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loveindefinitely · 5 months

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02 — 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐'𝘔 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘈𝘉𝘖𝘜𝘛

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, angst, graphic violence, slight power imbalance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, betrayal

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

"You assaulted two Special Forces Operators, kid," Price says, a barely veiled grimace contorting his features. "That's not a good look."

You tug against where your hands are cuffed to the metal bars, your brows furrowing. "Kidnapping the girl -- whose dad you killed after taking her virginity -- isn't a good look either."

...Alright.

So, if you could go back in time, and never eavesdrop on the four men who have completely ruined your life, you would take up the offer in a heartbeat.

Between landing your fist to Gaz's jaw, and where you are now, your life has become a total shit show.

Like, complete, this might just be a fever dream level of crazy.

It started from the moment you saw blood trickling from your now late father's forehead, and in the glint of the moonlight, seeing Ghost holding the gun.

Then, you'd turned, without another thought, and landed a punch right to Gaz's jaw. The man who had taken your first kiss no more than two hours ago.

You can relive the moment even now, under the harsh neon lights of an interrogation room, as if you're experiencing everything for the first time once more.

༊*·˚

Gaz hisses, wincing as he brings a hand up to the aching pain radiating from the bone that'd taken the brunt of your punch.

"You guys -- what the fuck --" You stammer out, eyes wide and borderline manic as you gape at the man before you. "You guys just killed my dad!"

"Yeah, but," Gaz starts, before backtracking. You figure he has enough braincells to realise that 'rationality and reason' isn't going to work with you, not in this state, and especially not after you just witnessed the murder of your only living family member. "Ah. Well. He wasn't a good guy."

You really, truly, cannot believe the audacity of this man.

Your mouth opens.

Gaz grimaces.

Your mouth closes.

He takes a step closer, hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Take another step near me and I'll punch you again!" You threaten, with an aggressive point of your finger.

You're extremely aware that your punch had done next to nothing, and Gaz's reaction to it was more one of sympathy, but the threat lands nonetheless.

"Alright, alright, we're not gonna hurt you," he raises his hands further, eyes bouncing between your own. You're not sure what he sees -- maybe resentment, or horror, or fear.

Whatever it is, it makes his frown deepen.

He goes to say something else, when your bedroom door opens with a soft click. "Finishin' up, ya read--"

Soap pauses his whisper, ice-blue eyes meeting yours. His grimace isn't unlike the one Gaz is sporting, and it only worsens your mood. If looks could kill, he would be lying on the grass beside --

Oh god. Your dead dad.

"Steamin' Jesus," Soap mutters under his breath, looking up to the roof in some semblance of a last minute prayer.

There's a moment, then, for a decision to be made. It's as if your brain can only come up with two options, and one of them will lead to your untimely death.

So, really, it's not entirely your fault when you pick up the salt lamp sitting on your bedside table and throw it right into the arrogant Scot's face.

"Holy shit," Gaz's eyes are comically wide as Soap cries out, the heavy pink rock slamming into his nose. He stumbles back, and the sound of your lamp hitting cartilage even has you wincing, panicked state or not. "How the fuck have you survived this long with those kinda reflexes, Soap?"

Soap drops into a squat, cradling his nose in his hand as he tilts his head back, squeezing the ridge between two calloused fingers. His voice comes out nasally as he mumbles, "Mighta' broke 'gain."

Your entire body is trembling, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you creep to the window with soft, quiet steps.

Maybe, you think, in the back of your mind, I can make the jump into the garden.

It's not to be, however.

"You're smarter than that," Gaz directs an unamused glare your way, before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you towards your door.

Digging your heels into the carpet, you attempt to wrestle out of his grip -- but a trained military expert and you are no match, not even with the energy overtaking your body.

"Let go of me!" You grit out, tugging and displaying your weight in the opposite way to his goal. He doesn't even turn around as he drags you out of your room, slamming your door shut behind you.

"What the fuck is goin' on," Ghost's growl comes from the stairs, heavy bootfalls following until he's standing, gaze drifting from you, to Gaz, to Soap, back to you again.

"Fuck, man," Soap whines, squeezing his eyes shut as he keeps his head tilted back, blood running down his lips and chin. You somehow find it in yourself to feel slightly bad. Not enough to apologise, and certainly not enough to stop fighting back.

They were going to kill you. Probably. Or, like, what's the skin trade like in your area? Oh god. Fuck. Shit.

"She saw," Gaz mutters to Ghost, and his eyes narrow, black face paint crinkling where it's been put on the upper half of his face, skin not covered by the balaclava.

There aren't any lights on, and it's the lights on downstairs that cast shadows and highlights over the men's' faces.

"Fuckin' christ," Ghost groans, before turning and walking back downstairs without another word.

You continue to struggle against Gaz's hold, but both of your wrists have been collected in his hand, and he's pulled you so your back is to his chest. If it were any other circumstance, you'd be blushing, most likely turned on from such an embrace.

Right now, however, you're questioning every possible decision you've ever made.

"Ye Dad treated ya like shit 'nyways," Soap says, too loud to be under his breath, but too quiet for it to be conversational. "Dinnae why yer freakin''."

"You're murderers!" You hiss back, lips pulled back into a snarl. Your muscles ache from the punch, the hefty throw, and now from struggling against Gaz. "And I don't exactly have any other family, do I?!"

Gaz makes a sound of agreement, before shaking his head and countering. "We're not murderers, not really."

You choke a laugh, but it's entirely too wet and sad for it to be threatening or cruel. "So you guys didn't just shoot my father?"

"Si pulled th' trigger," Soap pouts, almost like a child would over a lack of candy.

"Soap," Gaz exasperates, and although you can't see his face, you're sure it's dismayed and annoyed. "Seriously?"

"What?!" Soap counters, and when it comes out high-pitched, he squeezes his eyes shut and holds his nose tighter. "Jus' tha truth, dinnae why yer so shitty. Yer not tha one bleedin'."

Speechless.

You are fully, unbelievably, speechless.

What the actual fuck was wrong with these... men? And what was wrong with you for being more than ready to spread your legs for them not too long ago?

You needed therapy. And coffee.

And a time machine, preferably. If one was made available at this given moment.

"Get down here," the final man of the hour shouts up the stairs, and your blood runs cold. There's something about him that's not quite as threatening as Ghost, but somehow makes you even more fearful.

Gaz, with surprisingly careful and gentle movements, guides you down the stairs. The parallel of how Ghost's hand had been at your lower back as he invited you to the lounge room, mere hours ago, isn't lost on you.

His hand doesn't move from the tense grip it has on your wrists. You can't help but feel like it's a completely unnecessary gesture, considering the fact that any of them could take you down within seconds if they really needed to. Hell, they all had actual, military-grade weapons.

"Seriously, Gaz?" Price huffs, looking entirely like a disappointed dad in this moment as he stands, leaning against your kitchen counter, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed over. "One job, mate."

"You lot weren't exactly quiet," he retorts, but he slowly releases your wrists.

At this point, you know it's a lost cause to try and escape this situation, so you just ball your hands into wrists at your sides. You can't imagine it's an overly threatening position, considering how your entire frame trembles, and your lips wobble.

Your father was dead.

And the men that had made you feel so comfortable, so cared for, are the culprits.

Stupid, stupid girl.

They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.

"Peas," Soap's voice is practically a beg as he stumbles into the kitchen, opening the freezer door with no preamble as he scours it for... peas.

They're in the far right of the bottom shelf.

You don't tell him that.

"Have some water," Price encourages, holding out a glass cup full of chilled water.

Your eyes narrow, standing your ground. "Not accepting drinks from murderers. Dad taught me that, y'know?"

Gaz chokes a laugh, before covering it up with a fist to his mouth and a clearing of his throat. It fools no one, and you allow yourself the tiny bit of pride that fills your chest at the reaction to your taunt.

"Ghost," Price mutters, resigned and almost frustrated as he looks at you.

You understand why, as soon as the feeling of a needle imbedding into your neck has you flinching, pain prickling at the intrusion in your muscle.

"What --" you begin, before your legs fall out beneath you, your eyes falling to half mast as Price hefts you up, beefy arms holding you beneath your armpits as your body becomes dead weight.

"Sorry, kid," are the last words you hear, before black overrides all of your senses as drugged sleep takes you.

༊*·˚

Sometime between then, and now, you've found yourself in a white-walled room, blinding lights turning the throbbing in your head from a low pound to an echoing boom of a drum.

"We didn't plan for... any of it to happen the way it did. This was our only choice." Price shakes his head, hands resting at the top of his vest as he studies you.

Right. The virginity, kidnapping and assault thing.

...Great.

"I must've forgot the part where I resisted arrest," you retort, forcing your eyes to remain open, despite the heaviness to them. It's as if a weight has been hung from your eyelids, and every blink drags them down more and more each time.

"Jesus -- you're not under arrest," Price rubs at his eyes, head dipped down as if he's recollecting his thoughts. You're not sure if he's had any sleep, although your sense of time has been completely thrown out of the window.

"Then release me," you say, voice softer than you'd intended, more pleading -- a truer reflection of your current state of mind.

The air is crisp, cool, like that of a hospital. Chemicals and bleach are a potent undertone to the clean scent, and it makes you question what could've previously been done in this room to warrant them.

Your heart pounds almost weakly, and you know if there's any more heartbreaks to come, it might just give out.

How you've resisted a complete mental breakdown is beyond you, and frankly, you'd give yourself a pat on the back if you could. Although, that act might in itself be a sign of insanity.

"Not until we can be assured you're safe," Price insists. "And not until we can clear your name from the books. We have enemies, sweetheart, and those enemies were also your father's. They are not above punishing you for your father's sins."

Your heart is lodged in your throat, and it takes everything in you not to just burst into tears and pray. Pray that this is all some sick joke, some terrifying nightmare that you haven't woken from yet.

But you know it's a baseless hope. You know that this is real.

You're in a military base, somewhere, surrounded by the country's most dangerous men. The most dangerous men on their side, at least.

"So I'm not getting charged for assault?" Your voice is entirely too small for the situation, not for someone who's still cuffed to a bed, going through grief in the most ruthless type of way.

The worst part is that you don't entirely miss your father. You miss the comfort of having a family member, that's true, but he wasn't a good parental figure, and his treatment of you could be classed as abuse to most people.

And from what these four are saying, he wasn't a good man either.

People didn't often talk about how separate the two things were. It was possible to be a great man, but the worst of fathers, and the opposite could be true, too.

Fate had dealt you a bad hand, in giving you one who was terrible on both sides of the coin.

"Technically," Price leans back into his chair, his voice littered with exhaustion, "We... should report it."

Your stomach drops.

Price's eyes meet yours, and somehow, he must see the turmoil battling inside of your head, because he lets out a deep breath, deflating just a bit.

"No. You're not getting charged for assault, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," you reply, too quick for your brain to catch up. The endearment is entirely too wrong, smarting on a chafing wound, a reminder of the mistakes you'd made, and the deception these men had pulled on you. "...Please."

You refuse to meet his eyes as he nods, slowly, as if in understanding.

"What did he do?" You don't mean to utter those words, to ask that question, but after you do, you can't find it in yourself to regret it. "What made him worthy of death?"

Price rubs a hand over his face, and for the first time, you register the lines of his face. Lines of a story having been told, proof of a life lived. It makes you want to learn, to find the origins of the small scars you can see, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"He broke many promises. Betrayed his team," Price states, and you can tell the millions of words he leaves out, the context better off left unsaid. "He did terrible things. Killed people who had made no faults."

Oh.

For some reason, it hadn't truly hit you, not before now, the truth behind his death. What hadn't you been told?

How hadn't you been made aware that he was -- he was part of the special forces. He was a dangerous man -- he was one of the men he'd warned you about. How blind had you been? For so long? Those business trips, when he'd come with bruises, brushing them off whenever you gained the courage to make attempts of caring, of forming a relationship with the man who raised you.

They weren't business trips. They were missions -- ones with impossibly high death rates.

And he just.

Hadn't said a word. Just continued to treat you like you were worthless, a nuisance, a pain in his ass. Something worth protecting, if only so your weight in gold wasn't minimised.

What were you to do, if he just. Didn't come home after a mission gone awry? If he died on the field. If you woke up one day without a single living family member left.

You only realise that tears have fallen down your cheeks when Price's thumb brushes them away, your nose scrunching with a sniffle.

Jerking back, as if electrocuted, it takes everything in you to glare at the man whose gentle hands had led you to this position in the first place. "Don't touch me."

He backs away. Doesn't argue.

It hurts your heart in a way you don't want to touch with a ten foot pole. Not right now. Not ever, maybe. Preferably.

You let out a deep, stabilising exhale, before weakly meeting Price's gaze. "Can I sleep? Feeling kinda shit after the drugs," you mumble.

Price's lips twist into a grim line, but he nods curtly. "'Course, kid. Call out if you need 'nything."

You just lay back, turning on your side, facing the white wall as the lights turn off, leaving pitch black in its wake. Your wrist smarts where the handcuff has left a red mark, your free hand rubbing at the small patch of visible skin.

If you were more aware, more... ready for the conversations you needed to have, you would've demanded all four of them speak to you right this moment.

But your head is heavy, and thoughts are few and far between.

Grief and confusion cement in your brain like a thick fog, your emotions like cars without lights in the thick mist.

No directions, no ability to brake before crashing into one another.

You're an absolute mess, and you have no one to blame but you and your sick curiosity, your reckless decision making.

But, you realise, this was a long time coming.

Because there's one thing Price -- nor the other three men -- don't know.

Your father wasn't the only one who held secrets.

And it was you who held the key to this force's undoing.

a/n. lol so like. who's ready for some enemies to lovers? sorry to everyone who wanted immediate hurt/comfort!! for some reason plot lines and depth hit me and i was like. i need to do it justice. so here we are!!!

thank you all SOSOSO much for the reception of the first part. it genuinely means a lot to have people excited about my stories??? like omg youre all SO kind. comments and reblogs make my absolute week!! mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. @captainjamster @alfa-jor @simp4miguell @yaboibauldano @dreamaboutpinkk @guyser @lovewithasideoflust @redz0mbie @ghost-is-my-bbg @astro-ghoul99 @the-faceless-bride @casterousaudrey @cutiecusp @kit-williams @lilpothoscuttings @florabelll

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rogueddie · 6 months

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Steve wakes up to a beeping noise- a heart monitor. He struggles to open his eyes, turning to squint around the hospital room. Something about it feels off, though he can’t tell what.

A woman stumbles in, almost spilling her coffee. She looks familiar.

“Hey,” Steve tries, only to end up coughing. His throat is painfully dry.

“Steve!” She exclaims. She hurries over, swapping the coffee for a plastic cup of water. She carefully holds it to his mouth for him to drink. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake! I know we can’t talk here but… fuck, man, you really had us scared for a minute. Promise me you won’t do anything like that again!”

“I promise?”

“Oh! Eddie finally woke up too! Just the other week. He keeps asking about you, I should go-”

Steve is only more confused. There’s only one Eddie he knows and that Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead worrying about someone like Steve. Not unless...

“Munson?”

“Duh. Oh! Nancy! I was supposed to- you’re ok, right? I’ll just be a minute!”

“Yeah, sure.”

She throws him a thumbs up, darting out the room, calling for Nancy.

His head throbs. He’s not sure what is going on, what happened… maybe that thing in the Byers house did get him after all? Maybe this is just a dream.

"Ah, Mr Harrington," a nurse greets with a warm smile. "It's good to see you awake. I'm just going to check your vitals and all of that stuff, then we'll need to go over some questions. Does that sound alright?"

"Questions?"

"You've been asleep for a few weeks. We need to make sure that everything up there is ok." She lightly raps her knuckles on the side of her head.

Despite how light she's trying to be, Steve feels a sinking in his stomach.

"Is that possible? What- what could be wrong?"

"Nothing too serious. You're speech is clear and legible, you're conscious and cognitive." She lifts the clipboard off the end of the hospital bed. "You remember your name?"

"Yeah," he says. After a moment, he realizes; "oh! Right, sorry. Steve Harrington."

"Date of birth?"

"April 29th, 1967."

"Do you know what todays date is?"

"Um... how long have I been out? You said a few weeks, right?"

"Almost three weeks, yes."

"Three weeks, so that would make today... December 4th?"

She doesn't respond for a moment. The way she keeps her eyes on the clipboard feels too calculated.

"The year?"

"Uh... 1983?"

She only pauses for a moment, before continuing to ask simple questions about current events, how he's feeling, where he feels any pain or discomfort.

He lies when she asks if he remembers what caused him to be hospitalized. He's not sure what the story Nancy and Byers will give. He can't imagine people... involved, would want the truth out. And he's not willing to risk whatever consequences will come with that.

"I'm going to talk with your doctor," she finally says. "I'll be one minute."

"Wait! What- am I ok?"

"Your doctor will explain everything, don't worry."

Amnesia, his doctor explains.

Three years of his life, gone. They try to reassure him, say that it's still early days and he could completely regain his memory, no problem.

But they don't know. Not really. It's all 'possibly's, and 'maybe's. No guarentee. There's still a chance that he may never remember.

The woman who ran in when he woke up, sat by his bedside and holding his hand in a death grip, doesn't look anymore reassured by their optimism than he is.

"We're... close?" He asks her.

"Yeah," she says, forcing a smile. "Platonic soulmates. It's, um... Robin, by the way. Robin Buckley."

"Do we have that... Mrs Click, you sit behind me, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." She looks stunned, almost dazed. "I didn't think you remembered, or even noticed me."

"How could I not? You're hilarious!"

"What? We never-"

"Oh, uh, you're muttering. Behind me. It wasn't exactly, um... quiet."

"Oh my god," she slaps a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. "You heard me talk about you!"

"Yeah, like I said; you're funny."

Luckily, someone else bursts into the room, interrupting whatever epiphany Robin is having.

"Steve!" He yells.

The guy looks like a kid, barely out of middle school. But he rushes to Steve, eyeing him up like he's Steves babysitter.

"Uh, hi?"

"Oh no," is the kids response. He turns to Robin. "How much does he remember?"

"He is right here, you know."

"I think some time in 83?" Robin replies, ignoring him.

"Before or after the whole... uh..." He glances at Steve with suspicion, then pointedly to the door.

"Jesus," Steve mutters, rubbing at the crease between his brows. "Did Nancy and Jonathan tell you, or what?"

"Tell us about... what?"

He rolls his eyes at them, pointing to the kid. "Whatever has short stack paranoid. The thing with the-" he flops one hand around, raised towards the ceiling, "the lights."

"Do you remember anything that happened after that?" The kid quickly asks. "At the hospital, and Will?"

"You mean the Byers kid? Isn't he, like... dead?"

"So you... don't remember me."

"Sorry?"

"It's fine," he lies.

