#he just gets worse every passing day i m tired

[shellshocklove]

lover, lover, lover | joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader

summary: after blurring the lines with your boss and pornstar joel in pismo beach, what happens when you come back home to LA?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s and the porn industry, smoking of cigarettes (it's the 70s alright), misogyny (bc of the times™), swearing, use of pet names, oral (f+m receiving), use of sextoys, handjob, praise kink, soft!dom joel but also a hint of sub!joel, porn, degradation, no use of y/n

a/n: this is the part 2 to this fic. you should read the part 1 first or this will make no sense lmao. i know it's been months since i posted that one and i've gone back and forth a lot on if i was gonna write a second part, but here it is <3 again i wanna give a big thank you to my beloved @dustydaddyyy for encouraging me every step of the way, listening to me when i feel lost, and for reading through everything. i love you babes!!! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

You jolted awake.

With a groan and a confusing squint, you sat up on your elbow. The back of your hand rubbed roughly at your eye as you looked around your darkened bedroom. The fan on your dresser huffed and swirled, blowing cool air in your direction with every pass – blowing away the memories of your dream.

You turned around to lay down again when you heard it. A distant sound of your phone ringing in your hallway. You let out another groan as you scooted out of bed, your nighty falling around your knees as your feet met the carpet floor. Shuffling down the hall you muttered a quiet “I’m coming, calm down,” to the phone.

You lifted the phone of the hook with a quiet, “Hello.”

“Did I wake ya, sweet girl?” the static voice answered.

“Joel, what time is it?” you sighed into the phone, your arm hitting the cool wall as you leaned against it.

“Um…” he started, probably checking his watch, “02.05.”

“Yes, you woke me up…” you told him, eyes tired and falling shut before blinking open in quiet panic, “Wait– did something happen? Why are you calling so late?” Fear squeezed around your heart, wrapping its cold hands around it as flashes of Joel getting arrested, or kidnapped… or something worse, played like a movie in your head.

“No,” he laughed, “No, sweetheart! I just couldn’t sleep.”

“So, you decided to wake me instead? You are aware we have a meeting with VCA tomorrow at 9am? I told you that didn’t I?” Two fingers pinched the bridge of your nose – trying to squeeze the sleep away.

You usually never forgot any of Joel’s meetings or commitments, and you prided yourself in staying on top of his schedule. You could swear you told him about the meeting the other day on the way back from Pismo Beach.

Pismo Beach.

You hadn’t seen him since you dropped him off. Two days had passed. Two days since… Since you’d had sex with Joel. Two days since he told you he wanted you to be his. Was Joel your boyfriend now? You couldn’t tell.

“Yeah, you did, you’re a good assistant,” he said, the smile evident in his voice.

The praise wrapped itself around your heart like a pink cloud of love – it made you smile.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your quiet voice making him chuckle down the other end.

You waited for his chuckle to die before you asked him, “Um… was there anything else?”

“You tired of me already, sweetheart?” he teased.

“No, never,” you shook your head, “it’s just late.”

“I know, I’m sorry baby,” the way he said it, he left the words hanging in the air.

A second passed in silence, and then another. You waited for him to say something else, but when the words never came you spoke, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Can I come over?” he almost cut you off, his words hanging at the end of your own like a teenager on a skateboard gripping tightly to the back of a bus.

“Tonight?” you asked, front teeth digging into your bottom lip.

“Yeah, now,” he clarified, “my car’s fixed– I can be there in probably… thirty minutes?”

“Ehm…” your head bumped against the wall. Thirty minutes? It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see Joel – you did – but it was so late, and you had to get up so early tomorrow.

“Maybe twenty if I speed,” he laughed.

“Joel,” you chided, a smiled tugged at your lips.

“Okay, thirty,” he relented.

You pushed off the wall, a finger curling around the phone cord. “If I say yes you have to be sneaky– and quiet. My landlord doesn’t allow boys to visit.”

“Good thing I ain’t a boy then, sweetheart.”

You snorted, teeth digging into your lip to kill a smile from blooming, “I’m serious, Joel! A girl got evicted last month because she got caught having her boyfriend over.”

“How’s that even legal?” his static voice wondered.

“I don’t know Joel, my landlord… she’s this old lady– super religious and she owns the whole complex– I think she inherited it from her late husband who was a developer or something. Anyway, every time I bump into her, she always questions me about if I have a boyfriend and then gives me this speech about how premarital sex is a sin, and how I’ll go to hell–”

“Shit, baby– move out,” Joel cut you off.

“I can’t,” you sighed, “It was the only place I could afford when I moved here.”

“Ain’t I payin’ you enough?” he teased, “I’ll talk to Ronald about a raise f’you want.”

You let out a chuckle, “I’m not sure it’s appropriate– or professional, to talk about this now, Joel.”

“Alright, baby– always so professional,” he playfully chided, “we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

You let out a hum, though a small knot tied itself in your stomach at the thought. You didn’t want Joel to get the wrong impression; that you wanted a raise now that you’d let him fuck you.

“See ya in 30?” he said, breaking the static silence, “I’ll be real sneaky.”

“Ok,” you said softly.

You told him your address, making him repeat your apartment number back to you before you hung up. You didn’t want him accidently knocking on the wrong door, and getting you evicted.

Padding back into your bedroom, you grabbed your silk robe hanging off the door. You twisted it around yourself while you turned on the lamp over your bedside table. The light bathed your room in a soft glow. You were starting to wake up a little now. Leaving your bedroom door ajar you walked back down your hallway with soft steps. Stepping into the kitchen, you grabbed a mug from your cupboard, busying yourself with making a cup of tea as you waited for Joel.

Thirty minutes later, you heard the buzz of your doorbell. Abandoning your cup on your kitchen table, you quickly hurried to your door, buzzing him in. Your heart hammered in your chest. The risk of getting caught so late on a Sunday night was low, but you could never be too careful. You waited for him in your doorway, your finger picking at your nail bed as you looked out for him to round the corner.

You breathed out a relieved sigh when you saw him, a smile widening across your face as he picked up his pace in a small jog. His grin was wide as well, all teeth and crinkles as he closed the space between you. With a small glance over his shoulder, he made sure he hadn’t been caught as you ushered him inside.

The light in your hallway was low, tinting everything in a warm yellow hue. His hands were on you in an instant, strong hands gliding over your waist from behind as you locked your door. In the next moment you felt his chest press against your back, locking you to his body in an engulfing hug. His nose dragged down the column of your neck, pressing sweet kisses into your skin.

“Hi,” he mumbled.

Leaning into his touch you hummed out a greeting. His grip tightened around you before he turned you around in his hands, your hands automatically wrapping themselves around his neck. God, he was handsome. Soft brown eyes shining under the soft light, you watched as they took you in, traveling down your bare face, down to your silk robe hiding your nighty. A sting of embarrassment panged in your chest under his gaze, maybe you should’ve changed into something else, something a little sexier. Then you realized what kind of sexy he was used to, sheer lingerie, stockings, garter belts and high heels, not whatever underwear you were hiding away in your drawers.

“Shit,” he whispered, eyes blown wide in the low light, “let me kiss you properly, sweetheart.”

His big palm cupped your cheek, bringing you closer before he brushed his lips over yours. He tasted like a mix of his last cigarette and beer. You didn’t realize how much you’d missed his touch, his lips against yours. Joel hummed into the kiss, nose bumping into yours as he held you close, thumb ghosting over your skin. The kiss was quick, but still tender, and when you broke apart, the embarrassment from earlier had faded.

“Missed your lips baby,” he whispered against them, emphasizing his words with another peck.

“You did?” your voice was breathless, eyes half lidded from his affection.

He didn’t answer, only catching your lips in another mind-blowing kiss. His hand not on your cheek traveled from your waist to the curve of your ass, where it squeezed. You jumped a little from his touch, breaking his kiss. Immediately Joel removed his hands, catching himself as he took a step back.

“No?” he asked, eyes searching yours.

A flood of warmth filled your chest, “No, it’s okay– it’s just… late.”

His eyes softened at your words, his palm finding your cheek again to softly rub his thumb over your skin, “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, “It’s okay…” you trailed off, your hand grabbing his other hand to intertwine your fingers, “Let’s go to bed?”

With his hand in yours Joel trailed after you down the hallway.

“The bathroom is just in here if you wanna use it?” you stopped at the end of your hallway, pointing to your closed bathroom door. Joel gave you a short nod and a smile, and let go of your hand, but not before giving it a little squeeze.

You stepped backwards to push open your bedroom door while he vanished to your bathroom. The alarm clock on your bedside table showed 3.08 in big red letters when your eyes flickered to it as you pulled at the strings of your silk robe. You twisted out of it and hung it back on the hook on your door, before you climbed back into your bed, waiting for Joel.

He walked into your room a few minutes later. You watched him from under the covers, eyes hooded with tiredness as he shed his clothes. Naked, safe for his briefs, he haphazardly folded his clothes, eyes flitting around your room for a place to put them.

“You can just leave them on the dresser,” you said, all cozy under the covers.

Sending you a small nod he sauntered over to your dresser with his clothes half-folded in his hand, where he placed them down gently. He stood there for a moment longer with his back turned, something catching his eye.

“So,” he spoke up, “what’s the review?”

“Huh?” You were confused.

You watched how his shoulders shook, grabbing something off your dresser before turning around, hiding it behind his back as he closed the space between you. You were still confused, a furrow pulling at your eyebrows.

“What d’ya prefer? This,” he started, revealing what he was hiding behind his back, “Or the real thing?”

In his hand he held the box with the dildo he’d modeled for. You’d forgotten all about it in your back seat while you were in Pismo Beach, only noticing it again as you’d parked outside your apartment. You had been meaning to give it back to Joel, didn’t take his ‘joke’ of you keeping it at face value, but then you’d forgotten all about it, leaving you with no choice other than to bring it inside.

“Joel,” you felt a flash of heat burn your cheeks.

“What? I wanna know,” he grinned, fingers fiddling with the cardboard to open it.

You gave him a chastising kick from under the covers, trying to shut the conversation down, but it only made him huff out a laugh.

“I don’t know, I haven’t tried it,” you said truthfully. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind.

“What? Not even once,” his eyebrows knitted together, he almost looked disappointed.

You shook your head, “I was gonna give it back to you when I dropped you off on Friday, but it slipped my mind.”

“Why? I gave it to you,” he pulled the dildo out, the supposed perfect recreation of his package.

“Joel, you couldn’t have been serious about that?” you breathed out a laugh. It was hard to take him seriously with the toy in his hand.

“Well, now I’m a little disappointed, sweetheart,” he placed the box and the dildo on your bedside table, next to your alarm clock, “I really wanted to know your thoughts.”

He crept up the bed as you shifted over to make space, holding open the duvet for him to slip under.

“I’m sorry, Joel– I just didn’t think you were serious about that… and,” you trailed off when he wrapped his strong arms around your body, twisting around in his arms as he pulled you close against him.

“And, what?” he said, his breath huffing against the shell of your ear.

“I… uh, I haven’t… since,” you didn’t know how to say it.

But Joel knew, pulling you closer to rock his hips against your ass, “Haven’t what, sweetheart? Touched yourself?”

He wasn’t hard, but he wasn’t not hard – you could feel the semi he was sporting against your backside. It made you lose your trail of thought, as memories of the last time he held you against his body like this, filled your mind.

You had enough sense to shake your head, not trusting your voice to come out as words and not a strangled moan.

“No?” he teased with another rock of his hips, “Well, I have, sweetheart– touched myself thinkin’ of you.”

“Joel,” you couldn’t fight the whine from escaping as he rocked his hips against you again, his big hand slipping under your nighty.

“Touched myself thinkin’ about this beautiful fuckin’ body of yours,” his hand splayed over your tummy, traveling upwards to grab at your breast. “Thought about these pretty tits,” his voice got lower, whispering in your ear as he flicked a finger over your nipple, making you sigh. He let go of your breast, hand gliding down your body to ghost over the hem of your panties, “And this tight little pussy,” he finished.

“Joel,” you sighed, body reacting automatically to his touch. His breath in your ear sent goosebumps down the whole of your body, and a whine fell from your lips as he palmed your heat over your panties, feeling your arousal starting to soak the cotton.

“Yes, sweetheart, say my name as I touch your pussy. Tell me who’s makin’ you feel good.”

Fuck, it took all your strength to gather your thoughts, “Joel, it’s–” you let out a gasp as his fingers found your clit.

“What, baby?”

“It’s– It’s late,” you managed to breathe out.

And just like that, the spell was broken. His hand slipped from your cunt to rest over your waist. You twisted around to face him, a pang of guilt filling your chest.

“I’m s-sorry, I just–”

He cut you off by pressing his lips against yours in a quick kiss. “Don’t you apologize to me,” he said, eyes boring into yours, “If you ain’t feelin’ it, I ain’t feelin’ it, okay?”

You felt yourself nod, your chest filling with gratefulness. You wanted Joel so much, you did, you wanted him to feel good, but you didn’t want it at 3am when you had to wake up in four hours.

“Thank you,” you whispered gratefully, your forehead falling against his.

He shifted his face, cheek brushing against your forehead until you felt him press a kiss to your skin. “Nothin’ to thank me for, my sweet girl.”

You shifted closer to him, cheek boring into his naked chest, “It’s not that I don’t want to,” you told him, “I’m just so tired.”

Pulling you closer to his body, Joel wrapped his strong arms around you, “’s okay, baby, you just close your pretty eyes, okay?”

You nodded against his head before you whispered, “Good night, Joel.”

“Night, sweet girl.”

“Hey,” you felt a nudge in your side pull you from your dream, “How d’you turn off this thing?”

Then you heard it. Your alarm. The beeping was loud and obnoxious, but it did the job to wake you, usually.

With heavy limbs you sat up on your elbow, goosebumps spreading over the newly exposed skin as you leaned over Joel’s body to press the snooze button. His big hands found your waist when you leaned back, guiding you to straddle his body.

His lips found yours in a soft kiss, then another before he mumbled, “Good mornin’,” against your lips.

He didn’t give you the chance to reply as he pulled you into yet another kiss. It took you by surprise, your hand coming up to press into the pillow next to his head, to hold your weight. Under the duvet you felt his hand travel down your body, slipping under the hem of your nighty and dragging upwards, cupping your ass as he pulled the fabric with him. His touch ignited something in you, making you whimper against his lips.

“There she is,” he whispered, pulling away from your lips with a loud smack to press kisses along your jaw. It made you sigh, your body going lax in his arms as he pulled you closer, mind going blank from his loving. Then he suddenly tightened his arms around your body, his strong hand splaying over your back as he flipped you around to lay on your back beneath him. A small yelp fell from your lips at the sudden movement, the yelp turning into a giggle when he dived into the crook of your neck, his mustache tickling you as he pressed small kisses against your skin.

With a hasty hand he balled the fabric of your nighty in his hands, pushing it up your body to reveal your naked body to him. He sucked a breath through his teeth at the sight, eyes hungry with lust as they raked over your form.

“Need to fuckin’ taste you, sweetheart.” His voice was a low rasp, coated in residual sleep and arousal, “Been thinkin’ about how sweet you taste this whole weekend.”

You couldn’t hold back the whine at the back of your throat at his words, hips bucking by their own accord where he had your legs splayed open over his thighs. Arousal spread like electricity through your body, where it pooled like dripping honey in your tummy.

“Please,” you begged when his fingers found the hem of your panties, his pointer finger dipping beneath the band to run it across your skin.

“Yeah?” he coaxed, “Want me to eat your little pussy, sweet girl?” his finger stretched at the elastic, letting it slap against your skin as he pulled away. Under him you whined, frantic hands finding the back of his neck to pull him closer to you. In your hurry to kiss him, you missed his mouth, clumsily bumping your nose into his instead.

It made him breathe out a shallow chuckle, “Okay, baby, okay. I’ll take care of ya.”

He pulled back from you, your hands around his neck falling to your sides, and softly hitting your mattress. Grabbing at the soft flesh at the back of your thighs, he spread them wider, putting your covered cunt on display for him. His eyes drank in your body, studied how soft and pliant you’d gone from his touch.

You watched his face, his eyes, his lip twitching with a wicked smile when you jumped under his finger, starting to press slow circles down on your covered clit. He dipped his finger lower, caressing your folds over the fabric before he pressed two fingers into your covered hole as far as your panties allowed. You could feel how soaked you already were, your dripping cunt fluttering around nothing when he pulled back.

“Let’s get you out of these, huh?” he said, voice dripping with pity, “My sweet girl’s just beggin’ to be touched, ain’t she?”

To your own surprise you managed to peep out an answer, “Yes.” Your voice came out strangled and begging, your mind clouded over with Joel.

“Yes, that’s right, baby, you’re such a good girl, let me hear you.” He hooked his finger under the elastic, tapping your ass lightly. You lifted up off the mattress, helping him drag your soaked panties down your legs.

Under him you felt your mouth drop open slightly, watching him as he clasped your panties in his hand, his thumb rubbing at the wetness with a cocky smile tugging at the corner of his lips. With his thumb coated in you, he dropped your panties, losing them in the sheets as he brought his attention back on you.

His eyes bored into yours as he lowered himself between your legs pressing soft kisses against your inner thigh. His big hands splayed over the back of your legs, pushing them closer to your chest to putt your naked and dripping cunt back on display. You held your breath as you waited for him to finally touch you where you wanted, but then he hesitated. The air was charged with arousal, his breath fanning over your throbbing clit. A thought of how you might die if he didn’t touch you soon, crossed your mind.

With a desperate whine, your hand tangled in his hair. You didn’t know what to do, so you begged, “Please, Joel?”

His eyes found yours immediately, where he saw how much you needed him, but he needed it in words, “Y’want me to touch you, sweetheart? To eat your pussy?”

“Yes,” the words fell from your lips so fast you almost cut him off, “Please,” you added for good measure.

Your consent was all he wanted. He dipped his head to lick ever so gently at your clit, making you mewl under him, a needy desperate sound, begging for more. When he wrapped his lips around your clit, and sucked, that’s when you turned into a withering moaning mess under him, hips bucking into his mouth, chasing more of the pleasure he was giving you.

Joel hummed against you, the bass of his voice vibrating against your most sensitive spot, pulling you deeper under the blanket of pleasure.

When his hand loosened its grip around the back of your thigh to caress your folds, a moan got caught in your throat. “P-please” you stuttered, dying to have his fingers split you open and coaxing you towards your release.

But Joel removed his fingers, continuing to explore you with his tongue instead. He dipped down, tongue lapping at your folds, tasting your arousal like he told you’d he’d been dying to. With one fat lick up the length of your pussy he took your clit back in his mouth, going back to lapping and circling it just right, coaxing you closer and closer.

“Fuck.”

You were hauling quickly towards your orgasm. Your eyebrows twisted together in a tight frown, fingers gripping and tugging at his hair, your leg close to shaking with the intensity. You were right there on the edge.

Then he abruptly pulled away. The disappointing mewl escaped you on instinct, and Joel laughed. Laughed. Your heart twisted in on itself at the sound.

“W-what?” you muttered, confusion painting your features when he sat up.

Joel grinned down at you, a mischievous glint in his eye as he leaned down to your face and cupped your chin, his thumb rubbing your skin with tenderness.

“Want you to be good f’me, sweet girl, can you do that?”

Your head moved in his hand, a timid nod as you searched his face. “I–I can be good.”

His grin widened, all teeth and crinkles around his eyes. He squeezed your cheeks together lightly, a small pout forming to kiss away.

“Good girl.”

His mustache tickled your cupid’s bow, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, taste how desperate for him you were.

He left you breathless when he pulled away, your body all loose and pliant from his touch, not registering what he was doing until he was back to sitting between your legs. Your eyes raked over his body, his broad shoulders, trailing his happy trail down his torso to his waist, noticing the shape of his hard cock in his briefs, a wet spot staining them where the head was.

Fuck, you wanted him inside you.

Then you noticed his hands, and what he was in them. The dildo, of him. You shifted up the bed in surprise. Your nighty fell down over your chest as you sat up on your elbows, watching him with wide eyes.

He watched you too, turning the dildo in his hand to nudge at your entrance as he leaned forward to hover over your body, a big hand on your chest pushing you down.

“Are you gonna be good?” 

“Joel,” you gasped, feeling your hole flutter in anticipation.

“Are you?” he pressed, rubbing the silicone head slowly up and down your folds, coating it in your arousal.

“Y-yeah, y-yes,” you nodded, face heating from the obscene slick sounds of your arousal.

With a wicked grin, his eyes flicked back to your aching cunt, before he pushed the head inside slowly, feeding your more and more until the dildo was buried inside you. A broken moan fell from your lips, mouth dropping open from the pleasure of being stretched.

“There you go, sweetheart. ‘s big stretch, isn’t it? Doing so good for me, my good girl, honey, my good fuckin’ girl.”

He pushed the toy in and out in shallow thrusts, working you open around the fake cock. It wasn’t the same, but still the stretch was divine. With his eyes glued to your cunt he pulled the dildo all the way out, only the head notched at your entrance, before slowly thrusting in all the way. You whimpered when you felt him nudge at your spot inside, your hand desperately grabbing for his other arm to anchor you from falling over the edge too soon.

“Joel,” you whimpered, “P-please, t-touch m-my–”

Joel picked up his pace, fucking you faster and deeper with the dildo, the obscene squelching sounds of your cunt filled the air between your moans. His grip tightened in your hand, guiding it to hover over your clit.

“Touch your what, honey?” He teased, pressing your fingers down, guiding them in tight circles.

“Ah– fuck,” you whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as you felt the coil in your tummy tighten, and tighten, and tighten.

Then it all became too much. With a broken cry you came, squeezing hard around the fake cock. Joel continued fucking you, a small gush of liquid pouring down over the toy with each thrust, as you pulsed and squirmed around it.

Catching your breath, you came down from your high, while small jolts of pleasure crashed over you, making your legs shake like a leaf in a storm. It was like your ears were ringing, before you realized they were actually ringing.

“This fuckin’ alarm,” Joel muttered, hovering over you to turn it off.

His voice brought you back to earth, as you turned your head to look at the time. Shit, you were gonna be late!

With shaky hands you glided your hand down your cunt to grab at the base of the toy still inside you, “Joel, we’re gonna be late for your meeting,” you murmured, slipping the dildo from your cunt. Everything was sticky and messy between your legs, a big wet stain growing under your ass.

Joel pushed your hand away, like he was scolding you for touching what was his. “We can be a little late, sweetheart,” he said calmly, before ducking down to press a kiss to your clit.

You shifted up the bed, away from his touch, anxiety an endless spiral in your tummy. “No, we can’t, Joel– They told me it’s a pitch for a new movie, you’ll miss out on a big opportunity if you don’t show.”

Between your legs, Joel’s head dropped to your chest, as a pained sigh left his lungs. He went quiet for a beat as you watched the messy curls at the top of his head, then he lifted his head to look at you, “Okay, then.”

You felt bad leaving him hanging as you both got out of bed, his rock-hard cock strained desperately against the fabric of his briefs – just dying to be touched.

“Joel, I-I’m sorry,” you closed the space between you, snaking your arms around him.

“Sweetheart, ya need to stop apologizin’”, he placed a dry kiss to the top of your head, steady hands finding your waist. Your heart swelled in your chest. He made you feel so safe.

You almost muttered another ‘I’m sorry’, before catching yourself, “Okay,” you nodded against his chest. You basked in his touch for another minute, his strong arms around you, breathing in the comforting scent of him – the intoxicating mix of his faded cologne, cigarettes and sex.

“You were enjoyin’ it though, weren’t you?” Joel asked as he pulled away. You could see the cheeky smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he looked down at you, “So tell me, sweetheart... it better’n the real thing?”

“No,” you said, your own teasing smile tickling your lips as you detangled yourself from him, and turned around to head towards the bathroom, “Real thing’s better.”

Suddenly you felt his hands on your hips, and then Joel was pulling you back against him. He pressed himself against you so you could feel how hard he still was, his aching cock barely contained by his briefs.

“Attagirl,” he half-whispered, half-groaned into your ear, breath fanning over your neck and making you shiver. 

“I need a shower,” you said with a giggle, stepping away from him before turning around again, only for Joel to pull you close once more. He found your eyes, his hands barely loosening their grip on your body. You could still feel him against you, his hard cock now pressed against your stomach. “Do you… maybe,” you bit down on your bottom lip, wide eyes searching his face.

“Wanna shower with you?” he helped you with a grin, and you nodded.

Your shower was cramped, too small to fit two people, and even though you had been the one to ask, you still felt nervous under the streaming water. He looked so good; your eyes couldn’t help but trail the water droplets racing down his thick muscles. He watched you too, but more openly, his eyes not afraid to trail down your body – to glide over your tits, down your back, and over the curve of your ass.

And then there was his cock, still hard and leaking, making its presence known between you like a third person. What made it worse was that he didn’t even acknowledge it, just went about washing his body like nothing, pushing back his wet curls as he rinsed your shampoo from his hair.

Did he want you to say something? The thought fluttered in your stomach.

“Um, Joel?” your voice echoed against the tiles.

You watched as he tipped his head forward from under the showerhead, eyes blinking at you as soapsuds hit his broad shoulders and ran down his chest.

“You know– um… I can–”

Jesus Christ! Could you be less sexy.

When he didn’t say anything, you breathed out a nervous sigh, eyes flitting down to his cock, hoping he would take the hint.

And he did.

“You wanna touch my cock, sweet girl?” His whole demeanor shifted.

“Would that– would that be okay?” you said, your teeth catching on your bottom lip.

“More than okay, sweetheart,” he said, with a devilish grin.

You took a few steps closer, a shaky hand landing on his waist while the other hovered between your bodies, right above where his heavy cock twitched in anticipation.

You didn’t know what to do. Well, you did. You’d seen it enough times at work to know, but you’d never actually done it before. Another reminder of just how inexperienced you were when it came to all of this. You looked at him with uncertainty, for guidance, and without uttering a single word, Joel knew what you were asking.

He curled his fingers around your wrist, bringing it up to his face, and spat. Using that tender grip he guided your hand down between your bodies again – the back of your hand brushed against the rough hair of his happy trail – and down to the base of his aching cock.

“There ya go,” he whispered as your fingers wrapped around him, Joel’s spit smearing over his shaft as you moved upwards in an experimenting stroke, “Good girl, just like that,” he hissed through his teeth.

You tilted your head to watch his face. Watched how his eyes were so fixated on your hand wrapped around him as you began to slowly stroke his cock, familiarizing yourself with the weight and feel of him in your hand. You didn’t miss the way his breathing shifted, releasing a sound you’d never heard come from his lips before. A whimper.

“Am–am I doing okay?” you asked, your eyes following his down to your hand wrapped around him. He was so big in your hand, your fingers struggling to meet around the girth of him.

He hissed out a strained laugh. “Yeah, baby, you’re doing so good– massage the head for me a little,” Joel groaned.

You did as you were told, bringing your hand up to the tip with a tug, squeezing out a pearl of precum. It dripped down over your hand, your thumb skating over the sensitive head, and smearing it all over.

“Shit,” Joel hissed, “keep doin’ that, sweetheart, bein’ so good f’me,” he praised, encouraging you.

You’d never seen Joel like this before. So at your mercy– at anyone’s mercy – always the one to take charge. But now he was falling apart from your touch. He encouraged you further as his breath got heavier. You sped up the strokes over his cock, and his body slumped into yours, face buried in the crook of your neck, as he whispered breathy babblings of praise into your skin. A glowing feeling of pride grew in your chest as you brought him closer and closer to his release.

“I’m close, baby,” he whimpered in your ear, “don’t fuckin’ stop.”

So you didn’t.

