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from-the-clouds · 1 year

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savior complex - joel miller x f!reader

masterlist | song inspo | gif: @joelmjller

All the skeletons that you hide Show me yours, I'll show you mine

summary: Joel shows up at your doorstep, battered and bruised. Despite the bad blood between you, do you have the heart to turn him away? Enemies to lovers. Takes place pre-television series/game. Was written as a companion piece/prequel to my other joel fic, but can be read on it's own. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, dirty talk, implied age gap. Enemies to lovers. Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, implied death of a family member, canon-typical suffering! Descriptions of injuries, blood, stitches (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: I haven't seen the enemies to lovers trope written for joel yet, and I'm also obsessed with the trope of a character showing up at their enemies house because they don't have any place to go. So maybe this is a little self-indulgent. Special shoutout to @ay0nha for letting me talk to you about this fic! Please enjoy, I'm really proud of/excited about this one. ♥

“What do you want?”

The ice in your own voice comes as a surprise. You weren’t sure you were even capable of sounding so cold, but it’s probably a good skill to have nowadays. Plus, he’s probably the last person you expect to see, and certainly the last person you want to see standing in your doorway.

“I need your help,” he says.

You snort, lips pressing together in a bitter smile. “Uh-huh.”

It’s so dark in the hallway, you can barely see his face, but you can imagine what Joel might look like, lines etched in his face from the permanent frown he’s always wearing, particularly when dealing with you. You’ve known him a handful of years, here and there, and you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen him smile….or laugh…or display any emotion other than irritation, or indifference.

The breeze from your open window shifts your curtains to the side, lets a sliver of light from the full moon pan over him, and you can see him clearly, just for a second.

He’s covered in blood.

It’s hard to see exactly how much, but it’s all over his face, his shirt, and accompanied by dirt and grime. One of his hands hangs limp at his side, his opposite clenched into a tight fist. The breeze dies down, the curtain falls back into place, and he’s cast once more in shadow.

Crossing your arms, you lean against the doorframe. Anyone else, you’d help without question. At one point, you would’ve let him in willingly. But it had been months since you’d last spoken, and you had no intentions of ever seeing him again.

“Why should I help you?”

He lowers his eyes, looks at the floor. When he answers, his voice is strained.

“Because I have nowhere else to go.”

The more your eyes adjust in the dim light, the more you can see. Tattered clothes, rain dripping from the tips of his salt-and-pepper curls, his eyes dull. You wonder if he’s trying to make himself look like a kicked puppy, petulant and pathetic, but it doesn’t really seem like something Joel would do.

“Please?”

He’s in pain, you can read it on his face, and you wonder if it’s because of his injuries, or because of how horrible it must be for him to beg you for help. Historically, it’s always been you in his place, needing something – and if it didn’t serve his interests, he’d leave you in the dust. Joel never made exceptions, no matter the circumstances, despite how long you’d known one another. With that to consider, you have every right to turn him away. You should feel satisfied, seeing him so desperate. You wished you could feel satisfied, but you didn’t.

“Fine.” You let him in. What is it about him that always makes you cave?

Pulling a chair away from your small kitchen table, he staggers behind you, favoring his right foot, bracing himself on any surface he walks past – the doorframe, the countertop, the table, until he finally lowers himself into the chair.

You cross the room. It takes most of your bodyweight to shift the couch in the corner of the room away from the vent behind it, and you kneel down. Air conditioning and heat are a thing of the past, but it’s got other purposes now. Using a blade of the knife you always keep handy, you’rable to pry the metal grate away from the wall, to pull out a tin tackle box that you haven’t had to touch in awhile.

Joel’s still at the table when you return to him, breathing labored, and you flick on the lights. He blinks, his eyes are on you, you can feel the way his body is pinched with nervous energy – like a starving feral cat that’s been trapped in a cage, and still can’t decide if it trusts you yet. As if you’d ever done anything to hurt him. If anything, you should be scared.

“Alright,” you say. “Let me take a look at you.”

His eyes have shifted away from your face, but, too proud to cast them down, he’s glaring at some fixed point behind you, glazing over. He doesn’t want to register what is actually going on. It doesn’t stop you from the task at hand, and you begin to take inventory of his injuries.

“So what happened?” you ask. He’s got a black eye forming, several small cuts all over his face, one of which is slicing through his bottom lip, causing it to swell.

“It’s none of your business,” he quips.

“It’s precisely my business, if you want me to be able to actually help you.”

“A deal went wrong,” he said. “I was in someone else’s territory. They said rather than turning me into FEDRA, they’d let me off easy.”

“This is being let off easy?” you ask, then cluck your tongue.

Joel doesn’t answer.

“And that?” you eye the bump forming on his opposite temple.

“It’s nothing,” he says, even though, when you graze a thumb over it, he swallows hard.

“You’re gonna need to be more specific.”

“Got uh, shoved into a brick wall.”

You slide two fingers underneath his chin, using light pressure to tilt his face towards you. “Look at me.” When you’re staring at him like this, studying him closely, you’re forced to acknowledge how handsome he is. Even battered and bruised, it’s the dark, sad eyes, sharp jawline, long lashes that draw you in. He’s hardened by the world he’s been surviving in for twenty years, like everyone is, but he wears it well. You’d never tell him that.

“Any blurry vision, dizziness?” You aim your flashlight in his eyes, and his pupils constrict.

“No,” he says. You study him a moment more, and know what to look for. But you don’t find anything of concern.

“Well, I don’t think you have a concussion,” you say. “But I’ll keep an eye on it…..What else happened?”

“Got me with a knife.” That is what you’ve been the most concerned with since he’s stepped inside. There’s a dark stain blooming on his shirt, just below his left ribcage

“I see,” you say, stepping back. “Take your shirt off.” You open the tin that you left on the table.

It’s full of medical supplies, ones you’d pocketed from the QZ hospital the last few years working there. It’s not easy to sneak them out, nor is it entirely ethical, but you’ve gotten pretty good at it, and now have a decent sized stash built up in case of any emergencies. You’re still deciding if Joel Miller’s well-being is worth the waste of supplies it’s going to be.

When you turn back to him, he has unbuttoned his shirt, but is struggling to shrug it off his right shoulder, where his arm hangs limp at his side.

“I….” he manages….”I can’t move my arm.”

“Sit up,” you instruct, and he does, which gives you room to slide the rest of his shirt off his shoulder. You immediately notice the obvious deformity. “Looks dislocated.”

He nods, looking at the floor. “I was trying to defend myself.”

The idea of him, outnumbered and outmaneuvered, a position he’s so rarely in, is unpleasant. He might be an asshole, but because of it, he always comes out on top. There’s something almost comforting about that kind of consistency these days, and it’s tough to stomach the idea that he doesn’t have superpowers, he’s just another person. You’re not sure why you still hold him in such high regard.

You can’t dwell on it. Especially because what’s more pressing is the cut below his ribs, a few inches in length. It’s still bleeding, but not severely. It’s not a stab wound either, even though it’s deeper than you’d expected, but there’s no internal organ damage.

You take a clean cloth and place it over the wound, guiding his left hand overtop it. “You’ll need stitches.” You slide your hand from underneath his, ignoring the warm weight of his touch. “But we need to stop the bleeding. Apply pressure.” He does, and winces.

“You don’t have anything for the pain?” you ask, raising your eyebrow.

“Front pocket of my shirt,” he says. You fish out a pill. Oxys. You’re not sure how strong they are, and you don’t want to encourage the habit, but this might be a case where he actually needs one.

There’s a glass of water already sitting on the table, and you grab it, standing over him. Neither of his arms are free to accept the offering.

“Open up.”

He glowers at you like a defiant child.

“Are you serious?” you tilt your head. “Come on.”

Reluctantly, he opens his mouth, and you tilt your hand to drop the pill in and lift the glass of water to his lips.

When you’re done with that, it’s time to work on his shoulder. You had done this a few times before, even once to your mother, who had also been a doctor. Med schools didn’t exist anymore, but you didn’t need a degree now to provide care, at least not in this QZ…just experience. And your mother had taught you everything she knew. Before your part of town fell to the virus, she’d even had you reading her old textbooks. So you felt like you were only missing the degree.