Steve hates how sad the kid sounds. He glances between the two of them, both seemingly wallowing quietly about the situation.

"Which room is Munson in?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"What?" The kid frowns. "Eddie? Why?"

"Which room?"

"He's two doors down to the left," Robin answers. "Why- woah! Don't get up! You're still-"

"I'm fine," Steve gently pushes her away, ignoring both of them trying to plead for him to get back into bed.

Despite the bandages, bruises and sick look to him, Munson somehow looks better than Steve remembers him looking. The longer hair definitely suits him.

"Steve?" He frowns. He tries to sit up but, grimacing, he soon stops. "What the hell are you doing up? You're gonna freak Dustin out."

"Dustin? That the kid?" He asks, grunting as he sits on the edge of his bed.

"What do-" he pauses, expressions slowly twisting with the horror and realization. "Yeah. Yeah, man, Dustin is the kid."

"Right. So... um... we're friends now?"

Eddie winces. "We haven't exactly had time to talk about... that."

"What? It's been years!"

"It's not that simple."

"Are you saying that because it's true or because you don't-"

"Because it's true," Eddie rolls his eyes. "A lot has happened since then, Steve. You fell in love with Wheeler."

"What?" Steve can't hide his confusion. "Nancy?"

"Yes, Nancy. You made sure everyone fucking knew about that."

Steve snorts, having to grab at his side with a wince. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

"So you're still easy to rile up?" He asks, smirking.

"Wh- you-" Eddie gasps. He tries to sit up again, grunting when he flops back down. "You were trying to make me jealous?!"

He's looking at Steve with disbelief, but he's also smiling.

"Are we friends now?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, Stevie. We're friends."

"Just friends?"

"I don't... Steve, how bad is your amnesia?"

Steve quickly looks away, wincing. "Not... that bad? I remember that- the first time. This, um... monster shit. Falling out with Tommy. And the doctors are optimistic- they're pretty sure I'm going to remember."

"Alright... maybe it'd be better if we talk then, instead of rushing into it now."

"Jesus," Steve frowns. "I really have missed a lot. When did you get mature?"

"Hey-"

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #platonic with a capital p #steddie fic #ficlet #hurtcomfort

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dannyphantom-zero · 3 months

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Doctor Danny Prompt

Danny Fenton is largely regarded as an ignorant slacker as a result of his schoolwork and study time consistently being interrupted by ghost attacks. Thankfully after Danny is crowned high king of the ghost zone he is able to reign the ghosts in and makes them all swear an oath not to cause trouble, they are still allowed to visit the human world of coarse, some even mask themselves as human and lead ordinary loves even while being dead.

With more time on his hands and little to no ghosts attacks Danny misses the rush he used to get. Then one day a man collapsed in front of him, Danny is able to save the man using CPR and he discovers his new affinity. Medical practice.

Danny goes to college and gets into a hospital as a resident after interning, not long after though the Amity Park hospital closes due to lack of funding and he is forced to find another hospital.

He got a good recommendation from his previous hospital to work at a hospital in Gotham, definitely far from home, but he doesn't let that stop him.

Soon after working there he finds the influx of patients to care for refreshing, he becomes widely known as a genius miracle doctor.

One day he's taking a leisurely walk when he found an injured vigilante, the Red Hood, hes not conscious and therefore unable to give consent for treatment. Danny cares for Red Hoods injuries privately away from a hospital so as to keep the vigilantes identity a secret.

Red Hood is cautious and rude at first, but slowly he learns to open up to the doctor and even get continuously treated by Danny.

Danny is just finishing a shift when he hears about Superman being shot with a kryptonite bullet. Despite using his powers occasionally to treat patients, he's been able to keep his ghost gene a secret.

However that's about to change. He arrives on the seen and pushes his way through the police using a bit of his powers discreetly to get through.

The heroes aren't sure what to do.

"My name's Daniel Fenton, I am an attending physician at Gotham General Hospital, I specialize in supernatural anatomy, Cardiology and Endocrinology"

"All due respect doctor, his skin is impenetrable, you won't be able to operate on him"

Danny kept a cool face.

"That would be true for a normal human, I can't explain right now, every moment we wait is time we could be using to save the patient"

Danny used his ghost powers to see inside Superman body.

Several heroes gasped as they witnessed the doctors eyes turn a glowing green and then his arm became transparent. Danny stick his hand on Superman chest and pulled out the bullet.

As soon as the bullet was out Superman's skin began healing and restoring itself.

Danny let out a breath of relief before letting the superheroes escort him to the hall of justice where they sat with him.

"I would like to begin with we all can't thank you enough Dr" Batman said.

"wow, Mr tall dark and broody is being nice" flash whispered.

"Yes but I'm sure you still have questions for me."

Several heads nodded.

"are you of an alien race?"

Danny chuckled.

"No, nothing like that. My parents were scientists who were obsessed with the study of the paranormal, specifically ghosts. When I was young, around the age of fourteen I would say, my friends convinced me to go inside the newly constructed portal shell that my parents had tested earlier that day."

He paused waiting for them to take in his words before continuing.

"It had failed to operate then so I went in thinking it was safe. I was wrong. My parents had unknowingly instilled the charge to start the portal on the inside of the shell. I didn't know it was even there until I tripped on some tangled exposed wire and my hand pressed it"

"did it hurt?" Flash asked. He got a few dirty looks for that question but Danny just gave him a friendly smile.

"in a word, yes. It was excruciating. I was electrocuted for a half a minute. On top of that I had accidentally started the charge to the portal shell while being inside. This caused an outside substance called ectoplasm to enter my DNA sequence permanently changing it"

"ectoplasm" Batman muttered.

"in simpler terms, I'm half ghost."

"That's not possible! You would have to be half dead to be-" Flashs words were silenced with a swift smack to the back of the head by wonder women.

"Yes, I am technically half dead. I had to battle these ghost entities for a while to make sure they didn't wreck havoc in the small town o grew up in."

"Forgive me, but of that's true why aren't you there now"

Danny chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck a little nervous of their soon to be reactions.

"After I was forced to defeat the current ghost king and put him back onto the sarcophagus of forever sleep, the title became mine. I gained respect and control over the ghosts who were causing trouble amd was able to make them stop"

"Your a king" Batman stated.

"i don't refer to myself as such, on truth many ghosts helped imprison the old king, I received the title on a technicality."

He looked down at his hands.

"after the peace had settled in I had begun to feel as though a part of me was missing so I took up the career I have currently."

He smiled at them sweetly as he explained.

"My battle instincts help me when I'm in a crisis situation with a critical patient. With my powers I can calm them and safely restrain them if need be. As you saw today I can also better treat meta humans and alien races with these abilities as well"

"you went from being a hero to being a doctor, that's commendable"

Danny shook his head.

"Not really. I'm doing a selfless thing for selfish reasons"

The league smiled upon him. From then on he was world renowned for his worldly expertise and protected.

Should I make this into a whole fanfiction or not? Because I want to go into more detail but I want to know what you all think first.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc universe #batman #danny stuff #Superman #kryptonite #scientists #maddie fenton #jack fenton #flash #dpxdc

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atrirose · 6 months

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💭🐰 — HIDE MY BOYFRIEND IS HERE , 駅

synopsis : pranking them by saying my boyfriend is here.

ft. enha ( all members ) ✷ fluff tiktok m.list wc. 0.5k warning. none © atrirose

HEESEUNG : “heeseung hide my boyfriend is here quick” you say frantically pulling him, he just looks at you. dead in the eye and says “let them see how they don’t stand a chance” he says as he pulls you back on his lap “let him see” he says as he smiles and kisses you nose. “ugh i can’t prank you” you said as you rolled your eyes. well it’s true you can’t help it that heeseung is super confident, not only on himself but you as well, he just knows he is irreplaceable. “bet he is ugly though” heeseung says you still in his lap as he does his work on his laptop.

JAY : “jay babe can you hide my boyfriend will be here in a minute” you went into the kitchen where he was serving pasta in two plates, it was beautifully decorated, too beautiful to even eat “jay that’s soooo good” you said as you reached to grab a plate but to your dismay he took the plate from you “im sorry this is for my girlfriend” he said smirking “but i am your girlfriend” you said pouting “are you? last thing i heard is your boyfriend was coming and i needed to hide” he went and set the plates on the table “i was just joking” you said as you hugged him from behind “you are the only one for me, just look at you? can anyone compare to you? no! you are my favorite male wife” jay was caught of as he choked on air “you are crazy” he said as he turned back so your hands were wrapped around his waist “too beautiful” he said as he kissed your eyes and trailed kisses to your cheeks.

JAKE : he fell down the sofa as you jolt in surprise “wait- what’s wrong babe are you okay” he said as he looked at you “nothing is okay, you need to hide” you said as you try to pick jake up “why am i hiding?” jake said as he got back on the sofa “my boyfriend is here” he looks at you with wide eyes “WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME OMG WHERE DO I GO? the closet? or the bathroom? but what if he wants to use-” he pauses when he heard you giggle, realization hits as he pouts, he is relieved at the same time that he doesn’t need to hide and is THE BOYFRIEND “you know even if you get a boyfriend, i bet he can’t kiss better than me, also i make you cookies” he says as he hugs you laying his head on your shoulder “yes jake you are the best” you say patting him. “don’t prank me again, at least not something like this”

SUNGHOON : “my boyfriend is here hide-” smack, before you could finish your sentence, your face was met with a pillow “ow what is wrong with you” it didn’t hurt but it was a surprise “what’s wrong with me is i don’t care about your boyfriends, it’s my house and you are mine, im not hiding from anyone” he says as he kisses you, hands stroking your hands “will you marry me” sunghoon said looking at you with doe eyes “hoon we have been through this, you can’t ask me to marry you everytime we kiss” he kisses you again “but you are so beautiful, i think i might go insane”

SUNOO : “sunoo get up you need to hide my boyfriend is here” you try to wake up your very sleepy boyfriend just to prank him, he rolls over to hug you “noo” he whined “get up he is here sunoo” you try to push him over. he gets up sleep still in his eyes “where do i go, is he big? can i fight him if i get caught?” he sat on the bed as he babbled on, you got up and pecked his lips “you are such a loser” he wrapped his hands around your waist as he fell back on the bed “let’s worry about him later, we need our beauty sleep” he said as you both cuddled to sleep.

JUNGWON : he was busy with his textbook and you were bored so why not prank him right “jungwon hide my boyfriend is here” you said as you barged into his room, he didn’t even flinch, too used to you busting into his room at anytime “say what” looks at you with wide eyes and a confused pout “yeah hide hurry” you said motioning him to move “hmm” he looked at you judging your whole ancestry, a disappointed sigh left his lips “yn you can never have anyone else other than me, there is no way anyone can treat you half as good like i do” he said as he went on doing his work “besides i’m sure they wouldn’t have the patience for someone like you” he said giggling as you hit his shoulder “meanie” he looked at you as he said “you belong to me”

NIKI : “niki hide my boyfriend is here” he looks at you with the most dramatic gasp leaving his lips “oh so this is how it is, so now i’m one of your hoes, is that it huh? i even gave you half of my twix” he said as you tried to control your laughter, he got up and sat near you “you know you should hide, my girlfriend is coming” he crossed his arm as he observed you “really? okay i will go” you got up but were pulled back by him, he had his arms around your waist “stop we are going to have our daily cuddles now” he said kissing your whole face as you giggle “didn’t you tell me to leave” his hands stroked your hair “i was joking, by the way if you did get a boyfriend, will i be the side chick? no right because i obviously am your first man” he said as he hugged you tighter “you are such a dork, i’m too occupied with you, no way i can get anyone else, but yeah you probably will be my main”

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miirohs · 14 days

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world burning [c.l.c]

pairing: Mob Boss!Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: someone is literally shot, charles kisses reader a bit forcefully an: to the anon who said they'd sell me their soul my cashapp is @bestfanficwriterever (jk jk, i hope that anon sees this tho). Real reminder to you all, again, that non of this stuff is to be encouraged irl and this is all meant as a fictional scenario!

“Charlie?”

You could hear him softly cursing in French on the other line, whispering as the bed creaked in the background. It was obvious he had just woken up, and you felt terrible for waking him as well, knowing the day he probably had.

“Qu'est-ce qu'il y a, tu ferais mieux d'avoir une bonne raison de me réveiller (what's the matter, you'd better have a good reason for waking me up)-”

“Charles, I've been arrested, I need someone to come get me.”

The muttering stopped, grogginess disappearing from his voice almost instantly. “Y/n? Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé bon sang chéri (y/n? what the hell happened darling)?”

“Charles, not now please,” You chastised softly, looking to the door as the guards quietly conversed among themselves outside the room, “I have no idea why this is happening and what they’re gonna do to me.” “How did you even manage to get arrested… Nevermind that, I just hope you haven’t answered anything they've asked of you.” He groaned, heavy thumping over the phone as you looked nervously at the door for any indication they’d been listening to your conversation.

“I’m not that dull,” You said quietly, looking down at your lap, “and it couldn't have been anything i did, all they did was seize the car from me in the lot and bring me here.”

He paused for a moment, silent over the line. You pressed the phone against your ear, straining for any sounds on the other side of the line.

“Stay put. I’m coming to get you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you fumbled, tripping over your words in a hurry to get them out.

“Char, what are you planning on doing?”

He laughed humorlessly over the phone, the sound of keys jingling and door slamming making you jump back from the phone as if it’d grown a head.

“Exactly what I said I'm going to do, come and pick you up.”

You swallowed the thick ball that’d formed in your throat.

“You know what- never mind, send someone else in your place, maybe Carlos?” You bargained, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Pas de souci, mon amour. Je ne fais que commencer (no worries, my love. I'm just getting started). They should’ve learned not to fuck with the wrong person. I’ll be there in another 20 minutes, you won’t need to call anyone else.”

You shivered as the line went dead, looking at the now opened door, all the cops watching you with a suspicious look.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

All you could do was shake your head.

Not even a grand total of 15 minutes later, a shouting match erupted, followed by loud bangs.

There was a single person you could think of who was capable of this level of chaos, and you could have swore you’d heard him threatening the cops right now.

“Where is she?”

“Sir-”

“Don’t sir me, where the hell is she? Don’t tell me I have to blow another head off just for you to tell me.”

Everything seemed to fall silent for a couple moments, only a few voices daring to make a sound.

“Char?” You called out, a couple beats of silence weighing you down.

The sound of footsteps only got louder, stopping in front of the room you were in.

Keys jangled, the door slamming open as Charles walked in, a couple of police tailing him timidly to the outside of the door.

There were dark stains on his otherwise clean shirt, an indication of what happened visible in the peeved look on his face. Your eyes slowly trailed to his hand, a gun held tightly in his grip, smoking oh so slightly.

Noticing how your attention had drifted to the weapon, he put it down on the other side of the table as he approached you, shrugging off his jacket as he approached you.

“Tu vas bien maintenant (you're all right now),” He said quietly, running his fingers through your hair as he pulled you to him, “Come on, we’re going home.”

You clutched his arm as he stood you up, eyes glued to the floor as you walked next to him.

You could hear their disappointed exhales, tinged with a bit of surprise as Charles kept a firm grip on your back, guiding you through the long hall to the main office.

As you continued to walk, he gently stopped you, turning around in the middle of the room as someone called for him.

“Fucks sake,” He sighed, turning around.

“Sir, i believe there has been a mistake-”

“What sort of mistake do you think you’ve made?” He snarled, his hand running down to your hand, lacing his fingers into yours.

“You see, the car we identified was yours and we thought that perhaps she’d stole it-”

“And you didn’t think to call me so I could deal with them myself?” He chuckled humorlessly, pulling you to his side. You held your breath, completely aware of what was about to happen.

“Charles, no-”

He shook his head at you, basically telling you to not interfere. You obliged, eyebrows creasing as you watch the poor man who had tried to explain himself get shoved to his knees.

“First off, you interrupt my very precious time, and then you have the audacity to say that you’ve made a mistake?” He stands back, waving at someone behind him to step forward to his side with a gun. “Do you know who she is?”

The man stumbled over his words, trying to plead for his life, but you already knew it was too late.

“Since you don’t seem to know, let me tell you. She’s the last face you’ll be seeing but since she’s here, I've decided to spare the rest of you for the time being. If I ever hear of anything happening to her again, anyone in this room will not be spared like they were today.” He remarked bemusedly, turning to you with the widest grin you’d ever seen from him.

“Chéri, close your eyes, and cover your ears as well.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. The second you did, there was a bang, followed by a thumping sound.

Something warm was on your face, but you didn’t dare open your eyes, shaky hands coming off your ears to touch your face.

“Don’t.” He was closer than you thought, causing you to jump as he rubbed what you assumed was a handkerchief against your face . “Don’t say anything, don’t look, just follow me.”

You cracked open an eye, briefly wandering to the pool of blood a couple of feet away from you.

“What did I just tell you?” He remarked, barking at the rest in rapid french as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out the doors of the station.

There was an awkward silence as you lumbered into the passenger side seat, pressing yourself against the seat as he pulled out and onto the road.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” He muttered, hand reaching over to squeeze your thigh.

“I thought you’d be upset with me.” You looked down, noticing the dried blood on his hands, not that it made much of a difference to you anymore. Less than two years ago, you would have been horrified at the idea of blood within six feet of you, but you had come to accept it as a part of him you could never erase.

“No-” He punched the brakes, eyes slightly apologetic as you jumped from the sudden shock of stopping.

“No, no, Y/n, look at me,” His hand left your thigh, fingers curling around your chin and pulling your face to his, “You are not responsible for any of that, i gave you the car, remember? You are not to blame yourself because I would gladly do anything for you.”

“Char-” You whined, muffled slightly by the pressure of his fingers against your cheeks.

“I would give you the world to see you happy, so shut up and take it.” He pressed his lips harshly against yours, almost needy in the way he nipped at your bottom. Warmth seemed to stir inside you as he let you go, your own mind racing at a million miles per hour as he returned to the wheel as if nothing had happened.

However, under his breath, he muttered something that even escaped you as your thoughts drifted off elsewhere. “Le monde brûlera, si tu le veux ma chérie, je te le promets (the world will burn, if you want it to my darling, I promise).”

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agirlcandream84 · 2 months

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Neighbor!Frank is a Daddy When You Come Home Drunk

Guys I'm gonna fucking scream if Neighbor Daddy Frank doesn't do this to me. SCREAM. I'm considering this a part 2 to this. DO WE NEED PART THREE?! (ETA: Next part here!!!)

Neighbor!Frank x Reader

Word Count: 1,203 (5 min read)

"Text me when you're hooommmmme" you say in a sing-songy voice to Lily, the alcohol making you cheerful and warm, as she climbs into the Uber.

"K but you gotta text me too," she replies, eyes lidded and slumped in the seat. "Oh fuck, it's 3:30," she slurs, "Brian gonna's be so pissed," she adds before bursting into a fit of laughter.

