leaving Joel, leaving his brother after his only daughter died in his arms. Tommy told you that Joel had changed. He wasn't the Joel you fell in love with; he'd done terrible things— But so had you. You'd killed innocent people, people who were just trying to protect themselves. And you did it in the name of finding Joel and Sarah, of surviving for them. You'd convinced yourself it was kill or be killed, and you had to live with that. Come judgment day, you'd pay greatly for your sins. You accepted that, too.

You only dared to look at Tommy's face once. You saw Joel in his eyes— you saw Sarah. Maybe if you hadn't left Joel in that alleyway, she'd still be alive. You could've protected her, taken the bullet for her. You would have, without hesitation. You'd cross the fiery pits of hell for her, reside in Caina, and be tortured for eternity. You may not have given birth to her, but Sarah was your daughter.

If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could faintly picture her smile. The dimples that formed just below her bottom lip. You could smell the faint aroma of her strawberry shampoo. Hear the broken remnants of her grandiose laughter. You swore to keep those memories someplace safe. Take them out and remember when you needed to, as if they were photographs.

A part of you wanted to be happy that she didn't suffer. She was too innocent for this new, heartless world. She was everything good in life. She was sunshine, sugary syrup, and pure, unadulterated love. But you could not accept this bright side. Not when it meant a life without her in it. Innocence is beautiful, but life is for living.

Tommy stood up, slipping a piece of paper on the nightstand. You cautiously turned it over to reveal a creased photo: You, Joel, and Sarah posing after winning one of her soccer games. You stole one last glance at Tommy. This time, he did not see blinding hatred in your gaze. Instead, he saw gratitude. As your glassy eyes bore into him, he nodded knowingly and left.

Maria came a couple of hours later with leftovers from the dining hall. Setting them on the counter next to the empty whiskey bottles displayed like pathetic trophies. You were in the same position as when Tommy left. You held the photo in your hands, thumbs stroking its frayed edges. Maria quietly dragged a chair closer to the bed, sitting just within arm's reach: "I went to a really dark place after I lost Kevin."

Tearing your gaze from the picture, one of her hands finds yours: "He made life worth living… It took me a long time to start to feel human again. To feel something other than pain and sorrow. The grief never goes away. But slowly, it starts to feel less like loss, and more like love." She inhaled shakily, "I know what you're feeling right now. I know why you're drowning your sorrows in that shit, trying to drink yourself to death." A tear slips down your face, her hand squeezing yours gently: "But you have to understand… What you're feeling right now, that's love. You're not a bad person for how you try to kill your sadness. But it's not gonna work."

You're unable to contain the choked sob that escapes your throat. The tears come harshly, scorching saline against your skin. Maria shifts her weight from the chair onto the bed, holding your shaking frame: "It's okay… Let it out." Her hands cradle your head, smoothing over your disheveled hair. "It's all my fault," you gasp between sobs, "I never should've left them. It's all my fault." Maria shushes you, "No, honey. You don't really believe that. You want someone to blame, but you're not that person."

Eventually, the tears cease. Your breathing evened out as Maria held you, "I miss Joel, so fucking much." You could feel Maria nod tenderly, "I know Honey." A lone tear slipped down your cheek, "Do you think— do you think he'll find me?" Maria pulled away, her chestnut eyes meeting yours, "Truthfully, I don't know." With a deep sigh, she squeezed your hand— "But I know he wouldn't want you to live like this. Isolating yourself from everyone else. You're allowed to grieve, but please don't shut me out. You're my person." You clutch her hands, squeezing firmly: "Even at my worst?" Her arms curled around your torso once again, "Even at your worst."

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The warmer seasons passed with haste. A wintertide blanket of white gradually covered Jackson. Day by day, Maria and Tommy were able to pull you out of your depressive stupor. You had to admit, they made quite the team. Maria was ultimately right, Joel wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life a bedridden drunkard. But still, life without him was arduous. There wasn't a day that passed that you didn't think of Joel Miller. About where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, and whether he missed you as terribly as you did him. 