You pull up a chair to face him, so close it’s touching the corner of his own, and sit, carefully taking his injured arm and bending it upwards with one of your thumbs in the crease of his elbow, your opposite hand wrapped around his wrist until his forearm is resting against your chest.

It’s way more intimate than you want it to be, but you don’t have much of a choice. His jaw is set so hard you think he might crack a tooth. “So sometimes, if you relax your muscles enough, you can actually get the shoulder back into place that way.”

You release his wrist and reach out to knead the muscles around the problem area - his chest, his shoulder, in between his shoulder blades. He tilts his head back in the chair, his face pinched.

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “Just don’t hold your breath, that makes it worse.”

Joel hates this, you can tell. How often does he have to rely on someone so much to help him, that he lets them touch you like you are, lets them see him vulnerable?

As much as you can, you avoid eye contact, looking down. You didn’t need to see him shirtless before to know that he’s muscular – not perfectly cut, but that isn’t really your thing, anyways. He looks good enough that your eyes are being drawn to places they shouldn’t be, down his torso to the v-lines dipping into the waistband of his jeans. He clears his throat, and you turn to find him watching you. You hope he can’t feel the way your heart is hammering against the back of his hand.

It’s been a few minutes that you’re trying to get him to relax, but he can’t seem to. You should’ve known that this method wasn’t going to work for him of all people.

“Okay, I’m just going to try to move your arm a bit, see if that’ll work instead.”

He nods.

“Just keep breathing,” you instruct. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.” you slowly guide his elbow forward, still keeping traction.

He hisses. “Relax,” you soothe. It’s hard, despite the bad blood between you, to resist the urge to be warm, gentle. To reassure. It’s in your nature, it’s part of your job.

Eventually, and with a little patience, you’re able to get the joint to move back into place, and you check to be sure Joel is able to move it on his own. He can, even though it’s sore. You fashion him a sling made out of an ace bandage.

“You’re probably gonna be a little sore for a while, so take it easy.” It’s probably a useless instruction to give because you know he won’t take it easy.

He has a sprained ankle, and you wrap it up, elevate it. There’s a near-perfect footprint left behind in dirt on the skin there. Like someone had stomped on his leg hoping to break it. You’re glad they failed.

Next is the stitches. There’s a few cuts on his body that need one or two, but you start with the big one. The wound has stopped bleeding, so you disinfect it, pull out your tools, and begin working, bent over him. Every time the needle pierces his skin, he tenses. You wonder if the one oxy was enough, or if it hardly touched the pain because he’s using them so often.

The entire time you’re treating him, you’re trying to be as clinical as possible. You’ve got to focus because if you think too much about him, you think about the last interaction you shared, and how pathetic you’d been. And the fact that he’d thought to come to you of all people for this makes your head spin. It’s not supposed to. You aren’t supposed to feel these things for him. You aren’t supposed to owe him anything.

Joel’s fist curls so tightly into itself that his knuckles turn white, fingernails leaving crescents in the skin of his palms. “Kind of feels like you’re making this as painful as possible.”

You smirk slightly. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

He sniffs, and you glance up to see him looking down at you, the ice that had been in his gaze before has thawed.

You squint at him, try to act indifferent, and turn your attention back to the stitches. “Don’t worry, I’m almost done.”

“Thank fucking-”

“Shhh, you’re distracting me.”

His hand relaxes slightly as you keep working, slow and methodical, silence casting like a spell.

“Why me?” you ask, finally.

“What?”

“Why did you come here? To me?” you pause. “It’s been forever. You’ve got Tess, right? Couldn’t she help you?”

Joel rubs his aching shoulder. “I didn’t want to scare her,” he answers. “And…I know you’re used to handling this kind of thing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say. “I am.”

One of you should probably acknowledge what had happened. But it won’t be me, you think.

“There,” you tie off the last stitch, and cover the wound with some gauze and a waterproof bandage. “You’ll probably need antibiotics. I’ll try to snag some from the hospital tomorrow.”

Once you’ve fixed the most pressing issues, you focus on cleaning all the cuts and bruises on his face, his torso, cleaning and wrapping his bloodied knuckles. It’s probably been at least two hours since he arrived when you finally draw away from him, your surgical gloves snapping as you pull them inside-out, and off your hands, discarding them on the table, which is now littered with bloodied gauze, bandage wrappers, and medical supplies. You wish you had more ice packs than just the one for his shoulder and ankle, since he could use them just about everywhere, but it’ll have to do.

“Could use a drink after all that,” Joel says, looking at his hands, flexing his fingers.

“Don’t push it,” you answer, scraping the mess off your kitchen table into a bin. It dawns on you that you do have a half-empty bottle of bourbon sitting in your cabinet that’s surprisingly good. “But now that you mention it….”

He snorts, the closest thing to a laugh you’ve ever heard.

You pour a few fingers of whiskey into two glasses, sliding one across the table to him. Neither of you clink glasses, but you do eye each other over the rims of your cups as you take the drink in one go.

Joel places his empty on the table. “I should get out of here.”

“In your shape, it might be better to wait for light.” As much as he won’t admit it, you know he’s still weak, not in his right mind, and vulnerable to any FEDRA agents working the streets. “But I have to sleep, I’ve got work in the morning.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t fight you.

You curl yourself up on the couch, that is old and worn but still surprisingly comfortable. Joel sits at the table awhile more, and has one more drink. After all the activity of the night, you’re out within minutes.

Joel drags himself over to the bed, which you’d never offered him directly, but he assumed to take since you were on the couch. He doesn’t think he’ll sleep, but he can’t sit upright in your uncomfortable kitchen chair anymore. Every part of his body aches. Your bed is in the corner, neatly made, even though it’s just threadbare sheets and a blanket. His never is, and he finds it ridiculous you must waste the time at the beginning of your day for something like that.

He sprawls across it, surprised at its comfort. A breeze coming through the open window drifts your curtains to the side, and he catches a glimpse of the full moon. Between the liquor, and the pills, the pain has subsided enough that he’s able to relax a little. The sun will be up soon. He just has to wait…

— — — — — —

The next thing Joel hears is your voice, muffled by the buffer of your front door. He looks at the clock next to your bed, it’s early in the evening. The sunlight trickling through the gaps of your curtains is golden, a slanting orange glow in the corner of the room. The window is closed. Fuck. Did he really sleep all day? He uses his good arm to shield his eyes from the offending light before stretching.

Sheets on top of him rustle, he must have climbed under them at some point the night before.

It feels like he’s been hit by a freight train, and he groans. Pain drips through him, settles in his shoulder, his side, his head. His mouth is dry, and he sees a full glass of water next to him, two white pills. He couldn’t remember you leaving that morning, but it had to have been you who left them there. Who else would it have been? Without thinking, he indulges.

There’s a note scrawled on a scrap of paper underneath the pills. He picks it up with his free arm, the other one still wrapped in a sling.

– Take pain meds

– Ice shoulder, eye, temple, ankle

– Change dressing

– LEAVE

The last word is underlined twice. He exhales, letting his head drop back against the pillows, until it snaps to attention….you’re still outside, but your voice has gotten louder, more animated. You’re talking to someone….no…..you’re raising your voice at someone. He can’t make it out through the door, and for all the bad things he could say based on the nature of your relationship, he knows that you don’t often lose your temper.

‘I think you should leave,’ he catches the end of what you’re saying and is immediately jolted out of the fog of discomfort, leaving your note on the bedside table.

He’s crosses the room, ignoring the protest of pain from his ankle, hears a man’s voice respond, but just a snippet – ‘stupid fucking bitch’ – and he’s throwing open the door, nearly trampling you, since you’re pressed against the threshold with your arms around your backpack, eyes wide.

When Joel follows your gaze, he spots a man about your age standing a few feet away, chest puffed out and chin up.

“Joel,” you say, and he’s taken aback by your tone – relief. He’s never heard you say his name like that. Somewhere, in a small part of his brain he doesn’t want to acknowledge, he thinks he might like to hear you say it again.

“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend,” the guy tilts his head back to look up at Joel, giving him a once over, and steps backward in consideration.

Instead of correcting him, you say nothing.

“What’s going on here?” Joel asks, and you lower your arms, move your shoulders back, standing up straighter as you turn to look at him.