You laugh back and shut the car door, watching it drive off. Standing in the cold spring night, alone on the sidewalk, your drunkenness hits you a little more clearly, like being dropped in reality after a lovely fuzzy dream.

You pull out your phone to call your own Uber but find only a black mirror staring back at you, battery long dead. "Oh shit," you mumble and look around to no one and nothing in particular. With a drunk person's confidence you decide the walk home will do you good, sucking the cold night air into your nostrils before starting the one mile trek to your apartment.

Twenty minutes, about 4 blisters and some teeth-chattering later, you find yourself on the stoop of your apartment building. Luckily, the alcohol flowing vigorously through your system numbed most of the discomfort but you were starting to feel intensely peckish. You were juuusstt on the cusp of, "if I don't eat now I might throw up," so you jammed your hand in your purse and started digging for your keys. And digging. And digging.

You pull out your phone to call Lily, when -- oh right -- the battery. You go back to digging. Then jiggling the door handle. Then sticking a bobby pin in the lock like this was a sitcom. Then sliding your library card through the crack in the door, hoping to catch the deadbolt. Maybe another jiggle?

"ffuuccckkk," you mumble, sitting on the stoop and resting your eyes a minute. Your body lilts to the side before you jerk your eyes awake. You approach the door again, peeling off your shoes, barefoot on the stoop, desperate to get inside. Why did your feet hurt so fucking bad? You needed food. And sleep.

Your eyes lock on the button for your neighbor Frank's unit and you smash your finger on it without hesitation. Frank would help. Frank's so nice.

You hear the crackle of the intercom and a raspy "uh hello?" on the other end.

"You're s'nice," you mumble out.

There's a pause before he says your name, his voice more alert than a moment ago.

"Bingo buddy," you confirm, winking at the intercom speaker.

"Don't move sweetheart, I'm coming down," he says urgently. What's this guy so worried about? You chuckle and let out a small burp.

What feels like two seconds later you see him through the glass, bare chested and grey sweatpants, hair mussed with sleep. He's unlocking the door and you instantly feel the warm comfort of his hand wrap around your waist, ushering you inside.

"Fuck sweetheart, you hurt?" he asks once you're inside, his arms holding you out in front of him as his eyes scan you for injury.

"no no no no no," you mumble, trying to correct him.

"Why don't have shoes on, doll? You walk home like, that?!" he continues, his brows knotted in confusion and concern.

"Wha?" you reply. Oh right, the shoes. When had you taken those off?

"Fuckin' Christ honey, girl like you can't be walkin' home drunk and alone in the middle of the night," he scolds, doing a final review to make sure you're not hurt. "You ever can't get home, you call me. No questions."

You nod and reply "Sorry but I can't find m'keys," trying to explain.

"Don't worry 'bout that, come on," he answers, grabbing your shoes and your purse from your hand weaving an arm back around your waist. You feel him guide you towards the stairs, so many fucking stairs, before you shout "Library card!" with urgency.

"Sssh sssh, gotta keep it down for the neighbors honey, let's just get you inside," he soothes you, chalking it up to drunk rambles.

"No no no no Frankie," you reply and he smirks at the name, "left m'libraby card outside."

"S'that right sweetheart?" he asks with the smile still on his lips and you nod, big, slow dramatic nods, and he adds "Ya know, you're cute when you're drunk."

You wink at him (you think) and say, "And you're cute when I'm drunk too," with something amounting to a smirk on your own face. This time he laughs and guides you by the hips to sit on the steps inside while he steps onto the stoop to find the lost library card.

Returning a moment later with your library card held aloft, he starts you back up the stairs with a "A'ight, come on, up we go sweetheart." You roll onto your hands and knees, deciding that a crawl up the steps was the only way you'd make it to the top.

"Nah nah nah, these stairs are filthy, come on," he scolds, reaching down to lift you to your feet by your armpits.

"But m'feet hurt sooooo baadddddd. I caaaannn't" you whine, actual tears threatening to fall if you didn't eat food in the imminent future.

"Alright alright, sssshh, come on sweetheart," he says more gently, one arm looping behind your back while the other scoops behind your knees. You're encased in his warmth, the natural musky aroma of his broad chest enough to lull you sleep right there and then. He begins the climb, each step slow and intentional, and you may as well be rocked to sleep in a bassinet.

"Need you stay awake for me doll," he says while jostling you left and right just slightly.

"Mmmm," you acknowledge in response, eyes barely peeling open.

"Come on, talk to me," he encourages.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you mumble, eyes slow blinking. He nods, the smirk again. You lean in close to his ear, his flopsy hair tickling your cheek, and whisper "I think you're cute when I'm not drunk too" before you lean your head allllll the way back to gaze at the chipped paint on the ceiling while belting Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares 2 U" into the echoey hallway.

He grunts as he attempts to maneauvre your head back up again, finding it more of a struggle than if he weren't currently laughing his ass off, adding, "Hey Sinead, knock it off before Mrs. Ericson starts her yappin' alright?"

You quiet down for a moment and your face grows solemn. Solemn enough that Frank pauses his climb, one foot on the stair above and one on the stair below. You find his deep brown eyes and feel the steady rhythm of his chest against you.

"You... you ok sweetheart?" he asks, quieter now. His eyes searching your face.

"Frank I...." you starting, eyes glassy and voice timid.

"What is is honey? C'tell me anything," he murmurs.

You swallow, your eyes darting to his lips before finding his eyes again, replying "I need food real bad."

A smile slowly cracks across his face and he nods, continuing his climb up the steps. "Alright honey, let's get you some food."

>> NEXT PART HERE <<<

#frank castle fanfiction #frank castle #frank castle fanfic #frank castle smut #frank castle fluff #frank castle comfort #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #neighbor frank castle #frank castle x y/n

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itsbeeble · 3 months

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I Think He Knows

SUMMARY: You've been in love with Joshua for as long as you can remember, yet you've never been able to tell him. Fortunately or unfortunately, you're pretty sure that he already knows.

GENRE: smut, fluff

PAIRING: Joshua Hong x afab!reader

WC: 4.9k

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn @flwoie

SERIES TAGLIST: @captain-brie @nobraincellmode @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan

18+ MDNI AGLESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: uhhh, best friends to lovers, Hoshi being a snitch, p in v sex, brief oral (fem receiving), ddry humping, a bit of spanking, brat tamer!Joshua, brat!reader, tiny bit of angst if you really really squint, consent is IMPORTANT, tiny bit of alcohol, horrible flirting, multiple orgasms, idk this isn't my best work. It's also not edited so uh....good luck lol.

A/N: heyyyyyy 🥰. I'm not dead clearly, but my god has it been a minute. part of me is wondering if this series will ever be done but i'm doing my best. school sucks, work sucks, life is a bitch, and I burnt myself out. Anyway, thank you to Brie and Ally for betaing, much love kiss kiss. ALSO HAPPY VALENTINES DAYYYY

Your heart pounds ferociously in your chest, butterflies tumbling through your stomach uncomfortably. You feel like a teenager again, sitting in front of Joshua who has a boyish grin on his face. One of his hands traces along the bottom of his champagne glass, the other resting on the table and playing with the cork of the expensive bottle. You wonder if he knows how he makes your head spin with just a little smile and a glass of champagne. The thought doesn’t linger for long, and you let your gaze lower back to the practically empty plate before you. A few roasted vegetables remain on the plate, and you pick at them with your fork to avoid looking at your friend.

Friends. That’s what you are. Nothing more, nothing less. As you always had been.

Friends that took each other out to expensive restaurants, bought expensive drinks and expensive meals. Friends that—

“Soonyoung told me something interesting today,” he leans forward, dipping his head down to try and catch your eye. You glance up at him, but the fluttering in your stomach returns and forces your eyes back down.

“Oh yeah?” You murmur, thanking god for the dim lighting around you.

“Mhm. He mentioned you, actually.”

Pause.

Kwon Soonyoung was the only person in the world who knew about your years-long crush on your best friend. If you could even call it a crush at this point. You’d admitted to yourself long ago that you were in love with him, admitted it to Soonyoung a few months back. You should’ve known better than to trust the mouthiest person in your friend group.

“Now I’m curious,” you lift your head again, steeling yourself against the onslaught of nausea at what your mutual friend could have said.

“He said,” Joshua shifts in his seat, running his tongue over his lower lip. “That you have feelings for me.”

Damn you Kwon Soonyoung.

You nod slowly, lowering your fork onto the ceramic plate in front of you. The pounding in your chest has returned, hitting so hard against your ribs that you fear your heart will pop out and land right on the table in front of Joshua.

“And…do you believe him?” You ask, failing to control the fear in your voice. Joshua smiles, and for a moment you let the fear wash away. Joshua Hong is the last person that you should feel afraid of. He was kind, he would never intentionally harm someone whether emotionally or physically, and he understood you better than most other people. You try to keep this in mind as you make eye contact.

“I would be lying if I said that I didn’t at least hope he was telling the truth.” Joshua sits up, lacing his hands together and resting his elbows on the table. A spark, and you find the corners of your lips lifting. “Otherwise, my plans for the evening are a bit…a bit ruined, I guess.”

“You had other plans?” The champagne burns against the back of your throat as you down the rest of your glass.

“Depends on how you respond to my question.” His eyes burn into yours and suddenly the table for two feels a lot smaller.

“What question is that?” I already know, and I know my answer.

“Are you,” Joshua slides his glass to the side, “in love with me.”

“Yes.” You respond without hesitation, ripping the band-aid off and shocking both of you. Never had you been this forward with Joshua. You were always somewhat reserved with…everything, really. Past relationships, struggling with a subject, a pet passing away. You never wanted to let Joshua in and it made his heart swell that you did now. “I’ve— I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.”

Joshua sucks in a sharp breath of air, leaning back in his seat and smiling thoughtfully.

“I answered your questions,” you drum your painted nails on the table. “Now you get to answer mine.”

“Ask away.” Joshua waves his hand.

“What sort of plans did you have for us?”

The question was innocent— at least to you it was— but as you watch Joshua’s eyes darken with lust, you realize that the implications…may not have been as innocent as you had believed. You think he knows where your mind has derailed to, knows what thoughts have begun to plague you.

Joshua tips back his glass of champagne, and you watch him carefully. You allow yourself to admire the way his neck cranes, the way his jaw is hit by the light. He drains the golden liquid in two long sips, wiping away the excess that rested on his lips with a delicate swipe of his thumb.

“We’ll get to that,” he emphasizes the word, watching you tilt your head down and bite at your lip. “I have some other things I’d like to do before anything else.”

He flags down your waiter, calmly asking for the bill. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, disturbed by how the mild flirting had already gotten you worked up, but wait patiently for Joshua. You wouldn’t deny the fact that you were eager to see what he had in store for the two of you, what he’d planned on such short notice.

“You ready?” He taps the table with one finger, already beginning to stand.

“As I’ll ever be.” Your lips twist into a smile as he helps to pull out your chair, grabbing your jacket before you even had a chance to reach for it. “Aren’t you just a gentleman?”

“You should know by now that all I’m doing is the bare minimum.” He scolds, and you don’t pretend you don’t notice his eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips.

“Best friends don’t pull out chairs for each other.” It’s a joke, both of you know it. You’re fully aware that after tonight, neither of you will ever be best friends again. Whether he asks you to stay with him or not, at the end of the night nothing will be the same. This doesn’t, however, stop Joshua from scoffing and tugging you by the waist to come closer to him. You stumble, nearly falling into his chest had his hands not been right there to catch you.

“I think you know,” his voice is a quiet rumble, “that we’re never going to be best friends again after this, Y/N. You’re mine now, and I don’t think I’ll ever let you go.”

You have to fight everything inside of you to not yank him down by that dark hair of his and kiss him in the middle of that crowded restaurant. Thankfully, it looks as if Joshua is fighting that same urge, one hand dropping down and the other sliding to the small of your back to guide you toward the door.

You’re mine now.

It’s a wonder that you make it to the car without jumping Joshua’s bones, but it seems you have more self-control than you’d given yourself credit for. The whole ride to…wherever it was that Joshua was taking you, you somehow managed to keep your hands in your lap, rubbing at your palm with your thumb. From the corner of your eye, you can see Joshua. He has one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the center console. He glances at you periodically, scanning your side profile.

“You’ve gotten quiet,” Joshua comments, drumming his fingers while you wait at a stoplight. Your eyes flick to his, and you purse your lips. “Are you…did I make you uncomfortable at all? Do— do you want me to bring you home?”

“No,” you tell him quickly, shaking your head. “No. I want to stay with you.”

The response soothes him, and he lets his hand drift to your thigh. He lets it hover over your exposed skin, waiting for you to push him away before he finally lets it rest on you. His hand is warm, his touch sending sparks through your body. You swallow hard, leaning back against the seat and staring at the road in front of you. Would it be wrong to tell him you want him to touch you more? To bring his hands just a bit higher, to—

Joshua’s hand squeezes a bit, drawing you back to reality. The light is green now and your body jerks as he presses on the gas. He lets his hand drift a bit higher, grazing underneath the fabric of your dress before stopping. Heat begins to pool in the pit of your stomach and you contemplate grabbing his hand and putting it right where you need it if he doesn’t move faster.

“You’re a menace.” You click your tongue and Joshua looks at you with a mocking pout.

“I didn’t do anything!”

He’s right. Technically he hadn’t done anything. You, however, were on the verge of doing something very…inappropriate if he didn’t knock it off.

“I’m sure you didn’t.” You let your hand fall to his, tracing the back of it with your pointer finger, and watch the veins pop as he squeezes for the third time. You’re approaching a very familiar street with some very familiar houses. “Are we…are we going back to my place?”

Joshua smirks. “Small change of plans.”

The giddiness inside of you returns, your head spinning as you think of all the things he could (and likely would) do to you. Your fingers lace through his, your heel-clad foot tapping against the floor protector in his car as he pulls into your driveway. He puts the car into park but leaves the engine running. For a few moments, neither of you says anything. The air between you is thick with tension, tension that grows when he tugs you toward him.

“Tell me now if you don’t want this.” Joshua breathes out, his lips mere centimeters from your own. If you tilt your head just a bit, you’ll be able to kiss him— something you’ve craved since the day you met him. “Tell me now and I’ll walk you to your door and say goodnight.”

“And if I do want this?” Your eyebrow arches, a playful look in your eyes. “What then, Joshua Hong?”

His eyes flutter, exhaling heavily as he tries to keep his composure.

“You’re going to be the death of me, I think.”

When Joshua kisses you, it isn’t as rough as you’d imagined. No, he’s gentle with you. His kiss ignites a fire inside of you, the flames swirling through your veins and heating your body until you fear you’re burning up. He cradles your jaw in one large hand as if you were glass and you would shatter if he held you too roughly. His lips move softly against your own, parting the slightest bit to catch your lower lip with his teeth. It’s a delicate dance, almost playful, and you couldn’t have asked for anything more. Your head tilts, allowing you to kiss him deeper, and a quiet groan leaves him. You smile a bit into the kiss, Your hand sliding up his chest to curl into the fabric of his shirt and pull him closer to you. Both of you ignore the fact that your body is halfway across the center console, your thigh resting on the seat between his legs keeping you propped up when his hands become distracted by the curves in your hips

The two of you only stop when you feel like you can’t breathe, your chest tight with the lack of air.

“You taste good,” Joshua murmurs, his nose nudging yours as he gazes at you with heavy eyes.

“You think so?” Your lips press against his jaw, and he smiles tightly.

“Mhm.”

“You should turn off the car and take me inside so you can find out what else tastes good.”

That must have been the right thing to say, because Joshua’s eyes darken in an instant and then he’s shutting the engine off, slamming his car door shut, and walking quickly over to your side. When he opens your door, you don’t wait for him to outstretch his hand before you practically spring to your feet, grabbing him by the sleeve and yanking him after you. He laughs as he stumbles along behind you, tugging his arm out of your grasp and squeezing at your waist over the fabric of your dress. Your hands are trembling, the heat in your stomach growing more intense by the minute.

“Struggling, pretty girl?”

His breath against your ear and his lips on your neck sends chills down your spine and you inhale sharply as his hand wraps around yours to help you guide the key into the lock. Your eyes are starting to flutter, your feet stumbling into the foyer of your home. Joshua presses you onward, one of his hands on the small of your back and the other flicking on the lights. You spin around to face him, your hands coming to his chest and curling around his tie to pull him down to kiss you again.

“At least let me get you upstairs,” he mumbles against your lips, grinning when you whine in protest.

“Can’t wait that long,” you deny, already fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He grins, backing you through the doorway to your living room.

He stops your movements to spin you away from him. You face your window now, curtains drawn and the windows to your neighbor's house across the street staring right back at you. “All your neighbors will see us. Is that what you want?” He’s kissing down your neck, hands trailing to the back of your dress to undo the clasp.

“Let them see.” You hold your head high, hands clenching into fists as the fabric slides down your body and hits the ground with a soft thump, leaving your body completely bare except for a thin pair of lacey panties. “Let’s put on a show for them.”

“Interesting.” Joshua seems entirely unaffected by the statement, but the way he pulls you back against him to grind against the growing bulge in his pants is saying something entirely different. “Didn’t take you as someone to like being watched. I’ll have to explore that another time.”

You mean to respond, words forming at the tip of your tongue but never escaping your lips as Joshua pushes at your shoulder, slowly guiding you to the ground. Your knees fold beneath you, your eyes wide and filled with stars as he moves into your line of vision and then away from you. You watch as he lets the curtains fall and cover your windows, and then he turns back to face you and continues to unbutton his shirt, loosening his tie until it hangs loosely around his shoulders.

“What are you doing, Shua?” Your voice is weaker than you’d wanted it to be.

Joshua smiles coyly, leaning down until he’s at eye level with you. “I said that I would explore that at a later date, pretty girl. Not tonight. Tonight, you’re mine.”

“Yours?” Your hand rises to cup his cheek similarly to how he held yours just a few minutes ago.

“Mine.”

His knees hit the ground on either side of you, leaning over your body until you’re forced to lay back. Your legs stretch out to make his position a bit more comfortable, your knees rubbing together in anxious anticipation for what’s to come.

You expect him to kiss you, your lips starting to pucker and your eyes fluttering shut as he lowers his face to yours once again, but nothing happens. Your eyes open to find him mere inches from you with that same smirk playing on his lips.

“What are you smirking at?” You ask him, but he doesn’t answer. He shifts further down your body, laying a soft kiss on your collarbone that has your breath hitching briefly. Another kiss, this one closer to where your heart lays pounding underneath your ribs. Your hand twitches, aching to run through his hair, but the second you move to act on this urge he’s pinning your hand to the ground and glowering at you.

“No touching.” Joshua commands, mouthing at the soft flesh of your breast. “Not until I’ve tasted every last inch of your skin.”