With your hand tight around his cock, you quickened your pace, tracing your thumb over his slit just like he’d told you to do earlier. A slick noise of spit and precum echoed against your bathroom tiles. His thighs tensed, his hand grabbed at your waist to pin you to his body, and you knew he was right on the edge.

“Fuck, I’m comin’.”

With a string of praising curses, he came apart in your hand. His thighs clenched, his heavy balls tightening as cum spurted from his tip in ribbons over your hand. The bass of his voice vibrated against your skin, as you continued working him through his high, slicking up your hand and fingers even more.

You squeezed him until there was only a small dribble pearling at his tip. A white stream of cum ran down his cock and down to his balls, dripping down onto the tiles of your shower floor. And then it was too much, and Joel hissed, lifting his head from the crook of your neck to dab your hand away.

He didn’t say anything, only grabbing your face with both hands, crashing his lips against yours in a desperate kiss. With your hand messy from his release, you didn’t know where to touch him, opting to grab at his elbow with your other hand to steady yourself.

Out in the hallway, your phone rang, forcing you to breathlessly pull away. With a sorry smile, you ran your messy hand under the showerhead before quickly pulling at the shower curtain.

The phone rang loudly as you tiptoed down the hallway. Water droplets ran down your skin, leaving a trail of dark spots on the carpet. Your hand clung to the towel you’d wrapped around yourself while the other hurried to answer the phone.

“Hello?” you sang.

“Hi, sweetie, it’s your uncle,” a gruff voice answered.

“Oh, hi,” you said, leaning against the wall.

Down the hall your bathroom door opened, steam framing Joel’s body as he stepped out naked as the day he was born, with a towel resting over his shoulders. His heavy cock soft between his strong thighs– it was like a scene straight out of a porno, one he’d probably starred in. He caught your eye, and smiled, making his way towards you as he brought the towel up to dry his hair, his biceps flexing with the effort.

“What was that?” you stuttered, completely missing what your uncle had said on the other end.

“Almost hung up on ya, I said,” your uncle repeated.

“Sorry, I was just getting out of the shower.”

“I was just calling to say I’m driving a Corvette down to LA in a couple of days for a client. Was thinking I’d take you out to dinner– catch up– make sure you’re not getting up to any trouble down there,” he laughed.

His tone was lighthearted, but you couldn’t help but cringe. The trouble in question reaching his hand out to trace a drop trailing down your exposed collarbone, ducking down to place a teasing kiss to your skin.

“D-dinner sounds nice,” you managed to choke out, “Um, I know a nice Italian place down in Santa Monica.”

“Sounds great, sweetie! I’ll call ya after I’ve dropped off the car Thursday afternoon,” your uncle’s static voice replied.

“Thursday afternoon,” you repeated, “Ok, see you then!”

“So…” Joel started, his arms snaking their way around your form. “I ain’t the only man who wants a piece of ya,” he joked, after you’d hung up the phone,

“That was my uncle, Joel,” you let him know, your body melting against his touch.

“He’s takin’ you to dinner?” he queried.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “he’s driving a car down here for work, so he wanted to see me.”

Joel hummed, dropping his head to brush his lips over yours as his hand splayed over your waist slid down to the curve of your ass.

“Nonono,” you chuckled, pulling away, “Joel, we’re already late as is!”

“So what,” Joel groaned, pulling you back for another kiss, hands tightening their grip on your ass, before trailing soft kisses to the corner of your mouth, “We could stay in ya know... enjoy the real thing.”

Joel’s kisses continued along the line of your jaw, teeth grazing your skin.

“As tempting as that sounds,” you let out through a small groan as you felt his tongue tickle that spot under your jaw, “We can’t cancel this meeting.”

Joel’s lips stopped their descent towards your neck, and he took a breath, the force of it tickling your skin, before he lifted his head, lips grazing across your jaw as he kissed the corner of your mouth again.

“Later,” you promise him, eyes looking into his. Joel’s smile was wistful, another small sigh escaping through his nostrils before he brushed his lips over yours.

“Later.”

“Let’s get started? Or do we want some coffees before we start?” Ronald asked from his seat at the head of the table.

You were seated in a chair in the corner, the cigarette smoke hung low over the room. In your lap your notebook rested, cracked spine opened to a random blank page while your fingers fiddled with your pen.

All the big important men from VCA were here, eager to finally work with the infamous Joel Packer on their new big-budget project. The last couple of years had been big for Joel, multiple magazine photoshoots, longer features and obviously modeling for a sextoy, but this film would be his biggest opportunity. It would bring in a lot of money, and Ronald knew it. He couldn’t hide the dollar signs in his eyes behind his ‘friendly’ grin.

“Ey, sweetheart!” Ronald raised his voice. You lifted your gaze from your notebook, curious as to what he was yelling about.

“Yeah, you!” He looked straight at you, a hand waving you towards him. Did he forget your name? You wouldn’t put it past him.

Leaving your notebook and pen in your chair you walked over to him, hands wringing behind your back as you stood behind Joel where he sat to Ronald’s right. He looked at you with impatience, a crude finger motioning you closer.

“Why don’t you go get us all some coffees, sweetie?” he spat out the order, his sour breath hitting you in your face.

“Um, uh,” you looked to Joel for help. This wasn’t your job; this was a job for an intern. It was important for you to be here, to take notes, to know what arrangements needed to be done, and which people to call.

“Um, uh,” Ronald parroted, “just do it– isn’t it what I’m paying you for?”

It wasn’t, but now everyone was looking at you. Everyone except for Joel. His gaze bored into the teak in front of him, fingers tightly pinched around a cigarette. With no help from Joel, you held your tongue and muttered a “Yes, sir,” to Ronald before you turned on heels.

“Alright! I wanna start by introducing Cheryl here, making her film debut alongside Joel–” you heard Ronald start as you slipped through the door of the meeting room.

Outside the meeting room, you were met with a brown hallway, identical to the left and right. Wood paneling clad the walls, and you couldn’t help your eyes from peeking through the glass partition walls of other meeting rooms as you made your way down the hall. Everything looked the same. You turned a corner, and you swore you’d been there before. After walking for what felt like a small eternity, you made it to a break room with a small kitchenette.

The coffee in the pot looked old and stale, and you poured it out in the sink. As you waited for the fresh pot to brew you searched through the cupboards for a coffee carafe. The cupboards of the kitchenette were pretty empty, only filled with mugs and drinking glasses. With a sigh you kneeled to look through the cabinet below the sink.  You tried your best to be fast, not wanting to miss anything important. Finally, you found what you were looking for. With fresh coffee in one hand, and paper cups in the other, you made your way back down a hallway you hoped would bring you back to the meeting.

A couple of wrong turns later you let out a sigh of relief as you peaked Joel through the glass partition wall of the meeting room. This better be good enough for Ronald, you thought as you opened the door, not bothering to knock.

“And I think that’s about it,” one of the men opposite Joel said as you placed the coffee and paper cups on the table, “We’ll break for lunch and go ahead with the chemistry test later today.”

Did you really just miss the whole meeting?

“Sounds great,” Ronald said, pushing his chair out, and standing to his feet to shake the hands of the men from VCA. Then the rest of the room came alive as people got up from their seats and gathering their things. In front of you a chair bumped into you, pushing you a little off balance.

“Oh! Sorry– didn’t see you there.”

It was Cheryl, Joel’s new co-star. She was young, just turned twenty-one if you remembered correctly, and gorgeous. Her blonde hair, curled to perfection, cascaded down her back. Her light blue dress clung tightly to her body, accentuating her curves while the deep v-neck showed off her cleavage.

You shook your head and put on a smile, muttering an “It’s okay,” as you stepped out of her way, and shifted closer to Joel. He was busy gathering the papers spread out in front of him on the table, tapping them lightly against the teak before gathering them in his hands, turning towards you and Cheryl.

When you didn’t make a move to leave, Cheryl cleared her throat, widening her eyes at Joel as they flickered towards you. Your heart sunk in your chest. It didn’t take a genius to take her hint – you knew when you weren’t wanted.

“I’ll uh… I’ll wait for you down in the reception,” you muttered to Joel, “Let me know what you want for lunch, and I’ll get you something.” Before he could say anything, you turned around to leave, grabbing your notebook and pen.

You knew you shouldn’t have looked back as you made your way out the door, but you did. The cold stone in your chest sank lower as you watched them. Cheryl’s body curled towards Joel as they talked, her hand landing on his bicep as she let out a giggly laugh. It made your heart sting, but maybe not as much as the ache of watching Joel’s bright smile, the one he so often gave you.

Over fifteen minutes later, Joel finally walked into the reception where you waited for him. You were hard to miss where you sat on one of the couches, reading a magazine, the only person occupying the space.

“Whatcha readin’?” he asked, slumping down next to you, so close his arm brushed against yours.

You couldn’t watch his bright eyes, and the cheeky smile tugging at his lips. So, you held up one of the porn magazines you’d grabbed off the coffee table, blocking his view of your face, substituting it with the woman adorning the front and posing seductively to the camera, showing off the biggest boobs you’d ever seen.

“Industry news,” you shrugged.

You earned yourself a chuckle, “Anythin’ interestin’?”

“Not really,” you sighed, quickly shutting the magazine, and throwing it haphazardly on the table.

You could feel his warmth beside you, his broad frame, and strong arms. The same arms who’d held you so close this morning. Still, you didn’t look at him, your gaze falling to your fiddling hands in your lap. A piece of skin around your thumb had come loose, and it burned as you pulled at it.

“Um…” you started, still watching your hands, “What’s the plan for lunch? You want me to go down to that deli you like– get you a sandwich?”

Joel’s arm brushed against you as he shifted in his seat, bucking his hips slightly to fish out his pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. “Ain’t no need to do that for me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice slightly muffled by the cigarette between his lips.

“Well, it’s kinda my job,” you mumbled, your face pulling up into a slight frown as you ripped the loose skin around your thumb.

“Yeah– but,” Joel drew a breath of his cigarette.

Now you looked at him, eyebrows pulled tight in a real frown, “But what?”

He watched you, eyes dancing over your face as he took another drag, releasing the smoke out the corner of his mouth.

“Nothin’.”

You couldn’t interpret his face with the way he was looking at you, almost as he was searching for something. A silence grew between you – it was ugly and festering, like a canyon had grown between you – it was something you’d never felt with Joel before.

“A sandwich sounds nice,” he finally spoke across the silence, and you nodded.

“Um– can I borrow your car?” you asked, clearing your throat of your anxiety.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” It was like your question had woken him.

Joel had driven you both into work today, your car sitting pretty in its parking space outside your apartment complex. He rested his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray on the table before he fished his car keys from his jeans pocket and handed them to you.

“They have me set up in a trailer out on the lot next door– I’ll wait for ya there, alright?” The hand handing you his keys locked around yours, caging them between your hands.

You squeezed his hand, the familiar weight of it in your hand, the tenderness in which he held you, made you feel a little better. Shrinking the deep canyon between you to a ravine.

“Um, why exactly?” you asked, eyes glued to your intertwined hands.

“Shit– sorry,” Joel shook his head and shifted closer to you, his knee brushing against yours, “they want me and Cheryl to have a chemistry test before they go ahead with signin’ the contracts. It’s nothin’ big or anythin’– just a blowjob.”

Just a blowjob.

You nodded slowly. It was just a blowjob, but it was a blowjob from Cheryl. Cheryl who was younger with the perfect body. Cheryl who made him smile and laugh. Cheryl who could give him a blowjob, and not some sorry excuse of a handjob.

“Oh, okay,” you peeped, loosening your grip around his hand, clasping the keys in your hand.

You got up from the couch before he could say anything more, “I’ll go get you your lunch then.”

His cigarette resting in the ashtray had burned out, like your conversation with Joel. You bent slightly to grab your purse when his hands clasped around your wrist, bringing your attention back on him.

“’s everythin’ alright?” he asked you as he got up from the couch as well, closing the space between you.

Your lips pulled into a smile, one you hoped was convincing, “Yeah! Why wouldn’t it?”

His other hand came up to cup your cheek gently, shifting your face to look at him. “’s just for work, you know,” he told you.

Your head was nodding even before he’d finished talking, your face still pulled tight in a smile, “Yeah, Joel, I know.”

“Okay,” he whispered and leaned closer. You shifted your face in his palm, his lips hitting your other cheek in a short peck before you were pulling away. His fingers like a bracelet around your wrist, fell heavy to his side.

“See you in a little bit,” you told him before pushing the door to the reception open and stepping outside.

Some forty minutes later you were knocking on a trailer door with the sign ‘Joel Packer’ hanging on the front. In your other hand you were balancing two coffees and a bag with two sandwiches. You knocked again when nothing happened, scared you’d shown up to the wrong trailer for a second, even with the sign telling you, you were in the right place.

“Joel? I have your lunch.”

“Come in,” he answered almost immediately.

You opened the trailer door and stepped inside, careful not to spill the coffees all over the carpeted floor of his trailer as you balanced everything. With the door closed you turned around, eyes scanning the cramped room for Joel.

He was laying on the couch, one hand down the front of his pants where he palmed himself over his briefs – a lazy smile resting over his features as he took you in.

“Oh! Sorry,” you quickly looked away, scurrying to place his food on the nearest table.

Behind you Joel got up from the couch, crossing the small space between you to wrap his arms around your body, and press his front against your ass. You jumped in his grasp, your hands finding his where they rested around your waist.

“Stop apologizin’” he whispered in your ear, his teeth catching on your earlobe, “was just gettin’ ready, baby,” his breath was hot against the column of your neck, and you felt his cock grow against your ass. “Ain’t gonna have any trouble gettin’ hard now though,” he chuckled.

“Joel,” you whined, the sound pathetic at the back of your throat.

“Yes, baby, let me hear ya,” you could feel the bass in his voice vibrate against your skin.

His hands spread over your body, drinking you in with his touch, grabbing at your breast while pressing tender kisses to your neck. You melted against him, body soft and pliant. In an instant you were back in your memories from this morning, and you couldn’t fight the whimper from falling from your lips. With closed eyes your memories mixed with your present. Images of how he’d kissed you, touched you, and taken care of you this morning blended with the firm press of his body against yours and his calloused hands exploring you; like how you could still see your reflection in rippling water.

“Joel,” you tried again.

“I know, my sweet girl,” he cooed.

Behind you he bucked his hips against your ass, the bulge of his hard cock splitting your cheeks. You felt your arousal wet your panties, an ache of anticipation settling in your core.

“Fuck, sweetheart– wish it was you getting on your knees for me later.” He whispered his filthy words in your ear with another buck of his hips. “Wanna feel your tight little throat around my cock as you choke on it.”

His confession made a nervousness intertwine itself with your blinding arousal. You turned around in his arms, your face nuzzled into the dip where his neck met his collarbone, “I-I’ve never done that before.” Your confession was barely a whisper, the words muffled into his skin.

His grip tightened around you, and you felt the way his body moved under your cheek, a comforting hand landed carefully at the back of your neck. His jaw and cheek bumped against the top of your head as he dipped down to your face and his breath changed like he was about to say something, but then was interrupted by a hollow knock on the trailer door.

“We’re ready for you on set in fifteen minutes, Mr. Miller,” a voice called.

With the knock the spell was broken. You untangled yourself from his embrace, a shy smile ghosting over your lips as you stepped away.

“You should eat.”

Again, you’d agreed to watch him film. Joel had convinced you on his way out the trailer door, his hand resting at the small of your back as he led you towards the set. It was a small shoot – only Joel and Cheryl, the cameraman, the sound guy, a couple people from VCA, Ronald, and you. In the time you’d worked for Joel, you couldn’t remember a set feeling this intimate (not that you usually stayed to watch– not unless he explicitly asked).

The only goal for the scene was to find out if Joel and Cheryl worked well together on camera – hence no specific storyline or roles they were supposed to act out. Joel was getting his dick sucked, but other than that they were free to take the scene whichever way they wanted.

The room buzzed with quiet conversation as the cameraman got the camera and film ready. Joel was already seated on the couch where the scene would take place. His legs were spread wide, his hard bulge on display as he leisurely smoked a cigarette. Cheryl had taken up the seat beside him, leaning her elbow on the back and resting her head in her hands. They were talking, but you couldn’t hear from where you stood in the corner. Every now and then Joel’s eyes would search for yours, meeting them for a moment as a small smile spread across his lips, before they would flick back to Cheryl, joining their conversation again.

A few minutes later, the cameraman gave the okay to start shooting, making the rest of the set settle down. Joel still smoked his cigarette, so you took it upon yourself to be a good assistant and walk over to him with an ashtray.

A smile spread across Joel’s face when he saw you approach. His arm came up to rest over the back of the couch, his body opening to you with curiosity. You gave him a small smile in return, presenting the ashtray to him with a teasing raise of your eyebrow.

“Just ‘nother drag, sweetheart,” he teased, placing his cigarette back between his lips.

“Nuh-uh,” you chuckled, stealing his cigarette from his mouth with two pinched fingers.

The rest of the smoke in his lungs came out in small chuckles, his hands gathering in his lap as he leaned slightly towards you, moony eyes watching you. He was about to say something before,

“Quiet on set,” the cameraman interrupted with a shout.

You wanted to do something. Cup his cheek, kiss him, anything to just touch him, but you couldn’t. You needed to keep it professional. Instead, you gave him another small smile before you walked back to your previous spot in the corner.

“And… action!”

With the shout of the cameraman, the film was rolling, and the shoot had started.

Leaning against the wall again, you crossed your arms over your chest as you watched Cheryl sink to her knees between Joel’s spread legs. On her lips she wore an innocent pout while her hands caressed his thighs.

“Wanna put my mouth on it,” she said in a sweet voice.

“Yeah, baby? What do you want in your pretty little mouth?” Joel’s voice was deep and coaxing, his hand cupping Cheryl’s chin where his thumb ghosted over her skin.

Cheryl tilted her face down slightly, eyes big and wide as she looked up at him through her lashes.

“Your cock, sir,” she pouted.

You still didn’t know much of the plot to the porno they were shooting, but it was clear that they were going in a specific direction. It wasn’t unusual for Joel to slip into a more dominant character in the pornos he played in, but this new element of innocence from his scene partner wasn’t something he often did.

“You want me to teach you how to suck cock like a proper whore, sweet girl?”

Sweet girl.

You watched how Cheryl’s head nodded in his palm, teeth catching on her bottom lip, and a wicked smile tugged at the corners of Joel’s mouth. It made you shift your weight, arms tightening around your body.

“Alright…” Joel’s thumb ghosted over her bottom lip, “Take my cock out,” he ordered, pulling his hand away.

Cheryl obediently did as he said, her hands messing with the buttons on his jeans. Joel wasn’t wearing anything underneath – it was easier that way, he’d told you earlier in his trailer. Cheryl gasped as Joel’s hard cock sprung free. Her eyes wide as she watched how his cock slapped against his lower stomach.

“’s big isn’t it, sweet girl?”

Again.

Your teeth caught on your bottom lip, pulling at the loose skin with a burning ache.

“So big, sir,” Cheryl agreed, nodding her head.

“Too big for your little mouth, sweetheart?” Joel teased, taking himself in his hand, pulling gentle strokes up and down.

Cheryl shook her head again, “No, sir! I can take it!”

Joel huffed out a laugh at that, his grin growing wider. “Yes, you can, slut.”

His degrading words pulled a moan from Cheryl, and not a second later her mouth was on him. Joel laughed again, another huffing chuckle leaving him as his heavy hand came to rest at the top of her head, guiding her down on him.

“That’s it, slut, suck that big cock– take it all the way down that whore throat,” he encouraged, head tipping back in pleasure. The wet sounds echoing through the room were obscene, pornographic. Sticky strings of spit clung to Cheryl’s chin and dripped down to her breasts where she’d tugged at the V of her neckline to expose them.

“Feels so good, my sweet girl– just like that,” Joel moaned, eyes squeezed shut with a look of pleasure coating his features like he’d ascended to heaven.

My sweet girl.

The room spun, and you pressed your back harder against the wall, like it would fall down over you if you didn’t press up against it. Or maybe it was you who would cave in.

That pet name. That fucking pet name.

You needed to step out if you wanted to breathe, your throat tightening up as your thoughts drifted; to this morning in your bed and then again in the shower, to the two of you in that motel bed, to Joel’s hand on your knee as he’d knelt in front of you by the pool in Pismo Beach. Burning tears pressed behind your eyelids. You couldn’t watch any more, couldn’t hear any more, you couldn’t.

As quietly as you could you stepped out of the set. Your eyes pinched together in a squint as the hot LA afternoon sun blazed down on you. The air hot and stuffy, but not as suffocating as you felt inside.

Why did you feel this way? Jealous of another woman?

Joel wasn’t your boyfriend… at least not in so many words, but after Pismo Beach and his confession, he felt like yours. Someone you can’t help but fall in love with. That’s what he’d told you.

You couldn’t keep your thoughts from spiraling. Fall in love with? How could he be in love with you? You’d only had sex twice, never been on a proper date. You didn’t know who he was outside work. His touch and his kisses felt good, but how could you know if it was more than that – more than just something physical. He’d never called you his girlfriend. Why did you have any right to be upset right now?

This was his job. You knew that before you got involved with him. It wasn’t a problem for you, you’d told him so in the job interview. You’d spoken the truth at the time, but now you weren’t so sure.

Numbed by your realization, you stepped back inside. The scene you were met with only affirmed your thoughts.

You couldn’t give him what he wanted.

They’d moved positions. Cheryl’s head hung off the armrest, perfect boobs bouncing beneath Joel as he fucked her throat. It was lewd, and dirty and plain vulgar. With every thrust of his hips Joel earned himself a quiet gag. Under him, her body was completely at his mercy. He pulled back every once in a while, to let her breath, before plunging his hard cock back down her throat. Ropes of bubbling spit escaped her mouth and ran down her face.

Joel was completely in control, using her throat purely for his own pleasure. Groans and moans spilled from his lips in between filthy praises and ‘good girl’’s. Cheryl’s body squirmed under him, her hand rubbing quickly at her clit under her dress, edging herself towards her orgasm.

This is what Joel wanted. Someone like Cheryl– someone who was confident and skilled, someone who knew what she was doing.

You watched Joel’s thrusts turn sloppy, and that now familiar pinch in his brow let you know he was about to bust his load. With a quick motion he jerked his cock back, taking his throbbing and sensitive cock in hand, fisting himself quickly. Cheryl gasped for air, before she withered with her orgasm.

Joel groaned louder than you’d ever heard him before, his eyes flicking up from Cheryl’s squirming body to find yours. A smile spread across his face then, and then he was spilling over his knuckles and painting Cheryl’s face with his release.

“Shit,” Joel panted, coming down. His hand squeezed the last few drops of his cum out of his cock and onto Cheryl’s tongue.

“Aaaand– cut,” the camera man yelled.

Joel dropped the act immediately, stepping away from a ruined Cheryl as his cock went soft in his hand.

“Shit,” Cheryl groaned, wiping some of the mix of spit and Joel’s cum from her face.

“You okay?” Joel asked, tender hands helping her sit upright.

Cheryl giggled sweetly, big smile blossoming over her features, “Okay? More than okay, Joel– fucking amazing.”

As the gentle lover you knew him to be, Joel helped Cheryl clean up her face after getting handed a towel, but not before assessing the picture he’d painted– which wasn’t much, not compared the cumshots he usually gave out.  

“If I knew I’d be filmin’ today I wouldn’t have jerked of this morning,” he laughed, wiping her face.

It wasn’t funny.

part three -> here

i hope this was okay? and that you liked this! <3 as always feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller one shot #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #dom!joel miller #the last of us smut #tlou smut #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #inexperienced!reader #70s au #pedro pascal

[darling-im-wonderstruck]

could you write something where peter and reader are having a study date, but peter falls asleep and reader just lets him be/tucks him in?? tysm

don’t want to miss a thing.

synopsis : getting peter to sleep wasn’t going to be as difficult as you’d thought.

pairing : bf!peter parker x reader

wc : 490 +

warnings : none ! super fluffy sleepy!peter is all you need to worry about :) (normal sized text belowww + this is college!peter)

‎‎ masterlist | request | navigation

a/n : hi nonnie !! thank you so so much for this request <3 i actually whipped this one up pretty quickly because of the rush of inspiration your request gave me hehe :) hope you enjoy it !

it was nearly midnight when you started to notice peter’s eyelids practically begging to fall, his head was inching closer and closer to the surface of your desk. which, admittedly, was somewhat adorable. he’d been like this for the past hour, though it was getting progressively worse every passing minute.

you were in your room, catching up on some studies alongside peter. the boy found every single excuse to be with you, and when you said that you didn’t have time (due to your need to study), he came up with the perfect compromise. a study date.

though, by the time he’d come back from patrolling, it was already 10 pm, and naturally, he was exhausted. but you knew peter, therefore, you knew he was going to put up a fight rather than accepting defeat and falling asleep.

“pete, you look like you’re about to pass out.” you say softly, causing him to whip his head to your direction.

“no, no, no, no. i’m wide awake!” he shoots himself up, making you let out a small laugh, causing the tenseness of his body to disappear. your laugh comforted him.

“i think you need some rest. c’mon, this can wait.” you stood up and gestured for him to go to your bed, but he shakes his head.

“‘m okay, really.” his attempt to assure you was failing, given that he was falling asleep as he said that very sentence.

“you’re so cute when you’re tired.” you smile at him, he returned it with a lazy smile and continued to attempt answering a few practice questions on his worksheet.

“you think so?” he has a smug smirk on his face. gosh. you couldn’t help but giggle.

“just tell me when you wanna call it a day, okay?” you say as you sat back down beside him and continued your work. 

“talk to me? tell me about your day, that’ll help keep me up.” he asks, keeping himself focused on his work.

“oh! okay then! well, after class, while you were out, i ended up coming over and talking to may, and she showed me a bunch of your baby photos, which, might i say, were so cute.” peter sat closer to you, and you thought nothing of it as you continued talking.

“mhm…” his responses became increasingly incoherent as you continued talking about what aunt may had told you. he was falling asleep before he began to realize it.

“so then, i asked may- oh, you’re asleep.” your voice starts with its normal volume and you quiet down as you realize.

 oh.

he’d found a comfortable spot on your shoulder as you were talking and slowly began to drift off. you observed a small, barely there smile that he had as he slept. his arms were rested around your waist and his face was buried into the crook of you neck. he was finally relaxed.

you found it increasingly difficult to move at all, in fear of him waking up, so you decided that it’d be good for you to get some rest as well.

you press a soft kiss on his cheek (and you may or may not have taken a quick photo of him for your wallpaper) before resting your head gently on his, but you felt him move ever so slightly, so you lift your head up, and so did he.

all he did was smile at you, and you did the same, right before he rubbed his eyes and rested himself onto your shoulder yet again.

work could wait, this, however, couldn’t.

taglist : (send me an ask to be added hehe !) @live-laugh-lovejoy

a/n : thank you for reading loves !!!! requests are open, as per usual, pls just be patient w me, feel free to reblog as it is very important to support writers &lt;3

#peter parker #peter parker x y/n #mcu!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #tom!peter parker x reader #tom!spiderman #peter parker x reader #peter x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman #spider-man #spiderman x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker blurb #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fic #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker writing #college peter parker #mcu peter parker #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker

[hanwiore]

a/n: little smut for könig! I love him uhhhh, don’t mind any typos, my pussy wrote this and she’s really tired rn okay!