“Ben was just leaving,” you say.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Joel answers. His hand instinctively comes to rest on your shoulder – reverent, protective. He knows he’s in no shape to get into a fight right now, but he’s significantly larger than the other man, and figures that alone will be enough of a deterrent.

Ben notices, and nose curls into a snarl, rolling his eyes. “Fine, whatever. He’s like…old enough to be your dad,” he mumbles under his breath.

You don’t answer, just stare with contempt as he retreats down the hallway. Once Ben has turned the corner, you step into your place, Joel’s hand falling from your shoulder.

“Who was that?”

“Just some guy from work,” you say, sounding uninterested, dropping your backpack onto your kitchen table.

“How often does he–?”

“Let’s not get into it,” you shake your head as you pull open the curtains, sunlight casting warmth all over the room, specks of dust glittering in the air. But he wants to know more. He’s tried to ignore all the suffering that isn’t his own since the world went to shit, but he’s at least aware of how dangerous it is to be a woman, living on her own.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here, did you sleep all day?”

Joel doesn’t answer.

“You probably needed it.”

You disappear into the bathroom, and Joel sees a rush of light through that door, the creak of a window opening. “I brought the antibiotics, they’re in my bag,” you say when you exit, hands on your hips. “You’re not feeling feverish, are you?”

Joel shakes his head no, and sits back down on the bed.

“Well that’s good,” you go to the counter. “Hey, if you need to shower here, it’s probably better because I can dress your wound before you go. I was actually thinking today about how you would definitely fuck it up if you tried to do it youself.”

He rolls his eyes at the insult, but answers. “That’s fine.”

You’re making yourself something to eat. He notices a polaroid on your bedside table. It’s two kids – a girl and a younger boy, her arms around him – their lips curled into identical smiles. When he looks closer, he realizes the girl is you.

Please? My brother is sick, he’s in a lot of pain, you had said, on your knees in front of him, swallowing hard. Your fingers were curled in his belt loops, the cold steel button of his jeans pressed into your chin, so close he thought it might leave a permanent mark. In one of your hands was a wad of credits, only a couple short of what he’d asked you for in exchange for the pills. I’ll do anything you want me to.

Of course he wanted you, how could he not? He wondered if you knew that already, and were just trying to take advantage of his weakness. Or maybe you were just that desperate. It didn’t matter either way. He can’t do it. Not like this, he thought.

No, is his answer.

He stepped backwards, away and you still tried to cling to him. Sensing his reluctance, you continued to talk. Joel, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever, please…it’s nothing. Eventually, he slipped from your grasp, and you fell back to your heels. He left you there, and he didn’t look back.

The memory is burned into his brain, and has followed him to sleep more times than he’d be willing to admit. He swallows hard, and you’re standing in front of him with an opened jar of applesauce and a spoon against your lips. “Are you looking through my shit?” you ask.

“It was sitting out.”

You snatch the photo from his hand so quickly that one of your nails knicks his thumb, shoving it in your back pocket and jerking your head towards the bathroom. “Hurry, I can’t be up late like last night.”

The shower feels nice, even if the pressure is shit and the water is cold. He still has blood caked under his fingernails that he can’t seem to fully eradicate even after scrubbing them against his palms. He slips back into his jeans when he’s done, and he notices a clean shirt has been left on the bed when he exits.

“You done?” your voice calls. There’s the sound of a book snapping shut, your weight shifting on the couch. “I want my bed back.”

Joel grunts an affirmation, and you round the corner with the tin of medical supplies from the night before, discarding what you were reading on the foot of the bed. “This’ll take two minutes. Let me see.” Pausing in front of him, you press your fingers, a little experimentally, along his ribs, peering closer to examine your work. “Oh, this looks good. It should heal nicely.”

“It doesn’t feel good.”

“Uh-huh, but it’ll get better. Give it time.”

He sits down while you shimmy out of your flannel shirt. You begin to work, quietly, quickly, and at first, he tries to look away, at the top of the bedside table where you’ve placed a bag of antibiotics and a fresh glass of water. The note that was there earlier, with instructions on how to take care of himself in your absence, that also told him to LEAVE, is gone. He gives in and turns back to you, knelt between his legs like it’s nothing, pressing an adhesive bandage across the wound.

He’s not sure why he had expected you to be cruel. You should be cruel, he knows that, but you aren’t. Your touch is confident, firm, and surprisingly tender. It must be muscle memory, he thinks, because he’s never known you to be sweet. Maybe he hadn’t been paying close enough attention.

“There,” you say, pulling away. “Now, I’d recommend changing that once a day at least, if you can. Take an antibiotic once a day, and make sure you do the full course. Ice your elbow, eye, ankle, all that every couple hours. Also, you should really use a sling for at least a month-”

“No.” He knows he won’t do any of those things, can’t really afford to between work, life, and resources.

“Suit yourself.”

“I will.”

You don’t scoff or roll your eyes at him or try to convince him why he should, and it’s like a peace offering. I could fight you on this, because I’m smart, but I won’t. It’s everything you’re saying, but you’re silent, and you sit on the edge of your bed a foot or two away, poking your fingers into the laces of your boots, untying them.

“I’m sorry.”

Joel says it before he can stop himself. He can’t remember the last time he’s said those two words.

You balk at him. “For what?”

Everything. “Your brother.”

“Oh,” you say, focusing back on your feet, pulling them out of your boots and pressing your thumbs into each arch. You shrug, shake your head. “Yeah, well….I’m just glad he’s not in pain anymore.”

“Yeah.”

“...And at least it wasn’t….you know…” The infection.

He nods, takes a beat.

“I should get going,” Joel says, his hands on his knees. “The next time you need something-”

“Uh-huh,” you cut him off tersely. “Right.”

“All I’m saying is that I owe you one.”

“You really think I believe that, coming from you?” You snort, shake your head, and reach to pat his leg in a patronizing way, until his hand lands atop your own. He thinks it might make him feel better, to see if your reaction to his touch gives anything away. But it doesn’t. Everything about you is rigid, cool.

“I’m sorry….about that night,” he decides, purposely changing the subject. “But I don’t make exceptions.”

“Right. Then, I guess I’m a fool for doing this,” you gesture towards him, with your free hand - all the work you’d done.

Joel shakes his head no, fingers tightening around your hand, clasping it hard. He’s sure, or at least he hopes, somehow, you can see it. That this isn’t a jab, that he means it.

I’m sorry.

You look down at where his hand is squeezing yours, and he watches your throat work once.

“No,” he begins. “You just have every reason to hate me.”

A wistful smile crosses your face, but it’s hard to decipher what it means. To him, you’re still unreadable, even staring right at him. Most people avoid Joel’s eyes at all costs, but not you. You slide your hand out from underneath his, and he thinks for a second you’re going to retaliate. His body is facing yours, his hair is still damp, dripping onto his bare skin. It doesn’t stop you from placing your hands on either one of his shoulders, and learning forward.

The white tank top you’re wearing clings to every curve of your body, except where it’s shifted off your shoulder, revealing a black bra strap. It’s intoxicating to have you this close. You must be able to hear the way his heart picks up, thuds heavy against his ribs, being so close to him.

“You think I hate you…” you say quietly, voice a low murmur, tilting your head, studying him. “That’s why you want me, isn’t it?”

This is why he’s never liked you. That uncanny ability to stare right through him, crack open the camera, spool out the film.

“Isn’t it?” you prompt, when all he can offer is silence.

Of course it is. It is always easier when hate is involved. Hate bolds the blurry lines, boils everything down to its simplest point – that’s all that this would be, just two people trying to escape, if only for a little bit. And you, he’s sure, would make it so easy.

“Yes,” he answers, though he’s not sure if he believes it. In this case, hate is just another medium to channel energy through. Passionate energy. True hate, maybe, would be your indifference. And neither of you are indifferent.

“Well….” you lean forward, your lips are nearly touching. He’s still frozen. “Maybe I do hate you.”

It’s a beat before anything happens, a few seconds of uninterrupted eye contact, your eyes have darkened, pupils wide.

He pounces on you, ignoring the scream of soreness through his body as he cups both sides of your face, his tongue already scraping on your teeth, swallowing the surprised noise you make, which he finds ridiculous because what did you think was going to happen, talking to him like that?

But you can’t be that shocked, because your arms have tightened around his shoulders, you’re pulling him closer, he’s pulling you closer. A tightrope, about to snap.