He slips further down your body, leaving trails of soft kisses in his wake. The only sound in the house is the soft pop as his lips leave your skin and the heaviness of your breathing.

When Joshua reaches the hem of your panties, he stops and trails his finger along it. The brush of his skin on yours is so subtle, yet you’re addicted to the feeling of it. So many nights you had cum to the thought of him tugging your panties down your legs, his eyes boring into yours as he lowers his mouth to your glistening cunt, imagining how it would feel to have him licking and sucking nipping at your folds. So many nights, and yet nothing comes even close to how it really feels.

The second he runs his tongue from your hole to your clit, your back is arching off the ground and a loud gasp is echoing throughout your home. Your hands fly to Joshua’s hair despite his prior instructions, but he doesn’t seem to care as he drags his tongue and teeth across you. Your legs try to squeeze around his head, attempt to trap him against you, but he doesn’t let you. His large hands pry your legs away from him, squeezing harshly at your thighs and pinning them to the ground on either side of you.

He mumbles into your cunt with loud and drawn out sounds that reverberate through your body and have your legs jerking with pleasure.

“Shua,” you gasp out, your eyes rolling as he sucks particularly hard at your clit. “Shua, fuck.”

A loud smack rings out, and your thigh begins to sting. Your eyes widen, your head lifting off the ground at the same time that Joshua’s pulls away from you, his mouth dripping with your arousal.

“What the fuck—”

Another smack to the side of your thigh, and you yelp. Joshua raises an eyebrow.

“Want me to keep going?” You can’t tell if he’s insane or not. You can’t tell if you want to smack him or beg him for more. You don’t get the chance to retort before he’s smacking your thigh again, harder this time. “That wasn’t rhetorical, pretty girl.”

Your teeth grind together, and one of your feet comes to his shoulder to shove him back. Maybe he lets you push him back. Maybe he wants you to fight back. Maybe he was waiting for it, because when you lean your body over him, he’s grinning maliciously at you.

“Who do you think you are, smacking me like that?” You hiss, and he pouts.

“Like what? Like this?” His hand comes down again, this time directly on your ass and sending waves of pain and pleasure through your body.

“Joshua Hong,” you snap, but there’s no real anger behind it as you begin to grind your lower body into his clothed cock. His hands come to rest on your waist, watching as you try to form words and pleasure yourself at the same time. “If you keep pulling shit—”

Smack

Your body shudders and an airy moan pushes out of your lips despite how you fight it. Joshua grins again.

“What were you saying, pretty girl? If I keep pulling shit…what? What are you going to do, baby?”

You can’t answer him, your hips rolling into his harder and faster as you approach your high.

“Oh, baby.” Joshua coos, his voice shockingly stable despite how you’re practically riding him over his pants, effectively ruining them with your juices. “You’re a little desperate, aren’t you?”

“Oh shut up,” you whine, folding forward until your mouth is right next to his ear. Your moans and whines are right in his ear now, intentional on your part, and his grip on your waist tightens. “Feels so good, Joshie.”

“Yeah?” He’s quieter now, a low growl in the back of his throat as he fights to keep his hips on the ground. Fights to let you have your little moment, your little bit of control over him. “How good, baby?”

“Gonna cum,” your lips find the skin beneath his ear, sucking a mark into his flesh as your hips begin to stutter. “F— god, Shua, please!”

“It’s okay, pretty girl,” Joshua coos, a bit of pride welling in his chest at how fast you learned. “You can let go. Go ahead and cum for me, pretty girl.”

Almost as soon as he says those words, you’re letting out a loud, near pitiful moan and your body begins to shake over his. A wave of arousal soaks into his pants, seeping through and beginning to wet his boxers, but he doesn’t mind. Not when the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen is cumming for him, moaning his name and no one else’s.

Joshua can’t stop his hips from jerking into yours, pleasuring you even as your orgasm begins to ebb away. When he sits up, he cradles the back of your head in one hand, his eyes boring into yours in such a way that has you whining for him, clinging to his shoulders and turning away.

“So pretty when you cum,” Joshua murmurs, lifting the two of you up and giving you a second to wrap your arms and legs around him as he loops around your living room to the couch. “Gonna fuck you now, okay pretty girl?”

“Okay,” you nod, but your eyes aren’t focusing and neither is your mind. It feels like you’re on cloud 9, and Joshua hasn’t even taken his pants off yet.

He peers down at you, mild concern showing in his delicate features.

“Y/N,” his hands are caressing your sides gently, pulling you back down to focus on him. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” you promise, smiling lightly at him. “I just…it’s hard for me to actually, like, believe that you want me how I want you.”

Joshua smiles. “And how, exactly, do you want me?”

“Wholly. I want everything. I want all your love, all of your problems, every doubt, and every moment— good or bad.” His eyes soften as you speak, and for the first time that night he’s the one that’s gone quiet. “I want you carnally, I want you to crave my touch and my taste as much as I crave yours. Every kiss, every intimate moment. I want them all.”

“And you’ll have them.” Joshua promises, and then he’s kissing you again. It’s a deep, lingering kiss. His lips part against your own, your tongues dancing together but not dominating each other. Your hands cup his neck, holding him close to you, and in that moment you don’t hear the clinking of his belt or the sound of his zipper sliding down.

“You promise?” You pull away from him, your lungs burning from the lack of air. Joshua smiles at you, and his lips press against your forehead.

“I think you know the answer to that, pretty girl.”

And you do.

He would never have to say it, you always know. Joshua Hong, in all the years you’d been best friends, had never once told you something if he didn’t 100% believe it, if he wasn’t absolutely sure that he would or could hold himself to it. He didn’t have to promise you, you could see it in the way he looked at you. Soft eyes, pretty smile, that little wrinkle in his nose. You knew the answer.

“I’m gonna start pushing in now,” Joshua murmurs, aligning his cock with your entrance, shuddering at the seemingly never ending flow of arousal. “Let me know if you need me to slow down or stop.”

“Okay,” you nod, draping your arms over his shoulders and forcing your body to relax.

He pushes in slowly, but the stretch of him filling every little crevice inside of your cunt stings and causes you to let out a whimper.

“I know,” he whispers, “just take it all, baby. Take it all for me like a good girl.”

Your body shudders at that, and you let your head fall back onto the cushion below you. Inch by painful inch, he slides into you until your body begins to convulse and try to force him out.

“Baby,” Joshua grinds out between gritted teeth, “You gotta stop clenching like that.”

“I— I can’t.” You moan out, your back arching off the couch. “Hurts so good, Shua.”

“That so?” Joshua grunts and shoves the last few inches into you, relishing in the pretty little wail that escapes you. “That’s another thing I’ll have to make note of, huh?”

He doesn’t give you much time to respond before he’s hauling your legs up and around his waist, one hand gripping the arm of the couch and the other planted beside your head. A silver chain dangles above you, glittering in the low lighting of the living room but capturing your attention just long enough to tell Joshua to start moving.

“Can’t,” he tells you breathlessly. “Fuck, clenching so tight I can’t move.”

“I don’t care.” You whine. “Just fuck me, please Shua, please, please, please fuck me—”

He cuts you off with a sharp thrust of his hips, shoving his dick just that tiny bit further into you that has you gasping as the air is punched out of your chest.

“You’re lucky I love you.” He groans as he slowly pulls back, his dick practically drenched in your arousal, and then thrusts sharply back in, sheathing entirely inside of you. You cry loudly, a tear slipping down your cheeks and your legs tightening around his waist. Joshua repeats the action again and again, drinking in the way your head lolls to the side, your tongue practically hanging out of your mouth.

Then he begins to fuck you, just as you asked. He thrusts into you with hard, deep strokes that have you wailing and thrashing against the couch cushion. Your body is convulsing beneath him, and he can only watch like a god watching his worshippers, as you beg for him to fuck you harder, faster, deeper as if he isn’t already going hard and fast and deep to a point beyond your fucked out mind’s comprehension. The couch shifts slightly on the ground, scraping against your hardwood floor, but the sound is drowned out by the combined volume of your cries and moans and whimpers along with his grunts and little moans.

“Close,” he grunts, his head dropping to your chest to bite and suck at one of your tits. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

You clench around him in response, your back arching off the cushion to get closer to his mouth, relishing in the pleasure he’s providing you. “S—so good, Shua. Fuckin’ me so good.”

“Yeah?” He pulls away from your chest, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead as he stares down at you. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over your best friend?”

Your body shudders in response, and suddenly your vision goes white. You can faintly hear your own voice, your own pleads and screams of Joshua’s name as he pounds into you, forcing your juices out of you and giving you no time to recover from your orgasm before he’s shifting his hips and driving his cock into a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. Your hand clamps down over your mouth to muffle the animalistic sounds that pour out of you, but Joshua rips your hand away, pinning it down on the couch.

“Don’t you dare muffle a single sound that comes out of you,” he hisses. “Not a single one.”

You don’t have the strength, will, or energy to respond to him. Not as his cock begins to twitch inside of you and another orgasm threatens to wash over your body. One of Joshua’s hands, the one that had been pinning your hand to the couch, moves over your hip, and his eyes stay on you as his thumb begins to rub hard circles into your clit.

“Oh my—” your voice cracks. “Fuck, oh my god, Shua!”

“Cum for me,” he grunts, forcing his orgasm back so he doesn’t cum before you, despite you already having done so twice now. “Now, baby. God, please cum for me.”

And you do.

It crashes over you like a rockslide, rough and strong, and crushing everything in its path. Your cunt clenches around Joshua so tightly you fear you might break him, but he only moans out your name and begins to spill white-hot cum inside of you. The combined fluids from the both of you are forced out as Joshua continues to fuck into you, slowly now compared to before. Soft, deep thrusts that carefully bring you down from the edge until both of you have finished, laying spent on your now ruined couch.

“That…” your voice is raspy. “Is that how you’re gonna fuck me every night?”

“Is that how you want me to fuck you every night?” Joshua’s tongue laves over your skin, pressing gentle kisses against your neck.

You think he knows the answer, but you tell him anyway with a sly grin on your face.

“You promised.”

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notjoelmiller · 1 year

Text

the protector

MDNI

joel miller x tess's sister!reader (not blood related) summary: Joel promised Tess he would take care of you. It's fine until he finds himself infatuated with you and Ellie accuses him of replacing Tess. wordcount: 5.0k warnings: smut (unprotected p-in-v), unspecified age gap, canon character death, spoilers up to episode 3, background character death, violence, joel is not a good person in this

Tess asks him one night as he stitches her up. Negotiations went wrong, and Joel tends to her carefully. He always does. It was his way of setting things right.

Joel had to carry her back to their apartment. Her skin lost its rosy hue in the process, and she shivered in his arms the whole way back. Joel thought he lost her. He almost did.

With the apartment illuminated by the streams of moonlight peeking through the window, he puts her back together. Needle and threat prod and pull at her skin. The makeshift infirmary that their apartment has become reeks of iron and alcohol.

He killed earlier, with his bare hands. He’s only done that a few times before. He liked using guns or knives, but he beat that man who hurt Tess. Crushed his eye socket just to watch him bleed. It was irresponsible and reckless. His hands tremble with the lingering adrenaline mixed with newfound anxiety. Tess is alive, he tries telling himself. It doesn’t quell the shakes.

He has only two stitches left when Tess speaks for the first and only time that night. Her words come out slowly, either from the blood loss or careful consideration.

“If anything happens to me, take care of my sister, okay?” She asks.

Joel pauses, needle hanging just above her skin. His fingers are caked in Tess’s blood, maybe some of a stranger. He’s sure it’s gonna be there in the morning, no matter how much he scrubs his skin raw.

“Okay,” he says.

“Promise?”

“I swear.”

They don’t mention it. Years pass before she asks him to make another promise– to take care of an infected girl. He swears to her again, and when he does he remembers: the farm in western Massachusetts circled on a map, the mysterious kid sister Tess always talks about, the promise he made with blood caked under his nails.

As smoke from the capitol building pollutes the blue sky, Joel wonders if Tess remembers it. Perhaps, while grappling with her last lucid moments before the infection takes over, it brought her peace– the thought of her sister’s safety.

Save who you can save.

Once things calm down, and distance muffles the screeches of the infected, Ellie asks where they’re going.

***

Joel doesn’t see the resemblance. Ellie says she does. It’s in the eyes, she tells him. That determination. Scary shit. Joel can’t deny it, you do have that intense Tess-stare. But the expression is about where the resemblance ends.

In fact, the moment he lays eyes on you, he realizes that when Tess said “sister”, it was an expression– a bond beyond blood. Even if you weren’t related, you were important to her.

“Tess is dead,” he says minutes after you welcome him and Ellie into your home. “Asked me to look after you.”

You excuse yourself after Joel tells you. Ellie elbows him in the ribs when you disappear into the upstairs section of the house. It was a disturbing delivery, evident by your quiet gasps and sobs in the other room, but it was fact. Tess is gone, and Joel has a promise to fulfill. Sugarcoating it won’t change anything.

You fail to emerge from your room before sundown. Ellie tells him that they should clear out and let you grieve, but something keeps him planted in your living room.

It’s cozy, not just by post-infection standards. You somehow keep the place neat, but it still looks lived in. Polaroids sit in frames on top of the fireplace. Most of them are you and Tess. In some of them, she’s younger, before Joel met her in the quarantine zone. Though, others were more recent. If Joel had to guess, the newest photo was taken in the last two years. He never knew how much Tess came out to see you. How much you really meant to her.

You don’t reemerge until the stars come out. Even then, with puffy, but dry, eyes and a monotonous voice you tell the strangers where they can sleep. Hospitable, despite the waves of grief that radiate from your frame.

As you set up the guest rooms, Joel explains that they’re leaving in the morning. He offers you the choice of staying, but tells you that you have a better chance out there than here alone, with nobody watching over you. He doesn’t know if that’s true, but he knows that Tess would have wanted you under his protection.

Ellie tries comforting you in the only way her emotionally-stunted self can. She cracks jokes, tries her best to break the tension. It doesn’t make you laugh. Hell, you don’t even smile. Ellie’s curls into herself, embarrassed, but only because she misses the way your shoulders droop and eyes soften. Joel does see it.

After the pair are settled into the spare rooms, you disappear again. When they wake the next morning, you’re back to normal. Somewhat. You flutter around the house with a backpack and a duffle, shoving personal items and essentials in. You don’t greet your guests, instead you start by ordering Ellie to bring non-perishables from the kitchen to the truck. She nods dumbly and gets straight to work. Joel frowns at her obedience until your eyes land on him.

You lower your voice, “The photos.” Your voice is hoarse at that volume, no doubt exacerbated by your night of grief. “I can’t take them all. If you want one you can– I mean, you don’t need to. Tess didn’t talk much about you, but she sent you after me, didn’t she?” You chuckle. It’s humorless. “I guess you two trusted each other.” You nod to the mantle. Only a few photos remain.

He frowns. Had Tess not told you about them? He had assumed that in thirteen years, you would have said something. His hands clench. “Photos ain’t gonna change a thing,” he states.

Your face crumples like he’s just spitten on your sister’s grave. “Maybe.” You turn away. “I’ll help Ellie with the food. Then we can go.”

You work with Ellie to clear out the rest of the food supply. She talks your ear off the entire time you pack. Apparently, she’s thrilled to have you joining her and Joel, though you fear she isn’t actually interested in your company. You think she only talks to you so enthusiastically because you're more responsive than Joel.

Despite your hesitance, you find yourself anticipating joining the pair. It’s not like you have much of a choice in the matter, though. Tess kept you stocked. She kept you safe. With her gone, and her partner heading west, you were alone. In a few months time, you would be out of bullets and meds, and with the winter approaching, the odds would be against you.

Ellie knocks on the side of Joel’s truck. “Do you know how to drive?” She asks, flipping a knife in her hands with a bit too much ease for your liking. You wonder how long she’s had that thing. Thankfully, it looks relatively unused. “Joel doesn’t wanna teach me… but maybe you could give me lessons. It’ll be really fuckin’ cool– plus I could help you guys out and take some driving shifts.”

You shrug, tucking the last pile of cans in the truck bed. Ellie’s standing on the wheel, looking at you with wide, expectant eyes. “So?” She asks, leaning forward so much, you think she’ll fall into the bed.

Joel comes out before you can make that promise. He stomps down the porch steps, telling you and Ellie to get in the car. There’s no urgency to his orders. For that you’re grateful. Driving off in that car means the end of the last twenty years of your life. No more of the farm, no more New England, no more Tess.

You wait for anxiety to come, but it doesn’t. Somehow, you’ve made peace with it all. With Ellie and Joel, your new companions.

Ellie seems attached to you. She’s been chatting your ear off for the better part of the hour. It’s nice. She keeps your mind off grief.

You wonder if this is how Tess felt, when she first found you and took you under her wing. Sure, you were less chatty than Ellie, but you find yourself feeling a strange possessiveness over the girl. You’ve never had to be a role model, someone for a young girl to look up to. You think about Tess, all she did to make sure you were well-adjusted in this world. Ellie seems like a good kid. You just hope that you’ll be able to guide her like Tess did you.

Joel seems less excited to have you, more like he’s carrying out a duty. You suppose that is the case, that Tess sent him to you in her absence. You don’t understand why she kept him around for so many years. He doesn’t appear to be the best company. He’s quiet, though when he chooses to speak it’s curt, leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

He’s not bad on the eyes, though. Maybe that’s why she kept him around.

Ellie nudges your shin with her foot. She stares at you with wide, expectant eyes. “You can sit shotgun,” she says.

You smile, “Thanks, kid.”

***

Joel dreams about Tess. He dreams she’s still with him. Everything’s the same– he's left Boston, Bill and Frank are gone –except you’re absent. Back on the farm, perhaps, doing whatever the hell it was you did there.

Ellie’s still in his dreams, at least most of the time. Sometimes she’s not. Some nights, she’s taller, with a head of curly hair. She’s got the same snark, but less of a tendency to use profanities.

The dreams keep him up. When he eventually falls asleep, it isn’t for long. The dreams come, and Tess says something too close to that day in the capitol or he catches a head of curly hair. Then he’s up, breathing heavily and sweating hard. You notice, of course you do. Tess was like that. She always had an inkling whenever something was eating at Joel. You ask if he wants to talk about it.

Of course I do.

But Joel just shrugs. He wants that companionship, that person to lean on in his struggles, but not in you. You’re not the person he wants to burden.

***

You grieve differently than Joel. You actually take time to talk about Tess, tell stories about her– good and bad. Ellie loves it, grateful to learn more about the woman she could only be with for a short time. The woman who saved her life.

It helps Joel learn about your relationship. He gathers that you came together at the start of the infection. You grew together, learning from each other. You were younger than her, he guesses by at least a decade, and had grown into your own under her guidance.