“uh fuck! s-sorry!” you whine, drool slipping pass your once glossed glittery lips. a smack was swatted against your left ass cheek this time, painting an angry dark red against your brown skin. “cussin now, love? tsk.” two smacks were swatted on the back of your thighs this time.

yours thighs instantly closed, your wetness dripping down them, “g-god, m’ sorry daddy, uhn gosh, m’ so sorry.” it was a shame really, you came to königs house looking so cute, hair freshly done in a half up, half down with a bow right on top of the ponytail. white fold over leggings with a baby pink fitted jacket, you came looking comfortable and smelling so good just to get in trouble.

all because you said his enemy ‘Simon ‘ghost’ Riley ’ was an attractive male, of course it was a joke. I mean, you said it days ago! you thought it was over. but you should have known messing with a guy who have gone through things among what you can imagine would go so kindly on someone who means little harm.

“ja, you sorry baby?” he hums, face sounding tired but in truth. he’s holding back from fucking you. your face is bent over the arm rest of his big couch, booty perched up while your cherry printed panties are half way down your butt cheeks. leggings down to your ankles as your toes curled underneath your fuzzy socks. “hm? you sorry?” he grabs the hood of your jacket, grips it to pull your whole body up, “the fuck you sorry for huh? tell me.”

the same hand on your hoodie moves to the front of you to grip just an inch under your jaw, he moves you back enough to you feel his bulge against your ass. “I-i didn’t mean it papa, I s-swear.” you gargle, still shaking from the spanking you have received.

his lips moves to kiss the side of your forehead, then moves down to your neck, “yea, I know princess.” now his other hand moves and covers your pussy, you feel him moving it against your bud slowly. and you being so damn sensitive, you think you could’ve came right then and there if it wasn’t from the sudden slap he left on your cunt. “ha-haah! daddy- oh my g-gosh.” your body jerks forward and your thighs press against each other, you barely get a moment to do so before your receiving another slap, this time to your boobs that was revealed due to him tugging the zipper down.

you felt like crying, you really did. you whimpered out loud, your fingers found their way to both of his wrist—the one on your jaw and the other one on your thigh that forces it open—you squeeze them as you beg. “p-please. I-it hurts so much.” honestly, you were lucky. you may not have felt as if you were but god, it could have been worse than this. but könig just has a sweet spot for you, you haven’t ran away from him yet, you take it like the good girl you are, he hurts you and you come to him to fix it.

he loves it.

he loves you.

“it hurts princess?” he moves his arms away from you, pushing you back down so your ass is back in the air. “mines hurts too.” his jagged fingers goes and squeezes his dick through his sweats, “fuck, hurts so bad. m’ drippin’ baby.” he sees your head moving to lay flat on your cheek so you can look back at him, a pout on your cute face but he can see your eyes.

you fucking adored him.

“l-love you so much daddy, d-daddy i love y-you so much.” he smiles at that, he bends down slightly to kiss both of your perky butt cheeks, that jiggles with every quiver you’ve made. And all of a sudden you gasp as he quite literally tongue kisses your pussy. His nose so close to your puckered hole as his tongue is making out with the hole that creates the taste he’s obsessed with.

“o-oh.” it almost sound like a cry for help, you were so happy though. you felt so good. you relax against the couch, dainty fingers grabbing anywhere to calm your racing heart and shaggy breathing. “mph, h-heavens.”

his hands grips the fat of your ass to scoot you closer against him, tongue now going side by side against your clit, nose just as wet as his mouth is. then he does the most disgusting thing ever and spits right on your pussy just to slurp it back up and spit on your puckered hole. his thumb is already in there before you think, “oh! f-fuck, shit-,” you know you aren’t allowed to say such words but you just can’t help it.

and he knows, daddy always knows.

he leans back up and pulls down his sweatpants half way down his thick tensing thighs.

you feel it on the wet hole he just spit on. and you’ve seen it a thousand times but you loved to see it all over again.

it was uncut, pink with veins peaking out here and there, but it was so fucking thick. and when ever he was hard enough the extra skin will peel slowly down to show his angry red—wet— tip. You loved it.

that fascination was short lived once you were flipped over and your knees were damn near touching your shoulders, “put it in for me.” his breath was almost as ragged as yours was.

your long acrylic nails, painted pink and white with 3D flowers on it every where clinked against eachother as you stroked his dick once, twice until you slapped it on your chubby lips. making a slimy sound, almost sounds as if it hurts before your pushed it into you.

“d-daddy- o-oh daddy fuck- imma cum a-already.” you moan once he bottoms out. his hands rested right by your head on the arm rest, his legs bent slightly so he can give you short but fast strokes that bruise your g-spot tremendously.

“yea, you taking it baby? taking that d-dick.” his hair falls across his forehead slightly, lips bitten red from his own abuse. eyes clenched shut. “f-fuck mama.” his rough hand slaps your thigh once he picks up the pace more, putting his hands on the back of your knees to fold you impossibly. he was so urgent, urgent to please you. urgent to make you fucking scream.

and you were.

he swore you can make a perfect picture.

you pink bow still in your hair as your hair flows across the couch. eyebrows furrowed and cute lips open slightly to let out the most, sluttiest but cutest whines ever. “a-ah, ah, ah. y-yes daddy- m’ taking it, uh.” your hands moved to grab behind your thighs instead of his while he moves back to inspect your pussy.

he goes to take it out, only an inch away from going completely out before he drops right on in, as if he was tired of doing push ups and gave up. he watches your brown fat pussy lips open wide from his heavy dick, watches how the inside of vibrant pink was creamy with white substance that you caused.

“S-shit, fuck- you creamin on my shit liebe?”

you cry out, head falling back, “c-can’t help it- daddy imma cum- gonna make me cu-cum!” your legs start to shake as well as your walls do, it makes him go sloppy a little bit before he moves forward and now have his hands in fist, legs straight while his fit is on his toes, and he goes absolutely ham in your pussy.

Goes up, then drop again.

Ya’ll make a beautiful musical.

Slapping sounds from his thick chubby balls slamming on your wet asshole, slimy sounds from your wetness and his precum, whiney moans from your and his deep groans that he can’t help but let out.

cause he knows he digging that lil shit out. he knows it.

you’re cumming already, three more strokes in and your absolutely convulsing against his cock. “Ah-ah-ah d-daddyyyy, oh my fu-fucking gosh!” Your fingers pinch your thighs as you can feel your wetness stream from your pussy down to the bottom of your ass on the couch.

he’s not far behind you. between your face, the bouncing of your tits and your tight & wet ass pussy taking his dick like a soldier, every single time makes him moan in your face.

“gonna make cum schönes mädchen.” he legs pull forward so he back on his knees and he pulls you above him, while he’s sitting up. You let go under your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck, reaching around to rub your fingers through his hair as you moan in his ear, “give it to me daddy, gimme it. wan it so bad!”

both of his hands are on your hips, grinding you almost angrily onto his dick, he felt so fucking good.

“a-ah fuck, fuck baby, s-shit-“ he’s grabbing the back of your neck as you feel a warm squirt of cum go inside your throbbing hole, and he’s still going. “G-goddamn.” he shoves his face in your neck as he moves his hips up against you slower and more sloppy.

“no more scherzhaft, yes?” he huffs into your ear.

“yes, no more joking.” you mumble.

#konig #black reader #smut #black woman #black fem reader #black women #black woman femininity #konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x you #konig modern warfare #konig smut #konig x y/n #konig x black reader #daddy’s babygirl #older daddy #spank me daddy

[widowmaxff]

In overwhelmed, it mentions that Y/N used to be in a dark hole and how Wanda is afraid she’d go back to it. Can you write about it? Like what happened?

hope ur ok

pairings: mom!wanda × daughter!reader (platonic)

warnings: depressed reader, cryingg, bad thoughts, and sad sad things

a/n: okay how did you pay so much attention to what i wrote in overwhelmed bc i didnt even remember writing that 😭 BUT THANK YOU for the request i literally just ramble what was in my head but hope you like it love!

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE!

You don't know when it started, much less why it started. Maybe a few days ago, a month ago, maybe a year ago the signs that something was wrong started to appear. It was almost as if these feelings were always there, just hidden by a layer that was slowly removed and made everything more difficult. It seemed like there were days when you could easily deal with it, maybe ignoring it or just hiding it very well, you didn't know. But there were days that were more difficult. It was more difficult to get out of bed, your appetite was barely there, you didn't want to leave your room, just stay in darkness and total silence. Even though this silence made your head spin, it was better than anyone talking and making you even more depressed.

If someone asked the people closest to you if you were sensitive, you were sure that more than half of them would say no. They would talk about how you had a frozen heart, that you didn't cry when you watched a sad movie, that you didn't fall in love with the character when watching or reading a novel, that you didn't care when someone was fighting with you. But deep down, you knew it was a lie. You felt hard feelings most of the time, including when watching sad films. Maybe you just don't like showing the sadness and emptiness you feel. It makes you feel weak, worthless, and selfish, especially selfish. You shouldn't feel this way, not when you had the perfect life: a loving mother, food on the table, new clothes, and expensive sneakers. Then why?

You didn't really care that you felt depressed, you knew that eventually it would pass, just like every other time - even if that feeling came back some time later, even worse. It wasn't like anyone noticed and said anything to you, even though you were sure most of the adults around you blamed it on teenage hormones when they saw you sulking or just isolating yourself in your room all day. Maybe a few questions like 'are you okay?', even though they knew you would respond with something positive even if everything was falling apart. But there was always someone. Someone who knew that it wasn't just teenage hormones but something that was slowly consuming you. Wanda, your mother, was that someone, and she certainly didn't let those details slip.

The first time you actually showed that you were in a depressing state was on a random Thursday at six-thirty in the morning. Wanda didn't mind much in the first moments when you refused to get out of bed, it was normal for any teenager to not be able to stand school. But when you finally decided to show up for the morning in the Compound's kitchen, she was surprised. You had big black bags under your eyes that were tired and red, looking like you hadn't slept well that night and maybe you had been crying most of it. Wanda didn't take long to ask if something had happened and if you were okay, only receiving a murmur of something like ‘'m fine' before turning back to look at the emptiness of space. Tony who was nearby joked “Maybe the red eyes are because of something she used. Don't tell me you snuck out to a party, Mini Maximoff?”, you'd laugh on any other day, even replying something like 'Yes, I did some hard drugs at a party. How do you know?', but that wasn't the case. Stark laughed to himself after saying that sentence but soon the sound of his voice disappeared when he realized that you hadn't heard him and, apparently, nothing around you.

The second time was right after a mission Wanda had done. It was only three days away from you and everything seemed different when she came back. The first thing she noticed was that you didn't run into her arms when she stepped inside the Compound, much less respond to the messages she sent you a few hours earlier. Obviously like a worried mother she went after you, not taking long to find you in your room with all the lights off, two blankets around your body and how it looked like the things in your room had been in the same place since your mother left for the mission. She turned on the light in your room, hearing a soft growl leave your lips. You were awake and conscious, so it didn't make sense for you to want to be lying down and almost sinking into your mattress at four o'clock in the afternoon. She remembered when you were little and couldn't sleep if at least one light wasn't on, now it was ironic to think that you just lived in the darkness and emptiness of your room without fear that some monster would catch you, because no monster could hurt you like depression was.

Wanda couldn't count how many more episodes like those happened and lasted for several days. She was worried, very worried. She was afraid that you would end up doing something that would hurt you, end everything. It was obvious that your mother tried to ask you what was wrong, how she could help you, but you always said that you just woke up on the wrong foot that morning and that everything was fine. Of course, how were you going to tell her what was happening if you didn't even know. There was no reason for you to feel down like that and not even the absurd desire to just want to close your eyes and not open them again. And every day that passed, this dark hole you were in would get deeper and deeper. You knew you needed to ask for help before it was too late. 

It was no longer strange when once again that week you had no will to live. You look at the clock next to your bed and realize that your mother would be coming to your room to call you for another day in two minutes and a few seconds. Just the thought of 'one more day' made you want to throw up the food you didn't even eat the day before, as that empty feeling made your hunger go away. But as much as vomiting, you wanted to cry, cry until you couldn't take it anymore. And it was no surprise when the tears started to fall and you couldn't stop. Even though you are not a loud person, trying to keep yourself in your own bubble, the sobs wanted to get out of your throat anyway.

“Darling?” Wanda didn't mind knocking on your bedroom door in the morning, since you would be sleeping, well, not at that moment. When she heard the choking sounds you were making to keep from crying, she didn't take long to run towards your body on the bed and get under your covers, pressing you against her chest giving the perfect comfort to let you know that you weren't alone. “Oh, my love.” Wanda has seen you cry, many, many times, but it was so different to see you cry as if you were drowning in a sea and needed help from someone, anyone. “It's okay, Mama is here.” With each passing minute it seemed like the tears were getting even bigger than before, but you tried to focus on Wanda's heartbeat as you placed your hand on her chest, making you feel calmer despite all the panic. 

The lullaby that starts to leave her lips and go straight to your ear makes you start paying attention to the soft melody and not your terrible thoughts. The language Wanda sang in, Sokovian, was not understood by you, but you still remembered when she sang you to sleep on the days you had nightmares. It was as if Wanda was using her magic to calm you down, even though you knew she would never use her powers on you without your permission, but her voice was so sweet that it was more powerful than any of her red magic. Your breathing becomes soft and your movements slow, as if you were choosing the right words to get rid of that moment, but with your mother there it was almost impossible to lie.

“I wanna get help,” You murmur for just her to hear, despite there being no one else in the room with you two. “b-but I don’t even know why I’m like this.” Your crying had stopped, but you still choked to say a few words. Admitting those words out loud seemed like a challenge for you, and when you said them, a weight seemed to lift off your back despite not having yet deciphered all your feelings. And Wanda knew that. She knew how hard you were to avoid looking like a weak person even if you weren't, even if asking for help wasn't a sign of weakness but rather of improvement.

Your mother kisses your head, taking a few seconds before cupping your face and looking at it. “I'm so proud of you, my angel.” You didn't see pity or lies in the expression on her face. You didn't see disappointment and much less as if you were a problem for her. “I'm glad you want to ask for help, and I'm here for it, yeah?” You felt a little guilty when you saw a tear come out of your mother's eyes, but she was still smiling. The same smile you saw when you woke up, or when you told her some good news, or even when you told her a joke. Wanda never wanted you to feel anything negative about her. She never took out any frustration on you, never made you feel bad when you got a bad grade at school, or when you accidentally knocked a glass on the floor. “I will help you with whatever you need, my love. It will be slow, but I promise that the tightness in your chest will pass, okay?”

“I trust you.” She nods before pulling you into a hug that she knew you needed more than anything at that moment. The process would take a long time until you felt well again, you both knew that, but it was never too late. It's never too late to ask for help, because it's normal to need someone to pull you out of the dark hole sometimes, it's normal to not feel good all the time. Having feelings is normal, even if sometimes they are too deep, or too shallow. You just needed to realize that you were never alone, that people around care about you and will always want the best for you. 

“I love you so much. Always remember that.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

#avengers imagine #marvel cinematic universe #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fic #wanda fanfic #wanda x y/n #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x female reader #elizabeth olsen x y/n #marvel #wanda maximoff marvel #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff comfort #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff au

[grave-z-boy]

Right so I love your writing and just need more mx m cause fuck I'm tired of imaging dead me .

I'm a Trans man..I think ( female to male ??) So I was hoping for a fic somewhat like that . Arthur and reader meet when they're female but 2 years later or so they meet again and arthur doesnt recognize y/n (because they transitioned) I just want some fluff and acceptance of that . I know back then homosexuality was a big no no and being trans is unheard of so it'll be fun to see where you take it.

Arthur Morgan x Trans!Male!Reader

Summary: You’ve felt stuck and unhappy for years, so, in pursuit of your own happiness you leave everyone and everything you’ve even known behind. Including your currently out of state lover, Arthur Morgan.

Word count: 6,011

Warnings: reader is a bartender, reader steals, readers sister and mother are mentioned, implied past sex between Arthur and reader, drinking and alcoholism mentioned (not reader or Arthur), y/n and his guns, guns mentioned, shooting mentioned, abandonment, hurt comfort, reader being One Of The Guys™️, sleep deprived Arthur, Tilly being helpful, reader get misgendered and deadnamed a lot but it’s before they knew he was trans, reader cries really fucking hard at one point Arthur being sleep deprived, sleep deprive Arthur being really gay for Reader, not mentioned in the story but the reason Arthur is so tired is because about half way though his second trip to town his horse bucked him off for pushing her too hard and he had to walk the rest of the way, worlds longest warning list damn

Sept. 15, 18XX

My Dear Arthur Morgan

It’s been thirteen months since I saw you last. The time has passed slowly for me- sometimes it felt as though I was standing still for days at a time. Like everyone and everything around me was moving forward- but for me, and only me, time stood still. In the months since you’ve left it seems my joy, as well as a my love for my home town, has dwindled to nothing. Staying here, the way I am, it pains my heart. I know I said I would be here, that I would wait for you to return. But I need to change and the change that I need cannot be achieved here. The people here know me, they’ve known me my whole life, and no matter what I do I will always be that same little girl to them.

I’m heading up to a little town in Nevada, maybe I can start over there.

Always yours, D/n.

Arthur received your final letter months ago. In the time since he’s read it hundreds of times, mulling over every little detail. The crumbles in the paper, the unevenness of your writing, the all too familiar tear stains that permanently warped small circles on the page, the way your name ripped through the paper, as though you’d traced it dozens of times before sending it off.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand what happened, why after all this time of waiting, all this time of writing him dozens of love letters, why you decided to say goodbye, he understood change. Arthur has seen people change, he’s changed, and if it was change you needed he’d do it again. But you left. If he really wanted to, he could find you, ride day and night, ask everyone he saw if they’d seen the beautiful woman that he loved more than anything. But…

You didn’t want that. You didn’t want to be hunted down, you didn’t need to be convinced. You needed change, not a reason to stay the same. So he let you go and even when the following days were filled with the nothing but pain and confusion and the complete desolation your decision brought, he still let you go.

The gang knew he was hurting, he was withdrawn, went off on his own for a couple of days. They figured he went to find you, but when he returned, without you and in a severely worse state, they knew not to press him on it.

You weren’t much better.

This was your decision and you were going to live with it. You yearned for Arthur, every day and every night, it was different from waiting for him in your hometown, he was the one who’d left then, but you knew he’d come back to you one day. Now you were the one leaving, and you could never go back to him.

You needed to move on, you sold every piece of clothing you had to a local tailor, it was almost funny to see some of your nicer dresses displayed in the window the next morning, early on, your new wardrobe came from various drunk men. You’d be surprised just how much you could find in an alley next to a bar. After you had an outfit, a proper male outfit, you were able to assimilate.

You lived above a tavern. The owner was far too old and far too tired to run it anymore, and he wanted to live in his own house for the first time in decades, so he offered you the place for a little over a hundred bucks. You worked at the bar at night, while you handled various chores and other responsibilities during the day. The pay wasn’t great, but you had a permanent place to stay and spare food from the bar to eat, and it was more than enough.

You’d taken up a new name, y/n, you thought about it for a long time before you left. A good name, the name of a proud man with no connection to who you were before. No one ever questioned you. You were just a man to them. They teased you, in the earlier days, called you feminine, pointed out your hand, your cheeks, and your hips among other things, but in the end it was just teasing, they didn’t know why you were like that, and they didn’t question when you put in an effort to change or hide your more feminine aspects. Maybe they were just too drunk to care.

You loved this life, you were just the friendly bartender.

But even with this new life, you found yourself missing aspects of you’re old one.

Your old friends, your old family, your old lover. They wouldn’t take you back, not like this, they’d think something was wrong, they’d try to change you, try force you back into the box you clawed yourself out of.

But still you dreamed of them, your sisters cooking, the way she was effortlessly graceful even when she was teasing you, your friends, the girls you’ve know since you were in diapers, singing, making flower crowns, getting into trouble. Arthur…

You dreamed of Arthur the most. Your days and nights were filled with thoughts of him. You think back to your last night together, the way he held you so tightly, you swore you could still feel his hands there. The praises he muttered, the love he confessed through out the night, every move he made, the way he left and the hole that was left in your chest after.

You dreamed of him, like one day you’d wake up and he’d be beside you. And he tell you that he loved you, not d/n, not the girl from before, but you, y/n, as your truest self.

But just like yesterday, and the days before that, he wasn’t there when you opened your eyes.

The sun was just coming up. But the sliver of light that did shine through the window seemed to magically be angled at your eyes. Making the rest you so desperately wanted impossible.

You pushed yourself up with a groan, your elbow popping the moment you were upright, your eyes were just barely open, you scratched your chest and let out a long yawn.

Your room was still dark for the most part, but you were still able to pull on some pants and fasten a belt so you could head downstairs. The tavern was empty, you cleaned up good last night and you wouldn’t have to worry about really opening until later. Still, you unlocked the front door and flipped the wooden sign in the window to say open, the people here knew you weren’t really open to serve, you were just open to the chatty people that passed through in the morning, locals coming to say hi, or travelers in need of direction, others came to sit with their friends and get out of the violent Nevada sun. Either way, you’d be polite enough to them, but they weren’t welcome for a drink for another couple of hours.

Stepping into the backyard you picked the laundry off the line and into a basket. You heard the bell up on top of the front door ring a couple of times. As you got closer to the back door you could hear the faint chatter of two people inside, Doctor Mayer, one of three doctors in town, and Anita, a house wife. She was in here more often than her husband was, but you always figured that she just needed something to do while he worked considering you’ve only ever seen her drink a handful of times in the past year.

When you came through the back door she let out an excited yelp,

“Y/n!” She shouted, like she hadn’t seen you the night before.

“Mrs. Matthews.” You said with a respectful nod. “How’s you’re husband?”

She groaned, “paranoid.”

Setting the basket down on the bar, in between the upturned stools, you turned back to her.

“He used to be a farmer, farmers are always paranoid.”

“He was not a damn farmer, don’t let that man fool you, he was a farm hand, it’s different,”

Dr. Mayer piped in, his voice low and tired, though that just how he always sounded, “the bastard smells like one…”

“It’s getting warmer out there.” You responded, leaning against the bar.

“Doesn’t mean he has to walk around smelling like a damn animal!”

You laughed, turning back to Anita, “what does your husband do anyway?”

“He’s a banker, which is why he’s so damn paranoid in the first place.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well..” she stated, adjusting herself in her chair, “one of his colleague’s brother-in-law told his colleague that he saw a gang ‘a outlaws heading up this way, but here’s the kicker, Johnny, the colleague, is a notorious liar. Lies left and right like his life depends on it.”

“Johnny Flores?” You asked.

She smacked the table, “That’s the bastard!”

“Yeah, he comes in here every Wednesday like clockwork, telling the boys his stories. It’s a surprise the whole town hasn’t heard about this..”

“Well, it isn’t Wednesday yet, is it? It’ll make it’s way into you’re bar, don’t worry”

You laughed again, grabbing the basket off the table you said, “Alright, I’ll be back in a minute, got a few more thing to settle.”

You weren’t too worried about the rumors, there wasn’t much in the town anyways, no sheriff either so if they did come and make noise, it’d be a free for all and they’d leave with less than they came with. Everybody had a gun, hell- you had two, a shotgun the last owner had given you, and a pistol Arthur had given you a few weeks before he left, one was under the bar on a shelf, the other was under your bed, you’ve never really had a need for either, but if Johnny was being truthful for once in his life, which you doubted, you figured it was good to have them.

That night, when the bar did open, a few unfamiliar faces strode in, though none were to shady. A couple of working girls took to them quick and they were gone after being chatted up by for a bit. Outside of that, it was a normal night.

You closed late, shooing out the last drunk nearly two hours later than usual. Wiping down the tables, flipping the chairs and stools on them, washing the glasses, sweeping, mopping and making sure the front and back door was locked before heading upstairs. You scrubbed yourself down at your washstand. Of all things you missed from your old home, your bathtub was one of the bigger ones. Your mother had invested in it early on, and now you were saving to have one installed here too. What you wouldn’t do for a hot bath after a long day. You were almost there, another fifty dollars and you’d have all the money you needed. That’s were a good portion of your money went, you didn’t mind, after all you’ve sacrificed you deserve something nice.

——-

A couple of weeks later, Wednesday afternoon, Johnny Flores and a couple of his friend decided to take over the seats directly in front of the bar. Again, he told stories of bandits headed your way, but he was “serious” this time.

“I swear, I know what I saw, Dutch’s boys, just like the damn posters! I saw them coming from the east, clear as day.”

Before one of his friend could respond you asked, “and what the hell were you doing in the east, huh?”

“Well-“ he straightened himself out, “I was out with my lady friend-“

“The prostitute-“ his friend, Oscar, interrupted.

“-Not a prostitute, she's a-”

“-escort-” both Johnny and his three friends said together, they've heard that one before.

“Isnt that the same thing?” you asked.

“He doesn't think so!” Oscar said.

“They almost knocked our carriage over!” Johnny shouted, getting the conversation on track.

“Sure they did..” you said, drying the glass in your hand before setting it back down. “Bet they stuck you up too, only let you live cuz you're so pretty.”

“Go to hell, y/n.”

“I'll go where ever your lying, drunk ass ain't.”

“Im not lying, and I’m not drunk either, so get me another whiskey, asshole!”

“Hey now,” Daniel, who was also a regular, piped up, “careful how you talk to him, he might shoot ya’”

You set the glass down in front of him, he snatched it quickly, gulping it down.

“Or I might just piss in your whiskey.”

He choked hard, luckily the drink went down his throat instead of all over your counter, then you would have shot him. His face morphed to one of irritation, but his friend's laughter was infectious and he found himself laughing along with them.

The night ended with you carrying a passed out Johnny to the alley, you cleaned up, scrubbed yourself down, and went to bed just as you always did.

The next morning a delivery was made to the bar, food and alcohol, you kept your meats and some of your more expensive liquor in the ice box and things like bread and supplies were kept on the shelf. Food wasn't ordered commonly in the tavern, but there were those who ate here nearly every night because they had no skill for cooking and no one else to do it for them. You enjoyed those people, and you think they enjoyed you too, especially since the last owner would drive them out if they tried to come in for more than three days in a row. He thought that they were stealing food from other customers, but you didn't, You knew they were just hungry and needed to eat, and they couldn't be stealing because they always paid.

After that, your day was pretty normal- other than what you consider to be one the best things to happen to you in a long time- your bathtub, your beautiful porcelain bathtub with golden feet and faucet, was done. Fully installed and in perfect working order. You weren't going to pretend to understand how the man you paid did it, but he did. And finally, after what felt like years, you were able to take a hot bath.

It was weird, staring down at your distorted body as you soaked. Usually, when you scrubbed yourself down at the washstand all you could think of was how desperately you wanted this to be over. Your mind was clear, but that clarity only lasted so long though, as it did most nights, your mind wander to Arthur.

Saying you missed him was redundant, it was meaningless, it was stupid. You know, but you did. Letting out a long sigh, the last time you saw Arthur was like a dream, you spent an entire day together, you woke up together, ate together, bathed together, dressed together- everything you did, every little move you made reminded you of that day. And with Johnny spreading rumors about the Dutch’s gang, you heard his name more and more. You let yourself sink into the water, your eyes clenched shut as warm water covered your face. You stayed there longer that you should have, when you finally sat up, you were nearly gasping for air.

You got out few minutes later, you were tired, dressing yourself halfway before collapsing into bed.

You didn’t dream that night, your mind either too tired or too pained to show you your usual fantasies.

——-

Arthur swore he wouldn’t look for you, he swore it to you and to himself that he’d let you be free. But it seemed unavoidable now. Dutch had settled the gang in a large clearing in Nevada, the gang was mostly hidden by a small chain of mountains, and there was a streak of towns and settlements all within a couple dozen miles from each other.