He wraps himself around you protectively, you feel so small there, he’s aware how easily he could break you, but he won’t. Or at least…he’ll try not to.

You break away first. “Fuck.”

Your lips are full, wet, flush, parted, and you’re panting. He pulls you back against him, and you oblige, much more pliant this time, letting him claim you. Two sets of hands fumbling for purchase.

“I do want you.”

“Then have me.”

He pulls you onto his lap, still sitting on the edge of the bed, and it’s shameful how easily you move there, settle your weight across his hips. You’re warm, so warm…too warm. His skin pricks.

Your hands thread into his hair and tug, it’s heavenly. He’s not used to being touched like this.. Grinding down, you find him already already rock hard – he has been since you were knelt in front of him cleaning his stitches, but he’d been trying to ignore it – and he moans. “You like that?”

He hums into your mouth, agreeable. Yes.

Joel wants to touch you, won’t be satisfied if he can’t, and he tugs at the hem of your shirt. You pull back, just for a split second to pull it over your head. It takes him a moment, but he still remembers how to unclasp a bra with one hand, and you’re bare before him. All he has to do is run a calloused palm up your spine and you’re arching your body closer, until he can mouth at your breasts.

You sigh as he cups, squeezes, pinches. Latches onto one of your nipples and grazes his teeth over it, watching you closely….your eyes closed, head falling back, murmuring. Yes.

What he wants to do is to lift you up, spin you around, and press your back against the mattress. He wants to spread you open across the bed, put his head between your thighs and lave at you like a man starved. He wants to hear every way you can cry, moan, whimper his name as his tongue works your clit, fingers in your cunt, washing over him. Of course, he’d go gentle at first – not too gentle – but gentle enough, work you up. He wants to dangle you over the ledge, hold you there until you’re begging to be let go. And after you finally come, pulsing around his fingers, he’d wrap your legs around his hips and fuck you into the mattress until you do it again. After the first time, he thinks, it’d be even easier to get you to do it again. And again. Would you face his steely gaze head on, eyes fluttering? Would your nails scrape track marks down his back? Would you stifle a moan by sinking your teeth into the pulse point on his neck? He wants to- no, needs to know.

But he’s weak right now, and can’t do any of that. He’ll settle for what he can get.

Your fingers are twisting the button on his pants. “Come on,” you murmur.

“You shouldn’t want me,” he warns.

“I know.” But I still do.

Your hand is down his pants, and he shifts his weight backwards to wiggle further out of them. It’s far more hurried than either of you deserve. You don’t even attempt to tease him through his boxers first, your hand wrapping around him in one swift and confident movement.

Hissing, Joel sees you duck your head, feels the press your lips against his neck, his cock jumping in your grip as you run your thumb over the head, pump him once.

“You’re so big,” your voice is all breathy and soft, the sound of it has him growing even more frantic. He tugs at the loops on the side of your jeans.

“Take these off.”

Yes. There’s no protest.

It’s torture when you leave his lap, for the brief time you do, his gaze tracing the curve of your ass as you wriggle out of your pants, then your panties, and when your return to him, he holds you closer.

“I knew you’d be so fucking good for me.”

“Did you?” It's playful, breathless, your arms around his neck. The lightest he’s ever heard you.

You’re wet, already dripping onto him, and he dips a finger between your thighs, sliding it through your slickness, dipping into you just so, enjoying the noises you make before withdrawing. It’s a shame he can’t take his time. He’s too impatient. One of his hands he uses to guide his cock to your cunt, and the other he uses to steady your hips. His head drops to watch himself sink into you.

The stretch of him inside you makes your toes curl, you’re already pulsing around him and he hasn’t even given you everything.

“Fuck,” Joel whispers your name when he feels you around him, all-encompassing and overwhelming. “So fucking good.”

You’re whining, but it’s unintelligible, your head bobbing into an enthusiastic nod, teeth snagging your lower lip. When he’s reached the hilt, you pause only for a moment before you begin to move on your own accord. Experimental rolls of your hips, not drawing back far at all, keeping him deep inside you, rutting and writhing with no reprieve. He thinks he might come right then and there, it’s been so long, and it’s you. This young, pretty thing who – if this whole fucking world hadn’t gone to shit – wouldn’t have looked twice at him before. It’s just another injustice – that you’re going to let someone like him ruin you.

You begin to bounce on him, dragging yourself along his length. “That’s a good fucking girl,” he groans. “Just like that.”

“It’s so…fuck, Joel, you feel-”

“I know.” He answers, partially in agreement, and partially to shut you up. If you keep saying his name like that, it’s not going to end well.

He tries as best as he can to answer your hips with ruts of his own, but it’s sloppy, erratic. The whole thing is, and he wants to curse himself because it really shouldn’t be, just like he shouldn’t be thinking about what he’ll do differently next time.

It’s the first time he’s been with you, so he doesn’t know what it feels like when you’re getting close, but you’re throbbing and pulsing around him, your breathy pants and soft sighs start sounding more desperate.

You’re so fucking wet he can hear it, can feel it seeping out, dripping down his balls onto the mattress. He realizes one of his hands is just clenched into a fist, nails digging into his palm, trying his hardest not to come before you do. All he wants is to give you something, a chance to make up for everything that he’s taken.

“More,” you murmur, you don’t even seem to remember, or care, that he’s hurt. That you’d spent hours the night before after he’d been torn apart, putting him back together. “More, please.”

His lips quirk into a boyish smile, something you’ve never seen before. He likes you like this, begging, desperate, sweet. “Don’t laugh,” but your lips are quirking, too, and you fucking nuzzle against his beard to hide it.

“I’m not - fuck.”

The shower was useless, he’s already sweating again, but so are you, and he trails his tongue across your neck to taste it, then unclenches his fist, moving it between your legs. He takes your clit between his knuckles, circling it carefully, steadily, while his cock keeps hitting the same, soft spot over and over again.

You can’t get enough. “Harder, Joel…please.”

Of course, he obliges. And he’s lucky, because he doesn’t have to do much more. You slow, legs shaking, and you’re suddenly so tight around him he can’t move. “That’s it, baby, come on, so fucking good…” he would, is, saying anything to feel you. His name is a mewl on your lips, the rubber-band snaps, and you come around him, pressing every part of yourself against the hard line of his torso. He aches, it’s the sweetest torture he’s ever known.

He knows, because he’s going to fuck you through it, has to, that he will not last any longer.

“Where?” he pants, and you’re still peaking, gasping, grabbing.

“Inside me,” you answer. “Please, inside me.”

He’s too lost in the moment to consider the consequences. Doesn’t care about them at all. When he comes, you groan at the feeling of him fucking you full, cunt still squeezing him, not as tightly as before, but still apparent.

The last bit of arousal is still waning, and he leans back to lie on the bed, pulling you with him. You fall to his chest, hands pressing lightly to adjust your position, suddenly aware again of the wound beneath his ribs, the bruises on his shoulder, settling so you’re pressed against his side, his arm still loose around your waist.

Neither of you say anything for a long time, and he notices your legs are trembling.

We shouldn’t have done that, he wants you to say, as you should. But you show no signs of remorse.

Before all this, when he was a different man, he would’ve helped clean you up after. He would have soothed you in the aftermath; stroked your hair, peppered kisses along your neck, your cheeks, pulled you close so you could fall asleep in his arms. He can’t now, because you’re smart and you’d know what it means, but the guilt gnaws at him.

When you sit up, pulling your shirt back over your head, sliding on your panties, and walking towards the bathroom, he imagines you think you’re doing him a favor. You are, in a way. Or maybe, you’re resisting the same impulse that he is.

You return a few minutes later, wrapped in a tattered robe, and climb next to him on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows, then looking down at him. Between the combination of being tired, stiff, and fucked-out, he still hasn’t moved.

“Don’t you think Tess is worried about where you are?” You bend your knees back and cross your ankles.

“She knows I can take care of myself.”

Your eyebrow quirks. Can you? Joel turns away and stares up at the water-damaged ceiling panels.

“You should probably go.”

His head snaps back towards you. He thinks of every person over the last twenty years he’d said the equivalent to after sex, and wonders if it made them feel as nauseous as he does hearing those words from your mouth.