You and Tess parted ways months before she met Joel. You wanted autonomy, a place to call your own. You wanted the openness of the country and the ability to live off the land, not on FEDRA rations. Tess needed security. She needed to know that she wouldn’t be ripped apart by clickers in her sleep. She wanted a quarantine zone. So, you split up.

But there was– is –no bitterness in that disagreement, Joel finds. When you recall that parting of ways and your desires for different lives, you seem content. It irks him that you have such a strange peace with that, after knowing the fate of your sister, while you stand with him now, alive and well.

There are glimpses of Tess in you. He admits that to Ellie one night after you’ve gone to sleep, hardly a week after you joined the duo. What he doesn’t admit to Ellie is how much of Tess he really sees in you, and that sometimes, he has to stop himself from calling you by her name.

But of course, he slips up. It happens only once. You’re walking behind him, telling some story about a poor sucker who gave you trouble back on the farm. It’s a good story, but coming from your lips? Joel is captivated.

He goes to respond to some gruesome detail of the story, but her name comes out of his mouth. Not yours. Tess. Ellie whips her head around unbelievably fast, eyes so wide he can practically hear her thoughts screaming at him, what the hell Joel?

He’s quick to cover it up. “Tess… she said something like that happened to her once, too.”

Joel’s glad you’re behind him. You can’t see the way his face crumples in shame. Though, he can’t see whether or not you caught it.

When you’re out of earshot, Ellie calls it a Freudian slip. Joel tells her to watch her mouth.

***

You’re softer than Tess from all that time on the farm. Sure, you have your fair share of trouble with raiders and stray infected, and you know your way around a fight. But you’ve never stepped foot in a quarantine zone. You’ve never had to deal with the Fireflies, the grifters, or even FEDRA.

Tess had gone through all of that. She internalized it– let it change her. It roughened her edges enough that even the thought of submitting to Joel made her hackles raise. Not you, though.

You don’t just accept his touch. You practically melt at it. She let him touch her, being intimate physically in ways he could never verbalize, but she never reveled in it. She would never sigh and lean into his hand on her cheek. She couldn’t let her muscles relax in his embrace, but she’d always accept it. After all, she was his.

You’re not, but you take and cherish all that Joel has to give you. You live for it. You could forget about all of your troubles with him. He sees it in the way your hands linger on his when he helps you up after a fight, and he often feels the back of his neck burning with your stares. He likes the attention you give him.

You don’t have to kill much, but Joel’s tendency to protect Ellie from death has rubbed off on you. You kill when needed, and each time, once the body lays still, Joel notices you pause. You take time to observe the life you took, and a profound sadness overtakes you. Not remorse, though. Joel has found that you don’t regret what you had to do. He thinks you got that from Tess.

Unfortunately, that habit of yours teaches him how thoroughly fucked he is.

Joel gets knocked to the ground by a hunter. His head snaps back against the ground. Not hard enough to concuss, but it rattles him to the point that he can’t get the damn guy off of him. In the haze, he doesn’t feel the knife resting on the skin of his neck.

You see it, though, and in moments, you're on the hunter.

Joel is too dazed to realize what had occurred until you’re leaning over him, cupping his jaw gently as you examine his face.

His eyes dance between you and the hunter just inches away. He’s a pile of bloodied flesh. You don’t care. There’s blood on you. It’s thick and coats your arms and torso. All you do is ask Joel questions. Are you alright? Do you think you’re concussed? Do you need help getting up? Your eyes are on him– him alone.

He tries keeping up with your questions. Not just because they’re important, but because he wants to please you. You– who put aside your morals just to dote on him. You– the woman he vowed to protect. You– the new object of Joel’s infatuation.

***

The first time he really touches you, you’re speechless.

You’ve felt his touch before. It’s unavoidable– a graze of calloused fingertips over a wound you can’t reach, a helping hand lifting you over a high ledge, fingers lingering just a moment after handing rations. But this time, it’s different. It’s not accidental, nor the result of your forced proximity.

Ellie’s asleep, snoring softly just a few feet away.

You and Joel had an argument. A minor disagreement, really. He refuses to let you take the night watch and let him sleep. So, you sit in silence.

He’s tearing himself apart with his martyrdom. He sacrifices his sleep so he can take watch instead of you. He takes all the heat in fights, leaving you and Ellie unscathed, but him with unsavory injuries. He gives you and Ellie larger shares of food. You swear he’s lost weight since you’ve joined them. You pointed this all out to him earlier in the night. And he didn’t take it well.

You two don’t argue frequently. For that, you’re grateful. Joel’s not the best company, even by today’s standards, but you’ve come to enjoy having him by your side. He’s courteous, helpful, and has an unexpectedly good sense of humor. But when you get into a disagreement, you wonder why you joined him in the first place. He becomes something else, cold and detached. He’s so venomous and vile that you find your chest hurting with frustration.

You’re both still recovering from earlier. It was a tame disagreement by your standards. Both of you managed to get over it just enough to sit next to each other by the fire. For warmth, you both agreed.

Hours after the sun disappears, the moon and stars being the only light in the sky, Joel shifts. You almost ask what’s the matter, then he takes his hand in yours, resting it on his thigh.

You don’t tense. You don’t look at him. You don’t signal in any way that he’s actually touching you. His fingers brush over your knuckles, calluses scratching against taught skin over joints, and strangely, your heart flutters. He falls asleep like that, your hand in his.

A week later, under the blanket of night, Joel fucks you against a tree.

There’s no tenderness in it, but it’s not like you expected anything different.

He tells you to keep it down. It's an obscene request that he makes as though his hands aren’t up your shirt, grabbing at you like you’re the only person in the world. He makes it seem like the drilling of his hips into you doesn’t make it near-impossible to keep it down.

He makes quick work of you. His fingers deftly rub at your clit until you're swallowing the noises of your orgasm. Joel doesn’t last much longer, pulling out and spilling himself on your thighs.

You don’t talk about it the next morning. You keep the appearance of “normalcy”, for Ellie’s sake. You just hope she doesn’t notice the smiles you share behind her back.

***

His dreams change. Now most nights, he’s back in Boston in his shitty bed that cost way too many ration cards. That doesn’t matter though, because it’s peaceful.

Sunlight peeks through the curtain and warms the skin of his face. The streets outside are quiet. He’s warm, satisfied, and safe.

He’s alone in bed, but someone flitters around the apartment out of view. He hears it: footsteps all around the space, the quiet clang of dishes being stacked on top of each other, a feminine humming.

He can’t move in those dreams, forced to keep his eyes on the bright window– the one with the butterfly.

He wants to call her name. Tess, Tess, Tess. The syllable sits on the tip of his tongue, yet he can’t manage to say it. The word refuses to leave his lips. It’s like his body knows something he doesn’t.

It knows that something is wrong.

***

With every brush of Joel’s fingers against yours, Ellie is watching.

She’s waiting to pounce. Joel knows it. One wrong move and Ellie’s going to say it, accuse him of what he knows she’s thinking.

So, you two like a…

Pass.

Ellie wasn’t stupid. She knew what that meant. Ellie saw it in his eyes when they left Tess at the state house. As he watched it burn with Tess inside.

Not to feel the way I felt…

She read that letter from Bill.

The girl is a quintessential post-outbreak kid. She’s anxious for a fight, angry, and emotionally repressed. But the girl was also raised in a military school, and it made her observant. So every touch your way, every smile at you, and every thought he makes, Ellie knows.

Joel avoids Ellie for a long time, but she manages to get through.

You’re somewhere in West Virginia. You’ve been with Joel and Ellie for about a month, just enough time for fall to settle in.

It isn’t as bad as in Boston where, by the time the leaves turned, the days were too cold to even enjoy the beauty of it. West Virginia, though, sure the nights were chilly, but the days were pleasing.

It reminds him of Austin. Austin never really had a true autumn. The season came with the bloom of red, orange, and yellow leaves, but there was no chill of the impending winter. In Austin, it looked different, but felt just the same– or close enough. He loved it. He misses it.

Joel holds a photo in his hand. The one he took from your mantle the morning you abandoned the farm. It’s you and Tess, beaming at the camera. He keeps it folded in his pocket at all times in case he needs it to bring comfort. Currently he does.

The photo has rubbed away at the seam of the fold. If Joel ever decided to unfold it, to look at you two as one, there would be a white crease in the middle. A divide. He doesn’t, though. Joel never unfolds it and resorts to looking at either of you one at a time.

Now, it’s you staring back at him. A moment ago, it was Tess.

Ellie sits on the opposite side of the fire. You’re sleeping off the last of a fever you managed to catch.

He wants to reach out to you, pull you in his arms until the fever breaks. The urge gnaws at him, makes something twist and burn deep in his gut. He should think. He needs to think. Not with Ellie watching him, though. He needs her off his back.

Here goes nothing.

He says her name, once, curtly. Her eyes widen slightly, just for a moment, but composes herself. She sits up tall. Joel lets her speak first. It takes her a moment, but she speaks like she’s been considering her words for a long time.

“Tess said you didn’t feel the way she felt.”

“I cared for her. For Tess.” Ellie frowns, eyes squinted as she bores into his very being. “A lot,” Joel adds.

“Does her sister know that?”

Joel says Ellie’s name, quietly. It’s meant to be a warning, but as it passes through his lips he can’t help but think it sounds pathetic. Pathetic, like you fucking Tess’s kid sister. His jaw ticks as something putrid curdles in his stomach.

No. No. He refuses to let a child judge him. What does she know about relationships? What does she know about love?

Love? No, not love. Not love. Physical relationships, that’s what this is about. Not love. No, Joel doesn’t love. Not Tess. And certainly not you, not that you matter in this case, because Tess has nothing to do with you.

He looks back at the photo in his hand. Tess stares back at him.

“You’re replacing her, Joel.”

***

Joel isn’t a man to cherish. He loves nothing– nobody. You’ve seen him kill more times than you can count, and not all of those deaths were deserving.

He reveals himself in pieces and only on rare occasions. You learn of his past slowly. He was a hunter. He has a brother, one who left him years ago. He may have had a child at one point. He wanted to be a singer when he was a boy.

You’ve known one thing from the start, and it’s that he tends to you like you’re the only thing that matters.

You found a settlement. Just for the night, they let you stay in a house– a real one, with showers, working locks, nice furniture, and all. You almost cry when you rub the homemade soap bar against your skin. You feel like a new person when you step out of the shower, your skin soft and glowing in a way you haven’t experienced in years.

If you had to be honest, the separate bedrooms are your favorite part.

You’re not even out of the shower for a minute before Joel has you beneath him on the bed.

He fists a hand into your still dripping hair and tugs. His tongue pushes its way into your mouth, and you welcome the taste of him– it’s fresh, like the toothpaste you had traded for once you came to town. You chase his lips as he pulls back.

“Couldn’t wait for you to come out, baby.” He adds, “Need you.” You believe it. You believe it wholeheartedly and it makes heat wash through your body. Joel has a way of making you feel like that.

His jean-clad hips rut into your plush thigh. The buckle digs into your skin, nearly camouflaging the sensation of his cock.

The towel you wrapped yourself in has unfolded, leaving you exposed to the cold air of the bedroom. Your nipples stiffen. Joel takes one between his fingers, twisting and pulling as he groans into your mouth. His spare hand works on removing his pants. You explore the expanse of his back.

Deft fingers move from your breasts to your core. Joel’s thumb rubs at your clit, while two fingers trace the seam of your entrance. His fingers are cold, you clench around nothing as they tease you. Joel doesn’t get many opportunities to drag things out, to tease you until tears are running down your face. You love that side of him. It helps you imagine what it would be like to be with him before the infection. But tonight isn’t the time.

You swat his hand away, murmuring, “Don’t need that,” you swat his hands. “Just want you.”

Joel hesitates. You do need that, and he knows you know that fact. It’s been a few weeks since you last fucked. It was sure to be a stretch. His eyes wash over your face, searching for any uncertainty before he nods and notches himself at your entrance.

It’s not a smooth coupling by any means. You rushed into things too fast. His length rubs unpleasantly against your walls as he pushes in. Though, you pull him closer with your legs. You just needed to feel him.

He holds your hips up as he pistons into you. He moves slowly tonight. There’s no urgency, no threat that Ellie might come around the corner and catch you in the act. You indulge in the rare intimacy.

You dig your face into the crook of his neck. Every inhale you take is purely him. “Driving me crazy, Miller,” you whisper.

“Good,” Joel laughs. He’s never laughed during sex before. You figured he wasn’t the type, that letting loose like that in the act wasn’t his style. Apparently not.

You reach your peak quicker than expected. It washes over you in lazy waves, softening your muscles and melting you into the bed beneath you. It drains you. Or maybe the luxury of the bed beneath you is causing your exhaustion.

Luckily, Joel’s not far behind, pulling out and working himself to his peak. He cums on your stomach, your newly cleaned skin now dirtied with your sweat and his seed. You’re too tired and too blissed out to care though. You can always shower again in the morning.

Joel takes your discarded towel to clean your stomach. He throws it to the ground before settling himself at your side. You roll over, letting him adhere to your back.

Your eyes are drawn to the towel. Next to it are Joel’s discarded jeans. Something sticks out of his pocket. You squint.

It’s Tess– one of the pictures of her you had on your mantle. You were in that photo too, but it was folded in half, and now you had to stare at your deceased sister. The photo was one you had offered to Joel. Photos ain’t gonna change a thing, he had said back then on the farm. It irked you. It irked you for so long that you had been hesitant at the start of your relationship– if that's what you could call this. Back then, you had been afraid of getting attached to him. You were scared he wouldn’t ever call you his.

But he had the photo, and it’s… somewhat disturbing. He had been so cold then when you asked him. You only offered it because you thought he and Tess were closer. After all, she asked him to take care of you, and he listened. Then he turned it down, and you realized– assumed –you misinterpreted them. You accepted it as the truth.

He has it now, though. However many months later he has that photo.

Joel’s arm tightens around your waist, pulling your back closer to his chest. “What are you thinkin’ about?” He sounds tired.

You thought he was asleep, assuming the relative safety of the settlement and your nightly activities would be enough to knock him out. You’re tired too. Part of you wants to forget it, lean back into Joel’s arms and fall asleep. Then you see her staring back at you, her smile frozen in time.

You wonder if Joel buried her. You wonder if Joel shot her. He didn’t tell you much about her passing, only that she had been infected, and chose to end it before turning. He never said how it ended.

“Were you and Tess together?”

It’s a simple question. So simple, and yet Joel hesitates. You count the seconds it takes him to answer you. One, two, three, four, five, six–

“No.”

Six seconds.

“Okay.”

Tess smiles back at you.

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you

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rehenys · 7 days

Text

God, you're so handsome. ~ T.Wolff

Synopsis: Toto and George Russell's Sister are sneaking around. TW: Implied smut, Age Gap, Smoking.

God, he's so handsome in his vintage Merc and black Tom Ford glasses. With the sleeve of his black shirt casually rolled up, his muscular forearms catch the light. A wisp of smoke hangs between his parted lips as he waits for me at the end of the road, hoping my brother doesn't see us. I drop my duffle bag rushing into his arms and meeting his lips with a sinful kiss. His lustful eyes raked over my outfit, biting his lip But we both know time is of the essence.

Out on the open road of Monaco with the wind in my hair, hand on the back of my neck, just us and the ocean. His palm lays flat on my exposed thigh, mindlessly drawing shapes, his fluffy hair tousled due to the wind. His skin was glowing due to the setting sun. We pause to watch the sunset. I lean back against his chest, nestled between his long legs, with his arms wrapped around my waist and his lips against my neck. While my phone rings in the back seat.

5 missed calls from George

It's midnight, and we're tangled up in his sheets. I'm nestled against his side, his warm skin pressed against mine. His hand slowly roams my hip and waist until the teasing becomes too much. I stand over his body, holding him like a python, he canʼt keep his hands off me or his pants on. His lips whispered my name like a prayer.

16 missed calls from George

DAY 2:

In the morning light, he's still as handsome as ever, with tousled hair and sleepy eyes. I press a soft kiss to his jaw. As I try to untangle our limbs, his arms tighten around my waist. I flop back down, giving up on getting out of my safe place. After all, who needs breakfast?

Around mid-noon, we begrudgingly leave the bedroom to have ‘breakfastʼ. Who would have thought Toto Wolff would look so good making eggs? His bare torso is covered in an apron, his dexterous fingers wrapped around the whisk. I just intently stare at him making us breakfast, simply mesmerised, which he notices, he winks before giving me a bowl of strawberries to snack on. We share Crêpeʼs with whipped cream, with my feet in his lap; our lips swollen and his marble skin covered in purple splotches.

26 missed calls from George

It's the dead of night, and he sits on the sofa with his spectacles on, furiously typing away on his laptop, his hair messy from running his hand through it, his face set in a scowl. I just made his favourite Pumpernickel bread, and I have about 45 minutes to kill while it bakes. He looks too delicious right now for me to resist. I stand in front of him with an innocent smile, slowly moving his laptop away. His brown eyes crinkle with excitement, His lips find mine as I tug on his hair, gently massaging it to soothe the sting. He chuckles against my lip, his large palms sinking into my skin as my fingers nimbly unbutton his white shirt. My lips meet the skin between his neck and shoulder, his head thrown back in pleasure.

38 missed calls from George

DAY 3:

The next morning, I grab my phone while Torger is in the shower, to see a flurry of texts from my brother cussing me out, asking where I am. I calm him down, listing more lies to cover up our trial and he blindly trusts me, my heart heavy with guilt but he would never understand. I repeat it in my head like a mantra till that guilt settles when Toto takes me into his arms, kissing away my problems.

We lay on the couch as I read out loud, my hand running through his hair, his eyes fluttering shut. God, he's so handsome.

I chuckle, my darling all worn out. The simple domesticity of this week has me longing for more. we need to tell my brother, but how can I, this wasn't meant to happen but if I could go back in time I wouldn't change a thing. but my brother wouldn't understand, he has always been protective of his baby sister, and I know he would blow a fuse if he realised I was with his long-time mentor.

Our peaceful weekend had come to an end when he parked at the end of the road; back where we started, His face seemed to be set in a permanent scowl during the drive back. A chaste kiss and I walked up the road back home nodding at the security guard as he let me in giving me a sorrowful look. Stepping through the threshold of my house I switch to being the perfect sister and daughter of The Russells.

I happily greet my brother, feeding lies about my girl's weekend like I didn't spend the whole weekend in bed with his Boss and Mentor. As I head up the stairs he complements my outfit, I thank him with a soft smile but beneath that pretty pink Chanel dress he brought are the bruised hand prints of Torger Wolff with love bites to match.

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captain-mj · 5 months

Note

You had a very short tiktok series about Gaz watch a true crime documentary about the Riley Christmas murders and one regarding ale talking about how they had a “demon” take out the Zaragoza cartel.