There weren’t many cities in Nevada, it was dry and damn near impossible to farm out here if you didn’t know what you were doing, and if that wasn’t enough, the heat would be.

You were out there somewhere.

Dealing with the heat, with the drought, and with the shitty crops. And you still didn’t go back home. He’s been to your home. He's gone back dozens of times, you were never there, whatever you wanted to do, whatever changes you made, you succeded. He was happy for you, you were happy, God he hoped you were happy- he doesn't know what he'd do if he found out you weren't. If you were somewhere miserable and sulking, all this time, when you could have been with him.

He pushed those thoughts back- you were happy, you had to be.

When Arthur mentioned he was riding into the nearest town, he got a few odd looks. It wasn't a secret that you'd run off to Nevada, not even close. Most didn't say much, maybe a quick good luck, or a request for something from town. Some didn't say anything, but Dutch did. Dutch warned him, warned him about you and how some changes weren't good, and if Arthur did see you that he needed to be careful.

Arthur wasn't one to ignore advice, and he didn't ignore it, he thought about it as he road through the desert lands of Nevada, but whatever changes you made, he could handle it. He wasn't a child, he didn't need have his hand held. There wasn't even a guarantee that you'd been in this town, or the next one. So for all he knew he'd never have to face you're changes.

The town was bustling with life. The people went about their business. The town was…normal. Small, busy, and normal. He road in unbothered, no one here seemed to care enough to even look when the man when he trotted by.

Hitching his horse to a sturdy pole he set off to one of the small shops nearby, after picking up some extra oat cakes and apples for the horse, he tried to find the sheriff’s office, only to find that this town didn't have one after asking a mildly disheveled yet nicely dressed man for directions, no government either. The town was its own unit outside of the occasional trading.

“Danny Hikman used to be the law here, well, not really, but he kept people on the right track. Encouraged them to do right- and get guns, he used to run a bar a little down the way, gave it to his nephew or something-” the man said, laughing slightly.

“‘ bar any good?” he asked, only half listening to the man.

“The best, fresh food, cold whiskey- bartenders a good guy too, won't hesitate to throw your ass out though.”

“I’ll bet- which way’s that bar, again?”

———

You started serving earlier than usual today, mostly so you could close earlier without complaint. The familiar chime of the bell above the door called your attention for a less than a second, you recognized Johnny, then looked back down at the glasses you were cleaning.

“Changing your schedule on me, Johnny? I thought you were a Wednesday man?”

He let out a short laugh, sitting in the spot directly in front of you, “just showing a friend around.”

“You’re friends are all alcoholics, I doubt they need help finding a bar.”

“Hey now, I’ve got a new friend. Mr. Uhh-“

“Arthur.”

You felt like you’d just jumped out of your skin, the glass in your hand clattered against the floor, ever so sturdy. Landing thankful one piece. Staring at the man in front of you, standing just behind Johnny, Arthur Morgan, right there, looking just the way he did when he left, just the way you remember him.

He glanced at Johnny, then back at you- it felt like he looked right through you. Looking at you with none of the love or adoration from before. Because he loved d/n, not y/n. Y/n was just a bartender to him, an awful one who apparently couldn’t even hold a damn glass.

Your heart felt like it was collapsing in on itself, your chest was tight and you could feel your throat start to close as tears weld in your eyes. Quickly, you broke eye contact with Arthur, ducking down under the bar to grab the glass, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe the forming tears in your eyes before standing up.

“Sorry boys,” you muttered, “you’re, uh, friend startled me is all.”

Taking off his hat and setting down on the counter, Arthur took a seat on one of the stools.

“Sorry, your friend here talked you up quite a bit, had to see for myself if what he said was true.”

You let out a laugh, forced and almost nervous, setting the glass down with the rest of the dirty glasses, you said, “Trust me, it’s true, what you looking for Mr. Arthur?”

“Just Arthur, and whiskey, thanks.”

You nodded to the man before heading to the storage room, you’d hate to admit it, but you wanted to run, straight passed the storage room and out the back door. But that would make Arthur think something was wrong, and yes, something was wrong, but he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t recognize you, and that was okay, it was supposed to be okay, you left so you wouldn’t be recognized, you left to start over. But he’s out there, and you were hiding in the storage room so you wouldn’t have to face him. You gave yourself a moment, for your throat to release and for your heart to stop pounding and aching. Only the pounding stopped. You needed to work, you couldn’t let them know anything was wrong.

Grabbing a bit of higher quality whiskey out of the icebox, feeling the frosty glass sting your hand as you carried it out of the storage room. Without looking up at the man you grabbed one of the clean glasses and poured him about half a glass. You remember Arthur complaining about it once, only getting serviced the tiniest amount of alcohol, no matter the price. Capping the bottle you gave a short wordless nod before setting it under the counter. Arthur grabbed the glass, before he could speak you were on the other side of the bar, serving somebody else.

Johnny didn’t stay long, he had other things to do on a Thursday afternoon, but Arthur stayed, you poured him a couple more glasses before cutting him off, at least from your expensive whiskey.

“How much do I owe you?” He ask, his speech a bit slurred as he sat unsteadily in his seat.

“Nothing, I’ll put it on Johnny’s tab, come Wednesday he won’t notice it.”

“Thank you kindly-“

“Y/n-“

“Thank you, y/n.”

“You have a good night Mr. Morgan.”

You crawled into bed that night, still in your day clothes, feeling like your heart had been torn out of your chest. And you cried, you cried until the sun came up, until your body couldn't cry anymore and every sound you made was a rough heaving sob. And when you had no more energy left to sob, you stared at your open window, watching the sunrise, listening to the people.

You were supposed to open today, unlocking the door and flipping the sign, staring out the window, at the people, at Mrs. Matthews waiting across the street for you to open your doors.

You flipped the sign back, you stated at the word “OPEN” facing you, then at Mrs. Matthews's face fell as the word “CLOSED” faced her.

————

Sitting on his cot, journal on his lap, Arthur stared at the picture he drew. It wasn't perfect, considering he was half drunk when he drew it, but it was something. The bartender from last night. He was…something. A nervous something. Arthur felt bad for him when he dropped the glass, then he just…stared at him, long enough for Arthur to get a spark of familiarity when he saw his face. Arthur tried to get his attention as the night went on, ordering drinks, asking questions, trying to get the man to stay close, be he'd walk away the moment he'd answered or served him.

He wasn't like that with other patrons, he laughed, he joked- then he kicked everyone out.

He heard him say he was closing early, but let him stay until he finished his last drink. Arthur thought about the name he'd given. Y/n.

“I see you're drawing d/n again, did you catch her in town?”

Looking up he saw Tilly standing next to him with a kind smile on her face.

“No, it's not d/n, some bartender in town, he looks so familiar.”

Tilly hummed, sitting on the cot with Arthur and taking the book out of his lap. She flipped through the pages quickly before finding a drawing of d/n, with your final letter stuck right next to it.

“Needs a change, huh? Maybe she skipped town and became a bartender, you never know.”

“A bartender and a man?”

“You never know Arthur. Maybe that's why she left, couldn't make a change like that where people know you. They would've hunted her down.”

“Tilly..”

“Maybe you should talk to the bartender, if it's not her then it's not her, but if it is, are you really going to miss seeing her again because you won't take a chance?”

Handing the journal back to him she said, “Just think about it, at least.” Then she walked away.

————

You heard the slam of the front door behind you as you sat the freshly cleaned glasses on the rack. If you were going to sulk and lock yourself in the bar then you were going to clean while you did it.

“We’re closed..” you said, your tone not exactly customer friendly.

You had a list of things you needed to do, you've already mopped the floor, scrubbed the tables and walls, washed every glass, plate, and utensil, did your laundry, scrubbed your tub, cleaned your room-

“D/n..?”

You paused, then glanced over your shoulder. You knew it was him, you already knew, you knew his voice too well to ever mistake it. Taking a breath, you hands shaking and heart pounding, you turned around.

“Arthur, I-” you breathed out, but you didn't know what to say. “How did you-”

“Lucky guess..”

Taking slow steps towards the bar, you heard him sigh.

“Are you…okay?” he asked, unsure.

You nodded, “Yeah, yeah I'm okay.”

“We should talk-”

“Yes, we should-”

You stepped from behind the counter, still unsure as to what could happen next. Then, without warning, you were pulled into a tight hug, Arthurs's body practically enveloping yours. You stood there, holding him as tightly as you could until your arms started to burn from the strain.

You didn't know what to say, or how to explain what happened, the realization you went through while he was gone, why you left.

When you pulled away you still didn’t know what to say, you opened your mouth to talk but no words came out. You kept your face glued to the ground for a long moment.

“You look different, I didn’t recognize you yesterday..”

You pulled out one of the stools.

“I told you I needed change.”

He pulled another out beside you.

“I know, I just don’t know what I was expecting.”

“This must be so confusing.”

“It is, but I’m betting it was more confusing for you that it could be for anybody else.”

Leaning on the counter, you looked up at him.

“I guess so. In my home town I figured that they’d be a little more angry than confused so I left..” you stopped, taking a breath, “I didn’t want to leave you, Arthur.”

Arthur sat there silently, his eyes turned towards the counter.

You couldn’t help but stare, you haven’t seen him in so long, his eyebrows were slightly scrunched downward, his pretty blue eyes focused on nothing as his mind raced. His fingers tapped against the counter every few seconds. You tried not to let that anxious feeling in your chest build, but the longer he was silent, the harder it got to push down.

“You said you aren't happy anymore..”

You blinked.

“I wasn't.”

“How about now? Are you happy now?”

“I'm.. I have more good days than I did before, so…yeah, I'm happy.”

He stayed silent for another moment. You figured he was just trying to find his words.

Then, when he did speak,

“I still love you.”

You sighed, “I still love you, too, Arthur.”

Another long silence passed. It was odd, you've dreamed of seeing him again, all the damn time. And now that he's here you didn't know what to say. Your relationship, how ever strong it was before, was dying. Even though you loved him and he loved you.

Arthur was having similar thoughts, he didn't care how much you changed, he wanted you to be happy. That's all he wanted for you. But he wants to be with you, he doesn't care that your a man, it doesn't matter to him, he doesn't think it's ever mattered. He's never thought too hard about it. But now, with you sitting there looking the way you did. Looking so different, so muchlike yourself, so much more at peace even though you were being confronted, he thought, ‘yeah, I could be with a man.’

Before he could, you took a chance.

“How long you thinking of staying in town for, Arthur?”

———-

You laughed, he missed your laugh.

“You can't just go around taking people's clothes off!”

“I needed clothes and they were so drunk they wouldn't miss them!” you argued.

“How have you not been caught yet?”

“I bought new clothes!”

“Why couldn't you do that first?”

“I needed to avoid suspicion.”

“Avoid suspicious by stealing clothes..”

You laughed again.

You and Arthur had found your way upstairs, both of you sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall. He asked you how you ended up here, it was funny, explaining to Arthur, a known outlaw, the various ways you broke the law, and having him lecture you.

“I will not take this from an outlaw!”

“You're an outlaw too, now, Clothes Bandit.”

“Oh that's awful, why couldn't I get something good?”

“‘Good’ like what?”

“I don't know, you're better at naming things than I am.”

He looked over at you a small smile on his face.

“Really now, Mr. Y/n, how’d you come up with that anyways?”

“Well I found a baby naming book.”

He sat up, giving you a look.

“Are you serious?”

You looked at him for a second, a stren expression on your face, then slowly a smile broke out on your face.

“You're an ass.”

“You really think I got Y/n for a baby naming book?”

“You could have!”

“But I didn't-”

Eventually, after showing him your room and the various aspects of your new life that you adored (yes, the tub too), you headed back down to the bar, only to see Daniel, one of Johnny’s friends, behind the bar serving himself.

“Daniel, I'm going to kill you, how many drinks have you had?” you said, rushing over to him, snatching both the glass and bottle from his hand.

“One-” you gave him a look, he caved quickly with a sigh, “five.”

“Goddamnit.”

“‘M sorry, you are closed, your never closed!”

“I wouldn't be serving drinks this early anyways!”

He laughed, walking around to the other side of the bar, “I'm special though right? Won't get shot or banned or nothing?” he practically pleaded, but formed it like a question.

“No, you're not banned, but you still need to leave.”

He sighed, dragging himself out the door.

Sighing yourself, you turned to Arthur, “See what I have to deal with?”

“‘Seems like a handful.”

“Daniel is harmless, he's just an alcoholic.”

“Never met a harmless alcoholic.”

“He's harmless now, he doesn't want to risk almost getting shot again.”

Arthur laughed, sitting at the bar, just like had yesterday, “Who shot at him?”

You stared at him for a moment.

“You?”

“I gave him plenty of warning, see that hole in the wall that there—” you pointed to the very back wall of the tavern, between two tables was a loosely patched hole, “- warning shot, missed him by an inch.”

“Who the hell taught you how to shoot?”

“I taught myself, maybe I could teach you sometime.”

“Very funny, y/n, I wouldn't mind seeing you shoot sometime though.”

“There's a range in the next town, I could take you there sometime.”

The two of you talked until the sun had fully set and the town had gone quiet. The bar made you feel more open somehow, it always did. Arthur helped too, you guess. You missed him, you missed being like this, so normal with him. You were surprised his quickly things settled back in place, like neither of you had ever left. It was clear that you were different, but Arthur seemed to accept this change flawlessly. He never messed up, seemingly having ingrained every aspect of your new life into his mind.

Y/n, Mr.Y/n, Sir, he even called you handsome, you swear you nearly fell over when he did.

By midnight, you both were tired, and despite what he planned before, which was bringing you- if it was you, back to camp with him. But that plan never fell through, you ended up pulling him into the bathroom with you. You thought you'd be uncomfortable at first, but you figured if he was going to be back in your life you should get used to him seeing you naked again. But it wasn't, it was calm, comforting. You were thankful for your massive bath, the both of you fit well, you sat behind him, his hat tossed in on top of the heap of clothes you two had left, you ran your fingers through his hair, water from your hands running down his face. He hummed in contempt. He didn't speak much at first, simply enjoying you and your presence. It wasn't until the water had begun to cool and the cold air of the Nevada night started to seep in did he pressed himself closer to you, muttering something quietly.

It wasn't until you got out, long after the water cooled, we're you able to figure out what he was saying. You had some clothes you figured might fit Arthur, something you'd bought impulsively without actually checking to see if you could fit it.

“You have…nice arms-” he muttered.

You were pulling your pants up over your waist when he spoke, you turned to look at him, one hand holding your unbuttoned pants up, you asked, “Arthur, are you drunk?”

“No, no I'm just…real tired.”

“Didn't get much sleep?”

“I didn't sleep, I kept thinking of you.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

He groaned, “Tuesday, I was on watch Wednesday, I was pre occupied by your ass on Thursday, and now here we are.”

“Fucking Christ, go to sleep.”

“I want to look at you, I missed you-”

“I'll be here in the morning Arthur.”

He didn't respond for a long moment, you figured he dozed off finally, until you decided to switch shirts, shoving the one you had on into your drawer and pulling out another.

“You have a nice back too-”

“Good night, Arthur.”

Your night ended with you curling up around Arthur, your arms nearly wrapped completely around him. You didn't dream again tonight, your usual fantasies of seeing Arthur were deemed useless now and we're thrown out with the rest of today's mental trash.

#arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x male!reader #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 x male!reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x male!reader #rdr2x male!reader #male!reader #male reader #x male reader #x male!reader #male y/n #x male y/n #arthur Morgan x male #✮ — z-boy

[honeycomx]

Remember The Rain

Domesticated!Frank Castle x Black!reader

a/n: random ex and you’re gonna be an Apple user today.

Warnings: Angst, Cheating, Cursing, Violence, Smut ↴

⇣

You weren’t a stupid girl at all.

Things had changed in your relationship with Frank, you could feel it. You’d noticed the things he would do for you before now seemed foreign due to his recent absence. For the past three months it had been like that. But you chopped it up to him being exhausted due to the extra shifts he’d pull at night at the construction site. The extra hours wasn’t the issue, hell you were even pulling some at the hospital. Y’all were making plans to buy a house instead continuing to rent so it wasn’t out of the ordinary. But his distance was.

Even though you were working just like him, you still found time to spend with him, or attempt to anyway. He would give the, now, common excuses of ‘I’m tired honey’ or ‘I have to work a little later’ or ‘maybe another day’. And honestly now, it was becoming suspicious and hurtful of his avoidance of you these past few weeks. And to make it even worse, he hadn’t touched you in two, which was definitely not like him. He seemed to have infinite stamina when it came to sex, you knew. He could go on for hours and hours, dusk to dawn, from position to position. He was like a starved beast when it came to getting his rocks off. But recently his appetite was more sated, and you hadn’t been feeding him.

‘So who was?’ That was first thought that came to your mind. Doubt was flooding through your mind, every time you saw him laugh at his phone, leave for work, or even watch television. You just wanted to know if every ‘I love you’, passionate kiss, sweet messages sent, or intimate moments shared with him were genuine and real. Or was he just doing these things to keep you with him, in fear of being alone.

You couldn’t take it anymore but you didn’t have the heart to confront him with proof. If he wasn’t, you would terrible but your gut saying your feelings were spot on. You didn’t want to risk him knowing you had your suspicions, in fear he would stop his actions. You wanted him to be real with you. You knew he wouldn’t tell the truth, because he knew he had a lot to lose with you. And unbeknownst to him, even a child. Yes, you were pregnant. But you wouldn’t be for long, if he was cheating. And you were going to find out if an appointment needed to made soon…

“Damn 3:30 to midnight is different for you.” Frank said as he passed you your car keys and lunch from the kitchen counter.

“Yeah but we need the money and duty calls.” You grabbed your coat and badge before opening the front door.

“Alright babe see you later.” Frank said making his way to couch to resume watching his football game.

“No kiss?” You called out before he sat. Usually he would automatically give you one, without question.

“I’m sorry baby.” He said running back to give you a quick peck. This time he watched as you made your way to your car, just in front of your shared home.

“Have a good shift.” He called out, as you loaded in to the car. After blowing him a kiss and sending him a wave, you started the car, before making your 25 mins journey to your ‘shift’ at work.

“You really think he cheating?” Your cousin and co-worker, Bianca asked as you settled into the driver side of her vehicle. You were in the parking lot of the job y’all shared. To Frank’s knowledge, she asked to pick up a shift with her this evening. But in reality, She was letting you used her vehicle to devise your plan. In case, you had to follow Frank, you didn’t want to use a familiar car.

“Yes. He’s been acting real distance and I don’t know, I just have this weird feeling about him lately.” You expressed your doubt to her. She seemed shocked about it, to her knowledge, y’all had a fairytale type of relationship. You rarely had any problems in your relationship with Frank in the 5 years y’all had been together. In fact, prior to this, just a few months back, you told her you suspected he was going to propose soon, since you caught him looking up engagement rings. This was a huge turn in events.

“Have you talked to him about it?” She questioned, leaning against the downed window.

“No but I don’t feel like I should. I feel like he’s hiding something or someone. I know my intuition isn’t off.”

“We’ll do you got anything on you that he could track?” She asked, making sure you don’t have anything that could get you caught.

“No, I turned my location on my phone. But my iPad is in the car so my location shows I’m here. Plus here’s my keys if I don’t find anything in time. I’ll just meet you back at your house.” You handed her your car key, which she pocketed before glancing at the time, and cursing under her breath.

“Okay Y/N. I love you and be safe. I gotta go clock in. Call if you need me. You know I ain’t got no problem leaving this job.” She assured, giving you a pointed look.

“Thank you, Bee.” You muttered as the two of shared a hug through the window. She said one last goodbye before jogging her way into the work building for her shift.

It had been a little over three hours since you arrived back at the house. You parked on the adjacent street a few houses up but close to where you could still see your home. And luckily, when you had gotten back from the job, Frank’s car was still parked and the light was still on in the living room, indicating his presence. You tried to busy yourself by aimlessly scrolling through multiple social medias to ease your nerves. But your mind was running like a faucet.

The thought of Frank stepping out on you had you worried, you truly loved him and eagerly wanted to start family and settle down with him. You hoped you were just overreacting, you hoped he had the same thing in mind. But you couldn’t deny the way you felt, you wouldn’t be able to continue on with him, knowing your feelings. You felt the waterworks coming, you really didn’t want your heart broken again especially by Frank. You wanted him to be the one, didn’t want all that time invested to be for nothing.

Wiping the stray tear from your eye, you glanced back at your front door, this time it opened, your eyes widened, you sat up in your seat to get a better look. Frank stood in the doorway with different attire from earlier and his hair had a curly silkier look to it as well as his beard. He had recently showered. You watched as looked up and down the street as if he we’re waiting for something or someone…

You watched his face visibly light up as if he spotted what he was looking for. And you followed his gaze. Lo and behold, there she was, a slender blonde with nice perky ass and titties to match. She was a bombshell. Her attributes were the complete opposite of yours. She had long streaks of straight golden blonde hair, whereas yours was kinky cloud like mass of brown/black curls. Her body was slender and toned, more athletic build. And your body was thicker and wider, a more chubby build, and it didn’t help that you were carrying either. You watch as she threw her arms around Frank’s neck, as he wrapped his around her waist, they accepted each other gracefully. A shaky gasp left your lips, as their locked in passion. Frank pulled his mistress closer as they continue their heated make-out, pulling her into the home before shutting the door behind them. You slumped back into the seat in defeat, after witnessing the dreadful scene in front of you. Frank was cheating.

Tears started flowing like a river, you stared at your desecrated home in complete despair. Never would you have thought in the few years you were with Frank that he would do cheat. He made it seem like the love you two mentally, physically, and emotionally, shared was irreplaceable. Only for him to turn around share his love with another. The sadness you felt quickly turned to anger the more you thought about it. At first you wanted to just leave but you knew Frank would deflect if you confronted him later. So you decided to do it now while the evidence was undeniable.

Minutes passed before you hurriedly gotten out of the off car and crossed to the street, taking the path up to your once cozy row home. Unlocking the door quietly, so you wouldn’t announce your presence to the pair. As your slowly creaked open the front door, you noticed the lower level was empty of life, besides the television playing sport reruns. As you were about to further scope out the place, you heard it, above the sound of the loud broadcasters, the slow creaking of the bedsprings coming from y’all shared bedroom entering the the lower to which you stood in, unbeknownst to the latter above.

“Frankie…please.” The broad moaned.

The cold sensation that racked through your body, was something not even the thickest of coats or furs could ease. It made the realization set in more that your boyfriend of 5 years was just above your head, making a another woman cry out his name in y’all home when it should’ve been you. The cold feeling had yet to shake, but you mustering up whatever strength you had left and began climbing the stairs, being sure to avoid alerting them of your presence.

Your heart sunk further as you made your way up the stairs, closing in on the bedroom. The creaking of the springs increased, the sound of skin being pounded against skin grew louder, the smacking of lips against each other became evident, as well the soft groans coming from Frank, who you thought was your boyfriend, as he made love to his affair lover. As you reached the top of the stairs, the site of men and women clothing being scattered like roses leading to the slightly opened bedroom made you sick. The fact that some of those articles of clothing were Frank’s made you even more sick.

Taking small cautious steps towards the bedroom, you were finally able to see the situation for what it was, though it brought tears to your eyes. In front of you was Frank, as bare as a newborn baby, his sweaty scratch filled back was facing you as he held her petite body in place by her small hips as he rapidly battered himself in her arched bottom, as her upper half was burrowed in the sheets.

“Fuck Frank! Don’t stop baby. I’m so close..”

You halted in your tracks, you recognized that voice as Jessica, his ex. She had called Frank’s phone multiple times, when you both first made it official. Her high-pitched voice screamed at Frank through voicemails, call him everything but a child of God. You were present as he listened, he warned you to block her because of her craziness, and vouched that he did the same. Apparently, that was a bald-faced lie.

Enough was enough, you had seen everything you needed to see. You slammed the door open, the two instantly jumped apart, screams left Jessica’s lip as she quickly faced the doorway, pulling your bedsheet over her nude body. Frank immediately covered his hardened appendage. You stared down the two, anger masked your face. The look of horror etched on both their face would’ve been priceless if the situation wasn’t happening.

“Baby.” Frank stated as you made threatening steps toward him. All while, Jessica immediately gotten off the bed, tossing on Frank’s discarded shirt.

“Don’t you dare ‘baby’ me Frank. 5 years of my life gone down the drain for this bitch,” You screamed, pointing towards her. “The same bitch who broke your heart in the first place. Then you do what she did to you to me?! Me?! Like I fucking deserve it!”

“Well honey,” Jessica spoke, making you send a menacing glare her way. “I don’t know what you expected, he was beating my walls down for 10 years before he beating yours. You should’ve known I wasn’t going anywhere.” She snared, place her manicured hand on her hip.

“Excuse me?!” You asked, wondering where her audacity came from.

“I don’t think I stuttered. I mean look at you.” She spat, looking at you in complete disgust.

Your fists balled up in anger as your eye slightly twitched. Frank already knew what was about to happen next. You leaped across the bed, Jessica screamed as she saw you coming. Before you could reach her, Frank’s arms wrapped around your midsection, pulling you back to his nude form.

“Let go of me Frank!” You yelled, trying to pull him arms off of you, kicking and screaming as he made distance between you two.

“Jessica get out of here now!” Frank urged, struggling to hold you back. Not needed to be told twice, she ran out, swiftly gathering her discarded clothes.

Seeing her run away, added fuel to you fire.

“Fucking let go!” You screamed, thrusting the heel of your foot onto Frank’s toes.

“Son of a bitch!” He yelled out in pain, immediately letting you go.

Wasting no time, you went bounding after her, catching up quickly, surprising her with your speed. As she ran down the stairs to the front door, you clog covered foot made connect with the center of her back, sending her flying down the rest of the way, and smacking the hardwood floors with a pained scream, her clothes scattering out, no doubt causing her to bruise her skin.

Your rage blinded you as you went after her. Your sense of rational thinking, left the moment you walked in on them. And her words didn’t help, even though it was the truth. Still her willingness to disrespect you, your relationship and your home, was not something she was going to get away with. She had walked in to your home with all the confidence in the world but she damn sure wasn’t going to leave with it and maybe not her teeth either.

“First you fuck my man! In my bed!,” you yelled gripping her blonde streaks, causing her to yelp in pain. “Then you come in my house and have the audacity to disrespect me! You have lost your damn mind!” You screamed, landing blow after blow on her body, almost after every vowel. Her cries of pain as she desperately tried to fight you off, brought you sense of bliss, in this trying time. Not matter how much, she yelled, bit, scratched, or hit, she couldn’t fend you off.

You could hear Frank fumbling around above before descending the stairs as y’all fought.

“Jesus Y/N! That’s enough!” Frank yelled, running to you, now sporting a pair of sweats. He yanked you from the girl, causing you to fall back from her, making land on your back.

He rushed to pull the pummeled Jessica further away from you and to her feet, letting her lean on him for security as she steadied herself.

“Get me away from her!” She whimpered, leaning further in to him.

“You shouldn’t have been here in the first place?! You home wrecking whore!”

“Both of you stop it!” Frank commanded, standing in between the both of you.

“Like hell I will. She’s got 10 seconds to get the fuck outta my house before I drag her ass out.”

“No you won’t Y/N, you already went too far.” Frank retorted.

“I went too far! You were fucking that home wrecking bitch in my bed. Then she has the nerve to be smug and disrespectful to me about it. And now, I’m the bad guy, I’m the fucking victim!” You couldn’t believe his willingness to defend her.

“Y/N, you still went too far. She might need to go to hospital!”