As much as you wished to focus on these melancholic thoughts, new developments began to bloom in Jackson. Tommy and Maria's blossoming love was hard to ignore and impossible to disapprove of. Watching two people whom you adored fall in love, it felt as though nothing had changed: No cordyceps, no raiders, just Jackson and all of its inhabitants. Perhaps you could find peace in that. When Maria told you that they were expecting, you were over the moon. Maria and Tommy deserved it, Jackson deserved it. Proof that the world is not over— that no matter the circumstances, mankind will prevail. 

You threw together a small wedding ceremony with the help of the florist and local bakery, the couple wanting to tie the knot before the baby's arrival. Joking about how "shotgun weddings" withstood the test of time. Something arose in you, a pang of jealousy— Envious that you and Joel never got the perfect white wedding. It disgusted you, so you buried it deep within the recesses of your heart. 

The winter was hard, the Wyoming chill threatening every crop that dared to sprout from the Earth. This resulted in you spending extra time in the greenhouse. You found gardening to be a rather soothing task, being able to nurture new life in a world marked by death and decay. It also provided plenty of time to think: Something that you did not relish. No matter how many times you pushed the thought of Joel away, it always returned. Whether it was at dawn or late at night plaguing your dreams. 

When you weren't at Tommy and Maria's house or at the Tipsy Bison, you were in the greenhouse. The small shack sat right on the outskirts of town, situated with the perfect view of downtown Jackson. The glass panes shut out the cold, trapping any warmth inside. You bathed in the basking glow of the sun, gravitating towards it as a Sunflower would. You weren't sure when thoughts of Sarah became joyous, memories no longer met with choked cries but instead with soft chuckles. Nonetheless, you welcomed the growth. It's how she would want you to remember her. 

You watched the clock that hung just above the door, a mere estimation of the time: 12:15 p.m. You carefully removed your dirt-caked gloves, setting them on the wooden bench beside you. Your stomach growled impatiently as you began the journey downtown. The air was frigid despite the sun's rays, the cold slowly numbing your fingers. As you ambled towards town, Stanley came jogging towards you: "Hey! Just got word from the gates that Maria's back. Brought some stragglers, two, I think." 

You nodded in his direction, "Alright. Thanks, Stan." The soft crunch of snow beneath your feet accompanied you as you approached downtown Jackson, an air of excitement and uncertainty radiating off of the townsfolk. It wasn't every day that Jackson came across people who weren't just blood-thirsty raiders looking for valuables. As you rounded a corner, you overheard a commotion, the sound of yelling. Strangely, it didn't sound angry or fearful. It sounded... happy. 

Midtown came into view; the construction that was being worked on was now abandoned. Immediately, your gaze fixed on two figures in the middle of the street embracing. That was... not typical. You could make one man out to be Tommy; his black curls contrasted starkly against his warm taupe skin. The other was taller and broader, his hair disheveled and graying. Behind them you could make out Maria on horseback, next to her was a young girl, who couldn't be older than thirteen. 

Maria's expression was borderline unreadable, a mixture of trepidation and relief. Until her eyes met yours, then her face softened. A look of tenderness emerged. Everything about this situation puzzled you— Until the two figures broke apart. The man stood inches from Tommy, his hands gripping Tommy's shoulders firmly. His face was sunken with exhaustion and hunger; a vast smile overtook his face. A smile you would recognize anywhere. 

He looked just as he had twenty years ago, only now his hair was significantly longer and his beard gray. His face was now littered with wrinkles, just as yours was. A telltale sign that time had, in fact, passed, that the world fell apart right in front of your eyes. Your fingers dug into your thigh. You surely would've drawn blood if not for the layer of denim protecting your skin. You knew you were grieving, but hallucinations seemed extreme. You took a hesitant step forward, still on the opposite end of the street. 

Maria beckoned for you. Your name seemingly catching Tommy's attention as he turned towards you. As the men stood side-by-side, it was impossible to deny. Their likeness evoked something in you— realization. You weren't dreaming, you weren't hallucinating. He was there, just a yard away: Joel Miller. His gaze found yours, eyes searching your face in disbelief. Your name left his mouth like a question, but it sounded like a prayer. 