The feeling fades – only a little – when you reach over to press your palm to the side of his face, cupping his cheek, before tenderly moving a piece of damp hair off his forehead, nails scraping against his scalp.

He lets his eyes close just for a beat, before nodding and sitting up. “Thank you,” he says, and he’s not sure what for. All of it, he supposes.

“Uh-huh,” you roll over, reaching to grab your book that had fallen to the floor at some point during your coupling, while he pulls on his clothes, laces up his boots, and takes the antibiotics from your bedside table.

Joel takes one last look at you, already engrossed in your reading, and then walks to the door.

“You know where to find me, if you need anything.”

You look up, nod, and he’s gone.

— — — — — —

part ii

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #enemies to lovers #tlou #tlou hbo #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou imagine

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rosettyller · 8 months

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some analysis of this scene from 2x02, because i am going absolutely insane over it:

first up: it's 2 500 BCE. They've known each other for around 1500 years at this point, but they haven't been meeting up very often; it's implied at this point, that they've only met at the Garden, and the Flood, and now here (as well as in Heaven, but there's varying interpretations about how much they each remember of Heaven).

(worth noting that these meetings are all bible-related meetings)

So, they don't know each other very well at all. This is why Aziraphale approaches Crowley so cautiously (apart from the fact that he thinks Crowley's going around murdering goats and soon kids). He doesn't know what happened to Crowley when he Fell, how he changed when he fell in with Lucifer, how God's rejection has warped Crowley's perspective or changed his morals (their meeting at the Flood seemed quite short, not enough time to get a definite picture.)

Aziraphale is still seeing Crowley as demonic, although there's already that thread of doubt - can you really see him trying to talk Hastur or Ligur out of this the way he does Crowley?

Aziraphale clings to the memory of Angel Crowley - Crowley gets quite defensive.

Here, Crowley reinforces that he's changed - personally I don't believe that he did fight in the War, but his views of God's Plan definitely got more extreme than "thats terrible god should get a suggestion box".

But, I also believe that here, Crowley is reinforcing that he is no longer an angel, and therefore no longer has to play by angel rules. He can do what he wants. He's a demon, it's in his job description.

And of course, that he is a demon, and he is Evil, and of course he would kill goats.

(more under the cut, because I just can't stop talking)

This shot is very yellow. Crowley's hair being the season 1 orange rather than red, the yellow walls, all accentuate the colour of Crowley's eyes, highlighting the physical reminder of Crowley's demonic nature.

I couldn't be bothered to gif it, but here, Crowley leans forward into Aziraphale's face. There are two reasons for this:

Get his yellow Demon Eyes right in Aziraphale face, just to hammer home his point.

It's an aggressive action, moving into someone's personal space like that. Saying, I could hurt you, I'm violent and aggressive and dangerous, I killed those goats, the kids are next.

The way the light hits Crowley's eyes in the above shot and the below shot also make them a very bright yellow. (Edit: I think someone pointed out that Crowley is making his eyes glow, but the overall yellowness of the scene serves to highlight this)

Clever wording on Crowley's part, because as we will find out, he faked the destruction of the goats to keep them safe, while making himself sound very evil.

You'll notice the repetition of "blameless"; this makes him seem even more evil, hurting the innocent, but also gives deeper insight into one of Crowley's biggest issues: hurting the innocent. What have they done to deserve this? Nothing.

This ties in quite nicely with what we have seen before of Crowley and free will; he gives people the option to sin. It's their actions that decide whether they end up in Heaven or Hell; they get what they deserve for their actions. He just makes it easier to choose Hell. (see: phone lines being down making people crankier and encouraging them to be horrible to each other, but it still being their choice, setting the holy water bucket above the door, so it's Ligur's choice to come in after Crowley that gets him killed.)

Note also the use of "long":

Aziraphale says to "tell me you want to do this". "Long" has rather stronger connotations than "want", but also rawer, more fundamental. Crowley is reminding Aziraphale that he is a demon, and that he has the traits of a demon, this is what he is now. He longs for violence, for destruction.

Aziraphale looks quite sad here. If you watch the video I linked, his previous conviction that Crowley doesn't want to do it is very strong. He fully believes in Crowley, that all he needs to do is reframe not killing the kids as within the rules of Hell, the way Crowley so often comes to do for Aziraphale ("Then you can't be certain that thwarting me isn't part of the divine plan too. I mean, you're supposed to thwart the wiles of the Evil One at every turn, aren't you?" "If you put it that way, Heaven couldn't actually mind me thwarting you.").

Aziraphale believed Crowley was still good, that the angel he remembered was still in there. But Crowley rejects it - and it hurts. Crowley has become what a demon should be.

Crowley looks quite sorrowful here, too: he already cares for Aziraphale (he fell in love at the Garden), and it hurts to decieve him, to disappoint him, to hurt him.

I would argue that here, Crowley is scared.

He's in shadow, which dims the yellows; his undemonic nature is about to be revealed.

And that is not safe, because Hell does not send rude notes. And here, Crowley is not doing just any temptation, but trying to help Satan win a bet (supposedly). And out of every demon in Hell, Satan is the one you want to piss off the least.

But here, Crowley is scared because Aziraphale could reveal him - because Aziraphale is on God's side, and because it is revealed that Crowley is not nearly as demonic as he makes himself out to be. He's vulnerable. Aziraphale could scorn him, hurt him. But instead:

Aziraphale is incredibly smug. "I knew I was right", he says. "I knew you were still good".

And here is another issue: Aziraphale conflates God/Heaven/angels with good, and demons/Hell with bad.

And Crowley does not see Heaven as good. He doesn't want Aziraphale to see his angelic core past the demonic exterior. He's on his own side.

This, for Aziraphale, confirms that "the angel you knew is not me", is not correct.

And I think, out of the three minisodes, it's this one that does the most for fleshing out Aziraphale and Crowley's frames of mind this series, and why they choose what they choose in ep6.

Aziraphale has been proven right about Crowley's angelic nature, and that he wants to do good, but can't, for fear of Hell's retribution.

And Crowley does not see Heaven as good. He recognises that being an angel again will not allow him the freedom to do good. (as Aziraphale had to try and talk a demon into helping him save the kids from God.)

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #meta #good omens meta #job minisode #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #go meta #good omens analysis #late.meta

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cheriladycl01 · 2 months

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Could you do one for Checo with wife reader? He's not getting enough love. Just something fluff and romantic. You decide how it goes. Thanks!!

No es suficiente! Sergio Perez x ActressWife! Reader

Plot: Sergio having just married you wanted to show you of in the Red Bull Garage, but you feel so happy to be back after being so busy in your own career that everyone is dying to talk to you and someone gets a little jealous.

Credit to jamesvowles for the GIF

It was your first time back in the paddock for around a year. You'd been away for a large period of time, between filming for an up and coming blockbuster and being in an ongoing TV show you had a tight schedule and only was able to see your husband when he had breaks.

He helped you scan your paddock pass and then placed a gentle hand on the small of your back.

"Are you excited?" he asks you as he looked over to you, the media noticed the pair of you walk through and were quick to snap pictures of your return to the paddock.

"Yes, I cannot wait to see everyone! I haven't seen Lance or Max in ages!" You admit, knowing you hadn’t really seen his friends in a while.

“Good!”

Before you know it you’ve been thrusted back into the world of F1, all the cameras and the people wanting to talk, the smells coming from the hospitalities and the cars. It was an introverts nightmare.

However, Sergio always knew you were a people person despite your social battery draining quicker than most people’s. You loved the hustle and bustle life that came with being on track and with Sergio.

Whether you were off chatting to Will Buxton about his latest Drive to Survive meme, or hunting down Crofty timo interrupt his grid walk, or chatting to the mechanics in the garage about the car, to finalise it all up speaking with Christian about Max and Sergio.

Today was a little different, you were feeling anxious where it was your first day back in a while. However the minute you and your husband walked into the garage he’d been whisked away along with Max by their race engineers towards the big bosses office.

You and Kelly not having seen each other in so long decided it would be nice considering it was media day and there was no actual racing if you guys rounded up some of the other wags and did a little shopping.

You guys ventured from Red Bull to some of the other paddocks on the hunt for the other girlies. You stumbled upon Lily, Alexandra, Rebecca and Kika who all decided they were down for some shopping to save the boredom that was media day.