“You know what, Frank? You telling me that like I’m supposed to care?! But since you love and care about her so much more than your fucking girlfriend?? You can take the bitch there and she move in with you cause I’m fucking done!”

Without giving him a chance to give a rebuttal, you sped back up the stairs to the bedroom, you’d soon previously shared with your, now, ex-boyfriend. Tears start to flow as you threw the closet open, you grabbed your duffel bag immediately ransacking your dressers, tossing whatever clothing and necessities you needed. You were done with Frank, there wasn’t anything to talk about. Seeing how he treated her, made the ache in your heart spread even more. He went for her first even though you both were hurting. She shouldn’t even have mattered to him anymore. But apparently she meant the most, you could see that. She was the one that was in the wrong, yet he was coming to her rescue and protecting her each time. Frank had broken your heart into pieces, and you weren’t going to sit there and let him break it even more. You loved him dearly, but you loved yourself more than to deal with his infidelity.

Below you could hear the sound of muffled talking, then the front door shut. The heavy footsteps of Frank, made their way to where you were.

“Y/N.” Frank’s gruff voice called out to you. Which you ignored, and continued to pack your stuff.

“Can you stop being immature for second and just talk to me so I can explain?” Frank pleaded. A scoff left you lips, “What’s immature is me walking in on my boyfriend fucking his ex in my bed. When he could’ve been open with me when he had the chance.” You weren’t sure if he trying to get a rise out of you so you could speak to him or that bitch rubbed off of him too much because of his logic.

“I know I fucked up” He tried to reason.

“No you’re a fucked up person,” You spat finally facing him, “And if you can’t tell I don’t want to hear you’re bullshit excuse for cheating on me, Frank. You should’ve left with your lover to the hospital because I’m leaving, it’s not up for debate.” You zipped up your full duffel bag, but before you secure it over your shoulder, Frank took it from your hands.

“You’re not leaving until we talk.” He said, tossing the bag behind him.

“Frank give me my bag.” You demanded trying to go around his large form, only for him to block your way.

“Y/N I’m sorry. I know I made a mistake but I don’t want you to go.” He plead, once again. This time you could see his eyes gloss over.

“Frank how selfish can you be?!,” you spat, tears pooling in your eyes as well. Usually, you hated Frank seeing you cry but you couldn’t hold this time. Frank’s face held a shameful look as he watched the tear cascade down you rounded flustered cheeks.

“You want me to sit here and have a conversation with you when I can barely even look at you right now. You have no right! If I need space, I deserve it after today. You made your choice the moment you let her in our bed, even if it not what you want now, it what you wanted then. Just give me my bag and let me go.” You went to move around his towering frame and grabbed your bag and this time he let you. Swinging the handle on top your shoulder,

“Wait,” Frank large hands gripped you wrist tightly, halting your movements. You turned to face him, tears started running down his cheeks,“Just promise me we’ll talk.” His voice was soft, giving his last plea. It made your heart ache more. You snatched your wrist from his strong hold.

“Goodbye Frank.” With that you left out the door, without looking back.

You threw you bag in the back seat of your cousin’s car before getting in the drivers seat. Immediately, all the hurt and tears you were holding back came flood forward. Sobs rack your body as you gripped tightly on the stirring wheel. You grabbed your phone and texted you cousin that it was true and you were on your way back to her home. You still struggled to collect yourself as you started the car. Looking back at the house, you saw Frank standing outside the door, watching you. Shaking your head, you pulled off in the street, watching him shrink in the distance.

Driving away from what used to be your home, brung back every happy memory you shared with Frank. From the first night you met to last intimate moment shared between you both. Then to end of it, which you couldn’t believe was happening. You were at a lost, you lost your boyfriend to his ex, and you’re pregnant with his baby. And as fucked up as it is that you didn’t tell him, you wanted to be free of him completely. Meaning a even tougher decision was upon you, but considering everything that went down today, you were sure you were going to be making that appointment…

#x black!reader #x black!fem!reader #x woc!reader #x poc!reader #x black plus size reader #frank castle #frank castle x female reader #frank castle angst #frank castle x reader #frank castle x black!reader #x black!reader angst

[bagopucks]

M. Marner - The Best Recovery

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Mitch Marner x Reader

Requested ✨

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning(s): I don’t think it’s a warning, but the reader has ADHD and Autism. Reader is overwhelmed, and nonverbal as a result.

I left this one vague in certain areas for all types to interpret and see through their own eyes! If that makes sense. I tried to make it personal to the request, but also loose enough for others with these two disorders to see themselves in as well!

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ADHD and Autism is like cold and hot. Sweet and sour. Excited and bored. Energetic and tired.

Having those two disorders, is something that can cause great deals of mental exhaustion.

I never knew for sure what it was, which disorder was taking the lead or which was bothering me on a particular day. I hated it. I especially hated it, on the days I had to go into work, and my brain was practically arguing with itself. One half wanted to take a new road and see new sights, but the other part of me wanted to keep things the same knowing it was efficient. My mind argued over playing music or basking in silence. Changing my sheets or keeping the same ones, trying new clothes and remaining secure in knowing the old ones worked.

I faced many challenges with those two disorders. Some worse than others. Like moving away from home and into my first apartment. Meeting people at work for the first time, and having to meet new ones when people were hired. Opening up in social atmospheres when people didn’t understand why I chose not to. And meeting my boyfriend.

Mitch was something else, and with him, my mind could never make a decision.

When we met, impulse control decided to fly out the window. He paid for my coffee at a diner, and I had gone to thank him, only to end up at a table with him for an hour. He was sweet. He was really sweet. He had beautiful eyes, and a light soul. He had a few flaws. A little too much energy for my taste, and maybe a little too fidgety.

Aside from those factors, he had gotten my phone number.

On our first date, I struggled between choosing a blue or white dress to wear. The symbolisms of both colors had me uncertain. In the end, I chose red, because it brought out my complexion nicely.

It was a simple dinner, but I found myself interviewing Mitch like he was trying to get a job. There were many pros, and a handful of cons. It stressed me out that certain words I used, he did not understand. I also hated the way he would clench his hands into fists every so often. I learned later, it was a nervous habit of his. I also learned, that he’d done it so much on that date, because I intimidated him immensely.

Mitch told me of his dog, which I was iffy on, and in love with at the same time. He ran his hands through his hair a few times, displacing the brown locks with each pass of his hand. He told me of his career and his friends. Then we had gone out for dessert. Something as simple as ice cream, but I struggled to make a decision. When I’d asked him, “can I get two?” He looked at me with a smile and a questioning expression, but nodded nonetheless.

I had to explain to him, that I wanted to try something new, but needed a backup plan if it backfired. So the second flavor was my go-to. My favorite one. It was on that date that I realized I didn’t have a backup plan if whatever Mitch was to me went south.

That frightened me away from him for a while. He tried to reach out, so much so that I hated how sporadic his texts could be. I hated that he couldn’t just choose one time of day to be a bother. It was only when my coworker spotted the messages, and helped talk me into it, that I decided to go on another date with him.

Mitch might have been a little lacking in common sense, but he wasn’t a complete lost cause. He often commented things like, “you’re weird,” or “that’s different,” when it came to my behaviors. Those words were always spoken with giggles and smiles, so I never took them to heart. But I knew he was right, and I knew he knew I was different. But for once, he made me feel like ‘different’ didn’t have to be a bad thing.

Mitch and I had odd ways of getting to know each other. I asked him endless strict questions, ones that often branched off whatever the answer was to a previous question. And Mitch often listened. He didn’t have to ask as many questions as I did, because he learned I always explained things in depth or I did things with no reason at all. He liked to call me, “unpredictably predictable.”

It took me some time to warm up to the idea of dating, but once we got together, I saw it through.

Mitch was a guy who liked to live life in the fast lane, but I learned that he often changed those lanes for me. He was willing to slow down and wait when I needed him to.

I attended a few of his hockey games. Depending on which disorder was more prominent those nights, I’d be down by the glass, or in a personal suite. I met his team on a few occasions, but I sometimes struggled to hold conversations with them.

Too many people would want to hold too many conversations, and I’d be in the midst of talking to one, only to derail myself and get lost on a sidetrack, and I’d completely forget what was going on.

I usually found Mitch in those situations, and one instance had been the first time where he realized I tended to just.. not speak, when I was overwhelmed. There was something so safe and secure about not engaging, that I had a habit of sinking into those nonverbal tendencies when there was a lot going on around me, or in my head.

When we moved in together, we experienced a lot of that. The actual moving in process had gone surprisingly smoothly. Despite all the change being such a stressor, I had so much excitement inside, that I managed to remain talkative enough to help Mitch get my things where I wanted them. It was the time after I was officially in, that tended to be difficult. I had to get used to a place that wasn’t my own, and didn’t feel like my own for the longest time. I avoided the throw pillows on the couch because the texture was horrid. I didn’t like the fact that I could see dog hair on things at times, and I certainly hated the way he had his towels organized.

There were days Mitch would come home from games and practices, only to find me on my love seat in the corner, a pair of headphones in staring off into space while I had one of his athletic sweatshirts on. One of which I always enjoyed pulling my knees up into, and hugging them while the arm sleeves hung loosely and unoccupied by my sides.

The first few times it happened, Mitch would think nothing of it, pop the earbuds out of my ears, and start talking about his day. Sometimes it aggravated me, and once it even stressed me out enough to snap at him.

Over time, he learned that it was easier to gesture for me to scoot over so he could squeeze his body in beside me. I would be the first to initiate contact if I wanted it. If not, we would sit in silence until I shared an earbud with him, or until I wanted to talk.

It quickly became a routine between us. Something Mitch also learned that I enjoyed. Routines. On the days he came home and I was talkative and excited, we could live and love smoothly. On other days, we learned how to make things work.

Mitch had an off day after winning the game his team played the night before. It was always a weird occurrence when I had to leave him in the mornings, but I’d done fairly well at adjusting to his horribly unorganized hockey schedule. I never would have expected exposure to so much change, to be so helpful for me. But it truly was.

I had bid my lover goodbye that morning with a smile and a hand through his hair as I kissed his cheek. He flashed his pretty teeth at me, and promised to text on my lunch break, unless I wanted to reach out sooner.

As it turned out, I never reached out before then. And I didn’t answer his messages when he reached out during my lunch hour.

People had been laid off at my workplace. Something that sadly happened in many places sometimes. Losing coworkers and gaining a new workload wasn’t necessarily something I was thrilled about. It meant I’d have to rearrange my whole schedule and the way I handled my work. It meant I’d have to redistribute my work hours so I could fit all of my additional projects in a normal day and successfully finish it.

In short, it meant everything had to change.

Only this time, there was nothing to be excited about.

I played with my hair all day, I lost focus, I blankly stared, I ignored people and any kind advances of small talk. I even ignored Mitch.

I stayed at work well past the time I was scheduled to clock out. I didn’t expect extra pay, I just wanted to efficiently reconstruct my schedule. I only clocked out to go home, after I had that sorted. Which was four hours after five. The end of my usual work day.

I’d only texted Mitch once when he asked if I was okay around six. I told him, ‘I’m fine.’

My stare was blank but my mind was running rampant all the way out of the office and back to our shared home. I ignored anybody and everybody, in the lobby, in the elevator, in the hall. Inevitably, I even ignored Zeus when I stepped through the front door of our modern home.

The poor lab was so excited to see me, but I couldn’t have been bothered to pet him. I kicked my shoes off and lined them up against the edge of the shoe mat by the door. I made sure to lock it before I stepped away.

“Babe?” Mitch’s footsteps fell on selectively deaf ears. I didn’t want to be in his presence. I just wanted to be alone. I slipped down the hall and into the kitchen to escape him, and I thought it had worked when I heard his movement stop.

“Babe?” He repeated. My shoulders fell as he peeked into the kitchen. My intense stare was a telltale sign of my inner turmoil. He looked unfazed. He also looked like he’d just gotten out of bed. His hair was a hot mess, and his eyes had that dazed sort of look that a child has when they’re woken up from the nap of a lifetime. His sleep schedule was absolute shit anyway. That’s what happens when you drink too many energy drinks through the day.

“Hey. Did they have you on overtime tonight?” He smiled at me. I couldn’t answer. I physically couldn’t force myself to open my mouth. I hated that I did this to him.

“Okay.. I can do this too.” Mitch adapted quickly to the silence. “I figured it was one of those nights.” He voiced as he walked across the kitchen, opening my snack cabinet. “You always text me back, it’s pointless to have a planned hour to text if you’re not going to text.” He wasn’t insulting me, he was restating sentences I said once. Reasons I gave for why I always responded to him. He was backing up his theory on why I’d had a bad day.

Mitch pulled out a bag of chips and pushed the cabinet shut before he made his way over to the fridge. He pulled out one of my favorite cold drinks, and went about the kitchen grabbing a few other options to snack on. He knew me so well, I almost thought it unfair.

“Will you come lay in bed with me?” His question was asked with a set of puppy eyes I had to roll my own eyes at. But I gave in nonetheless.

Mitch led me back to our room, and I was surprised to find the dark area lit up with the orange glow from our bedside lamp. My weighted blanket was already laid out on my side, and one of my favorite books was on the nightstand.

“I know you don’t want to talk, and that’s fine,” Mitch made his way around the bed to set the snacks on my nightstand, as well as the drink he grabbed. “But was it a really bad night, or just.. just a little overwhelming?”

He remained tentative, only pursing his lips and letting out a sigh when I stared him down.

“Not even gonna give me a nod?” He pried with a hopeful smile. I decided I was done with the eye contact too, my gaze met the floor. “Alright. Why don’t you just come lay down then.” He pulled back the weighted blanket, and I met him on my side of the bed. I reached for Mitch’s hand as I climbed into bed, and he held mine, keeping me steady as I got in. I was quick to break the contact after I decided I no longer needed it.

Mitch slipped his way back around to his own side of the bed, and climbed in next to me. He leaned over the edge of the bed, and his actions caught my attention momentarily.

“Zeus wants up.” Mitch looked back to me for approval. I gave a curt nod.

Soon enough, I heard him tapping his thigh, and the whole bed shake when the big dog hopped up. Zeus tried to quickly step over Mitch to get to me, but my lover was swift in tucking a finger beneath the dog’s collar to stop him.

I never minded Zeus cuddles on bad days. Well sometimes I did. But I never enjoyed him in my face. Mitch only let the dog go once Zeus settled. I slowly shifted to lay down, and the lab found his place by my feet, his head rested on top of my ankles.

“Good boy.” Mitch praised before he slipped his phone from his pocket. He checked the time, then set the device on his own nightstand.

I rolled onto my side and grabbed my book, opening to the page I had marked. I felt my weighted blanket shift, only to realize Mitch was pulling it up over my body. So caring. So gentle. I’d watched him hit guys and cross check them. I’d watched him let teammates’ bodies crash into him for pregame rituals. Mitch was such a rambunctious guy, that I sometimes liked to playfully question if he had an alter ego at home.

I don’t know how long I laid there, reading and flipping through pages. What I did know, was that my lover had not once left my side. Nor did he make any noise. He had the tv on, playing old episodes of Friends, but the sound was muted and the captions were on.

I slowly rested my book on the bedside table, turning on my back to peek at the tv before I looked up at Mitch. I sighed. Before I wanted to be left alone. Now, I wanted him.

I shimmied to his side and carefully rested my head in his lap. Mitch looked down at me, a smile slow to form on his lips. His hands found my hair, gently carding through and scratching at my scalp.

My eyes focused on the tv, one of my hands tucked up close to my chest while the other rested on Mitch’s leg.

“Can I lay down with you?” His soft voice earned a nod from me. I lifted my head and moved away while he pulled his shirt off and slipped beneath the weighted blanket with me. Our bodies faced one another, and he was hesitant at first to reach for me. So I instead, reached for him.

I tucked myself into Mitch’s chest, and he wrapped an arm around me. I felt his chest heave with a sigh, and I rested one of my hands there to feel his heartbeat. He pressed kisses to my head and temple, gently ran his hand up and down my back.

Sometimes life could be overwhelming, but one thing I never minded being overwhelmed by was Mitch. He wasn’t like a hurricane, or some devastating storm. No, he was the ocean, coming in waves. Some harsher than others, but if one knew how to face those waves, and surf them, they could stay afloat.

I had Mitch figured out like an intricate word problem. I knew every variable and obstacle, and every possible solution. I got used to his predictable behaviors, and learned to cope with the unpredictable ones. I was always thankful that Mitch was such an open book when it came to anything. His communication helped me and our relationship.

“I know you had a really bad day.. and just- just let me know if you don’t want me to talk..” he paused, and gave me enough time to protest. I didn’t. The sound of his voice was soothing.

“You’re doing so good, you know that? Every day you’re conquering something new, and I am so proud of you. I know it seems big, but right now it’s just a bump in the road. Whatever you’re going through.” His words of encouragement fell from his lips in faint whispers. I buried my head further into Mitch’s chest. His embrace tightened around me.

“And I’m always here. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen.” Mitch carded his hand through my hair once again. “I love the sound of your voice.” I could hear the coaxing tone- the smirk on his lips, the way he tried subtly to get me to open up.

It almost worked.

“I love your laugh too.” He pressed a kiss to my head once more. His hand left my hair, and I soon felt it tickle my side. I gasped and reached down to swat his hand away.

“No.”

When I looked up toward him, I could tell that singular word lit him up like a Christmas tree.

So Mitch brought his hand back to my side, and I wasn’t swift enough to push him away before he earned a quiet giggle from my lips. An involuntary giggle. But it did distract me from my own brooding. I couldn’t decide if I was mad at him for disrespecting my boundary, or mad that he knew me well enough to test those limits because sometimes it worked.

“Yeah.. that laugh right there.” Mitch winced when I grabbed his hand, perhaps a bit harsher than I meant to. I pushed his hand away and turned back over, simply to escape his contagious happiness.

He didn’t let me go very easily. He was quick to shimmy his body up against my own, his arm wrapping around my hip again. I tensed in anticipation.

“I’m done.. I’m done. I promise.” I nodded very slowly, and eventually melted into his embrace.

Sometimes I had trouble communicating it, but Mitch was easily my favorite person to be with. My favorite person, period.

I basked in our silence and the occasional sound of Mitch’s soft giggles. I assumed he was laughing at the tv, but my lack of knowing for sure, had me turning in his arms and onto my back. I just had to know what it was. Sure enough, I found his eyes glued to the screen. I rested my hands by his own on my stomach, and gently hooked my fingers beneath the rubber wristband he wore. I ran my thumbs against it and felt the smoothness on one side, likewise the divots of words on the outside.

My eyes settled on the tv, and when Mitch caught on, he reached for the remote to unmute it, but still kept the volume quiet enough to not bother me. Zeus seemed to have enough of all the moving and shifting, as he hopped onto the floor and curled up in his own bed near the corner of the room. The dog bed poor Zeus had to be evicted to when I moved in.

I heard Mitch yawn, and it only took moments before my body returned the gesture. He smiled at me.

“I love you.” Mitch pressed one last kiss to the corner of my lips, then pulled away. I didn’t have to respond. We’d been through this enough times for him to know I felt the same.

I always knew he could tell, because there was a sincere look of fondness that followed the hopefulness after he spoke. He was never disappointed on nights when I didn’t say it back. Instead he was simply happy to know I heard him. To know I felt loved.

Nevertheless, I liked to try. I felt he always deserved that after being so patient and loving.

I leaned forward and pressed a hand to his chest. I opened my mouth to say the words, but my breath fell short.

“It’s okay.” Mitch met me halfway, his gaze dropped to my lips as his nose bumped mine. He pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, one that was soft and smooth. One that had me melting into his embrace as he rolled onto his back and slipped an arm beneath me. I curled into his side and rested my head on his chest. Seconds, minutes, a few episodes of Friends passed, before my breathing slowed and my consciousness escaped me. The last thing I heard before I fell asleep, was the faint sound of Chandler’s sarcastic laughter, and Mitch whispering another,

“I love you.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #mitch marner imagine #mitch marner x reader #mitch marner #nhl hockey

[soft-for-them]

Green first aid kit - Billy Hargrove x plus size reader

Summary: Back at school you find Billy worse for wear.

Trigger warning: This part does mention Billy's abuse and him having an injury from a fight, the fight isn't described or shown though.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

Part one - Part two - Part three

Come Monday morning Billy Hargrove wasn’t at first period History sitting near you passing notes, neither was he hanging around before class waiting for you with a big grin, nor was he slipping in after the teacher had left so he can talk to you, he was nowhere to be found at all.

Deep down you wished for him to be hiding near your locker in between the small nook where a fire extinguisher and fire alarm sits, him dressed in his denim jacket, his hair fluffy and curled. He would come up with a reason why he wasn’t there, something along the lines of hating your history teacher with all his heart or sleeping in late and missing most of the lesson. But no, when you rushed over to your locker he wasn’t there, he wasn’t anywhere.

He wasn’t in for the whole day, you knew for sure for you overheard a cheerleader bitching about it like she was entitled to flirt with Billy, like he was expected to come to school every day to flirt with only her.

To think you wore a nice peach sun dress to school just so maybe he’d see you and call you princess again.

So the next day you’re uncharacteristically angsty, every second your eyes flicking to the clock above the chalk board then to the nearest door wondering if he’d walk in all smirks and no apologies. Normally you love second period English Literature but you're too fidgety to listen in to your teacher talk about Shakespeare and sonnets, the Tuesday morning classes dragging on too long.

You are leaned into the small desks more than normal, the wood of the table pressing into your stomach more, your mind stuck on Billy fucking Hargrove’s face and not on the bold writing on the board that states you have homework due in next week.

Truly you would be lying to yourself if you said last night you didn’t have a dream of Billy, that the dream felt so real that you worried somehow it was and that something terrible had happened whilst you were sleeping. It’s stupid and frankly untrue having such a vivid dream about waking up at the bottom of a swimming pool only to be saved by Billy, the sky a dark purple, the grass coloured like burnt ash and Billy looking like the living dead could never be true.

Well you hope it never does.

If you were one of those zodiac sign, gem stone collector, ‘what time where you born?’ women then maybe you could deduce a meaning from the dream but really you’re too tired and too on edge to think up one.

Maybe you’ll ask a stoner friend about the dream’s meaning, minus mentioning Billy, then maybe you can get some answers about it.

Lunch time comes along and you feel too sick to eat any cafeteria food, so with a brief ‘goodbye’ to your small group of friends paired with a weak excuse to ditch gossip time you hurry out the double doors of the cafeteria, down the many hallways and out the nearest exit only your purse in your pockets.

Technically it’s still summer but the impending autumn winds are slowly coming in, a warm gust of air jostling your baggy jeans, bits of white thread from the rips at your knees and on the inside of your thigh blowing upwards, the sleeves to your t-shirt whipping around your chubby upper arms. Really your outfit today is the bare minimum, you’re trying to look like you’re not having a bad day, a stark opposite to yesterday’s dressed up outfit. The thigh hole in your ancient jeans are from years chub rub and the holes in the knees from before you hit puberty, younger you having to buy bigger sized jeans from the adult section thus tripping over the bottoms of them every five minutes for you were a middle schooler who hadn’t had a growth spurt yet.

The joys of being plus size am I right…

For a moment you wonder if you can sneak out and find the nearest shop to get a snack, you’re used to walking long walks in short amount of time, most days you do that because you don’t own a car. You could really go for some overly sugary candy from a gas station or a pre-packaged baguette (which you’d only eat half of, the rest of it getting crammed into your locker for later on), anything other than the grey school lunch burgers with watery ketchup or stale vending machine crisps that coast too much.

Like always there’s a decision to be made; walk to the nearest shop most certainly being late for maths after lunch or just take a breather outside on an empty stomach, not being late for the next class.

Whilst some would call you a goody two shoes for always being in all your classes, the overwhelming feeling of dread, that feeling of hunger mixed with the sickness that comes with not wanting to walk back into the school building until you feel better takes over you. Everyone gets it one way or another, the people who are too worried about attendance tend to stay in the classrooms until they explode and break down while others frequently skive off school opting to smoking weed and kiss girls to chill out. You’re of sound mind and sound idea that calming down before heading back inside is the best course of action, maybe even touching some grass will get you mind off Billy Hargrove and maybe quell the gargling nervousness in your stomach.

But then again you need to eat, that and you fucking hate maths.

So it’s decided that you’re going to the shops, the walk and food will make you feel better in no time!

Scuffed shoes pick up gravel as you walk across to the car park, a hand digging into a pocket to make sure your purse is securely in place. You’re in no rush however you do dodge around the many parked cars in a certain way to make sure no teachers see you sneaking away, not that they’d really care all that much but there’s always that one teacher who likes to snitch on students.

You walk pass familiar cars of classmates, narrowly avoiding eye contact with a band kid you know inside his car trying to make moves on his girlfriend. You clamber up and onto the grass nearing an exit to the school, hands in your pockets and eyes looking out for moving cars.

The sun shines on the exit like a place maker in a video game, so you speed up your steps to get out as fast as you can not wanting to explain to any faculty why you’re sneaking out but then you see it.

Parked underneath some over grown trees, shielded by chunky pickup trucks and station wagons borrowed from parents is a car so familiar that it makes you stop mid step. The grey 79 Camaro sits dormant and shaded, from where you stand you can see the driver’s sun visor flipped down and the car is completely turned off, the engine not revving or spluttering.

Now the right thing to do is just to carry on your walk not going over there to see if it’s actually Billy’s 79 Camaro and not somehow another Camaro some jock copying Billy has bought to seem cool but you’ve been worrying about the ‘king’ of the school for the last two days so you shift your step and head over to the low down car.

*Tap* *Tap* Tap*

You lean over somewhat, the bumper of the car pressing into your legs as you tap the wind shield of the car, a very asleep Billy Hargrove in the front seat. His denim jacket covers his face from beams of sunlight that cut through the trees through the front window, his hands balanced on his toned stomached, fingers knitted together.

You shimmy around to the driver’s side squishing in between his Camaro and the truck next to it tapping on the side window.

“Billy.” you call quietly not wanting to blow your cover to anyone else sitting in their car. You look around before banging the window some more, your knuckles hurting just a bit as you knock on the thick glass.

“Billy!” whisper shouting isn’t doing it, “BILLY!”

Your voice turns stern but almost needy, the fear in your head that someone might catch you and drag you away ever present as you bend down slightly so you’re at eye level with the sleeping man. Your body presses against the other car, your face turning sour as you stop knocking.

Stepping out from the cars, still close but no longer trying to wake up Billy, you debate whether or not you should leave a note or something like him.

You frown at the idea, firstly because you only have a purse on you but also because what would you write to him if you did have a piece of paper and a pen?

“Hey, you missed history – (y/n).” no, he never promised that he would be there, you just assumed he would be.

“Sleepy head see you at the pool. – (y/n).” no, no, no. You don’t want to seem weird, you don’t want him to think that you’re planning on going back to the pool on the weekend just for him. Anyway you have work this weekend so it’s not like you could go either way.

Maybe you could just leave you home phone…. Fucking hell no, that’s the worst idea you’ve had yet.

Really when you saw Billy’s car you didn’t go other there to flirt, really you’re just worried. Whilst your interactions with the Cali man have been all positive as of late you’ve heard things, you’ve seen the things his so called ‘friends’ do, you’ve seen his dad around town and you keep clear of him.

The family members you live with have told you about Neil Hargrove and well you do not like the sound of him one bit.

You hover around still wondering what to do before spinning around and walking away from the car, your plan to get food foiled, the frown on your face now permanent for you know you’ve wasted enough time banging on the car window that you can’t go to the shop without missing maths.

“Fuck!” you mutter, your eyes going back to the Camaro.