I’ve always wanted to see that expanded on if you could?

Hey Rose!

Gaz was politely listening to something on his phone. His earbuds had died and he couldn't find his normal headphones. He wasn't allowed to use his work ones and while normally he'd do it anyway, his phone didn't have the right adapter for it.

"And the youngest son, Tommy Riley, was found shot dead with the rest of his family. The military covered it all up. There's no evidence that wasn't redacted. What could they be hiding?"

Gaz could've swore he heard Tommy Riley before. But right now, he couldn't quite place it. He could blame it on fatigue.

Ghost walked in and stood near by. He stayed silent as he watched over Gaz's shoulder.

Gaz paused, feeling himself being watched, before relaxing immediately. "Hey, Ghost."

Ghost hummed. "What are you watching?"

"True crime documentary." Gaz answered. "Want to watch with me?”

Ghost thought about it for a minute before sinking into the chair with him. "Sure. Keep playing."

Gaz turned the captions on and raised the volume just a little. Ghost watched with him, staring impassively at the screen.

"What about his oldest brother?" The second host spoke up. "You mentioned they had two sons."

"This is all we have." A family photo of a blond woman, brunette man and their two children. She looked a bit off, almost like she hadn't been expecting to take a photo. Her hand was on a little boy's shoulder. His wide brown eyes were staring at the camera. His hand was on the slightly smaller boy's arm.

"That's it?"

"Yep. Everything about him was apparently burned. No real explanation for it."

"You keep saying him. Who is him?"

"S. Riley. It's all we have. According to the people from his home town, he was unremarkable. just... some guy. For some reason it seems, his school records were burned. His history in the military was burned. And, oh yeah, his medical records, several pages long apparently, and that's just his childhood medical records, were also burned. All different fires. All within the same week." It was clear the implication and it was now hitting Ghost that this was his fucking case.

Yikes.

Gaz laughed. "Military cover up, right Ghost? They blame everything on that."

"This one actually was."

Gaz looked unsure. "You know about this?"

"Yeah. Quite a bit." Ghost got up. "Poor bastard is dead. Died a long time ago. Military just didn't want people to know their hands were in it." He got up. "Don't listen to Ghost stories too much."

As he was leaving, he could see something in Gaz's eyes. A thought.

S. Riley.

Ghost didn't have to deal with his past for a while before he and Alejandro were staking a place out. Valeria were said to be around and that was all the excuse Alejandro needed to be there.

"You ever hear about the Zaragoza cartel?" Alejandro asked, using a hushed tone. It was clear this wasn't reverence. He was baiting Ghost into asking him to tell a cautionary tale or ghost story.

Ghost grinned under his mask. "No. Tell me."

Alejandro launched into the story with a rather good amount of showmanship. There was shockingly little embellishment, but with Roba, there wasn't much need for it. He went over the torture the men, Ghost included, endured. The drugging, the assault, the beating and fighting.

"What happened to them?" Ghost asked on cue and he could see Alejandro smiling.

"A demon. Wiped them all out. Said he wore a..." Alejandro trailed off. He glanced at Ghost. He was a smart man. But when Ghost responded by tilting his head and waving him forward to continue, he seemed to realize that the British man in front of him most likely would not have been in the middle of Mexico at the time. It made no sense. "Skull mask."

"To mock Roba?"

"Rudy thinks so. I don't."

"Why do you think he wore it?"

"I think he was a dead man." Alejandro answered. He sighed softly and his eyes closed. "Forgot how boring stake outs are."

Ghost hummed. "If you want, I could take first watch? Might be good for you to go sleep."

Alejandro nodded. "Might be a good idea." He moved his stuff and managed to lay down.

"Don't let Manuel Roba bite." Ghost grinned.

Alejandro laughed and closed his eyes. Only a moment later, his eyes fluttered open. "Did I say his first name?"

"Nah. I heard of him before. Just wanted to keep you entertained." Ghost patted Alejandro's legs and stood up. He stretched and shook his own legs out before continuing to watch out the window.

Alejandro seemed to let it go.

Soap saw the scarring on Ghost's chest where the autopsies and unnecessary surgeries had gone on. Ghost thought Soap was going to vomit when he saw the extent of it. He didn't think it was because Soap thought it was gross, his scot loved the Glasgow scars on his face and had kissed the scarring on his throat with a vigor Ghost didn't understand. But more, the fact that Ghost had clearly been tortured in such horrific ways.

Soap opened his mouth and closed it a few times before swallowing. "The people wh-"

"Dead. Killed them myself, don't worry."

"They still hurt?"

"Sometimes. I've started taking care of them more and it's not as bad."

Soap traced the mortuary scars first and then the scarring over his ribs. "This feels personal."

"He hated me because I wouldn't break. Fucking Cartel." Ghost answered softly and leaned into him. "Come on. Do you really want to spend our time together doing this?" He leaned down and kissed him.

"They also make the Glasgows?"

"Yeah. The venom scarring was my dad though."

Ghost thought Soap was going to blow up at first. Instead, he just spent the rest of their time kissing all over Ghost as if he could make up for lost time.

Ghost cheekily recommended one of his documentaries to Rodolfo. It was one of the ones that dropped part of his name in it but also insisted that he was the one to murder his family in cold blood. The documentary was one of his least favorite and Ghost had spent more than a few nights after watching it staring at his ceiling, feeling sick. But it was one of the ones that was most misleading. Rudy was smart, but the doc was mixed into several others as well so it wasn't obvious.

Rodolfo didn't call him out on it, but there was something in their eyes when they bumped into each other again. He knew. Just needed a shred of evidence before outright asking Ghost if he murdered his family.

Alejandro invited everyone to his Ranch for a celebration. There was nothing to celebrate, but they all were on leave for the first time since Los Almas.

Rodolfo thanked Ghost and Gaz for the true crime documentaries they had been sending him.

Gaz, who had started to become very suspicious about this whole thing, nodded. "Yeah, thank you for the recommendations too. The Riley Family Christmas murders were an interesting one." They both glanced at Ghost.

So did Price. He was frowning, looking almost panicked. He assumed, reasonably, that this would be a triggering topic for Ghost.

Ghost laughed. "Yeah. That's a good one. Whole family, dead and mutilated. Then they find the oldest son burned somewhere else? Fucking hell." He walked away, getting one of the spiked drinks. He also made sure to pass Price to nod at him. Price got worried and he didn't want him.

Alejandro started the tale about the Zaragoza Cartel to everyone and Soap listened to the methods of torture.

"Wait. Did you say they'd... autopsy them? While alive?"

Alejandro grinned, thinking Soap was just into the nitty gritty details. "Yeah. It was so they could put drugs directly into their organs."

"Huh... Ghost, did they do that to you? The drugging I mean."

Pause.

A pin drop could be heard.

"Yeah. Nasty hallucinogens."

"Huh. Wonder if the two groups had the same idea."

Price was catching on and he quickly glanced at Ghost who gave him The Nod. Politely, he waited until Alejandro was done before asking. "You hear about the people that escaped?"

"Yeah of course. All brainwashed though. They were half insane."

"You hear about the one that did though? Truly escaped? He was an SAS member. Vicious young Sergeant at the time. I was his Lieutenant." Price took a drink. Unlike Alejandro, there was no showmanship. No excitement. Instead, there was a string of sadness.

"S. Riley. I remember finding his patch. Right next to a bunch of bloody dog tags. Roba knew I was following him and he wanted me to know he hurt or killed some of my members. Fucking bastard."

There was a sharp moment. Everyone was putting things together.

"Riley escaped. They found him, mostly dead, wandering the border. We brought our boy home along with some of those brainwashed bastards. Didn't know they'd be targeting civilians."

Gaz gasped so loud Rodolfo jumped. "The military coverup."

"I told you not to listen to Ghost stories." Ghost smiled, taking a drink.

Price hummed. "You know, Simon. I was scared when you went missing a second time. Until I heard that cartel had been wiped off the map and I found you knee deep in bodies."

"Aye. They made one mistake that evening. Just one."

Soap asked the question, right on cue, even if he didn't know it. "Just one?"

'Yeah. Really shouldn't have killed my mom. Might've let a few of them live if they hadn't."

"Mary was a lovely lady." Price clicked their bottles together. "Raised a lovely son."

"You recommended us documentaries over your own family's murders??"

"I have to keep myself entertained somehow."

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #captain price

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webslingingslasher · 3 months

Note

if trouble needed peter during the breakup do you think she’d still be able to call?

yes. and i will now expand, thank u.

peter stares down at his phone, it's not that he's against answering, it's that he doesn't think you meant to call him. or maybe you're drunk and want to berate him.

either way he'd hear your voice and that would be really nice.

'hello?'

'hey.'

okay, you meant to call him. you don't sound drunk, you sound sad.

'everything okay?'

a slight muffle, you switch ears. 'no, not really. i'm lost.'

'on what?' you breathe out a laugh, peter smiles.

'no, actually lost. i was... i'm sorry, i don't mean to hit you where it hurts but i was out with this guy and he ditched me and i have no fucking idea where i am and my phone's about to die.'

peter's quiet, he's all you have right now.

'you're my only hope, obi-wan.' a cheap shot at help, peter appreciates the effort.

'it's- help me, obi-wan kenobi, you're my only hope.'

your turn to smile. 'close enough.'

peter slowly moves around, patting down his pockets to make sure he has everything. 'it's late, trouble. why were you ditched?'

you laugh, but it's not funny. 'you know, it sucks to say that you're the only guy that never threw a temper tantrum when i didn't wanna fuck.'

ouch, a slight sting. it feels better to know it didn't happen, painful to think it could. 'at least i was good at something.'

'well... you weren't terrible at the sex either. you were good enough you scared me from getting it anywhere else, don't know if you can say the same.'

peter closes his eyes when he breathes in, you haven't hooked up with anyone else either. 'if you're asking, no, i haven't hooked up with anyone.'

'i didn't ask.' ah, that's what peter was waiting for. the bait of a question, to turn around and pretend you didn't care what the answer was. peter knows you're just as relieved that he hasn't either.

'where am i going, trouble?' you give him street names, his heart stutters. it's far, it's late, and it's definitely not safe.

'you're outside? nowhere for you to go?'

'when i say ditched, i mean it. if it wasn't so weird i'd ask you to kick his ass.' peter kind of wants you to ask, he'd do it gladly. and half of it wouldn't even be because he left you hanging.

'how much battery do you have left?' a brief pause, you're checking.

'three percent.'

peter hates what he's about to say, but hates the idea of you with a dead phone even more. 'okay, hang up and i'll come find you.' for a second he thinks you did, until you push out the real reason you called him.

'i'm scared.' so you called him, your protector, your safety blanket.

'i'm coming, i promise.' he's already out of the house, walking one half of the way and he'll cut his time in half by swinging the rest. 'ten minutes, maybe less. i might even break out a light jog for you.'

you look around, there's no one. it feels even more eerie, you're still on three percent. 'do i really have to hang up?' leaving out the 'i need to hear your voice to make everything okay.'

'i want you to save what you have, just in case.'

'okay.' it's not, you can feel your chest tighten and the urge to cry. everything sucks and you just really want peter which somehow makes things simultaneously worse and better.

'hey, peter?' you think you'll regret it.

'yeah?'

'can i spend the night?' you count the seconds. two.

'yeah, of course. always. anytime, you know that.'

you smile, he's still your peter. 'thank you. and thanks for coming to save me.'

'it's kind of my job, some even call me a hero.'

'okay, obi-wan.'

'more like spider-man.'

'oh, you're so full of yourself. you wish you were spider-man.'

peter kisses his teeth, 'no, i really am.'

'then spider-man better come save me in five minutes, otherwise what's the point?'

'oh? is that the way i win you back?'

it's not so jokey anymore, in fact peter thinks your phone died. but no, still connected. before he can say that he wasn't thinking and that he's sorry and he was joking you answer him.

'i don't think it would hurt.'

#frat!peter blurbs

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yes-divine-ruler · 11 months

Text

Babysitting for the Detective - Colin Zabel

x fem!reader

CW: age gap, fingering, sex

wc: 4.6k

Colin was stumped on what to do. He'd been called in to work for a potentially big lead on the case they were working on, but he had no one to help look after his son. His mother had gone away and his usual babysitter had left town for summer break. His choices were close to none, until he called the only person he thought he could to get some advice.

"Hey Zabel," Mare didn't seem phased by the late night call, Colin knew she was already in the office.

"Hey.. Mare.. I need some help. It's about Mikey," Colin rubbed the side of his face as he sat across from Mikey in his rocker, who was asleep and tightly swaddled.

"Oh shit, is he okay?" Colin could hear Mare getting up in a hurry and leaving her office.

"Yes! Yes he's okay," Colin quickly convinced Mare so she wouldn't rush to his house, "I just don't have anyone to look after him tonight, I know we've made a potential lead and you all need me at the station."

"Oh right," Mare paused for a moment to get her breath back, "There's a girl I know.." Mare pauses again, a lump forming in her throat, "used to be good friends with.."

"Mare? Are you okay?" Colin clutched the phone to his ear, noticing her change in tone.

"Yeah sorry. Anyway, there's a girl I know who can look after Mikey for you, she's just a college kid, but real good with Drew when she comes around, I can call her?"

Colin sighed a breath of relief knowing he could trust Mare, and that he didn't have to let his team down.

"That would be great, give her my address if she's free, I'll meet her and then I'll come down," despite his relief, Colin still had to make sure this girl was someone he could see looking after his baby.

"Sure, call you back," the line went dead, and Colin put down his phone.

Mikey still slept peacefully in his rocker as Colin took a second to glance at him. It wasn't easy being a single working father, who had the constant pressure of wanting to be perfect for his son. He wanted to be home with him all the time, watch his son grow up, but he couldn't without making a living. A living he needed to give his son the best life he could.

Colin got up off the couch and walked towards sleeping Mikey. He reached down and picked up the rocker as carefully as he could, and relocated him to the doorway of his bathroom.

Colin took the opportunity to shower and get ready for work, keeping an eye on Mikey as he stood under the running water.

Mare had left a message for him in the meantime, saying the girl was free, her name was Y/N and she'd be around in 10 minutes. Colin didn't get the message until he stepped out of the shower, and then the doorbell rung.

"Shit," Colin cursed, wrapping a towel around his dripping body, trying to figure out what to do next.

When the doorbell rang a second time, Colin had no choice but to rush to the door, already feeling bad he needed your help last minute and was making you wait.

Trying not to slip on the floorboards, Colin rushed to the door, opening it only a few inches to peek his head out.

"Hi! I'm Y/N, Mare told me you needed a babysitter?"

Colin was too busy staring at you, he almost forgot to reply. Hell, he never thought he'd set his eyes on someone so beautiful in his life. Feeling his heart pick up pace, he clears his throat to distract himself and opens the door wider.

You were just as much in shock to see the town's detective in nothing but a towel. His wet hair covered his forehead and little droplets of water covered the expanse of his chest. He was so much younger than you'd imagined, and also a lot more attractive.

"Sorry! Yes, come in," Colin invites you inside and shuts the door behind you.

"Also I have to apologise for coming to the door in just a towel, time has been tight tonight," Colin shoots you a sheepish smile as you awkwardly stand in his front passageway.

"Mikey's just in my bedroom, I'll get dressed and bring him out," you nod with a small smile, and watch Colin's back as he rushes back towards his bedroom.

Making yourself comfortable, you sit on his sofa with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. Your eyes wonder Colin's living room. You notice that, based on the lack of furniture and decor, he was living here alone with Mikey. Toys were sprawled across a small, blue play mat and soda cans littered the coffee table. Looking further into the kitchen, you noticed a pile of dishes by the sink and an abundance of empty feeding bottles. You could just sense from his home that Colin was overwhelmed, and it made you glad you could help him.

"Here he is! He's awake!" Colin appears from his bedroom holding his son close to his chest, now clothed in a simple blue button up and black dress pants. You kinda missed the towel.

You took a moment to allow Colin to come over to you, and shortly he sat down beside you. You lean in closer to get a glance at Mikey's little face.

"He's the cutest baby I've ever seen!" You shriek in excitement, reaching out and slotting your finger in his palm.

Mikey babbles and let's out a small giggle as you make a face at him. Colin's heart only picks up pace seeing how good you are already with his son. He knows Mikey is in safe hands.

Mikey leans back and sits on Colin's lap. Colin keeps his hands around him as he bobs him on his knee.

"Yeah he's pretty perfect," Colin chuckles, leaving a small kiss on Mikey's head, "he's a pretty easy baby, luckily for me."

Mikey's wide eyes stare into yours, and your heart almost bursts. Surprisingly to Colin, he leans over and opens his arms out for you to hold him.

"Is it okay if..?" You ask, biting down on your bottom lip as Mikey begins to fuss.

"Oh! Yeah of course! He's never usually this friendly with anyone else," Colin lets out a small laugh as he passes Mikey to you.

Mikey takes to you immediately, resting his small chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your neck. You have to stop yourself from squealing from how cute this little boy is.

"Okay so, I'll be out for the night, I'll be back at about ten-thirty," Colin stands as he begins to explain Mikey's routine, "He had his bath at five, and I fed him his bottle, so really all I need is for him to be put to bed in his crib."

You nod along as Colin shows you where the bottles are kept in case he wakes up hungry and explains anything else you need to know, including where Mikey's bedroom is down the hall.

"There's some snacks in the fridge, help yourself to anything you want, or order in, here's a twenty for now," Colin takes a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and sets it on the kitchen counter.

"Thank you," you say finally, as Colin collects his work files and keep cup.

"No, thank you! I know this is short notice and I appreciate you coming out to help," Colin reaches out and brushes his hand across your upper arm in gratitude. His touch has your face heat up, and you hope he doesn't notice.

"I'll see you in a few hours, thank you again!" Colin leans over and plants a kiss on Mikey's head and before you know it, he's escaping out the front door.

"Okay little guy," you rock Mikey in your arms, "let's play and then I'll tuck you in."

Colin got home just after ten-thirty. The thought of his babysitter was distracting him more than he'd like it to. He spent most of the night with the same image of you standing at his front door playing over and over in his head. He didn't know what is was about you that was so captivating, apart from your undeniable beauty. Part of him wondered if it was just your willingness to help that had him all worked up. Or the fact that Mikey had taken a liking to you straight away, like some weird sign from the universe.

When Colin finally made his way inside, he set everything down in the kitchen. His eyebrows knit together as he scoured the living room, expecting to see you on his couch. In the process, he noticed his house was a lot tidier than it was when he left. You'd taken the time to clean up for him. The pile of dishes were gone, and the soda cans were all in the trash. Colin ran his finger tip along the top of the microwave. Spotless. Not an ounce of dust on any surface. As if you could get any better.