You guys hit Milan central getting a train down from Monza. There were some fans around who excitedly asked for pictures. You guys all obliged before getting on with the day and going into the different high end stores.

By the end, you guys had taken the phrase ‘shop till you drop’ far to literally. You all travelled back to the hotel that you were staying in courtesy of the team in which their partner drove for. The bags were placed on the coffee table and sofa in the living area of the room.

Kelly had a separate room for her and P because she was doing a fashion show in Milan on the Monday and Tuesday after the races, so she had a lot of cases with her because of the clothes and shoes and just general space she would need. So when she invited you back for a girlie sleepover with her and P you couldn’t decline.

Sending a quick text to your husband who was still at the racetrack you left the room straight to Kelly’s which was only a few doors down. P answered the door which to Kelly’s dismay who was currently in the bathroom taking her makeup off before she could even get to the door.

“We don’t answer the door, it could have been a stranger Penelope!” She lightly scolds, the younger girl not caring to much and pulling you into a hug.

“Awwww hello P” you sigh hugging her back beofre picking her up and placing her on your hip.

“Are you going to let me do your hair tonight while we watch a Disney movie!” You ask and Ps eyes light up with excitement.

“Let me guess, the little mermaid?” You ask her and she nods furiously going towards the controller in the room to pull up what you assumed would be Disney +.

You spent the rest of the night with the daughter mother duo, doing facials, watching films and ordering an obscene amount of desserts from room service.

The next day you woke up and went to your room to see if Sergio would join you for breakfast but the room was empty, bed all screwed up and unmade showing you your husband had in fact come home last night.

You sit alone for breakfast which was nice, just to be able to think on your own thoughts for some time. Most of them being about your new movie, or the TV show and how to develop your character.

You took and Uber to the race track not wanting to be rudely late for FP1, wanting to support your husband. As you got there, running through the paddocks gates and mumbling profanities at the electronic gate which wouldn’t let you in after 4 attempts on your pass, you spotted Sergio.

“Hola, good night with Kelly?” He smiles at you, kissing your cheek lightly. You nod and open your mouth about to say something but his race engineer calls out for him pointing towards the garage entrance.

“Go, don’t want to be late on the job now!” You home and he just laughs lightly shaking his head before turning away and running out the the garage where his car was.

You stood with Kelly watching your boys drive. It felt like forever that Sergio was in the car, but again the minute he got out he was whisked away to a debrief with what went wrong with the car.

That was how the rest of the weekend went, whenever you had free time it felt like he was being taken away for important meeting, interviews and various media commitments and when he was free you were either on the phone with work or had organised to do something with the girls because you thought he was busy at that time but due to scheduling mixups he was actually free and refused to let you cancel on the girls.

It got to Sunday night after the race. Sergio had come in P2 behind Max and with Carlos just behind him. He’d had a great drive and you couldn’t have been prouder to celebrate his podium with him.

You were in the hotel room together, you’d just gotten out the shower and into night wear, he was laying on the bed, in his pijama pants and shirtless like normal.

You jumped onto the bed curling up into his side pulling him so as much as your skin was touching his.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you for ages mi amor” you voice before tilting your head that was laying in his chest to look up up him.

“Mmmmm No es suficiente!” He mumbles looking down at you. (It’s not sufficient!)

“What isn’t?” You ask perplexed.

“The time I had with you this weekend, not enough of it. I brought you here to spend more time with you and everyone didn’t want to see us together” he sighs pulling you closer with a pout on his face. On camera your husband didn’t seem like the clingy type but boy of boy was he.

“Argh you big baby, I’m not filming for another 5 weeks so your stuck with me all this time. This week was just unfortunate” you smile pulling him into a soft kiss which he quickly returns.

“God I missed this, just you” he smiles softly before pulling you into another kiss.

“Is this making up for it?” You offer smirking slightly knowing now that you were giving him the attention he was craving he was happy.

“Mmm im considering kidnapping you, so you have to spend all your time with me!” He groans pulling you over so your straddling him and laying in his chest on top of him.

“But who will be the lead in your current favourite TV show?” You gasp playfully.

“No way! Ellen Pompeo is leaving Greys?” He teases, knowing it would tule you up. You slap his shoulder lightly looking down at him.

“Mmmm im sure they could find someone to replace you if I kept you all for myself!” He teases again and you laugh this time.

“Mmmm and I’m sure if I kidnapped you Red Bull would too!” You tease back and he gasps in mock shock hand to his chest.

“Well seeing as we both seem to be staying respectively in our professions… I suggest we order room service!” You smile again, pulling him in for a kiss. He nods, rolling you off and getting up towards where the phone is on the desk. You watch as he used his hands to motion around as he talks to the receptionist on the phone.

You were so completely and utterly in love.

A/N: short and sweet! Hope you enjoy!

Taglist:

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#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #sergio perez x reader #sergio perez #sergio checo pérez #Sergio Perez imagine #sp11 #sp11 x reader #Sergio Perez x you

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shadeysprings · 6 months

Text

So Good. So Bad.

—Stalker!Ex-Boyfriend!Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Summary — The Halloween party you and your friends attend turns upside down all because of your jealous ex.

Warnings — noncon/dubcon, toxic relationship, mass murd3r, k!lling spree, somewhat public sex, cuckolding of some sort, almost drugging, Lloyd being toxic and psychotic. There may be more I haven't mentioned but please read with caution.

Word Count — 7.2K

A/N — I know I said Sunday but my muse said no. Story #2 for my FREAKtober Fest and my second time exploring Lloyd as a character. The writing process was tedious yet exciting. The title and inspiration of this fic was taken from the song ILYSB.

Gif by the amazing @steve-kemp

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

Aside from having the same shift as your best friends, restocking is the only thing you like about your work. Although it’s physical, it’s mostly mindless tasks done repeatedly, and the black shirt you wear acts like a shield from annoying customers who pester the ones in blue.

Your shift starts like clockwork; time in, grab the products from the warehouse, and begin stocking the shelves until you have to clock out. Though today was a bit more taxing than you expected with the cable aisle once more in disarray and you being tasked to reorganize and set everything in its proper place. You don’t understand the need to put in so much effort into something that will just end up messy at the end of the day.

But you do it anyway.

Upon arriving at the aisle, you begin sorting out the boxes and dismantling the hooks from the shelves. You’re happy enough to be doing this alone—the quicker you work, the faster you’ll be able to relax and waste the time away. That is, until Kate stands beside you, seemingly tensed as she starts helping you.

“He’s here again. TV aisle.” You don’t need for her to say anything more to know who she’s referring to and it just makes you sigh as you grab a box of an HDMI cable and hang it on the hook. “Jensen’s trying to help him but he’s being pushy about talking to you. How does he always know when you’re here? Didn’t you already change shifts?” She asks.

How you wish you knew the answer to that. “I did.” You say in exasperation. “Did he say I was on break?”

“You know we can’t lie. Besides, we have no idea if he already saw you before he came in. He could have seen you while you were on your smoke break.” She expounds and you feel a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over you. “Just—talk to him. Tell him to leave. If he tries anything, we’ll call the cops.”

“Yeah. Like they’ll do anything about it. Vince wouldn’t even allow that—bad publicity and all.” The sigh that once more leaves your lips is despondent. You don’t know what else you can do to make him leave you alone. “Fine. I’ll deal with him.” The box in your hand ends up being crumpled from annoyance.

“We’ll be keeping watch.” She says, a measly attempt to comfort you. But you take it anyway with a smile and push away from your cart to hopefully turn away the pesky client.

It’s been almost two years since you broke up with Lloyd. The sweet air that he once had turned bitter when you saw just how jealous of a person he was. You thought it was cute at first, comforting him after a fit and telling him that he was the only man in your life—until it wasn’t and he threatened your friend, John, even challenging him to a fight at the back of the club when he placed his arm on your shoulder as he introduced you to his girlfriend.

Since then, he changed and the relationship you thought was almost perfect, snowballed into endless fights and the revelation of the toxicity he kept hidden. You thought you could make him realize that there was truly nothing to worry about, that his jealousy was misplaced. But you were very wrong, especially after he demanded you quit your job and move in with him instead. You’d make a really good housewife, was what he said and you knew you had to draw the line.