Now sat up, jacket off his face, his eye wide and staring right back at you, Billy Hargrove looks out of place, no thoughts in his head, not like the normal smirking flirt you’ve come to know. You raise a hand to give him a little wave which snaps him out of his momentary mind blank. He lifts a hand up back which prompts you to walk back over.

“Roll the widow down.” you say with a little hand gesture once you get to the car.

He does so.

There staring up at you with the eyes of a scared child, his baby blues so watery and wide that they look like the sad sea, his left eyelid a deep purple bruise.

His left eye must have been swollen shut at one point for his eyelid is still a bit droopy.

“Billy…”

You don’t intend your voice to be so wobbly when you say his name, your own (e/c) eyes watering up but your voice wavers and your eyes fill with salty water.

“I’m fine princess.” he barely gets out, “Just lost a fight Sunday night, that’s all.”

Fuck. You don’t want him calling you princess when he’s so sad. You selfishly want him calling you princess when his eyes are filled with mischief or even lust, not when he’s about to burst into tears.

He must think you’re pitying him for he looks away his forehead hitting the top of the steering wheel.

“Billy-“ his eyes flicker to yours, his curly blonde hair half covering the side of his face, “- I was going to walk to the shops but-“

You try to think of how to say your next words without sounding like you’re demanding a free lift from the obviously dejected man in front of you.

“-Do you want to come with me? I, well, we can share some food.”

He nods his head ‘yes’.

You don’t have a lot of money, that is clear, but today you have enough loose coins and crunched up dollar notes to pay for the things you need.

You enter the small out the way shop, the bell above the door stuck and not ringing. The shop used to be a petrol station before the chain company that owned it went bankrupt, now it’s just a shop with the worst painted parking lines you’ve ever seen.

The man behind the till tilts his head up from his newspaper, his puffy eyes staring you down as you shuffle past a rack of crisps into an aisle filled with cupboard food. The metal shelves that tower above you are packed with every kind of dry food you’d ever need. Your eyes flicker from boxed yellow pastas to dusty lidded jars of red unnamed sauces. You move along, wallet tightly in your hands as you walk down the aisle to the very back of the shop where the wall to ceiling freezers and fridges sit. For a moment you look in the freezer a frozen mac n’ cheese catching your eyes.

Whilst the family you live with do cook the odd meal for you most of the time they’re out the house so you have to cook for yourself and well, the fridge-freezer at home is very much empty at the moment. There is probably some stuff in the cupboards but normally you don’t bother with that food for the last time you ate some cupboard food (some half stale frosted flakes) you were yelled at.

It would be nice to have a warm meal tonight, even if it’s a microwave meal, but you have to go back to school and having a frozen ready meal in your bag does not sound like a good idea.  You cringe at the thought of the flimsy plastic getting pierced by a rouge pencil and spilling throughout your bag.

Ew, no thank you!

Instead you walk over to the fridges filled with soft drinks.

Up close you can tell the fridges aren’t actually on, the little orange filament lights off and the drinks bone dry. It doesn’t bother you that much, you’re only planning on getting some drinks and not a whole meal of probably gone off food. Anyway, from working at shop yourself you’ve seen much worse things, you just glad that there isn’t any fuzzy mould on the bottle caps.

Quickly you open the sliding door and take out a boxed grape juice and a bottled flavoured water, the inked words ‘summer fruits’ smudged. You would love to have a milkshake right about now but you stay away from the milks on the bottom shelf, you face scrunching up in disgust.

You walk around the shop some more, not caring for any of the junk being sold. You do however find yourself at the sweets section. The little shelf is filled to the brim with colourful candy and plastic junk toys, everything from chocolate bars to lollypops shaped like diamond rings.

A small packet of hard boiled sweets catches your eyes, the red and white striped plastic bag reminiscent of the paper bags at fun fairs or cinema pick n’ mixes, the little clear window showing individually wrapped sweets in every colour known to man.

A yellowed price sticker sloppily placed over the logo says it’s only a dollar fifty so you pick the bag up to buy. You shove the bag between your fingers and the drinks, you other hand free with your wallet lodged between your arm and chest.

Slowly but surely, your eyes flickering all around to see if you’ve missed anything you might want as you arrive to the front counter.

The front counter is high up, a thick plastic pane with hand prints and unknown splashes of stuff shielding the man and the shelf filled with cigarettes from grabby hands and angry eyes of disgruntled customers. There’s a big enough a hole in the plastic that the man, a forty something year old with red irritated eyes and a bold spot a monk would be jealous of, can look at you with judging eyes whilst scanning your items.

“You better not want any alcohol Miss.” says the man. Despite his less than stellar looks he sounds more sad and fed up than judgemental or creepy, he probably get too many teenagers with fake ID’s coming in along with out of towners with visible guns on their hip.

“No alcohol just these-“ you say with an awkward smile, “-oh, but um is that for sale?”

Your eyes catch onto a flash of green hung sat snug in between a giant jug of vodka and a line of off brand cold remedies.

It’s a small first aid kit.

You point to it hoping that your finger isn’t pointing to the vodka.

“The first aid kit, yeah, it is.”

“How much?”

The man says the price making you visibly frown. The price isn’t much considering it’s a first aid kit but you’re not sure you have the right amount for it.

“I’ll take it.” you say as you place your items down and begin taking out handfuls of coins.

You know you are a dollar short as you recount your crumpled dollar bills. You look up to see that the man has already bagged your stuff including the first aid kit.

“I might have to put something back.” you sheepishly say.

“Nah, have it.” He passes you the bag, “If you’re needing a first aid kit then you’re needing it, you know? I don’t want anyone bleeding out because you were a dollar short and didn’t have it.”

“Thank you.” you’re really at a loss for words but you get you thanks out.

“I don’t own this place anyway, I only work here.” he says with the smirk of a man who often nicks a pack of smokes off the back shelf without the shop owner knowing.

You talk some more before walking out the shop, the pack of sweets already in hand, your fingers digging into the bag to find a sweet that isn’t strawberry flavoured. As soon as you pull out a bright green sweet you look up to see a pair of red rimmed steely blue eyes staring right at you.

Billy, eyes wide like a deer in the middle of a road watches intently as you walk over to his 79 Camaro (which is parked somewhat awkwardly in the wobbly lines of the parking space.) The car is parked close to the shop, right at the front of it in fact and ever since you were in the shop his gaze has been locked on the front door for the shop windows are covered in posters and adverts blocking any view of you inside he could have had.

For ten minutes Billy has been frozen still waiting for you to reappear so he can finally let out a long breath. He looks like he hasn’t blinked in the short time you were inside, his baby blues watery, the welling of tears threatening to spill once more.

“Want one?” you ask as you slide into the passenger seat, the bag of sweets shoved on the centre console closer to Billy.

Billy does not say anything, he just breathes like he just run a mile his chest heaving as large amounts of air enter his lungs.

“Billy?” you ponder, your voice small and quiet, “Billy.”

His eyes snap onto yours. For a moment you see something, a glimmer of fear maybe, in his eyes before his face droops.

“Hey, hey, hey-“ you begin, your body leaning over the centre console, hands grasping onto his arms as lightly as you can, “- you’re ok, I’m not going to hurt you.”

He looks like a wounded animal.

“Billy-“ you go to say something, something that probably wouldn’t help in the long run but something so he can hear you over his very present running mind.

Before you can though his right hand shoots up and grabs your forearm, his digits digging into your soft skin.

He doesn’t know if he wants your hands off him or if he’s forcing you not to move. Billy thinks for a long time his fingers flexing and relaxing but not letting go of your arm before said hand grabs at your own hand, his longer thicker fingers intertwining with yours in a death grip.

With you other hand, which you quickly take off his arm, you rifle through your plastic bag and pull out the two drinks along with the little first aid box.

“Here, take ‘um.” With your fingers aching from clutching three things at once Billy eventually takes the drinks and the first aid kit, his eye focusing on the first aid kit especially, “I have no clue what’s in the kit but I thought you could keep it in the car if you got in another fight…”

“…How do you know it was a fight?”

“Bruises that big don’t come from bumping into corners or falling down stairs.” you should know, you’ve bumped into many table corners and tripped down the stairs too many times to count and you’ve never gotten an injury that big and angry.

The car goes silent for a while the only sounds of you trying to quietly crunch the sweets and Billy unzipping the first aid kit to look inside it. There’s the normal inside; plasters that are an odd pale peach colour, gauze and safety pins, a couple individually wrapped antiseptic wipes, old yellowing instructions printed on thin paper and a small gel compress to help with swelling and aches.

“Thank you.” Billy whispers, his hands now clutching at the green first aid kit rather than your hand.

His eyes are trained down on the cross adoring the kit, the two drinks on his lap long forgotten.

“I-I know that home life ain’t that good-“ you start, not knowing exactly where you’re going with the conversation, “- but I’m here for you.“

“You don’t know what’s going on princess, you can’t help.” Billy says now looking at you.

“But I know about your dad, that’s how you got that isn’t it?” you vaguely point to his bruised eyes.

His eyes flicker away from yours giving you the answer you didn’t want but already knew.

“I don’t know much Billy-“ you duck down to catch his eyes, a small smile forming on your pretty face, “- but I do know that I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire because men like him wouldn’t even say thank after saving them, they’d just carry on like normal hurting and breaking everything in their way.”

Billy would have smirked at your words but his eyes have gone too wide in shock.

“Why don’t we skip maths hey?” you ask grabbing his hand in a warm but tight grip.

“Sure princess.” He finally replies with a small smile.

.

.

.

A/N: If you want a part four please send in an ask rather than commenting for another part, this is just because asks are an easier way for me to track requests. Comments are still welcomed and requests are open!

#not proof read #billy hargrove x plus size reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #stranger things x reader #stranger things x plus size reader #stranger things #plus size reader #x plus size reader

[necros-writing-stuff]

Foxes and Minxes: Collabo'ween Day 21

GN!AFAB!Reader/M!Teacher!Bailey

Warnings: Me being very British with everything referenced here (sorry); Alcohol; Gloryhole; Hints of Yandere Reader; References to bullying; Condoms; Bailey POV and he feeling guilty; Only pronouns for reader are they/you.

Word Count: 4010

Notes: This is the telepathy mixed with teacher prompt! Bailey is not the telepathic one, though, and I kept it subtle methinks. It's also just fun to think of where Bailey might have ended up if he hadn't become the caretaker.

His paycheck is late. Again. Leighton has been holed up in his office all day yelling at delinquents, telling Bailey to come back later every time he'd popped his head in. The first round of students had set a bin on fire in the cafeteria. The second had been encouraging someone to moon passing cars at the gates. The third had popped River's tires. 

Sure, the kids here were usually shitheads, but to this level? It had to have something to do with graduation coming soon - they were all in their final year of Sixth Form afterall. Most of them being 18, but not fully grasping that they were adults yet and that they could be arrested for what they had been up to. 

Some of them were in his class: economics. Or rather, missing from his class today. They'd been put in the isolation room to write out lines at desks with screens on them so they couldn't talk to each other. Bailey had been in there once or twice as a kid, hell, Winter had been the one to put him in there a few times. Strange that they were now colleagues. Strange that Winter hadn't applied to be head of the school (or at least deputy) after all these years. 

As it was, with the shitheads mostly missing, his class was quiet. Sixth Form classes were smaller than the secondary education classes, the other teachers who had to handle both levels had it worse. Typically UK schools have all of the desks pushed into larger tables to facilitate group work and to make larger use of the room's space, but with how bad the students are here all of the desks had to be separated to discourage certain behaviours. 

Right up front was his favourite. A shy kid, huddled up with their notebook. He couldn't tell whether or not they were doing the work or absently doodling while their mind wandered. He didn't care either way. They'd finished their exams, the only reason they were still here in class was because they all had to be until they walked out with their grades or failed and were pushed out anyway. School policy. One that severely annoyed everyone who wanted a free period to wander around. 

His favourite kept mostly to themself, barely interacting with the others even though they were silently chatting amongst themselves or watching the documentary he had put on to keep some of them occupied. Only educational programmings allowed. Yet another school policy. God, it was miserable here. He'd be watching Breaking Bad otherwise, all of these students had hit 18 so he wouldn't get in trouble from parents about it. But no, instead he'd had to throw on some bullshit scaremongering thing about the dangers of ecstasy pills he'd found on YouTube. 

Funny thing, growth. Back when he was their age, he'd have bullied his favourite. He was as much of a little shit as the rest of them are today. Now he finds solace that at least one of them paid attention. And they'd be gone soon, replaced by another bout of insufferable 16 year olds who would be eager to push him to his limits - only to find that he knew their games and wouldn't be putting up with them. Same old song and dance every new year. 

Which is why he wanted his fucking paycheck. He goes home bordering on having an aneurysm every night, the least he can have in return is his rent money. He's not late, not yet, he'd saved up enough to have reserves, but it still felt better to have it. Plus, he'd be able to get himself a takeaway tonight. That Chinese place he likes is open on a Tuesdays. Some egg fried rice, noodles, chicken curry, those salt and peppered chips. A lovely break in his recent health kick he'd been on. 

Bailey sinks into his seat, sighing at the thought as he chews on a pen cap. His favourite looks up from their notebook, their eyes passing over him quickly before going back down. Not a new thing. They're a jumpy little thing like that. He'd bumped into them once and they'd whimpered as though he'd struck them. Kinda reminds him of all of those videos of foxes just squealing because they can - so he'd nicknamed them after the animal.

He's not a stranger to the signs of an abusive upbringing - the bullying couldn't have helped either. But he's not the one to offer support beyond letting them use his classroom instead of the library. They could go to Doren if they wanted a shoulder to cry on. 

The bell rang then, the students mostly springing up and rushing out to head to the cafeteria. His favourite was stayed put until everyone else left. 

"What you got today?" Bailey reaches under his desk, fetching a box from his bag and his homemade panini with it. Ham, lettuce, and tomatoes filled it up. 

"Same as usual," you respond with a small smile. Which means…

Bailey catches the Yorkie when you throw it over to him, and in return he tosses a bag of Maltesers. That's your usual deal. You bring the Yorkie, Bailey exchanges it for whatever sweet snacks he has that day. Whichever parent it is that always packs the bars for you clearly hasn't clued in to the fact that you've grown sick of the chocolate. Luckily for you, though, Bailey could inhale a whole four-pack in ten minutes. 

And with it not being a class, that also means he doesn't have to abide by the 'educational' videos only rule. At least, that's the excuse he'll tell Leighton if he's caught putting on fucking Hannibal. 

But it's a nice time, eating with his favourite as they watch the show over the lunch hour. Sure beats the fucking staff rooms. Bailey might just quit if he has to hear River complain about that Whitney kid again. 

It's quiet again (save the chewing), but this time it's a comfortable quiet rather than the eternally tense silence of a classroom full of kids a moment away from doing a crime to lull the boredom. 

Little Foxie relaxes now that they're alone, your shoulders sloping and your eyes focused rather than shifting. Poor damn kid. But, not his circus, not his monkeys. He won't see you again after next week anyway. 

"Which exam do you have left?" 

"Just physics. I'm dreading it, though. Sirris kinda does best with biology, so I've had to teach myself quite a bit. Just wish Leighton would hire more teachers - Winter's started nodding off in class apparently." 

Yeah, you aren't wrong there. Overworked, underpaid. And that's what separates you from the other student. That empathy you have for others. How you've held onto it for this long despite the torment of your peers never fails to amaze him. 

"I'm excited to head off to uni, though. It'll be way different than here and I won't have to be around people I don't want to see." There's hope I'm your tone. 

"What'd you pick again?" Bailey can barely speak intelligibly with all that chocolate stuffed in his mouth. Like he's ever been one for good manners though - and it seems to entertain you enough when you smile at him.

"I'm still not sure. Psychology's an option, but creative writing or even zoology sound cool, too."

"Zoology? Didn't know animals were your thing." 

"I started thinking about that after that field trip to the forest last month. You know how Winter is trying to find all of those ruins but there's the bears and stuff that could hurt him? It would be good to work to keep people who work there safe by taking care of the animals. Oh, and the fact that they're extinct everywhere else in the UK. They're important." 

Eden would disagree, but his old friend would keep to himself so long as he was left alone out there. 

"That, and well… animals are honest, you know? I don't have to worry if they'll be bad like people. They'll let me know what they want, I just have to learn the body language." 

Bailey snorts, finishing his Yorkie as he nods. "Aye, good point there. They say never work with kids or animals, but I used to work at the dog pound when I was your age and wrestling screaming huskies into the bath tub was easier than these lot." 

You return to being pensive, head cooking to the side. "How many of them do you think will go to uni?" 

How many of them will you have to avoid, you mean, judging by the nervousness that eases back into your voice. 

"Not many. They'll be the better ones who do anyway." 

No more chatting after that. There's not much more to say - you don't exactly go into personal stuff with your students. You've covered what was appropriate to talk about, and that was enough. That's how it always is. It's how it continues in the week to follow, until you graduate. 

He'll miss you. Just a little bit. The chocolate coated apple you leave on his desk with a thank-you note with a voucher for the local Chinese place is a nice touch, too. Did he even tell you he liked that place? He can't remember, but probably. 

Bailey knows why he harbours such feelings toward you. You're the kind of kid he'd hope to have if he was ever unlucky enough to spawn. 

"Good luck, Foxie," he whispers to himself as he eats the apple - and what do you know - it's melted Yorkie chocolate. Maybe you should have added confectionary to your list of things to study. 

A bittersweet heaviness settles in his chest, causing Bailey to rub the area as he frowns. Your note didn't have a social media handle, and now that you'd graduated you could add him on there. He'd like to keep an eye on your progress, but if you'd rather not then he understands. It's a new start for you, and he was a part of a difficult past even if he'd tried to offer safety in the storm. 

He still couldn't help but feel left behind. And not for the first time, he thinks. 

Dwelling on his sorrows won't do, though. It's better to get your demons out before they dig dens: so to Darryl's club it'll be tonight.

Bailey stays to fix his classroom up and get everything he needs for the summer. The kids left screaming for joy - his work hasn't stopped just because it's a holiday. He'll have to check his units and adjust all of his educational bullshit. 

His flat is small, just a single bedroom and a joint kitchen and living room, but it's enough. He guesses. Bailey's younger self would kick him in the balls for ending up here instead of as some big-shot lawyer or whatever he'd had in his head back then. 

Chucking his box of work shit onto his coffee table, Bailey pushes his dark hair back out of his eyes and heads to the shower. He can afford to spend half an hour in there, Leighton had sent the paycheck over. Its just what he needs, the scalding water loosening his muscles up and getting any sweat off of him from the summer heat. 

The outfit he chooses to wear is simple, but it's tailored just right to make his body look it's best. Dress shirt in white, black slacks, Italian loafers, his woolen long coat. He doesn't put it on until he's eaten, though, opting to shovel pasta into his mouth with his towel around his hips. 

It's still bright when he heads to the club even though the hour is late. Bailey finds himself thankful for it, the setting sun keeping some warmth as he waits for the bouncer to thin the line out and let him in. 

The environment inside is energetic, music pulsing through the building as lights are focused on various dancers performing on the stages in various stages of undress. People sit around watching with drinks in one hand and money in the other, ready to throw the cash when they find a dancer that gets them going enough. 

Bailey didn't bring change. Instead, he's off to the bar, taking an empty spot and ordering a whiskey. Then, he waits. Tourists come to this town for the beach (and the underground sex industry), many of them in the club tonight. Many of them good looking and looking for a fuck without ties. Luckily for one of them tonight, so is Bailey. 

His eyes scan the crowd, trying to scope out some cute thing he can make eye contact with and smile at so they'll either come to him or he can go to them. Sadly, the club's occupants tonight seem to be mostly local. And he isn't paying for one of the dancers either - Bailey likes it here and he'd rather not end up banned and have to venture over to Briar's seedy little hole. 

With no luck, Bailey settles for watching the dancers and listening to the conversations of groups around him for a while as he sips his drinks. Yes, multiple. If he can't fuck, he'll get a buzz and go home feeling merry at least. 

That time closes in, his eyes feeling heavy before it even reaches one in the morning. Fucking hell, he's feeling his age these days. He's not fourty yet, but it's coming, and his back especially is feeling it. 

Placing his latest empty glass on the bar, Bailey goes to get up when something catches his eye. Red hair, pretty face, young. Someone he doesn't recognise. He thinks. He's had enough to drink at this point that he can't see the best - but what he can see he likes. 

Now it's just about getting their attention. 

Another drink is ordered - this time a virgin cocktail. He's had enough alcohol, he'd like to be able to walk home without falling over. Then it's back to lounging against the bar, staring at the pretty red-head and willing them to look his way. 

And willing. And willing. And… shit. Yeah, they're not interested. Plus, Bailey needs to piss. 

The crowd goes up in cheers as one of the favourite dancers comes onto center stage, everyone glued to their spots as the music switches to their routine's soundtrack. It fades away as the door to the toilets swings shut behind the dark haired man. There's barely anyone else in there, and the two that are hurry to get out to watch. 

Not wanting to risk having some creep take a photo of his dick while he pisses, Bailey stumbles into a stall rather than over to the urinals. He's surprised to notice a gloryhole in the side of the stall; the owners here don't like that shit happening in the open. And it's a bug fucking hole, too.

A deep sigh leaves his lungs when he relieves himself, his head falling back and his eyelids closing. 

The door squeaks open, footsteps echoing as they make their way over to the stall right beside his own. Swearing under his breath, Bailey keeps an eye out for a phone coming under or above the stall. The stalls don't save you from pervs with cameras, but it does mean you can trap them in the stall and threaten them until they hand the phone over and you can delete what they took. 

"Hey, sorry, I couldn't hear you out there." 

Bailey's eyebrows crease as he shakes his dick and puts it away. Are they talking to him? 

"Yeah, no, I'm in the bathroom now. What did you call for?"

Nope, not for him. Nice voice though, bit of an accent. Definitely not from around here. Could be his tourist. 

"I- really? Really? You promised I'd be able to stay out the full night! You always do this, you always-" 

Oh, yikes. Controlling partner, it sounds like. Bailey knows he should go, but to leave now while they're arguing? To interrupt it? That feels more awkward than to hide and pretend he isn't there until they leave first. 

That accented voice only gets more upset, causing Bailey to cringe and hold his breath. 

"No! No, I'm not doing this anymore. We're done, you fucking freak! Yeah? Yeah? Go ahead, burn my shit, like I care." 

Oh, good for them, he guesses. He can still hear the tears in their voice. Tears that evolve into sobs when they hang up and, by the sound of things, sit down on the toilet seat. Time to go, Bailey thinks. He'll be really quiet about it, though. 

Which he fails at. Immediately. His loafers slip against the tile and his fist flies into the wall. Bailey doesn't hurt himself, but those sobs cease immediately. 

There's some flashes of movement beyond the glory hole, flashes of red hair going past while Bailey remains completely frozen. 

"Are you okay in there?" 

"I should be asking you the same thing," he shoots back. "But yeah, I'm good. Caught myself." 

"Guy from the bar, right? You were looking at me." 

Ah, so they're avoiding the question. Fair enough. He can't blame them for not wanting to tell a stranger about the partner they just broke up with. 

"Yeah, sorry, didn't know you were taken." He grunts as he finally stands back up right, smoothing out his shirt and working on tucking it back in. 

"Were." It's whispered, accompanied by the shuffle of clothes. He'll leave them to it, he supposes. 

"I, ah. Good luck with your-" 

They weren't pulling their pants down to take a piss. They were pulling them down to press their pussy against the glory hole, giving Bailey a good view of it. 

"You have a condom? I'm free now so…" 

Bold little minx, aren't they? Forward with what they want, but responsible enough to ask for a condom. Which Bailey would have forgotten if they hadn't mentioned. 

"Yup," is all he says, the 'p' popping as his pants come down again. Fishing out the condom from his wallet, Bailey keeps the packet held between his teeth as his hands get to work. One wraps around his cock, the other pressing against their pussy and thumbing their clit. 

Such a cute giggle they have, such a cute little cunt they have. Just what he needs to keep make his day after all of the goddamn stress. He's clumsy though, the drink and the two different movements of his hands making his ministrations rough. Not that the minx next door seems to mind. 

He's quick to harden, ripping the condom packet open before rolling it down on himself. 

"Just spit on me, I don't want to wait longer." 

Fucking hell, yeah he can do that. Leaning down, Bailey rolls his tongue around in his mouth, gathering spit before drooling it all over their cunt. And he just can't resist giving it a lick when he picks up how good it smells. 

They laugh again, wiggling their hips so that his tongue teases their clit for a few seconds before he pulls away. Then it's right to what they both want. 

The angle is awkward, standing up so straight his back leans away from the wall as he presses himself in. Completely worth it when he feels how tight and warm it is - even around the condom they feel like heaven. 

Reaching up, Bailey tightly grips the top of the stall dividing wall to keep himself steady while he pumps in and out. Nice and slow to start, nice and slow to find the angle he likes and a rhythm that makes sense. He keeps his head down, watching himself sink in. Such a good sight to commit to memory. 

The minx starts whimpering, gyrating their hips to demand more from Bailey. Strange that the whimper seems familiar, flashing images of a certain fox-like ex-student through his head. And a flash of heat through his lower belly. 

"Fuck," Bailey hisses, shaking his head and trying to focus on the here and now. Completely inappropriate to think of you right now. He's never thought of you that way, and he won't start now. 

But then the minx whimpers again, leaving Bailey with the thought of his little Foxie bent over his desk, taking him rough and hard while they both watch the door from fear of being caught. 

You're gone. He won't see you again. It's not like he'll have to look you in the eye on Monday and face the shame of having had these thoughts. What's the harm in indulging in them when they make his skin feel so aflame? 

"Yes, Sir, more!" 

Oh that fucking helps. Sends his mind reeling about how nice you always were, how you knew what he wanted from you whether it was your behaviour, work, or conversation. It would translate into the bedroom, Bailey knew that much. You'd be such a good little one for him, on your back with your knees held to your chest so he could get a good view of what's between your legs. What he'd be tasting, savouring. 

"So good, Sir, so good," the minx whines, that one fucking title the sweet spot in it all. 

Bailey snarls, pumping hard and fast right into them, right into you, his brain stuck in a world where you're in his apartment, laying in his bed and clinging tightly to him while he makes your anxiety seem out of your body with every hit against the slick, gummy walls of your sweet cunt. 

It creeps up on him, electricity sparking up his spine as his balls tighten. Bailey hasn't come this close to finishing so quickly in years, a realisation that sobers him for a second. His teeth dig into his lower lip, but it doesn't slow down the building explosion that hits him. 

He loses control of his hips, feeling like they're being pushed forward by an unseen force as he buries himself into the minx, spilling spurt after spurt of his seed into the condom. It drains that burst of energy he'd had, his cock slipping out of the minx as he struggles to stay standing. 

"You okay in there, handsome?" There's no mocking in their voice, just amusement. 

"Shit - sorry. I'll finish you off, here-" 

"Nah, it's all good. My phone won't stop going off and if I don't answer that bastard really will burn my shit. I left my mother's necklace over there so I should head over." 

"Don't go alone if you can help it," Bailey grunts, putting his clothes to right again and disposing of his condom in the bin. Next door, he hears the minx putting their clothes to right as well. 

"Yeah, I'll grab my friend on the way out. She's probably out of money at this point anyway." 

Their stall opens, footsteps heading off. Bailey isn't long behind. 

Two seconds. Two seconds of seeing them clearly in the mirrors above the sink as he passes. Two seconds where he sees them fixing their hair - an obviously fake wig that he can make out clearly since the drunkenness has faded. Two seconds where he can make out their face in the bright light of the bathroom.