He stepped forward as if he was testing the waters. You repeated his action, "Joel?" A smile broke across his face once again, causing you to break into a sprint. He jogged forward, careful not to slip on the icy gravel. Tears began streaming down your face, their warmth countering the icy chill. Before you could slow down, your body collided with his. His arms were tense, his hold fastening around you. You'd only dreamt of this moment for two decades. 

You weren't sure how long you stood like that. Head nestled firmly against his chest, tears staining his leather coat. His gloved fingers gently grasped your chin, pulling your face from its sanctuary: "Baby... Fuck, I can't believe it." His eyes searched your face for any sign of unease. He could find nothing but pure joy: "You found me. I searched for you, Joel Miller, for 16 years. And you found me." 

Joel let out a breathy chuckle, cut off as you captured his lips in a velvety kiss. At first, it was chaste.— A silent admission of consolation, twenty years in the making. You ran your tongue across his bottom lip, prompting him to groan as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. After a moment, a loud cough erupted from behind you. You reluctantly pull away, your forehead resting against his. Your hands cupped his cheeks, eyes glassy with relief and adoration: "After all this time?" Joel leans forward to place a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, "Would wait forever f'you, Darlin'." 

© 2023 fragilefable do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

divider by @saradika

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #fragilefable #ೃ༄ wren writes

[usereddie]

hello i humbly offer another installment of my "this was supposed to be a text post but it spiraled into a short coda oneshot" series.

hen and eddie talk about buck's coming out. also today's wordle is not lover i wouldn't spoil it and lover has already been used as a wordle. it was for the themes.

“Did you know? About Buck, I mean? Did you suspect at all?”

Hen looks up at him and puts her phone down, he gets a wordle spoiler when he looks at her screen. Lover. Got it. 

“Him being queer?”

“I think he identifies as bisexual.”

“Okay,” Hen says, and Eddie watches her face flit through a complicated series of emotions before landing on something fond and knowing that makes heat crawl up his spine. “You wanna sit down?”

“This doesn’t feel like a sit down conversation, it’s not a big deal, I’m just asking if you knew—”

“Eddie,” she cuts him off. Her smile is kind and gentle and Eddie gets the quick building feeling he should’ve stayed in the bunk room. “Sit down.”

He sits. 

Hen pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and tilts her head a little as she smiles at him. The head tilt reminds him of Buck because he finds little pieces of Buck everywhere. He’s in the song on the radio in Eddie’s truck on the way to work and he’s in Christopher’s English homework because the stories Buck used to tell him when he was little enough to ask for them influenced his creative writing. He’s in Eddie’s kitchen even when he isn’t because Buck got him a set of rainbow silicon spatulas because they were a buy one get one free deal. 

A copy of Buck’s loft keys on Eddie’s keychain, his name in the calendar that he wrote himself take out w/ buck ! no skipping in his messy, nearly illegible scrawl. 

But Eddie can read it because he doesn’t think there’s a universe out there where he doesn’t understand Buck down to the chicken scratch. 

“I didn’t know, not for sure. It wasn’t ever something I thought about at length, either. I’ve mentioned it to Karen once or twice and there have been times where she’d shoot me a smirk from across Bobby and Athena’s backyard at something Buck said, but it’s not something I’ve ever discussed. That doesn’t feel right.” 

“But you knew?” 

“I wasn’t surprised.”

He fidgets with a rubber band someone left on the table. He wants to ask more. Needs to know what made her realize it in Buck. If she sees the same in him. 

Eddie’s never really thought about it. Or, that’s not quite true. He knows, in a way. That something’s never been quite right. That he’s never felt for women what he’s been told he’s supposed to feel. 

Dating isn’t supposed to feel like a performance, he doesn’t think. Nobody else seems to think it is. 

He likes the sex for the most part. Figured that was enough to carry it. Sex feels good but then again he’s pretty sure sex always feels good when both people want it. It’s not like it’s some sort of burden to eat his girlfriends out but there’s something missing. He likes making them feel good but he doesn’t like how high pitched their moans are of the soft sighs that spill out of their mouths. There are soft tits where hard chests should be and it doesn’t. 