It wasn’t the life you wanted. And it pained you to leave because you did love him but with the way he acted, you questioned if he truly felt the same for you for even the simplest of things, he failed to trust you. And ever since, he hasn’t stopped following you. Everywhere you went, at work or home, he was there, simply watching, observing and you’ve done all you can to push him away. But no matter how hard you try, he can’t take the word no.

The first thing you notice when you see him is the twitch of his mustache when he smirks. He looks pristine as ever with his yellow polo shirt and white slacks that match his black loafers—a complete mismatch to your black shirt, jeans and sneakers uniform. And it has you thinking, what the hell did he see in you?

“The new models just came in yesterday,” You hear Jensen tell him but it’s obvious that Lloyd is not listening, certain that he’s staring at you even with his blue eyes covered by sunglasses. “I can show them—”

“Ah, just the girl I was looking for.” He says, cutting off Jensen and stepping past him to head over to you.

“Sir, she’s one of our warehouse staff. I’d be happy to assist you in—”

“Beat it, nerd!” Lloyd snaps as he stops to face Jensen, rolling your eyes at his misplaced annoyance. “She’s the one I want to talk to.”

“It’s okay, Jen. I got this.” You tell your co-worker, gesturing for him to leave.

“You sure? I can stay if you need any he—”

“Are you fucking deaf?! She said she’s got it, loser!” Lloyd turns from where he stands and you’re suddenly alarmed to see him charge over at Jensen. “Beat it or I’ll make you.” He threatens and you immediately wedge yourself between both men when you see Jensen isn’t backing down.

You place your hands against Lloyd’s chest, stopping him from getting any closer. “Lloyd, stop it! Not here—Christ!” Your voice raises an octave when you scold him, facing Jensen right after and unintentionally glaring at him. “Just go, Jake! I said I got this!” It surprises you that you sound quite like Lloyd but it doesn’t deter you from pushing Lloyd back further.

You hear Jensen speak but don’t understand him as you grab Lloyd by the hand and pull him over to the other aisle, heat rising up your neck when you notice several of the shoppers looking in your direction. There’s never any peace with Lloyd—everywhere he goes, chaos follows.

Once you’ve pulled him away from prying eyes, you startle when he stops walking and tugs on your hand, his arm immediately wrapping around your waist as he holds you close. He gives you a sickeningly sweet grin, effectively trapping your hand against his chest.

“What the fuck do you want, Lloyd? Why are you here?” You bite.

“I’m looking for a TV.” He says smoothly, “Besides, I missed my little Kitten and I know that kitty of yours misses me too.”

You want to roll your eyes at his crass comment. “You know I work in the damn warehouse. I know nothing about them.” You reason, grunting as you try to get away from his hold. “We have a sales specialist who can help you with that.”

“Oh, but I want you to show me the options.” The hair on his lip twitches when he smirks, “Or I can complain to your manager that his employees aren’t helpful to their customers.”

“Seriously? You’re going to act like a fucking Karen?”

“Would you like to see me try?” He challenges.

That’s the last thing you needed from him and you don’t question that he would stay true to his word and make sure his complaint reached top management. Letting out a sigh, you nod at his request and show your best customer service smile before saying, “How can I help you?”

Your shift finally ends and you can’t wait to go home to wash off the day. After Lloyd pestered you with all the TV selections you showed him, he left with nothing and you tried your best not to show your annoyance at him though he knows he’s riled you up—he always does.

Bidding your goodbyes to Kate and the rest as you leave the store with Jensen in tow. He offered a ride to the station—something he always does and one you couldn’t refuse after the long day. You just want to go home and curl up in your room and hope that Lloyd doesn’t show himself again after that awful stint.

“Tough day, huh?” Jensen asks as he brings the engine to life and drives off from the parking lot.

“Yeah. I’m just glad it’s over.” You respond, leaning back against your seat while you hug your backpack against your chest.

“Yeah.” He echoes, hearing his fingers tap against the wheel. “The line at the tech depot was pretty long too. Seems like every computer within town is falling apart.” He jokes, and you think it’s an attempt to lighten the mood. You still feel tense with the altercation he had with Lloyd—you just wish for once one of them would listen to you.

“Hey, sorry about earlier.” He says and you visibly cringe when he mentions it. “I know you could handle him but knowing that he’s bothering you, I couldn’t just step away from—”

“Look. Jensen.” You sigh as you turn to face him. “I appreciate your concern, really, I do. But no offense, it’s none of your business. I don’t need a knight in shining armor to come and rescue me each time that idiot shows up. The others stay away because of how reckless he can be and I just don’t want you to get caught in the line of fire. Just let me handle him.”

You know full well why Jensen couldn’t get past that. After admitting to you his feelings since he found out you were single, he’s been subtly dropping hints about asking you out. You’d probably have taken up the offer if you met him before Lloyd but the trauma your ex has imprinted on you just leaves you thinking that any man who would dare go near would be the same.

Silence fills the small space, along with a flicker of tension. You think Jensen would disapprove of your words, that he would insist on giving his unwarranted help. But all you hear is a sigh and you see the nod of his head.

“Okay.” He utters, the rubber covering the steering wheel squeaking when his hold on it tightens. “I won’t meddle any—”

“JENSEN!” You shout and grab onto the handle of your seat when a car suddenly turns and blocks your path, Jensen stepping hard onto the brakes.

“What the fuck?!” He shouts as he rolls down his window but you, on the other hand, sit still when you see Conrad, one of Lloyd’s buddies, step out of the car and walk over to Jensen’s side. “What the hell is wrong with you, bro?!” Jensen growls as he unlocks his door, ready to step out.

But you’re too late to warn him—Conrad pulling open the door and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, trapping him against the side of his car. Lloyd then suddenly appears, with Chris in tow. He goes first to Jensen, the latter flinching when he raises his fist at him, threatening to lay a punch before leaning down and framing his arms over the edge of the window.

Your eyes dart to Jensen when he grunts against Conrad’s grip, glaring at Lloyd when he stares you down. “What the fuck are you doing here, Lloyd?!”

His eyes meet yours, darkness swirling around the blue and you can already tell that he’s angry. “What are you doing here, Kitten?” He says, a cocky grin on his face. “You couldn’t wait for me to pick you up so you got into this loser’s car?” He tuts, chin nodding over to your side and your door suddenly opens, Chris, pulling you out aggressively.

You look around, hoping to call for help but you curse Jensen when you notice he went through the back roads. No one ever passes here, especially at this hour, and now the both of you are at the mercy of your ex who you see looming over your co-worker.

You gasp when Lloyd sends him a punch, trying to pull away from Chris’ grasp to help Jensen, but it’s no use. You’re rendered helpless as you watch him send another blow, making the other bowl over to which Conrad pushes him further to the ground.

“Stay away from my girl, asshole!” Lloyd threatens before spitting at the other man, your eyes grow wide when Lloyd takes you from Chris and drags you to his car.

You hear the sound of tires being slashed and several glass breaking along with Jensen’s pained grunts. You knew Lloyd could be reckless but you’ve never seen him this way before. He opens the passenger door and pushes you in, slamming the door harshly before getting inside himself. He doesn’t wait for his companions before driving off, your hand grabbing the side of the door with the speed he’s going.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You shout. “Let me out of here!”

“You keep testing me, Kitten. Running off with other men like that.” He growls and you scream when he takes a sharp left, cars honking left and right at how careless he’s driving.

“Are you that daft?! We’re over, Lloyd! We’ve been for years!” You shout amidst the panic that rolls through your veins, eventually getting the courage to hit him on the shoulder when he gets on the main road.

But you soon realize your mistake when he stops at an alley and his hand immediately wraps around your neck, pulling you towards him. You grab on his wrist when he squeezes tight, your eyes wide as you fear that he would choke you, kill you on the spot.

“Lloyd—” you gasp, slapping on his hand as tears fall from your eyes. “Y—you’re hurting me.”

“I will only say this once, Kitten, so you better listen.” His hot breath spreads across your cheek when he pulls you closer, the tick on his jaw setting you on edge. “You’re mine and no one, not even you, can change that fact. Got it?”

All you can do is nod, to agree with every word he says if it means you get to keep your life.

“Good.” He huffs, the anger in him somewhat seeping away, loosening his hold around your neck. “Good girl.” The praise that used to send shivers of desire within you now has your stomach twisting in disgust. “And if I see that weirdo or any other man going near you again, you know what will happen.”