Colin lays down his coat, and heads to Mikey's room first. He opens the door and sees little Mikey on his tummy in his sleep suit, soundly asleep in his crib. Colin breathes a sigh of relief seeing his son tucked up in bed, and closes the door softly behind him.

On his mission to find you, he stops short at his bedroom door. Illuminated by the light in the hallway, he finally sees you, sprawled across his bed and snoring softly. Colin chuckles to himself, and his pushes the door open wider, letting more light in. He'd hate to wake you up, but knew you had to get home, and he had to go to bed.

The light from the hallway filtering into the bedroom was enough to stir you from your sleep. You groan and rub the sleep from your eyes. Something hard pressed against your chest, and feeling for it, you realise you'd fallen asleep cuddling the baby monitor.

"Hey, you awake?" You hear Colin's voice from the doorway and you sit up immediately. Shit. You weren't supposed to fall asleep, especially not in his bed.

"Oh! Colin, I'm so sorry I didn't-" Colin laughs and steps into the room.

"Can I turn the light on?" He asks with grin, and after you nod your head, he switches it on.

You eyes squint as they adjust to the harsh overhead lighting. Colin leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, clearly amused you’d found your way into his bed and fell asleep.

You get up quickly, readjusting your shirt as you stand by the bed. Colin says nothing, watching you reorganise yourself to leave.

“I’m really sorry, your bed just looked so comfy,” you say with a small laugh, praying that he wouldn’t mind.

Colin just laughs and nods his head.

“No no, it’s totally fine, I don’t mind at all,” he bites down on his bottom lip, his gaze filtering over your outfit. The tiniest shorts he’d ever seen. And he didn’t mind it.

“Okay, I guess I should get going?” You ask as if it’s a question, looking up into his dark eyes. They glaze over with something you don’t quite recognise. Colin was trying his hardest to keep himself together. He hadn’t had another person in his bed since he split with his fiancé. It was definitely a sight for sore eyes, and brought on so many emotions. Not like he wasn’t already totally captivated with you to begin with.

“I’ll go get your money,” Colin finally speaks, backing out of the room and back towards his belongings in the kitchen.

“Oh shit!” You curse under your breath, rummaging through your bag for your house keys. It looks like you left them at home, and you know for a fact there was no other way you could get inside. Not until the morning anyway, when you could ring your landlord.

“Everything okay?” Colin appears beside you, holding a fifty-dollar bill.

“Um yeah- sorry. I just- I forgot my stupid house keys,” you ramble, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you continue to search through every compartment of your bag, hoping they would appear. How embarrassing.

“You didn’t leave them anywhere else, did you?” Colin asks sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

“Ugh- I don’t know! I don’t remember ever taking them out of my bag,” you shake your head in frustration, and drop the bag back onto the sofa.

“Hey don’t worry about it, do you live with anyone? Anyone we can call?” He was quick to try and work up a solution, like a good detective, but they wouldn’t fix the problem. Not at this time of night.

“I live alone, and my landlord won’t be available until the morning,” you explain wearily, slowly accepting the fact that you might need to camp out in your car for the night.

“Look, you can always stay here if you’d like?” Colin offers, nervously rubbing up and down his upper arm, “it’s late, and it’s not super safe to drive out there right now.”

“No no! I would hate to intrude! Honestly my car is fine,” you laugh nervously, picking up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Just stay here, take the bed even. Honestly, it’ll be my pleasure.”

You stare up at Colin as a smile spreads across his face.

“I know you think it’s comfy,” he teases with a sing-song tone.

You let out a small laugh as you consider it. It’s not like it’s a wild idea, you were already there. And he was right, it’s not the best time to be driving home anyway. Or to sleep in your car.

“Are you sure? I’ll definitely be on the couch,” you ask with hesitation.

“I’m positive. Look, I’ll go get changed, and then we can sit out here for a bit so you don’t feel so uneasy staying at a weird man’s house,” Colin jokes, pointing a thumb towards his bedroom.

“Okay, I don’t think you’re weird,” you say with a laugh.

“Okay good, I’ll be back,” Colin leaves towards his bedroom and closes the door.

You sit back down on the sofa, wondering what the fuck just happened, and why you couldn’t just remember to bring your house keys. In the meantime, Colin’s heart raced as he changed out of his work clothes. He didn’t know why he was so quick to offer for you to stay over. Was it to spend more time with you? He tried to persuade himself to tone it down. He was convinced you could see the way he looked at you. He didn’t want to come off as some creep.

Unbeknownst to him, you didn’t think Colin was a creep. You didn’t know much about him, but you felt safe with him regardless. Maybe it was because he was a cop. Or a single dad. He wasn’t a threat, he was more like a big, cuddly bear.

A sexy, big, cuddly bear wrapped waist down in nothing but a towel and with the most handsome face you’d ever seen.

Colin appears in the living room again in a pair of sweats and plain white t-shirt. You caught a whiff of his cologne as he passed by you, and the smell pleasantly filled your nose. He even smelt delicious.

“So,” Colin sits down beside you, “how did everything with Mikey go? Was he good?”

“He was an angel,” you gush, holding your face in your hands, “he went straight to bed with no trouble at all. He hasn’t stirred since.”

“Yeah he’s a great baby, I’m so fortunate I get a full 8 hours most nights,” Colin laughs softly.

“How was work?” You ask tentatively, unsure how much he could actually share, especially with the classified job he did.

“Yeah it was alright, we got a lot of work done on the case. Again, I’m so grateful you could make it over tonight,” Colin praises, offering you a big smile.

“It’s my pleasure, I barely had to do anything!”

“You cleaned the whole house! That definitely wasn’t nothing!”

You blush as you look down at your hands. He was really nice, it made you feel all tingly.

“It was no trouble at all, I’m happy I got to help out.”

The conversation only grew from there. You spoke about college, how Colin ended up in Easttown, and shared stories about your lives. Colin ended up opening up about his ex fiancé after grabbing a couple of beers. You sympathised with him, resting a hand on his knee to show your support.

“It was over long before it ended. I just haven’t had the time to get back out there. Plus, most women aren’t jumping at the chance to date a single dad,” Colin jokes, but his mind is distracted by the hand you’d placed on his knee. The heat from your palm radiated onto his skin. It sent weird shocks of electricity up his spine.

“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re a great guy. Any girl would be lucky to have you and Mikey in their lives,” you look up into Colin’s eyes, your hand still on his knee.

The room falls silent as you stare intensely into each-other’s eyes. There was an obvious sexual tension between the two of you, that neither of you were smart enough to acknowledge. Or maybe Colin was just choosing to ignore it.

Colin eventually clears his throat, ending the moment to look down at his watch.

“I guess I should get to bed, I didn’t even realise it was past twelve.”

“Oh shit, really?” You laugh, “I’m so sorry, get to bed.”

“Oh I’m sleeping here miss, you get the bed,” Colin gets up and leaves to his bedroom. He comes out with a pillow and a blanket.

Shocked he’d even offer his bed up, you shake your head, not willing to accept that.

“No way, you have a big boy job, that requires big boy sleep. I’m on the couch,” you say firmly, taking the pillow and blanket from his hands.

Colin scoffs, and with a mischievous smirk, snatched the pillow and blanket back.

“No I will not have a lady sleep on my couch, get in the bed before I lose it,” he jokes, sitting back down on the couch.

Standing before him, you huff and lunge to grab at the pillow again. But being unsteady on your feet, you fall forwards, right into his lap. Horrified at yourself, you try and get up, to only rub your chest up against his face by accident.

Colin’s eyes widen as he processes the very accidental, but very fortunate, series of events that just unfolded.

Your face burns red as you steady yourself again on your feet. You just shoved your tits in this poor man’s face!

“I am so sorry, I did not mean to do that,” you giggle nervously, “I’ll just go to bed.”

“Hey,” Colin reaches out and grabs onto your arm to stop you. For the millionth time that night alone, you catch yourself in a trance as you stare into his eyes.

“I didn’t mind it, not one bit,” Colin takes a stab in the dark and doesn’t let go of your arm in the process.

When you don’t reply, he lets out a small sigh.

“You’re really beautiful, anyone ever tell you that?”

Your lips curve into a small smile as the embarrassment dies down. How was he so good at making you feel all hot and flustered? He was so sickly sweet. In the best way possible.

“Not really,” you mumble, as Colin’s hand travels down your arm until eventually, he grabs onto your hand.

“Well, you are, I mean it,” he breathes out, his lips parting only slightly.

Your gaze flickers between his lips and his eyes. They almost look like they’re begging. Begging to be taken by yours in the nastiest, most sensual of kisses.

What washed over you? You don’t know. But you lean down and connect your lips to the detective’s. The detective you just babysat for. The sexiest damn detective you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Your haste decision pays off as Colin kisses you back. His hands hungrily reach out for your hips, and he pulls you down into his lap. Your knees straddle either side of his thighs.

Colin is hard almost instantly. It had been so long since he’d kissed someone, let alone had someone sit in his lap. He didn’t care about anything else right now but you on top of him. He was totally enraptured by you.

It showed as his tongue darted out of his mouth to part your lips. You eagerly let him in, settling your hands on his broad shoulders and squeezing softly. Your hips involuntarily grind down into the bulge in his sweats as he tilts his head to the side to get a better angle at your mouth. Colin moans softly into the kiss, his grip on your hips only tightening.

Your mind goes blank as your fingers bundle up his shirt. All you wanted was to get it off. Just to see that sculpted chest again. No matter how inappropriate this might be right now.

The kiss breaks momentarily as Colin tugs his shirt above his head. His lips are back on yours in an instant, and your fingertips explore the expanse of his bare skin.

“Fuck,” Colin mutters out of the kiss, as you grind your hips down into him a second time.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, his lips red and swollen as he asks your permission.

“Yes, please,” you say quickly, connecting your lips back to Colin’s like they were a drug.

Colin slides you off his lap, laying you down on your back on the sofa. His big, warm hands ride up your shirt until you bring it over your head. His kisses litter your jawline, and then down your neck. He’s slots between your open legs, his bulge positioned deliciously against your heat. You pulse in need for him. This was not how you were expecting things to go, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Colin unclasps your bra and tosses it onto the floor. He immediately takes one of your taunt nipples in his mouth, suckling on his gently. Your back arches up off the sofa as the first little moan leaves your lips. Colin’s cock twitches just hearing the sound. He needed more.

Your shorts are next to go, leaving you in only your panties. Your fingers tangle in Colin’s hair as he runs as a fingers up your clothed slit. A small wet patch taints the fabric.

“Colin,” his name rolls of your tongue with urgency.

Colin let’s out a breathy laugh, circling your clothed clit under the pad of his thumb. He applies just enough pressure to have the heat build between your legs and knots form in your stomach.

His fingers slip into the waistband of your panties next, pulling them off your legs. The sight of you left bare in front of him almost has him salivating.

“How is every part of you so damn fucking perfect?” He growls, applying pressure back on your clit.

Breathy moans escape your parted lips as your eyes fall shut. Colin takes the chance to spit directly on your little bundle of nerves before he’s circling against it again.

“That feels so good,” you pant, your nails scraping his scalp.

“You’re so wet baby, fuck,” Colin’s fingers dip down to your sopping entrance. It glistens with your sweet, sticky arousal.

“Yes! Yes oh my god,” you whine as Colin uses his middle finger to part your folds and sink inside you. His finger thrusts in knuckle deep, filling you up between your plushy walls. He thrusts it slowly, rubbing up time and time again against your sweet spot. Every nudge against it has your whimpering and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. When he adds a second finger, he curls them up into the spot he felt swells to his touch.

“Oh fuck! Right there!” Your eyes open as Colin begins to pick up the pace of his fingers, teasing your sweet spot blissfully.

His thumb rests against your throbbing clit again, rubbing small circles in sync with his thrusting fingers. Pleasure overwhelms all your senses. Your thighs begin to shake around his hand as a strong wave of intense bliss washes over you. Colin groans as you come undone, watching your perky breasts bounce as you fuck yourself against his fingers, riding out your orgasm.

Heaving to get your breath back, you lay still while Colin crawls on top of you, admiring the way your eyes glaze over in post-orgasm elation. He tugs down his sweats and boxers, letting his erection spring out from its confines.

You take it immediately in your hand, not surprised by his girth. You knew he’d stretch you to your limits, and you were more than ready.

You stroke him in your palm, lathering his length in his viscous pre cum.

“I need to feel you,” Colin begs, capturing your lips in another sloppy kiss.

“Then fuck me, detective,” a sick smile spread across your face as you guide his cock towards your soaked entrance, pushing his tip between your folds.

Colin’s eye widen in pleasant surprise. Never had he ever have someone call him detective in bed. And god, did he love it.

“Oh I will sweetheart,” Colin pushes his cock between your pulsing walls, and you invite him in with ease. Your tight cunt swallows every inch he has to offer you.

“Fuck!” He hisses, bottoming out inside you, “my god, your pussy is so fucking tight.”

Your fingers claw at his bare shoulders as he begins to thrust his hips. Colin brings your knees to your chest. He fills you to the brim over and over, angling his hips in a way that pushes him inside you deeper than ever before.

Colin wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you close as he snaps his hips against yours. A scream nearly leaves your throat as his tip brushes against your sweet spot.

“Shhhh,” Colin breathes into your ear, “Mikey’s sleeping.”

Your lips press together in a tight line to stop yourself from waking him up this late at night. You try your hardest to contain yourself as Colin continues to bury himself impossibly deeper inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck- I’m gonna cum,” Colin pants into your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. He was so fucking hot.

Your fingernails run up his back.

“Cum for me, detective,” you whisper seductively into his ear.

Colin is quick to pull out, stroking himself to completion all over your dripping cunt. The image of his hand wrapped tightly around his cock and the sound of his moans as he finishes will forever be imprinted in your brain.

You hold your legs to your chest as his cum begins to seep from your cunt, basking in the moment for a little while longer.

Colin uses his shirt to scoop up his cum and throws it onto the floor. He runs a hand through his tousled hair as you lay sprawled on his sofa.

“Fuck that was…” he trails off, resting a hand on your knee as you rest your feet in his lap.

“Incredible,” you finish for him, giggling as he laughs in disbelief.

“You’re right, incredible is definitely the word.”

“So much for just babysitting huh?” You cheek, sitting up and sitting close to him.

“Looking after Mikey and daddy, aren’t you a good girl,” he teases, leaning over to press another kiss to your cheek.

@evanpetersfansblog @kitwalkersgfff @quicksilversg1rl @iruzias @alexxavicry @soaringcloud @laynna-mcknight @humdrumexistence @simp4petermaximoff @evan4ever @paujmr r @jangsuzchap @meganxfox @divineruler @spill-the-t

#evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters requests #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters smut #evan peters imagine #evan peters x reader #american horror story #2nd person pov #fem!reader #colin zabel smut #colin zabel x reader #colin zabel #mare of easttown smut #mare of easttown #colin mare of easttown

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softspiderling · 1 month

Text

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You rarely had a night by yourselves most days.

Majority of them, you were either hanging out with Rafe, yours or his place, didn’t really make a difference, or you were out with your friends.

This Saturday night, you were by yourself, a rare occasion.

Rafe and Sarah were in Charleston with their family for some charity that Rose was a part of. When Rafe first invited you to come, you declined, saying you’d rather stay home and hang with your friends or something (he was huffing and puffing about it for hours afterwards, until you made it up to him). When the weekend came around, you realized that all of your friends seemed to be busy: Cleo and Pope were driving out to fish with his parents and made a whole weekend out of it, John B and JJ went to Hatteras island for some surfing competition and Kie had to help her parents at the Wreck because they were hosting an event.

John B and JJ had invited you to tag along, but you a: you weren’t a good enough of a surfer to participate in the competition and b: you didn’t want to sit at the beach by yourself while the boys were in the water. You had half a mind to take up Rafe for the invitation to the charity but it was extremely last minute and you didn’t have anything to wear so you scratched that idea and came to terms with spending your Saturday night by yourself.

Since the event at the Wreck didn’t start until 7, you spent the day hanging out there with Kie, snacking on some fries, drinking your weight in iced tea and texting Rafe until you had to leave to let Kie prep for the event.

you: i’m actually so bored, i’m starting to regret not coming with you 😞

rafe❤️: told you to come, didn’t i?

rafe❤️: shows that you should always listen to me.

you: pfff, please, that is not the moral of the story.

you: maybe i’ll just go to a party 🤪

rafe❤️: funny.

You tossed your phone on the couch and ran your hand through your air, sighing in frustration. As you reached for your phone again for mindless scrolling, your eye caught onto your nails, and you paused. You hadn’t done your nails in a while, mostly because you were so busy. But now would be the perfect opportunity. So you got all your nail polishes and tools out of your closet and started on prep.

About four hours later you still weren’t done. You spent the first hour on looking for inspiration on Pinterest and then the next half hour booting up Netflix so you had something to watch while you were doing your nails. Your iced coke was chilling on the table, the UV lamp curing the last layer of polish on your right hand before you could finish with top coat. Your phone was long dead, but you were too lazy to get up from the table to plug it in, your back killing you from sitting hunched over your table for so long. Yawning, you put on the top coat on your last nail before sticking your hand under the lamp, ready to fall go to bed right after you were done. Now you remembered why you hadn’t done your nails for a while. After you were finished, you packed all the things away, plugged your phone into the charger and passed out in bed.

You woke up with a start, disoriented for a second. It felt like you’d been asleep for barely an hour, but you were unsure what woke you from the slumber, when the door bell rang again.

“What the hell,” you muttered to yourself, throwing a sweater over before you padded downstairs, hearing that the person at the door has begun to knock excessively.

“Jesus Christ, I’ll be right there!” you called, hurrying down the stairs. You glanced through the window, trying to see what psycho was ringing on your doorbell in the middle of the night, just to see Rafe standing in front of the door, clearly upset.

You opened the door, barely getting a word in before he rushed inside, grabbing your arms.

“Rafe, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked hotly, staring at you before looking you up and down. “Who have you been with? Why the fuck didn’t you text me back?”

You were starting to get anxious from his behavior and you cupped his face. “Rafe, stop. Breathe. What happened?”

Rafe took a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a second.

“You haven’t replied to a text since like before eight, and your last message was about going to a party. I thought something had happened,” he gritted out. “No one was able to reach you and my calls weren’t getting through to you.”

You exhaled deeply. “God, I thought something happened to Sarah. I’m fine, babe. I was doing my nails and my phone died,” you explained, lifting your hand to show off your nails. Rafe looked at him, his eyes narrowed.

“Pretty,” he grunted, before wrapping his arms around you. “Never do that again.”

As you hugged him, you could feel the tension bleed out from his limbs and you couldn’t help but smile into his shirt.

“You’re crazy, Rafe. As if I would ever go to a party by myself,” you huffed, pulling away to look up at him. “How did you even get here so fast? I thought you guys were supposed to spend the night in Charleston.”