One extra second when you turn back, panic in your eyes at the knowledge that he'd realised who you are. The panic fades though. Instead, you're smiling in a way he's never seen you smile before. It's confident. Fox-like. 

"Or maybe I'll just head back home since there's no ex-boyfriend. Could go back to yours. Bet you'd like more of a taste, Sir. I'll even hold my legs apart for you." 

Bailey can't move. Can't chase after you and demand answers as you scurry off, your hips swaying in that outfit. Can't believe his cock is hardening again, and that you'd know just what he wants. Just like he'd thought you would. 

Why do you always know what he wants?

#collaboween #spill my guts #necro's fics #bailey the caretaker #gn reader #afab reader #cw alcohol #yandere reader #degrees of lewdity

[z0mb13-b0y]

pepspspspspsp it is i!

I have finally gotten around for submitting a request B)

I would humbly ask for a Ghost x M!Reader who is prone to overworking themselves both on and off battlefield and suffers (horribly) consequently from it B) angst and fluff! u can make it spicy if u want, u have creative liberty!!!

(can be on or off battlefield- off battlefield I’d imagine m!reader coming in tiredly before hacking up blood and stumbling, while on battlefield he becomes lethargic and extremely ill)

Ghost finds m!reader suffering as he’s in need of medical attention quickly as he’s slowly looking more like a corpse before her gets the medical attention needed, causing for some panic but he’s fine :S

Overworked M!Reader x Worried Ghost

⚠️: Blood, mentions of stitching flesh, angst + fluff:3

As the sun slowly bleeds through the the curtains Ghost starts to wake, he rolls over moving his arm as an attempt to wrap his arm over you before the realisation hits, you weren't home..again. "Fuckin hell, Y/N" he mutters to himself before groaning loudly and getting out of bed to continue his day..

You were barely home anymore, always getting up hours before dawn and leaving to go on missions you weren't even assigned, what pissed him off was your carelessness, always coming home to him exhausted and sometimes hurt. By nightfall he sat, worried and tired on the couch waiting for you to talk about your daily leaves, after time slowly passes you finally opened the door..

As you came in stumbling in groaning in pain whilest keeping your hand on the side of your waist. Ghost's heart drops as he leaps off the couch and grabs you.."What the fuck did you do, Y/N!?" He demanded to know, his voice cracking as he watches the rapid bleeding leak from the inside of your gear, "I..I just need a shower.." you mumble softly, groaning once more in pain before trying to escape his grip on you. "Im gonna call the medic." He explains, pissed as he slowly let's go and walks away..he flashes a look of concern at you, watching you as he walks away before hearing you collapse to your knees, groaning louder. He runs over to you and wraps his arms around the back of your neck and knees now carrying you to the couch..

Something was much worse than the other times you came home. He drops you gently down on the couch before reaching for your gear to take it all off.."What happened!?" He yells, he wasn't angry.. he was hurt and scared..his eyebrows furrowed and his teeth clench and he lifts your shirt up to reveal the massive slash from a blade on the side of your body..it was deep. You lay your head back, a small smile forming from your lips before chuckling, "I wasn't careful enough." You say before hucking up some blood..Ghost stands and starts running around the house for God knows what. He comes back with dis-infectent, bandage and a stitch kit..he pours the alcoholic liquid on your wound, rubbing it around with his sleeve as he listens to you whimper in pain, squirming under his touch. "Y/N.." he mutters under his breath..his voice shaky.."you always come home hurt but this is getting out of hand.." he sighs loudly..you can't help but look down at him with sympathy, what are you to say?

He starts to open the stitch kit, you already know this is gonna be a pain in the ass but you do believe you deserve it for all the times you've left him to wake up alone.

He starts grabbing it all, prepping the equipment before holding you down as he starts to slowly stitch you up, you winced in pain before he looks up at you.."You deserve it yknow?" He mutters.."Yeah, I know." You respond, a little embarrassed that the person stitching you up just so happened to be your worried boyfriend.

"Im such a shitty boyfriend.. " you mumble before wincing once more from the jabbing pain in your side. You knew Ghost wasn't gonna disagree..maybe he wouldn't even say anything at all.."Im gonna try harder..im sorry." Your voice husk but shameful..but at least you meant every word. "How?" Is all he said, cold and emotionless as he keeps stitching up the large wound.."im gonna stop doing, well..this." you admit, meaning the missions you didn't have to go through with at all..the silence was deafening before he replied "thank you." Once more emotionless and cold..

After the time slowly passed for them once more he was done stitching before carefully wrapping the bandage around your stitches.."Y/N?" He asks, more in a soft tone than before, "Yeah?" You reply, curious of the next response.."Can you please stay tomorrow? I cant deal with you at the moment..I hate how you keep coming home hurt, it hurts me too." The confession began and ended in no more than thirty seconds.."that was kind of the plan?" You chuckle, looking up and smiling at him..the clock just hit 2am before he smiled, the smile faded before telling you to go to bed..you complied.

As you walk into the shared bedroom looking for the normal hoodie you wore to bed every night you just simply couldn't find it.."What the fuuck?" You whisper sighing loudly before you spot Ghost in the doorway holding it, "You haven't washed in in weeks, so I did." He explains before chucking it at you to catch. You smile warmly at him before thanking him and putting in on and taking off your pants..once your finished you look over at the bed to see Ghost laying there staring at you on his back..you smile before walking over and sitting on top of him.

"I am sorry for-" he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you down onto his chest.."Just stop, okay?" Thats all he asked..you nod as your head nuzzled deeper into the creves of his neck.."I love you, you know that right?" You break the silence, your arms just wrapping themselves around him tighter.."I love you too.." he said before kissing your forehead and turning off the light.

Done! Took me around 2 hours to make all this but I really hope you enjoyed it and thank you loads for the submission:3

#cod #m!reader #ghost x m!reader #gay #fluff #light angst #ghost x you #x male reader #warning #bloodwarning #simonghostriley #ghost

[diakaoniii]

— yuma mukami

TW: Sexual abuse

“Ah…Hah”

After he had finally freed himself from you, you were gasping for air while nakedly laying on your back on the enormous, plush bed. You didn't like it at all. All you felt was pain and fear.

Why...

Why is he treating you like this? Why does he touch your body without your consent?

This had nothing to do with love.

It didn't matter how many times you challenged him, he always came out on top. The whole of your body, including your face, was covered with bruises.

Would passing away relieve you of this agony for good?

You were so worn out that you were unable to even open your eyes. You just lay there. You attempted to dislodge Yuma from your grasp by pressing your small hands against his strong chest and pushing him away from you.

He frowned at this gesture and spoke in an angry tone;

“Oi, sow. What the hell are ya doing!? Do you want more wound and bruise on your body? It's not a problem for me!”

You let out a painful moan as he gave you a smack that was so forceful that it caused the inside corner of your lips to bleed. You were certain that you were going to have a bruise on your face after the incident. You moaned in pain as you tenderly put a shaky palm to your face, and you did so while shaking slightly.

You were sobbing not because of physical pain but rather because of emotional anguish.

When did the guy who you previously loved become such an entirely different person? The changes to him brought to your attention, but you chose to disregard them.

After all, he was a vampire.

A vampire would be very protective of the person he cared about, even to the point of taking lives for his woman.

Especially in the event that the woman that he loves is a human being.

He is jealous of even his brothers.

One day, he punched Kou till his face was covered with blood to suck your blood.

Didn't it upset him to see his own brother covered in blood?

Since then, he has undergone an important shift in behavior for you. He used to want you to help him in the garden, but now he forbids you to even step out of his room Every time you try to go out this room, all you get is a few bruises and broken bones…

You gently opened your eyes and made a sound like you were attempting to speak. You were so exhausted that it was difficult to even to speak right now.

You forced yourself to plead in a low, tired voice.

“Yuma-Kun... I'm sorry if I made you angry; that was not my intention. I simply can't get over how weary I am, and the pain in my thigh is becoming worse. Let me get some rest, please—”

He clamped his hand firmly around your hair and yanked you closer to him;

“What, ya believe I care about anything or something I care about, sow? I will not stop until I am satisfied. Moreover—”

He put his free arm around your waist while one hand grasped your hair securely and stroked your body in a slow with lust. He buried his head in your delicate neck and spoke those words in a raspy voice that would send shivers down your spine.

“I want to have children. Tonight, I'll make sure you're pregnant. I don't care whether y'a want it or not; y'a will give birth to my baby.”

After he finished speaking, he released his hold on your hair and let you drop into the bed. You were terrified; you didn't want that. Your eyes were filled with tears, and your whole body was shaking. You forgot about how weary you were because of the unadulterated terror that you felt.

This is not the guy you allowed yourself to fall in love with.

“No, Y-yuma-Kun… *sob* P-please d-on't do it to me— *sob* I-I am not r-ready t-to be a m-mother yet.”

Crying was the only thing you were capable of doing at that moment because you were too weak to stop him.

“No...”

“It is now too late, sow… Nobody asked you if you were ready.”

When his members nudged you into womanhood, your cries of desperation became louder.

#9/12 #diabolik lovers #dialovers #diaboys #diabolik lovers ask blog #diabolik lovers x reader #react #diabolik lovers reactions #diahell #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere male #tw yandere #male yandere #diabolik brothers #diabolik boys #yuma mukami #mukami brothers #mukami family #diabolical #special events ♦

[in-need-of-gally-content]

|Chapter•Ten|

•|Masterlist|•

(M/n) was growing tired of these dreams, and they kept getting more vivid every day, even so, there wasn't much he could remember after waking up, but his feelings were very much real, and too intense.

He was just hoping not to snap at anyone that had nothing to do with him being mad.

Staying still and taking deep breaths, he laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and his mind wandered to the first few days he was around, working together with Gally and the rest of the Builders to make this place for him to live.

It was weird to think that he had been around for two weeks, it... Didn't feel like it.

Especially when he thought about Gally and his-

With wide eyes he sat up, shaking his head in an attempt to erase the idea of having feelings for Gally. Not that there was anything wrong with liking Gally but... There was something he couldn't understand. Even if he felt his tummy tingling every time he thought of Gally, the possibility of him liking him back didn't bring him joy, or made him feel overwhelmed, it was something that made him wonder if he could be good enough for Gally...

"This is stupid," he mumbled to himself and decided to stand up, he looked out the window and saw just the slightest bit of sunshine lighting up the Glade. (M/n) yawned and grabbed his bag, he just had to go get his water and wait for the doors to open. Easy.

///////

"Why is it so shucking hot?" Minho complained as he stopped jogging, taking his water bottle to drink from it, and (M/n) doing the same. For some reason, the weather had gotten worse as the hours passed, and now with the sun at its highest spot, as it hit afternoon, they felt like they were roasting alive.

"Has it ever been this hot before?" (M/n) saw Minho gulping his water down, and he was afraid that they might run out before making it back to the Glade.

Minho groaned, feeling his thirst just slightly satisfied, "Yeah, but it's a gradual build-up, today is just hot for no shucking reason," he looked down at his half-empty bottle, before staring at (M/n), "We should head back, we might end up getting heat stroke, come on."

The way back to the Glade wasn't any easier, they had decided on walking instead of running and were holding their bags over their head to try and block the direct sunlight. They walked in complete silence, taking the occasional gulp of water, trying to make it last until they made it out of the Maze.

And maybe an hour or so, they arrived, accepting gladly how the temperature appeared to lower now that they weren't surrounded by concrete and stone. This time, Gally wasn't around to give him snacks, probably because he wasn't expecting him to be back just yet, well, not like he minded, the thought of seeing the tall blond made him feel a little bit anxious.

"I'm gonna help the others with the Map," Minho announced right before heading to the map room, but stopping as he turned toward the Homestead, "I need some cool water first," (M/n) laughed and nodded, following after him to do the same.

With a glass of cold water in hand, he walked back outside, lifting his hand to his hair and pushing it back, holding it there, away from his face as he drank. He took a few, slow steps in the direction of the arrangement of hammocks, when he heard the voices of Peter and Jason.

"That shucking greenie would be nothing if it wasn't for Gally... He's always there to defend that," (M/n)'s jaw clenched, and he leaned over the corner slightly, seeing them folding laundry. Well, Jason seemed to be the one doing everything, seeing as Peter was laying on his hammock near him.

"Yeah, I bet he's trying to get in her pants," Jason added with a snort and Peter rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his water bottle.

"Well, who isn't?"

Taking a deep breath, (M/n) headed back inside, putting the now empty glass down and pacing around, trying to calm himself down. He was mad and anxious, hearing them talking about him made him mad, but them doubting that any other guy was his friend just because they wanted to was what made him anxious.

He knew better than to believe the assholes being assholes again, even if it was behind his back, it had been a rather quiet and peaceful week not hearing them or acknowledging their comments.

"Oh, Newt?" He heard Fry's voice around the corner, coming from down the hall.

"Yeah?" He barely heard Newt's voice answer back. (M/n) turned around to leave, he didn't wanna overhear anything he wasn't supposed to-

"Can you chop some wood for me? I'm running low on logs for cooking," -that might work...

(M/n) walked out and walked around the opposite side of the Homestead, away from the hammocks. There was the pile of sticks and tree trunks, waiting to be cut for wood fire. And the hatchet for it resting against the stone Maze walls.

"Well... Let's get working."

//////

"Hey, Gally!"

He frowned and looked over his shoulder. Newt was heading his way with a slight jog. He simply hummed in response when he got close enough.

"Could ya go chop some wood for Fry?" Gally nodded and stopped petting Bark, apologizing briefly for disturbing his sleep as he stood up. While Gally headed to the pile by the garden supply hut, Newt went in the opposite direction.

Squiting under the bright sun, his green eyes looked at the Maze Doors, and he glanced at his watch to see the time. There were a few hours left until (M/n) came back, so he was glad to have something to do in the meantime besides petting and playing with Bark, he just hoped the heat wasn't too bad in there.

He continued his way past the Homestead with his sight now turned to the ground, noticing how worn his boots were getting, thankfully he still had two other pairs a little less worn in his room-

Thud!

The familiar sound of the wood being chopped caught his attention, making Gally look up and he saw him.

(M/n) wiped his brow with the back of his hand, sweat glistening his skin under the afternoon sun. His hands secured his grip on the handle of the hatchet and he swung his arms back and over his head, successfully chopping another log.

Gally was confused, when did he come back? And why didn't he know? Well, probably because he had been spending all morning with Bark, keeping each other company.

"Greenie?" He asked loud enough for him to hear, approaching him with arms crossed over his chest.

(M/n) had a deep frown on his face, he looked mad, but his voice sounded nice and gentle when he spoke, "Hi, Gally."

He really wondered if something happened, something in the Maze or before that? He wanted to know.

Carefully approaching him, Gally leaned against the Maze wall, "Everything alright?"

The way (M/n) looked at him briefly told him what he needed to know, something was bothering him, but he seemed troubled and unsure.

"It's not important, don't worry," Gally pursed his lips and observed how (M/n) brought the hatchet down with full force, small pieces of wood flying away as the log was cut.

"Well, it isn't nothing if it's making you annihilate those poor logs," (M/n) couldn't hold back the small chuckle that escaped him, realizing that yeah, he had chopped pretty much every single log there was, he might've been angrier than he anticipated.

He placed the sharp end of the hatchet down against the tree stump that worked as a table for chopping logs, and he placed his hands over the other, squinting as he looked at Gally, debating if he should say anything.

"It's just..." Gally looked at him expectantly, and he almost regretted saying anything, "It really is nothing, Gally, don't worry-"

"How unladylike, she-bean," this voice was rather new to him, so he had to glance over his shoulder to know who it was. Stan, the Keeper of the Sloppers, stood there, staring at him in a way he didn't like, "Shucking hope not all girls are like you, damn disgusting."

His fingers gripped tightly the handle in his hands, and he turned back, ready to chop the remaining few logs left, but he noticed Gally having other ideas. He looked ready to go after him and teach him a thing or two about respect, but (M/n) held him back, releasing the hatchet to place both his hands on his chest.

"Gally, stop, it's not worth it," the blond frowned and looked down at him, his fists clenched on either side of his body.

"I'm not gonna let him talk that way about you, (M/n)," keeping a firm stance, he continued to hold Gally back, his arms shaking from all the recent use of cutting wood, feeling weaker as he tried to maintain Gally leveled.

"Just let it go, he wasn't the first one and won't be the last one to talk to me like that, okay? He's just... A shuckface," the way Glader slang sounded coming from the greenie made him smile, it was odd in an adorable way, and Gally felt his anger subside as he realized that (M/n) was grimacing after saying 'shuck'.

He chuckled and walked back, picking up a few logs in his hands to bring back to the Homestead.

"Well, you'll show them who's boss when the next greenie comes up," Gally's wide smile made (M/n)'s body and mind relax, smiling back and grabbing a couple of logs and sticks as well.

"I will, I've been trained by the best guy around after all."

They laughed playfully as they approached the Homestead, completely ignoring nearby stares on them.

//////

As they were approaching his tree house, his eyes saw Bark peacefully eating food from his bowl, and for the first time, he noticed the fully built dog house under his room. He hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings lately and he almost smacked himself for his carelessness.

But before he could praise Gally for the amazingly cute doghouse he built -he assumed Gally was the one that built it- Bark saw him and ran at him, jumping onto his arms while releasing happy barks and whines.

Thankfully, he was able to catch him and keep himself up on his feet instead of going down on the dirt, he heard Gally's laugh, and (M/n) simply kept walking with Bark in his arms, setting him down once they stopped by his ladder.

"I missed you too, boy," Bark licked his face when he knelt to his height, keeping his paws on (M/n)'s shoulder as a way to keep him steady while he continued giving the human all of his love.

He tried to free himself from Bark's hold, but the dog was resilient in letting him go, so (M/n) gave up and instead chose to play with him, otherwise he wouldn't let them go up to his room.

Dinner wasn't gonna come around until a few hours later, so he had time to spare, to be able to play with Bark until he got tired enough to sleep, and then spend some time with Gally.

The three of them played for about an hour and a half, until Bark laid on the dirt, panting while still wagging his tail, although more slowly and calmly. Gally sat with him, patting his head and back, while (M/n) made his way up the ladder, entering his room and sighing as he pushed his hair back, fanning his face with his hand at the heat he felt.

He spotted the origami tied to the rope on top of the bookshelf, his journal still there where he left it the last time he used it, and an unknown cardboard box that he didn't remember being there before, but his name was written on it, and he thought of the camera.

With excited hops, he walked closer to it and grabbed the box, opening it and being greeted with bubble wrap. He popped one with a smile before taking the device out.

(M/n) held the camera with careful hands, turning it around and inspecting it, observing it and feeling like some part of his memory came back, but nothing he didn't know already. He set it down and grabbed the box, there was something inside it still. Three small boxes with films for the Polaroid were there, along with a small note on the bottom.

It had written simple instructions on how to put a new film in the camera once the one already inside ran out.

He was excited to try it out, but it was getting dark out, so he would have to pictures in the morning.

Oh, the origami!

(M/n) tied each end of the rope with some ivy holding the wood wall together, and he observed how it looked. The slightly opened curtain behind him let in some light through the leaves, making pretty shadows on the wall, and he couldn't resist it.

Grabbing the camera, he raised it to his eyes and snapped a picture of his newly decorated wall.

He held the picture when it came out and he set it on the bookshelf, waiting for it to appear.

He really liked the fairy-like look the picture had, making him smile. (M/n) placed the camera on the shelf next to the books and opened his journal to keep the polaroid safe. He wasn't sure how, but he was gonna keep all the pictures he takes there, he'll attach them to the paper somehow.

"Oh, (M/n)!" Gally's voice called for him from outside, and he stepped out the door with a loud hum in response, "Have you carved your name on the wall yet?"

No, he hasn't... Woah, somehow he forgot about that entirely. Well, probably because he felt like he won't ever fully be welcomed in the Glade.

"Nope," he said while going down the ladder. As soon as he stood on the ground, Gally gripped his wrist and started pulling him away from his tree, taking him in the direction of the name wall.

"Let's go then!"

//////

Carving his name on the wall was funny, Gally kept suggesting where he should place his name, and he complained if he picked a spot too low or high, until finally, (M/n) got Gally to admit that he wanted their names to be close to each other.

And something about that was almost too cute for (M/n) to handle.

But in the end, his name was carved as closed as it could be to Gally's, who was slightly bouncing in place the whole time it took him to get it done.

Moving his hair away from his face, (M/n) turned to look at Gally after placing the tools inside the box kept against the wall, and even with the natural light fading away, he swore he saw him blushing.

"Oh?" He leaned closer suddenly, catching Gally off guard, but his quick reaction time made him capable of turning away and start walking toward the Homestead, where dinner was waiting for them, "Hey~, your face is all red, Gally~."

He closed his eyes tightly at the teasing tone the greenie had, and cleared his throat.

"Well, it's hot today so it makes sense, greenie."

(M/n) squinted his eyes at Gally's retreating figure, not missing how the blond subtly rubbed his forearm to create friction and warmth, as the temperature had lowered in the past hour.

"Whatever you say," he mumbled without losing his teasing tone and he started running instead of walking, "The last one is a rotten egg!"

Not being one to back away from a challenge -even from a light-hearted, unserious one-, Gally took off running after the greenie, who playfully pushed him to prevent him from getting there first, getting a push in return from Gally. Their laughter echoed in the Glade, catching everyone's attention as they saw them jogging while holding the other back and trying to trip each other.

Fry smiled at the sight, while many others felt uneasy at the sight of an overly joyful Gally.

Newt felt a subtle pang in his chest at the sight and sound of them looking so happy together, and he had definitely lost his appetite by now, so he stood up from his seat and walked out of the dining area, barely hearing Fry telling him 'good night' as he walked past him, inevitably meeting Gally and (M/n) face to face, making eye contact with the taller blond before turning the corner and heading to his room down the hallway.

//////

With the sunlight of a new day shining down on the Glade, (M/n) finished his makeshift camera strap, and safe belt for his journal as well. He secured tightly the camera strap to his wrist and his journal across his chest, walking out of his treehouse to start taking pictures.

Starting with a close-up of Bark's cute face, and of his house from ground level.

(M/n) walked around the Deadheads for a short while, debating whether he should easily climb the Watchtower to take more pictures, or make his life harder by climbing a tree instead...

He chose the tree.

Finding a comfortable enough spot on a branch, he started taking scenery shots of the Glade, keeping each one safe in his tightly closed journal. And after feeling like those were enough, he began making his way down.

He was a couple of feet up the tree now, and he could easily jump off the branch instead of climbing all the way down, but he heard Gally's distant voice. (M/n) was about to call out to him as well, when he thought of doing a little prank on the blond, it wouldn't hurt anyone...

Except himself if he can't hold himself or if the branch breaks under his weight.

He waited for Gally to walk past under him, thanking that he was hidden with the leaves, before scooting back slowly, making sure he would have some grip with his legs around the branch. And when he was ready, he called him.

"Gally!"

He frowned and turned around, looking everywhere he could see without moving from his spot. (M/n) sounded awfully close to him, but he was nowhere in sight... Maybe he was going crazy and was imagining the greenie calling for him just because he wanted to see him.

Shaking his head, he took a single step forward, before he was suddenly met with  (M/n)'s face too close to his. Only upside down.

"Boo," the greenie muttered as he swung himself back, his body balancing back and forth as he watched Gally fall to the dirt with a yelp, making him smile with mischief and chuckle at his unamused frown.

"So funny," he said in response to (M/n)'s mocking laugh.

(M/n) watched how Gally started getting up, trying to shake the dirt and grass off his clothes, and he simply swung himself while chucking quietly every few seconds.

Swinging... Swing...ing...

"Swing!" The sudden raise of his voice made Gally flinch, watching curiously how (M/n) lifted himself and made his way down the tree, as quick and nimble as he's never seen him. He observed confused how (M/n) opened his journal, cursing when the polaroids almost fell off, but he managed to keep them secure as he flipped to a clean page and did a quick sketch of a piece of wood with ropes and tied to a branch, "Look."

He walked until he was standing next to Gally, showing him what he had managed to create in less than two minutes. It was rather rough, but he could see what (M/n) envisioned.

"Just let me..." Gally reached for the pen in (M/n)'s hand, their fingers gracing and skin touching. His breath got stuck in his throat and he tried to not think about the goosebumps covering his skin or the heat coming off of (M/n)'s body. His hand moved quickly, fixing minor issues on the greenie's sketch, too focused to notice the bright look in his (e/c) eyes as he looked up at him, "Done."

He handed (M/n) his pen back, and looked at him, making eye contact.

Time seemed to slow down as they stared into each other's eyes, feeling like they were the only ones around and how nothing else seemed to matter. It was scary how they realized that they could stare endlessly at one another.

And even though it felt like forever had passed, the truth was that merely ten seconds had gone by, when they broke their staring, looking away with heated faces and pounding hearts.

"Do you think we could..." (M/n)'s voice for quiet as he turned to look at Gally again, "Build the swing today?"

Gally opened his mouth to speak, seemingly at a loss for words for a few seconds, "Y-yeah, yeah... I think so," he released an uncharacteristic nervous laugh and took a step back when he realized that they were still standing really close to each other. (M/n) laughed back and nodded, starting his way toward the shack with the stuff they needed.

"Well, let's start, then!"

//////

"Be careful!"

(M/n) looked up at Gally as he made his way up the tree, the blond simply huffed and nodded a couple of times, "I know, I know," he responded, reaching up to hold onto another sticking out piece of the tree trunk.

They were done building the seat for the swing -after enjoying some lunch-, they had found a good tree in a spot where everyone could see it and anyone could use it, and now, Gally had denied (M/n) going up to tie the ropes to the branches, with the excuse of how he could fall and hurt himself.

... As if Gally wouldn't.

Even so, (M/n) had decided there was no point in arguing with Gally, especially when he already was halfway up the tree. He kept an eye out for him, worrying about his wellbeing, he definitely didn't want Gally to fall off and get hurt.

"Okay, I'm done-" Gally's voice got cut off when he shifted his weight around, slipping off.

"Gally!" (M/n) went to him immediately as he hit the ground with a loud thud, kneeling next to him and helping him sit up, keeping his hand under Gally's head.

With a groan, Gally rubbed his head as he managed to sit up, resting his back on the tree he fell off from, "I'm good, don't worry."

(M/n) huffed and attempted to help Gally stand up, "Even if you are, you hit your head, let's get some ice for it, come on."

Knowing the greenie wouldn't stop bothering him about it, he nodded and accepted his help. But he felt a sharp pain shoot up his left leg when he put pressure on it to stand up.

"Shuck..." He cursed and tried not to make it too obvious that he couldn't walk, or simply stand up for that matter, but he really couldn't handle the pain, making him pull away from (M/n)'s grip and fall back onto the ground, "I think I shucked my ankle."

(M/n) thought of what to do for a moment. Making Gally walk was out of the question, and it's not like he could ask others to help get Gally to the med room. So there was only one solution.

Carry him. He wasn't sure he could do it, but he could definitely try. Worst case, they pull each other forward fighting through their pain, which would be pretty funny.

"Alright, get on my back, and I'll get you to the med room," he said while crouching in front of him, he doubted Gally wanted him to carry him in his arms like a princess after all, so a piggyback ride should be enough.

However, he underestimated how stubborn Gally could be. He chuckled in response, and shook his head no, "I'll be fine, greenie."

(M/n) stood up and silently observed how Gally tried to stand up on his own, and he did manage to, thanks to the tree, but the blond realized there was no way he could walk all the way back to the Homestead. And he locked eyes with (M/n), who was still staring at him.

"Just let me help you, doofus," Gally sighed in defeat at the sight of a determined greenie, and simply shrugged.

"Fine," (M/n) stepped closer to him and he dropped his arm around his shoulders.