It doesn’t feel right. The sex is good, it's fine, he'll take it, but—

Love shouldn’t be just about sex. Eddie doesn’t want it to be. 

“Did you ever assume something about—” he cuts himself off but Hen sees right through him anyway. Maybe lesbians have some sort of psychic third eye that lets them see beyond the performative exterior he puts on. He tries not to squirm as she looks at him. 

“About you?” she asks, and the world doesn’t stop spinning or start spinning backwards or tilt on its axis. Eddie thinks it should. It’s the least the earth could do, honestly. 

He swallows. 

“Yeah.”

Hen hums and Eddie can tell she’s trying to gather her thoughts and form them into sentences that won’t send him running for the hills. Being—this doesn’t feel like something to run from, though. Not so much anymore. Maybe a few years ago, maybe when he first got to LA and his parents' words and their bitterness were still stuck to his skin. When he still felt like he wasn’t good enough. Not for his son, not for Shannon, not for himself. 

He feels good enough now. And he thinks he’d like to fall for someone the way Buck seems to be falling for Tommy. Except he’s really fucking scared the person he’s falling for is—

Well. 

Buck. 

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, and it doesn’t, not really, it’s the kind of thought that sits quietly in the back of your mind and waits for you to uncover it. 

Buck came out and it uncovered itself. 

Buck is bi. Buck dates men. 

Buck could date him. And he isn’t.

That’s the crux of it all. Eddie was drunk and Buck’s arm was around his shoulder and he felt lightheaded, couldn't stop smiling so hard his cheeks hurt the next day. Bubblier than the champagne. Floaty. It wasn’t even a new feeling, not with Buck. 

He makes him so fucking happy. 

Even through hell, Buck makes him happy. That’s love, probably. Definitely. Eddie tries not to think about it too hard otherwise he might have to go see Dr. Salazar again, and he really doesn’t feel like explaining this to the woman who diagnosed him with repression. 

Getting an I told you so from his sisters would be one thing. 

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Yes,” he says, far too quick and clipped and awkward. He smiles tightly. 

“Yeah. I thought you were, actually. When you got to the station, you wouldn’t talk about Christopher’s other parent. Even in the beginning, you barely talking about him. I figured an army guy from Texas probably wasn’t used to being out. And then you weren’t gay, so I assumed you were just being a scorpio and not letting anyone in. But you let Buck in.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t—there’s no bet about it. About the two of you. I don't think anyone would be surprised, but no one talks about it. That’s not the kind of thing you gossip about. But, yeah. People were surprised when the mysterious partner you wouldn’t talk about was your wife, and not a husband.”

“Do you think I’m in love with Buck?”

“That’s not my place to tell you.”

“Hen. You’re my friend, and the only other queer person I know and trust enough to ask this to. I can’t exactly go ask him that question, and I don’t know who else to talk to. Do you think I’m in love with Buck?”

“Yes.”

Eddie’s exhale is shaky. 

“Yeah. Me, too.” 

#bia.fic #buddie fic #eddie diaz #911 abc #911 spoilers

[samsqueerpolycule]

I’M SO FUCKING PISSED OFF SAM GIRLS ARE OPPRESSED FR

#clearly this is a joke but oh my god #Sam wanted boundaries with Dean their entire lives and Dean refused #sure Dean was constantly doing stuff like going to hell for Sam #but Sam never fucking wanted that #Dean only did that because it’s what his dad would have wanted #and because his life’s purpose was first and foremost to care for Sam #and he didn’t know who he’d be without him #NOTHING TO DO WITH SAM #oh I’m so fucking pissed #there are somethings you do not say in front of me #and one of them is dragging my boy Sammy’s name through the mud #sorry he was pissed when Dean shoved an Angel inside him against his will #literally nobody ever better say this again because I will not be able to hold my tongue #i wanted to start a fight over this so bad but I knew it would upset me #but literally Dean is codependent and abusive and that’s not Sam’s fucking fault not responsibility #fuck that lady fr #oh my god #collette speaks