Rafe clenched his jaw. “I took the boat. Ward is super pissed off because I left them stranded.”

You bit back a laugh, only shaking your head at your boyfriend.

“You’re such a worrier, I was asleep.”

“Yeah, well, how the fuck was I supposed to know that?” he muttered, pulling you back into his arms.

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author's note: quick lil drabble bc i thought of how unreachable i am when doing my nails

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #obx #outer banks #drew starkey

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diorchids · 2 months

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tuck you in, rafe cameron.

dead dove do not eat, non-con, stepcest, stepbro!rafe, fem!reader, fingering, ‘little sister’ used, reader is an adult

a/n: i wrote this while sick, please ignore any errors

stepbro!rafe seeing you at a party all drunk while you stumbled through the masses, drink in hand.

you grumble each time a heel strikes your foot, trying to find your balance but failing to do so. how could you when there’s people everywhere?

rafe stood in a corner with his red solo cup, swishing it around while he kept his eye on you. he couldn’t trust you all by yourself — way too dangerous for his little sister.

he occasionally turned and smiled at his guys before walking behind you stealthily.

your legs trembled in the bathroom as you used the counter to steady yourself, dress ridden up to your hips while salty tears rolled down your face.

you were too tired to party, attempting to dance while other guys’ bodies tried to rub up against you.

you sniffled before wiping your face free of saline beads.

rafe knew you were crying, standing outside of the bathroom door that was creaked open just enough to get a small glimpse at the right angle.

you stepped out before deciding to walk home, your neighborhood was safe after all — mostly.

“where the hell are you going?” a familiar voice came from behind you before a hand was planted on your hip. your big brother.

“rafe… m’gonna h-head home,” you tried to get a bit closer, only stumbling before he put his other hand on your hip. he looked down at you, scanning your disheveled figure before you spoke again, “too loud in here.”

he removed his hands from your hips and tilted his head slightly, looking confused before shaking his head, “what are you talkin’ about? it’s perfectly fuckin’ fine in here — stop being a bitch all the time,” he sneered.

the word stung a bit, he’d always call you that when you opted on staying in. you paused for a second, and slurred your words to him, “i can walk home, rafe, don’t call me a bitch, m’just tired,” you trailed off, feeling guilty you made him get all mad. “i have to get home.”

“no," he stated simply, leaning against the doorframe. "you don't have to go anywhere. if you wanna leave, i’ll drive us both home." he says coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

you look at him with your teary eyes before blinking back the tears and nodding. “‘kay. i’ll — get in the car.”

you know when to shut up.

he grabbed your wrist roughly, pulling you closer to him. "wait," he said finally. "i’ll walk you." he wasn’t being kind, just making sure you didn’t do anything stupid.

rafe dragged you roughly down the hallway, making sure to keep a firm grip on your arm as he navigated through the house. he led you outside to his car and opened the passenger door for you. "stay there," as he walked back inside.

he came back outside a few minutes later, pockets a bit fuller.

you were still a mess, the liquor giving you no mercy as you sat in the passenger seat with your knees to your chest.

the ride was silent, rafe occasionally glancing over at you and snapping to keep you from dozing off. “wake up. not sleepin’ in here tonight.”

you just barely made it out the car before rafe picked you up, throwing your trembling frame over his shoulder with his hand wrapped around your back.

he eventually put you down in the house before you managed to get up the stairs, getting to your bed and flopping down as your dress rode up.

rafe stood behind you as his eyes roamed your slumped figure — it’s sad, you could barely move. he had to be a good big brother and tuck you in, though.

he couldn't help but feel a twisted mix of lust and anger as he looked at you. he stalked closer to your body and leaned down, and his rough, warm hand touched your inner thigh.

rafe groaned under his breath at the sight of you — so ready for your big brother to take you right here.

he rubbed your puffy nub through your panties while you subconsciously pushed your cunt back onto his finger.

“rafey… stop…” you managed to get out. you couldn’t stop pushing yourself onto his fingers, you knew you wanted this.

his fingers pulled your panties back a bit, just enough to get his fingers in there.

his fingers plunged right into your tight cunt, small spurts of juices spilling out to accommodate him stretching you out so quickly.

his other hand came down hard on your exposed ass cheek, smacking the soft flesh before gripping it and pulling it away, spreading.

“fuckin’ disgusting. stupid bitch, bet you wanted your brother touching you like this, wearin’ this slutty ass dress.” he spoke loudly, and you winced at the thought of your parents hearing.

his hand spanked your ass again, “wanted me n’you like this? daddy doesn’t know your brothers finger-fuckin’ your pussy like this, huh?” he was condescending. a fucking dick.

tears streamed down your face and onto your blanket as you shook your head and whimpered, “mmf! get offa me, no rafe!”

he tutted and shook his head as you curled your freshly painted toes, ass trembling as he hit that spongy spot inside of you. “stop fucking moving.”

his fingers thrusted in and out of your resisting cunt that only welcome him with sweet juices flowing. he smacked your plush ass once more as he moved a bit faster when you tense around his fingers.

you tried hard to hold back, he’ll give you that.

your cunt gushed around his fingers, betraying your thoughts, giving into him.

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #outerbanks rafe #rafe x you #obx x reader #dead dove do not eat #tw stepcest

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stop-talking · 2 months

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So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 1)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, angst, enemies, enemies to lovers, (very) slowburn, no pre-established relationship, sass, banter, misogynistic & violent undertones, (Derek is a prick), suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, overall mature content.

Part 2

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Derek hadn't even stepped foot into his family's beach house, and he could already tell something was off.

He hesitates on the porch, waiting for someone to scurry out and greet him, to take his bags and carry them inside. He waits a minute. He waits two minutes. No one comes.

"Daddy's home!" He calls out to the house as he kicks open the door, a truly unnecessary gesture.

Silence.

What the hell? Did he get the dates mixed up?

Derek grumbles to himself as he rolls his suitcase inside. Where the hell is the staff? Even if the butler had fucked off somewhere, there should at least be a maid or two nearby. What gives?

He takes a quick hit of his vape to calm his nerves as he sets off down a hall, determined to chew out the first person he sees. They should know better than to keep a Danforth waiting.

"The fuck?"

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees you, lounging on the couch and reading a book.

"Hey, been waiting for you." You say, not even bothering to put the book down and look him in the eyes. That alone makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Alarms are blaring in his head. Something isn't right.

"Who the hell are you?" He snarls, plopping down to sit in a plush chair opposite of the couch.

"You don't recognize me?"

This makes him pause again. He studies your face as you set down the book and straighten yourself on the couch. You do look familiar.

"You're my mom's little assistant, aren't you?" He laughs when he finally pieces it together. That's a relief. Does that mean his mom is here after all?

You try to correct him and introduce yourself properly, with a name. Derek just brushes you off, propping his legs up on the coffee table and relaxing back into the chair.

"Alright sweetheart, care to tell me what's is going on here? Where's my mom?" His tone is sickeningly sweet, condescending even.

"She won't be coming. It's just us."

Derek almost laughs again, but when he sees your deadpan expression, he freezes.

"Come again?"

"Aww, did your mommy not give you all the details, Derek?" You respond, matching his condescension with your own.

Okay, that's it. He sits up and plants his feet firmly on the hardwood floor, making a rather loud thud with his snakeskin boots.

"Tell me what's going on. Now." Derek narrows his eyes in what he hopes is an intimidating glare, then takes another puff of his vape and blows it at you from across the coffee table.

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You make a sour face and wave away the cloud of mango-scented nicotine. He really shouldn't vape inside, but you decide to ignore it. For now.

"You and I are going to be getting well acquainted over these next few weeks." You give him a purposely vague answer, just to piss him off more. It works.

"W-Weeks?" He sputters, nearly choking on his stupid little nicotine stick.

"Fuck are you going on about? I'm here to see my mom for the weekend."

Of course that's what she told him. You let out a sigh and rub your temples, already sick of this manchild.

"Well, instead you're going to see me for the next three weeks. Twenty-one days. Get comfortable." You let out an amused huff and lean back on the couch, propping your feet on the table in much the same way Derek did earlier.

That really seems to piss him off.

He kicks the coffee table with his boot, sending it sliding across the floor before finally colliding with the couch.

"Listen here, you little bitch. I came here to see my mom and have a quick vacation. If she isn't here, I'm fucking leaving."

"Good luck with that!" You scoff, pushing the coffee table back into place. Seriously? Temper tantrums already?

You shake your head as he storms off down the hall. He'll be back.

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Sure enough, Derek soon finds that his only option is to tuck his tail between his legs and crawl back to you.

God damn it. How could the entire house be empty?

He had checked all the bedrooms, the office, kitchen, hallways, hell, even the servants' quarters. Every time he opened a door just to be met with an empty room, he felt himself grow more angry. What the fuck? Was this some kind of sick joke?

He stomps back into the living area, only to face yet another empty room. Fuck. It's like his own house is mocking him.

Thinking he heard shuffling in the kitchen, he ducks around the corner. Sure enough, you were in there, poking through a cabinet.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck is going on? And why my phone has no service?" He angrily waves his phone in your face, intentionally encroaching on your personal space.

"I told you. You and I are going to be staying here together for the next few weeks."

Derek silently fumes as you calmly take a step back from him.

"Don't look at me like that. You can thank your mother for this. She thought it was finally time you get sober."

The word sober cut through him like a knife. His mom was always nagging him to give up drugs. Fuckin' hypocrite. The woman smoked, like, half a pack a day since he was born.

Though, admittedly, Derek did a lot more than nicotine. He felt at his pocket, checking to make sure the little baggie of coke was still there.

"So is that what this is, then? A fucking intervention?" He practically spits in anger, giving you his best glare.

"No, Derek. You've had an intervention. You've had ten interventions. This is rehab."

He nearly choked at that. Rehab? Seriously?

"And what makes you think I'm going to play your little game?" He sneers at you, and pointedly takes another hit of his vape.

"Don't do that in here. I'm about to cook dinner."

He watches as you casually wash your hands in the sink, oblivious to his hateful gaze.

"Answer my fucking question. Why shouldn't I just walk out of here right now?" He stands directly behind you, leaning down over your shoulder and hissing directly into your ear. His breath is still tinged with a hint of mango-scented vapor.

"Because... you can't?" Derek is gently shoved aside as you make your way over to the kitchen island.

He grits his teeth and follows, leaning on the counter and staring you down as you start chopping vegetables, presumably for the dinner he wanted no part in.

The worst part is that you're right. His family's beach estate is... remote, to say the least. Located on a private island, the only way on or off is via helicopter or boat. He had taken a helicopter, obviously. Boats were for servants. Unless it was a yacht.

"How much?" He finally relents, sighing.

"For what?"

"To get me off this goddamn island."

You just smile slightly and continue chopping away, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I'm not doing this for the money, Derek. Though your mother is paying me very well for this, I assure you."

That answer didn't surprise him, however annoying it was. "not in it for the money" just meant "you have to offer me a LOT of money".

"Two million in Bitcoin if you can pull some strings and get me out of here by tonight."

"I'm doing this as a personal favor to your mother. And I couldn't get you out of here early even if I wanted to. Your mom is determined to finally get you sober."

Derek's brow furrows as you finally look up at him from across the small section of countertop. A personal favor?

"So what, I'm a goddamn prisoner?"

"Pfft. If you want to think of it that way. But there are much worse places to be held captive than a luxurious million-dollar beach house."

"Four million. Four million-dollar beach house." Derek grumbles, eyes glazed over as he stares off into space and ponders the gravity of his situation. Three weeks? Rehab? With you?

"Ah. Of course."

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air as Derek leans on the counter and watches you chop an onion. It starts to make his eyes sting, so he backs up and scoffs.

"It's not going to work, you know. I'm not getting sober." He crosses his arms defiantly.

"Oh? You brought enough drugs to last three weeks?"

Derek instinctively pats at his pocketful of cocaine again. Truthfully, he had only brought enough of a fix for a few days, maybe a week if he rationed and stretched it out. Two weeks was pushing it. Three weeks was impossible.

"Fuck you." He spits, and starts to take another hit of his vape to calm down.

"Blow that in another room or you aren't getting dinner."

He pauses, holding his breath as he considers his options. He wants to blow it right in your stupid face, but he does as asked, turning and letting it all out into the adjacent living room.

"Thank you."

He stands in the corner, silently fuming. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? Was he seriously expected to just drop everything and let himself be trapped here for three fucking weeks? He had a business empire to run. He didn't have time for this shit.

"I'm not getting sober." He repeats, trying to convince himself as much as you.

"Why? You're going to go through withdrawals and feel like shit regardless of whether you give up the drugs or not. You can either leave here mostly weened off of them, or leave still mostly addicted, having wasted three weeks of your life feeling shitty for nothing."

God damn it. Why did you have to be so sensible? Derek scowls at you from the corner, but of course, you aren't paying attention. You ignore him yet again, scraping the freshly-chopped veggies into a pan on the stove.

"It's gonna be a fucking waste of my life either way. I've tried getting sober before, believe it or not. It's never worked out." He grumbles bitterly.

"I know. I believe you." You respond, still absorbed in whatever you're cooking. It actually smells good. Better than mango vape oil, at least.

"But it's easier when you physically can't relapse, even if you wanted to. Which is why..." You turn around and finally meet his gaze, giving him a sympathetic look.

"...I was hoping you'd give me everything you have on you. Vape, cigarettes, LSD, weed, pills, whatever you're on these days."

Derek scoffs. You couldn't be serious.

"And if I don't?"

"You will."

Derek grits his teeth, but before he can snap back, you speak again.

"Seriously, Derek, please. It'll be easier to give it all up now rather than later when you're craving it."

That makes him pause. Fuck. You really had this all planned out, huh? He's completely and utterly unprepared to argue about this. So, he just groans and leans against the counter, putting his head down.

"Do I have to give up the vape too?" He mumbles, words muffled with his head buried in his arms.

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Four baggies of cocaine, two blunts, and a bottle of mystery pills later...

You stare at the defeated-looking man before you as he slumps over the counter, sitting on a stool. His head is buried in his arms, and you can't help but feel a little bad for him. Just a little.

"Hey, you're gonna be glad you did this." You try to reassure him, but he just grumbles incomprehensibly in response.

You sigh, deciding to leave him alone and turn your attention back to dinner. He'd already done more than you'd expected from him, honestly. He gave you everything in his pockets without a fight, and even fetched the rest of his stash from his suitcase.

He'd convinced you to let him keep the vape until just before bed, since the nicotine withdrawals were likely to hit him first. At least he had that small victory.

You ponder over this while you move the veggie mixture around in the pan, the smell of sautéing onions and garlic permeating the air.

"You wanna help me with dinner?" You call out, looking over your shoulder at Derek.

"Pfft. Women's work?" He grumbles, shifting so one eye can peek over at you. When he sees you're looking back at him, he hides his face again.

"With that attitude, you'll be making your own meals." You scold him softly, but can't bring yourself to really lay into him. He looks like he's taking this hard.

"You know, I only packed a few day's worth of clothes." He muses, finally sitting up and leaning his head against his hand.

"Mhm. You'll be fine. There's extra clothes in your room. Your mom picked them out."

Derek groans. "My mom? Seriously?"

"Oh, please. Like her taste could be any worse than yours." You turn and eye him, taking in the cheetah print shirt topped with a green blazer. It all really clashes with those snakeskin boots of his. Not to mention the gold chain... and diamond earring... god, he's a mess. He dresses like a Texan thrift store threw up on him.

"Like you dress any better." He scoffs, furrowing his brow as he looks you up and down, seemingly taking you in for the first time. His gaze lingers near your breasts for an uncomfortable amount of time, so you turn and quickly change the subject.

"Could you grab me the ground beef from the fridge?"

"I'm not cooking."

"Did I ask you to cook?"

Derek mumbles a few curses but stomps over to the fridge and eventually brings you the ground beef. He stands behind you and peers over your shoulder for a minute while you cook, either curious or bored.

"How much longer till dinner?"

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Derek sits at the dining table across from you, pushing his food around with his fork. He hasn't taken a bite yet even though he's hungry, partly out of spite and stubbornness, and partly because it doesn't look like anything he's eaten before.

He watched you add vegetables, beef, noodles, cheese, and like ten different seasonings.

The dish was akin to some kind of homemade hamburger helper, but of course, growing up rich and spoiled, Derek would have no idea what that was.

"You gonna eat?" You ask, covering your mouth with your hand as you chew.

Derek sighs and takes a bit of his food. It... doesn't taste bad. Surprising. He takes a few more silent bites.

"So... what exactly are we going to do without internet for three weeks?" He finally breaks the silence, waving his fork at you in an accusing manner.

"What do you usually do without internet?"

"Drugs."

"Oh."

Another awkward silence lingers in the air, and Derek is itching to take a hit of his vape. He could, too, it's still in his pocket. The one thing you let him keep. But he has a feeling you'd react negatively to him vaping at the table, so he waits.

"We could watch a movie? Or walk down to the beach? Listen to music? Read?"

Derek groans. "Aren't you supposed to be more fun than this? You're basically a glorified babysitter, right? You're not going to... entertain me?"

He raises his eyebrows at you, a suggestive tone in his voice.

"Sorry, love. I'm here to keep you sober. Not empty your balls."

He frowns at that. Expecting him to go without drugs for three weeks was one thing, but drugs AND sex? What did he look like? A fucking NUN?

"I'm not saying it's in the job description... but surely you're not opposed to a little... recreation?" He tries again, giving you a sly smile as he props an elbow on the table and leans his head on his fist. His other hand waves his fork around wildly as he talks.

"What, do you want me to call up your mommy so you can beg her to fly out a few of your whores?" You blink at him, smiling sweetly.

Derek grits his teeth. "You bitch."

"Oh? I'm a bitch for cooking you dinner?"

"No, you're a bitch for not wanting to..." He trails off, realizing how stupid he sounds.

Damn infuriating woman. He stands and stomps upstairs to go unpack his things, and take as many hits of his vape as possible before you inevitably take it away.

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You watch him leave with a grimace. Well, that went... well?

At the very least, he agreed to try and be sober for the three weeks. You'd work on his lack of cooperation skills later.

You stare down at his half-eaten plate of food. He is not going to like it when you reveal to him he actually has to do chores.

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Author's note: Sorry if this chapter dragged on! I tried to edit it down, but I really wanted to get the general plot set up in one part. We'll get to the more... juicy stuff later. This is going to be more of a slowburn than my last fic, so buckle up!!

Also sorry most of it is in Derek's POV? Do you guys like that?? His internal monologue is just too funny and deranged not to show

Part 2

#jhutch #josh hutcherson #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth #josh hutcherson x you #josh hutcherson x reader #no use of y/n #fanfic #fanfiction #the beekeeper

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