Gally was just thinking that (M/n) was gonna drag his ass back to the Homestead, but he heard him sigh, "If you want..."

Before he could say anything, (M/n) was bending his knees and reaching his arm under his legs while keeping a hold around his waist. And Gally soon found himself being carried in his arms. His eyes were wide open as he was frozen in silence, completely freaking out internally while his face started heating up at the realization of how easily (M/n) seemed to be able to hold his weight and walk.

He got swept off his feet. Literally.

The way to the Homestead wasn't as embarrassing as he would've expected, probably because he had decided to completely hide his face against (M/n)'s neck as he was taken to the med room.

"Clint! Jeff!" He called for both of the Med-jacks, hoping that at least one of them would be around to help him.

(M/n) walked into the room and placed Gally down on the nearest bed, and right behind him, Clint walked in, followed by Jeff.

"You need anything, greenie?"

"Everything okay, greenbean?"

He looked over his shoulder while he finished getting Gally comfortable.

"Yeah, yeah I'm alright, but Gally said he might've messed up his ankle," both Med-jacks looked at the blond on the bed, who was looking down and away, unable to see his face, but they noticed the tip of his ears colored red.

"Okay, I'm gonna check on it."

//////

Turns out Gally twisted his ankle, and now, after receiving help going up the stairs to his room, he was laying on his bed, his leg elevated and with some ice to help the swelling, an elastic bandage compressing around it.

He had been in his room for ten minutes, and he was bored out of his damn mind, he couldn't stay still another second.

"Hey! Get back on the bed!" (M/n)'s voice echoed off the walls the moment he walked in, and Gally thought- he really contemplated the idea of just doing whatever the shuck he wanted, but he had promised (M/n) he would rest until his ankle got better. But only if he stayed with him until then, otherwise he was gonna go crazy.

He laid back on his bed, hissing as he moved his foot to place it back where it was, only to have (M/n) doing it for him.

"I have a sprained ankle, I'm not a newborn baby, (M/n)," (e/c) eyes looked at him, a frown on his brow.

"Do you wanna get better quick or not?" Gally sighed deeply and rolled his eyes before nodding, "Then be good and do as I say, Gally."

(M/n) walked toward the desk Gally had in his room and grabbed the chair, bringing it next to his bed. He sat down and reached for the books he had placed on the floor previously, opening one and glancing at Gally, who was extending his neck to try and get a look at the book in his hands.

"Wanna read it with me?" Gally stared into his eyes, and hummed with a nod, watching (M/n) as he moved the chair closer until it was pressed to the bed, lowering the book enough for him to read it alongside the greenie.

The book was interesting, and soon he realized it was a romantic story, he didn't really mind that, but his neck was hurting and he ended up boldly laying his head on (M/n)'s lap, "Could you read it out loud?"

He spoke so quietly (M/n) barely heard him, but he let out a soft chuckle and started reading the words printed on the pages.

Gally felt his body relax as (M/n)'s voice and words filled his mind, focused on the story he was telling, not minding the fingers playing with his hair as he read.

"I can't sleep. I can't think, I can't do anything but think about him," Gally blinked slowly, feeling like he was about to fall asleep, but not letting himself do so, "At night I dream of him, all day I wait to see him, and when I do see him... My heart turns over and I think I will faint with desire..."

(M/n) blinked a few times as he finished reading the paragraph, feeling his whole body tingling, and his heart pounding. Unknowingly to him, Gally was feeling the same.

Did they really just realize their feelings for each other because of a few sentences in a book?

They almost couldn't believe it, especially when they had been trying to ignore or get rid of them. So...

What's gonna happen now?

#gally x reader #gally x y/n #gally x male reader #the maze runner x male reader #the maze runner #the maze runner x reader #tmr gally #gally the maze runner #gally maze runner #ftm reader #trans reader #trans #will poulter #will poulter x reader #will poulter fanfiction

[asirensrage]

So....I am way behind on things (to no ones surprise lol) but I did finish this one so far. I hope you enjoy it. I went with choice #3 from the Scary Story Prompts. Thanks for participating! FYI not edited by anyone but me. No physical characteristics given.

Rating: M Fandom: The Lost Boys Pairing: None... Warnings: Stalking. Talk about dead animals being left on a doorstep. Murder. Arson. Useless cops. Dark fic.

Heed the warnings.

Prompt: #3 “There's nothing the cops will do about your stalker, nothing they can do against your monsterish pursuer.”

“Listen, kid,” the officer says. “People go missing here every week.” 

Your jaw clenches, unimpressed by the answer. There’s no interest there, no help. It sounds like an excuse. One they use for everything. “You don’t understand,” you say, tone hardening. “They bang on the doors at night. They drive by, howling at me and calling me outside. Dead animals are left on my doorstep!” 

The cop sighs but there’s still no sign of actual life in his eyes. He looks resigned, burnt out in this tourist trap of death. “Did you save the animals?”

“SAVE THEM? They’re buried! You can find them in my backyard!” 

“So you tampered with evidence,” he sighs. “Next time call us.” 

You try not to snap. Honestly, you do but the complete disregard for your case is pissing you off. You get that there are people missing but they don’t seem to get the concept that maybe this is going to lead you to be one of them! “Next time? Next time it might be my body you find instead of a dead cat! Fucking useless! ‘Serve and protect’, my ass!” you snarl before turning and storming off. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but help would have been nice. Hell, even some advice would have been useful instead of being told to call them when the next animal shows up dead. Like you haven’t been calling them every night the terrors show up and harass you. Last time the cops actually arrived, the voices were gone and you were the one told off for wasting their time. 

“No wonder everyone is dead or missing in this town,” you mutter as you leave. 

Arms crossed over your chest, you walk away from the police station. You barely slept anymore. The noises outside could last all night but the fact that there was never a sign of them when you opened the door to confront them was beginning to make you feel like you were insane. If it wasn’t for the dead animals, you’d believe it. Still, you didn’t know what to do.

“Can’t you like…set up a video camera at your window or something? See if you can record it?”

“There’s only like a couple hours on a tape,” you say. “And there’s probably not a lot of light. All it would make out is the fact that someone’s passing by. Not like…actual details which is what I need.” You rest your head on your arms that are resting on the counter. You’re just so tired. If you could get a couple hours of sleep, uninterrupted sleep, maybe you’d be able to actually think properly. 

“Why don’t you come to my place?” Your friend offers. “Or we could go out of town!”

“We tried that,” you remind her. “Remember? They just…they followed.” You don’t even know how they knew where you were. The two of you had made plans at her place and left the same day. It was like the Terminator was after you. 

You don’t even know how many there are or if it’s one person with some high-powered flashlights running around. If it was one person, that would make sense why they kept somehow disappearing when you opened the door. They managed to hide every time. 

“I know, I just…I wish I could help.” 

“Yeah.” You close your eyes, not really willing to continue this conversation. It was just sad. You were beginning to think that it was inevitable that your face was going to end up on that missing board. You let your head fall against the counter. 

“What if you laid traps?” 

“Like what? Nails on the doormat?” 

“Or like tar on your walkway. Can you buy tar?”

“I think so. I’d have to subject myself to going to the hardware store.”

“Well, what’s worse? The hardware store where you have to deal with men thinking you’re incapable of doing anything or your stalker?” 

You’re actually tempted to think about it but you already know the answer. If only to save the pets of the neighbourhood. “The stalker.” 

You listen to the advice from the owner of the hardware store and the old men who frequent it while you ward off the attempts to wrangle an invite to help you apply the tar to fix your driveway. Multiple people offered to either help or give you the number of someone they knew who did that kind of work. You refused them all. If you were actually fixing the driveway, you might have taken the information for one of the service places but seeing as you were going to try to lay it out to catch your stalker, you didn’t want to have to try to explain it. The last thing you ended up with was someone offering to help. With your luck, there would be a dead body on your doorstep next time, not an animal. Though, that might actually get the police’s attention…though they’d probably arrest you for the murder. God forbid they do some actual investigating. 

It takes hours. You’ve never been so thankful and so resentful that you live alone until now. The work would have been easier with help but at the same time, the only one you have to worry about walking on it is you. 

You manage to pass out on the couch with the tv on before the sun sets. It’s not long but the exhaustion overrides the anxious fear that tends to creep up as darkness falls. They only ever show up at night. It’s enough to make you question getting a night shift but the idea of walking home in the dark, knowing they’re out there, is enough to keep you from finding one. 

Something crashes against your door. You jolt up, suddenly wide awake. Heart pounding, you get up and move toward the door. You don’t know what you’re going to do but you need…You grab a knife. Just in case. 

There are noises coming from the door. It doesn’t sound like the usual laughter and thumps that are meant to scare you. 

“--the fuck is this?”

Someone is laughing hysterically. It doesn’t sound like the malicious laughter that has haunted you since this started. It sounds like they’re enjoying themselves. 

“Shut up!” the voice snarls. “I’m fucking stuck!” 

It was more than one person. Your heart climbs into your throat and despite knowing that you should call the cops, you just…you want to see who it is. You want to know if you know them. 

You don’t open the door though. You can’t bring yourself to do it. You feel like you can barely move, especially when you hear more voices. 

“Shouldn’t have landed,” a deeper voice says. 

“Fuck you!” the first voice shouts back. 

“She–” they continue to laugh, wheezing slightly. “She can hear us–”

“You going to open the door?” A different voice calls out. That’s four so far. “Since you caught a mouse.”

You don’t move, even as part of you wants to. Desperately. Fear overrides everything else though and you find yourself frozen in response. 

“Open the door,” the trapped voice tells you. 

“Yeah, come on. Come outside!” The voices echo slightly as if there are more of them and they seem louder than possible. As if they’re inside next to you. 

There’s a burst of laughter that rings through you and you jump slightly, realizing that you’ve somehow moved forward, your hand on the doorknob. You don’t remember moving. How often has that happened in the night? That you found yourself somewhere you didn’t choose to go.

“Come out pretty girl,” one of the voices calls again. 

“We want to play!” says another. Laughter echos again and you can’t help but shudder at the sound. 

“Leave me alone!” You mean to sound stern, threatening even. It comes out pleading. 

“And miss all the fun? Invite us in and we’ll talk.”

“I’m calling the cops!” 

That just makes them laugh again. “Do it,” one of them says. “We haven’t eaten yet.”

“Yeah, we can have you for dessert.” 

“Think she’s sweet enough?” You hear one of them ask. 

“We’ll find out.” 

“Come on out, sweet thing. Let us taste you.” 

You jolt back, your hand somehow suddenly on the doorknob. When did you unlock the door? You wouldn’t. You move back but the door opens even as you try to retreat. For once there’s someone standing there. Multiple people, staring at you. 

“You coming to join us?” one of them asks. The most striking thing about him is the bleach white hair and the intensity of his stare. 

“No,” you shake your head, trying not to give in to the urge to run. Something tells you they’ll follow. They always follow. 

“You will,” the dark haired one behind him says. You don’t even question how they’re not stuck. Only one of them looks like he’s struggling, the other blonde in the back. The rest just seem highly amused. But they’re standing there. Aren’t they?

You reach forward and slam the door before they can stop you. You shove your body against the door, terrified you won’t be able to lock it before they shove their way in. 

They don’t need to. It’s silent outside and that scares you more than their laughter. You don’t know what they’re planning if you can’t hear them but you’re not stupid enough to think that you’re safe. You call the cops regardless. At least so it’s on record. They make a promise to come check it out, but you know it won’t happen. They never come by unless it’s daylight. 

The window breaks with a crash, smothering the sound of the bottle that shatters as it hits your floor. Fire erupts in the room. You move before you can think, running out the door and away from the heat. 

You slam into a body. Hands grab your arms, keeping you from falling back. 

“There you are.” 

You look up in horror at the face staring down at you. All you register are fangs and ridges that don’t look human. 

“I win!” the thing calls out. A riot of curls form a mullet but it’s not…it looks like a monster. Some kind of special effects.

“Well, you know what that means,” a voice calls out. You glance around, looking at the men who suddenly surround you. They were men before, weren’t they? When they were at your door, they were human. But now..

The blond from before, the one who wasn’t stuck grins at the thing holding you. “You get first bite.”

“Aww man!” someone calls out but it doesn’t matter. All you see are teeth before something is biting you. You struggle, but he is like a vice holding you. As your sight goes dark, you hear that laughter again. 

taglist: @burnincrown @raith-way  @chrissymunson @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

lost boys tag: @phantomenby @avengers-fixation @artaxerxesthegreat @henhouse-horrors @charlizekkelly @makepastanotwar13

#dark fic #the lost boys #the lost boys fanfic #vampire fic #not a happy ending #least not for you #ridea's 1k follower celebration

[somnicordia]

4 5

by TheHangedMan

VIII. Every Lie

[[ chreon, aeon/past!chrisker, rated m, 8/25, 10k ]]

When Ada spoke, there was no hint of regret nor animosity. Her voice was even, clinical. Even if the words themselves were lies, truth rang out in the manner in which Ada spoke them. She didn’t begrudge her situation or her lot in life. “Okay.” Claire’s response fell flat, mind too busy trying to decode the unsettling feeling Ada’s words always left her with. Ada’s eyes focused on Claire, studying her like a hawk would a rodent.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

Chris jerked his head up, awoken from his daze. His eyes were bloodshot as they regarded Claire. “I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are.” She crossed her arms. “Walk with me.”

There it was, the sideways glance backwards— the way Chris’ shoulders sagged when he looked at Leon.

“He’ll be fine for ten minutes. Annette’s watching him.”

It took more convincing, but finally Chris was on his feet trailing after Claire as she stepped out of the room. Ada remained in the waiting room, giving them the smallest of looks as they passed her by, but she said nothing even as they left her behind. Claire wanted to be out of earshot of everyone, but her especially.

“What’s going on with you?” Claire’s footsteps came to a halt just outside of the facility, thirty paces away from the monorail that had brought them there. It was reminiscent of the last time they’d talked, just the two of them. The situation had changed since then.

A cigarette was back in Chris’ hand, his fingers searching for a lighter Claire already knew he didn’t have. When he came up short, the cigarette was returned to his pants pocket. He was tired. “Nothing.”

“You’re not accomplishing anything by losing sleep over this. I can watch him if you’re worried about Annette or Ada—“ Claire felt her volume rising steadily, cut short only by the wave of Chris’ hand.

“I’m not worried about them doing anything.” His eyelids hung heavy and his five o’clock shadow was coming in dark on his dirt splattered face.

“Then what?”

“I’m afraid he’s going to take a turn for the worse when I’m not there.” He wouldn’t look at her.

Claire felt her heart drop into her stomach. This was familiar. The days of lost sleep, the painfully familiar thrum of machines. Chris’ tired, quiet grieving.

“He’s not Dad.” It felt like a knife to say as much out loud.

“I— I know. He’s going to get better.” Chris’ hand dragged over his face as if trying to wipe away his expression. He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply like he was blowing out smoke.

The emotions passed over Chris’ face like rippling waves. There one moment, gone the next, replaced by something fresh but equally as damning. Here he was, her big stubborn older brother, trying and failing to keep everything to himself.

“You like him.”

◇ read here

#biohazard #resident evil #claire redfield #leon kennedy #chris redfield #ada wong #chreon #sherry birkin #my art #tags are updated #and will continue to update...

[bearseungmin]

digits (M) | teaser

Working for a sensual calling business isn’t as simple as it sounds. Creepy clients, odd conversations that were never stated you’d have to have in your job description, and a mental checklist of sounds you’d have to create to immerse the caller into the experience. You were forced to use an old landline to assure you couldn’t be traced, typing in the numbers each time. All the voices sounded the same, except one. An accidental dial with one wrong number, and the man on the other end didn’t expect you to be on the line. Jeongin had no idea what he was getting into when he redialed your number, then again: you didn’t really want him to hang up in the first place.

PAIRING — club owner! jeongin x sex hotline caller! gender-neutral! reader GENRES — strangers to lovers! au, romance, smut, romance WARNINGS — mature content, language, sexual situations and conversations, power exchange, alcohol consumption, sex work SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, phone sex, dirty talking, teasing, unprotected intercourse, mentions of marking, love-making TAGLIST — HERE! RELEASE DATE — JUNE 27TH, 2022

PLEASE GIVE THIS TEASER A REBLOG!

It took three rings for his voice to echo through the small speaker of the phone, the wire wrapped around your fingers as it coiled more and more making the time go by even slower. His voice was groggy, the middle of the night making the client sound surprised.

“If I told you I stayed home all day today, wearing the smallest bit of clothing imaginable, and only thought of what I’d let you do to me all day—what would you say?”

“Hello?” Sleepiness seemed to drag him, the inhale of his breath making it apparent that what you spoke of was enough to make him sit up from the comfortable sleeping position. “W-Who—”

“I did. It felt nice to lounge around all day, but it’s much easier to pass the time with someone on my mind.” Your voice was too cheery, but he seemed confused. “But still, being alone all day has made me so needy. I thought I would call you earlier, but I know you’re busy during most work hours.”

“I only got home just an hour ago.” Even without the man before you, you could see his eyes shift over to his digital clock on his nightstand. Pressing his fingers through his fluffy, rustled hair and stretching his back. It’s what he always does when you awaken him with a call.

“I guess I could have called sooner, then. Won’t you stay with me now, although you sound sleepy? I’ve been so restless all day, the ache between my legs only gets worse the more I think of you.”

A verbal cough was heard from the other line, a stuttered garble of words incoherent in your ear but only making you laugh. He was always shy, the client making a blush form at your cheeks when he sounded so flustered.

“You’re so good to me when it comes to letting me take things slow. So, what’s been on your mind lately?”

“I—Uhm, I guess work.”

“You work too hard. Your work hours tire me out, too. You hardly even get any sleep, how will you have time to play with me?”

“I can always make time for you.” His voice sounded suddenly deeper, the man that seemed as though he was confused and shaking on the other end getting a boost in his confidence at your words.

Your client, shy and hardworking each and every day, was most certainly still drunk from after work. With alcohol in his veins, he didn’t seem to be speaking the same. But even with the strange, new cadence of his responses—you still shivered in excitement.

“What are you wearing?” It was the first time that you asked him that question.

“Nothing but my boxers. You woke me up, remember?”

“You’ve been eating randomly due to work, but I bet you’re still tight-fitted.”

“My abs don’t disappear until around the holidays.”

“Do you still like the idea of me wearing hardly anything?” Your voice was soft, the heavy sound of his breath making it obvious that his hand was beginning to venture somewhere low.

“What do you have on?”

“Just my underwear.”

“So we’re the same. It would be quite easy to do something like this, wouldn’t it?”

The client hadn’t taken the chance to speak for himself like this before, your leering interest making your legs part and body shiver more at the sudden control he had over you.

“It definitely would be.”

“When can I meet you?”

“You know that’s not possible.” It was a rule against your work, meeting clients outside of the calls. Even facetime was off limits, anonymity the main factor in why you trusted such a profession.

“Why not? Being just a voice isn’t as fun as feeling you up close.” His voice was exceptionally different, the way he talks and the forms he uses. It riled you up in a delicious way, your client finally breaking his shyness and letting you in.

“There’s only so much I can do like this. But I can still make you cum from the sound of my voice, can’t I? Moan into your ear—”

It was clear his fist had wrapped around himself long ago, the dirtiness of this act not bombarding any sense of reality from how gentle your voice sounded to him.

“—Allow you to hear how wet you’ve made me.” The squelches of your own arousal at your fingers separated with a string, the sound of the liquid just loud enough to be heard by him.

His moan was low, the sound of something against a pillow allowing you to know just where he was at. Sunk down into the middle of his mattress, his palm spread with lube being what he imagined your tight body felt like around him. The sounds of a man losing himself to a stranger over the phone, they couldn't be exchanged.

“Please—” He partially whimpered at the end of his sentence, a deep huff allowing you to know that he was close.

“Cum for me.” Your voice was stern, soon hollowed by the sounds of your own moans as you pretended to play with yourself on the other end of the line.

His voice broke, an array of curses like “fuck” and “shit” spilling from him. From the sounds of it, a pool of his cum had stained his sheets. Heavy pants on his end, your laugh was soft.

“How did I do?”

He could hardly form the words, his voice cracking from tiredness. “That was amazing!”

“Sir, please remember to tip me on the app when you get the chance. And your membership fee is closing in. When the new year starts, you’ll need to reregister.

“W-What? Membership fee? Tips?”

“Yes, sir.” Above all, the change in the client should have been the first red flag.

“This is—This is a hotline? Not someone I know?”

“This is a hotline, sir. Have you forgotten?”

“You really don’t know me? Yang Jeongin, the owner of the Icebreakers Club?”

His name—something that is never given to a caller. It’s for their own protection, most clients being big names. But hearing his own, the dashing man who you’ve personally seen on multiple occasions flashing smiles and unbuttoning his shirt until you could make out his entire chest—this had quickly become a grave mistake.

“Mr. Yang?”

“Do I know you?”

Did you know him? The long nights of sitting at the bar wallowing away within the drinks to forget the work you do to pay rent. His genuine glances and paid extra drinks made you invested in just what kind of man he is. And most of all, the early mornings you went stumbling out only to see him sitting alone at a large table, drinking by himself like he had no one around him to love or care for him.

“‘Hello?”

“I apologize for this inconvenience, sir. I should have known you weren’t my client.”

“I would have hung up if I became uncomfortable.” His voice was familiar now, the strange man you had seen night after night now becoming a clear image in your mind.

You had made him cum just from the sound of your voice, a teetering boost of confidence wearing down to his confused state on the other end of the line. No matter what was at stake, you job and your apartment—you had to admit, this was the most fun you had in a long while.

“Mr. Yang, I do know you.” You spoke slowly. “I’m a customer at your club every so often.”

“So this voice isn’t new to me. I thought I had heard it once before.”

“I really am sorry about all of this, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me that.”

“It’s company policy, I’m sorry.”

“And stop apologizing.”

His voice was just as strong as you remember. Un-avoiding the current situation at hand, he was clearly wrapped up in the world you accidentally created. Yang Jeongin, millionaire from the show-stopping club he runs—Icebreaker, the life of the night—has become equally as invested in you now.

“This is all a lot to take in.” You were overwhelmed, the man acting like this is a simple moment in his time. Even with the amount of words on your tongue, you were at a loss for what to say.

“Since you won’t ask, I will. Where do we go from here?”

The question had lingered for too long. You were in too deep now. And the only reasonable way you knew how to handle the situation was at play. Your fingers lowered towards the large box, rubber numbers in even rows. The same pattern you had typed in shown on the small screen. One number off from your client—such an easy mistake to make. One that opened the doorway to a new relationship you never imagined could take place, with a man you once believed to be a mystery. And yet, the click of the phone down against the receiver immediately put an end to it all.

© 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗺𝗶𝗻 2022. do not modify, repost, or translate in any way. please.

#fic: digits #skz smut #stray kids smut #jeongin smut #yang jeongin smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #jeongin scenerios #jeongin imagines #yes this is the LAST TIME i am reposting this teaser #i'll just be reblogging for now on #the tags are working again lets GOOOO

[nope-i-dont-think-i-will]

Haikyuu!! Teams and their little quirks. P1

These are all headcannons pls dont get mad at me-

Karasuno Highschool p1:

Sawamura Daichi:

-Daichi has rough hands, just generally. He can be caught on days when it's cold gently rubbing lotion into his hands to make sure it doesn't get worse.

-Has a huge habit of ruffling hair, or on team members who have little to no hair he will tap twice on their head to let them know they did good. (He taps Tsukishima on the shoulder, and Asahi on the hand because Tsukishima is too tall for him to reach and Asahi is more comfortable being tapped on the hand. )

-Hates his singing voice but loves to sing. He only sings around Asahi.

-Has rings and taps out songs.

Koushi Sugawara:

- Loves pink lemonade. Just loves it.

-Habit of ruffling hair, like Daichi. Only exceptions are Tanaka: who gets a nuggi, Tsukishima: who he pats on the back, and Asahi: who he either hugs or yells affection at.

-Loves hanging upside down from things: like hanging off of couches at sleepovers or trees at the park.

-smooth hands that make Daichi jealous.

-Hates raspberries. He won't explain it but it's because he once mistook one for a strawberry when he was little and was mad cause it wasn't.

-Needs glasses but doesn't wear them, either wearing contacts or going through his day blind.

-Acts almost like a cat when tired and will sleep in weird places.

Asahi Azumane:

-Adament book and history nerd but won't admit it.

-Got outed as both when Nishinoya went through one of his notebooks and it contained antiquarian studies and names of books he wanted to get his hands on.

-Sings together with Daichi during study days sometimes.

-Insecure about his hands because they are rough, and will instinctively hide them in pockets or behind his back.

-Has reading glasses he will only wear around Daichi and Nishinoya. Tanaka knows they exist and wants to see Asahi in them but keeps his boundaries, which he is thankful for.

-Sweaters in every season except mid-summer.

-Goofy side smiles when he finds something funny.

-Can't stand the texture of shells and cheese, but will eat it to be polite. He feels awful afterwards though and will apologize a some point for not liking it.

Yuu Nishinoya:

-Hates foods that are the color purple. Like purple poptarts or cookies just feel unappealing to him.

-Also just kind of doesn't like purple. Still thinks it's worse on food than anywhere else.

-Always mixes M&Ms with popcorn no matter what. He argues that the sweet and salty are "meant to be" and to "leave him and his popcorn the fuck alone"

-Loves anything weighted. Blankets, hoodies, hats, stuffed animals. If it's got weight he loves it.

-Obessed with jello. Loves it for no reason. Can't explain it and won't.

-Adores dogs.

Ryuunosuke Tanaka:

-Parents died when he and his sister were pretty young.

-Sweet boy. Will fight anyone to make sure no one is uncomfortable that is innocent or a friend of his.

-Is respectful of boundaries, and his flirting with Kiyoko had been discussed with her at some point to make sure she actually didn't mind.

-Learned to catch food in his mouth because it made his older sister happy when they were kids.

-Anytime he gets any form of award or trophy the people he tells in order are Saeko, Nishinoya (if he wasn't there), Sugawara, Daichi, Hinata, and then everyone else.

-Listens to Rob Zombie songs. (translated or not is up to you because I feel he would like them either way)

-Every year on Mothers day he gives his sister a white rose and a card of some form. It makes her cry every time when he thanks her for "putting up with him"

-Great with women on their periods and will always have some form of product on him. (His sis taught him right. 😌✋)

Chikara Ennoshita:

-Grew up in a single parent household with his father and little brother until his father passed away when he was 11.

-Is very protective of his little brother.

-Hates his smile, he just thinks it looks...weird? Bad? He cant place it but he doesn't like it.

-Doesn't like loud noises that are sudden or aggressive (like fireworks or angry yelling) but keeps it to himself.

-Does arts and crafts and has made nifty trinkets out of clay.

-Tanaka, Nishinoya, Kinoshita and Narita all got trinkets. Tanaka wears his around his neck when they hang out together.

-Bad habit of biting his cheeks, Kinoshita is trying to train him to stop.

-Gets sick easy.

-Despises warm coffee. He just hates the way it feels. But he LOVES cold brew.

-Drinks way too much hot chocolate than what should be healthy during the winter months.

-Cant stand pink lemonade and has to stop himself from arguing with Suga about it.

-Wants a rabbit but he knows with supporting himself and his little brother he couldn't afford to give it the care it deserves.

These are just headcannons! You can find the next part on my page soon <3

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcannons #daichi sawamura #sugawara koushi #asahi azumane #yuu nishinoya #tanaka ryuunosuke #ennoshita headcanons #ennoshita chikara #hq hcs #haikyuu!! #headcannons #eeeeeeeeeee #<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3