You nod once more and gasp when he completely releases you, leaning against your seat as you try to regulate your breathing.

He drives once more and you’re thankful he’s slower this time, doing your best to stay calm as you look out the window. “Where are you taking me?” You ask, although you already have an inkling of his answer when you recognize the area you’re in and the direction he’s driving to. You haven’t driven in and out of these roads for almost two years. After you and Lloyd broke up.

The smirk he gives you is enough of an answer.

“Are we going to pre-game before the party?” Bucky asks as he plops down onto the couch in the employee lounge, shaking a tumbler of his protein shake in his hand. “Last year’s booze ran out so fast, I went home seeing straight. I don’t want to be sober on Halloween night.”

“You never want to be sober, Barnes,” Kate comments as she rolls her eyes, yet her interest seems to already be piqued. “But he’s right. Are we going to drink before the party or should we just hit the club after? I have a friend who can get us in at this club for free.”

“That could work but I’d rather enjoy the night drunk then get wasted at the club.” Bucky responds, taking a sip of his drink. “We could just meet up at someone’s place and pre-game there, then we can all go to the party together. Would save us gas too if we just take one car.”

“Who even lives near the venue?”

You tune yourself out from their conversation and stab your fork into your lunch as the Halloween party is the last of your concerns. Besides, you don’t think Lloyd would be happy with you attending and you wouldn’t dare give him the opportunity to ruin the event for you and your friends or give him any reason to be mad again.

Your friends exchange ideas, listing down people’s names of who they’ll be inviting for their plan of drinks and whose place they’ll be crashing when the door of the lounge opens and you freeze in your seat when Bucky calls out Jensen’s name.

“Hey buddy! You live downtown, right?” Bucky asks, patting the space beside him to which Jensen accepts. “We were thinking that—the fuck happened to your face?”

Your grip on your fork tightens when you chance a peek at both men, feeling your stomach drop when you see the bruise staining Jensen’s cheek.

“Oh that?” Jensen chuckles, his fingers running against the side of his face. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and I slammed against my door frame.” You know he’s lying, though you’re somewhat thankful he didn’t expose what Lloyd and his friends did. Still, you feel the guilt nipping at the back of your neck.

“You’re such a klutz, Jake.” Kate says with a laugh.

Jensen makes a face in her direction and you look away when his eyes meet yours. “Why were you guys asking if I lived downtown?” He suddenly asks, shifting the topic.

Bucky takes the lead again. “We were thinking of doing drinks before heading to the party. And since you live closer to the venue, maybe we could just meet at your place?”

“Depends. Do I have to provide the booze?”

“We can bring some and you prepare some.” Kate responds. “Sounds good?”

Jensen hums audibly as he thinks of his decision. You feel the tension circling around you as you sense his eyes on you while he speaks. You don’t dare to look up, keeping your focus trained on the lifeless pasta in your lunch container.

“I’m in. Though who’s coming? My apartment isn’t that big so I can’t really hold a huge crowd.” He finally says.

“I’m there.” Bucky says, mouth full of his protein shake. “Tell me what you guys want and I’ll bring it.”

“Me too. Though I’m bringing my boyfriend along—that cool with you guys?” No one seems to object and you look up to face your best friend when she nudges you. “You’re coming too, right? Amber’s dragging Nick along and we won’t be complete without you. I even planned this super cool costume for us.”

You feel your body shake at her question. The pressure of going to the event with your best friends growing in your chest, colliding with the added stress of meeting at Jensen’s place and the fear of Lloyd finding out about the plan.

“I don’t know.” You say with a frown, closing up your container as your appetite has already turned sour from the anxiety crawling up your spine. “You know I don’t do well at parties. I’ll just stink up the mood.”

“Aww come on. Please?” She begs with those puppy eyes she always uses to convince you. “You’ll be with us and if it gets too much, we’ll leave. And if you’re worried about that psycho ex of yours showing up, I can just show Andy in his direction and he’ll show him a thing or two.” You want to latch onto the assurance she gives you but she doesn’t know Lloyd like you do.

Still, you could probably think of a way to convince him—he’s never been apprehensive of you spending time with your friends. Except it’s not only them who would be with you; Bucky and Jensen would be there as well, and you’ve already witnessed what he’s done to the latter, the evidence staring you in the face.

And that would mean you would have to lie. Though is it really lying if you’re just omitting out the information he doesn’t want to hear?

But the plan didn’t go as expected.

Instead of heading over to the company party after drinks at Jensen’s apartment, like what was discussed, you find yourself nursing a red cup full of shitty alcohol in a dimly lit house while surrounded by your friend group and people you only assume to be Bucky’s college frat buddies.

You tug on the skirt of your black dress that’s a little too short for your liking, the cat headband already irritating you with how long you’ve been wearing it. You don’t know why you’ve agreed to Kate’s idea for the three of you to imitate the costume from that movie—you’re just glad she didn’t push you to wear a bodysuit and that Amber was happy to trade with the mouse theme you were originally assigned to do.

Speaking of your best friends, you walk around the living room as you try to look for them, no longer wanting to be alone amidst the foreign crowd. But you frown when you see Kate at the corner of the room, her boyfriend’s hand planted firmly on her ass while they make out. Amber, on the other hand, was just on the other side, with Nick barricading her against the wall like some prison guard. Though with the smile you see on her face, she doesn’t seem to mind being isolated by him.

Your eyes then dart towards the front door when the cheers of men grow louder than the music blasting in the house. Three people walk in, each one wearing a mask over some effortless casual clothes underneath. But the one wearing the iconic ghostface catches your attention, noticing him looking your way with the other two standing behind him following suit. There’s a somewhat eerie familiarity to their masked gaze that makes you look away and leave from where you stand.

“Not really what you’re expecting, huh?” You startle when someone says too close against your ear, making you look up and chuckle when you see Jensen smiling at you, an opened beer bottle in his hand.

“It feels like I’m back in college attending a frat party.” You comment, making the both of you laugh and tapping your cup against his bottle when he raises it to you.

“You went to a lot of parties in college?”

You shake your head. “Not really. Wasn’t really a party type.”

“Same. But I had no choice with my roommate dragging me to every party.”

You have no idea why Jensen is speaking to you—after what he endured with Lloyd and his buddies, you’d think he’d steer clear of you, probably even fear you thinking that history would repeat itself. But deep down, you’re happy to be in his company, choosing it over being alone in a place you don’t even know half the people in.

The both of you chat for a while, finding a less crowded spot in the kitchen and helping yourselves with the food and the drinks that are out and free for the taking. You still feel bad when the bruise on his cheek remains prominent, though with his purple button up and baggy gray slacks, you think it blends well with his cosplay of Bruce Banner when you asked him who he was supposed to be.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you, Jen.” You tell him with a frown, leaning against the edge of the counter as you look down at your drink. “I didn’t think Lloyd would actually hurt anyone.”

“It’s fine. It’s just a bruise.” He assures, giving your arm a pat.

“What about your car? Didn’t they trash it?”

“They did. But good thing I have insurance.”

It surprises you how positive the air around him still is despite the misfortune he’s met because of you. You almost envy his happiness, and the happiness that your friends have and you find it almost unfair that Lloyd wasn’t like Andy and Nick, doting and loving towards their girls, when both those men are his friends. You wish he’d learn a thing or two from them about handling relationships the proper way.

Sadness then swirls around you as you contemplate on what your life has become; always scared and cautious, that Lloyd would hurt another because of his jealousy, because of his unspoken obsession to completely possess you.

Your train of thought stops when you feel your cup being taken from your grasp, Jensen replacing it with a fresh one, fizz floating to the top of the amber liquid. “Jack and Coke.” He says. “Your drink looked a little stale.”

But before you could even take a sip, you hear spine tingling screams coming from the living room. You think it’s some scary prank someone has pulled on another, you and Jensen looking at each other and pushing away from your perch to investigate the commotion. But in just a flash of a second, the whole house is in chaos, people running, scrambling for their lives while the three masked men you saw earlier run amok, shooting and stabbing the party goers one by one and leaving them bloody and dead on the ground.

No sound escapes your lips as you’re gripped by fear upon witnessing the bloodbath, your body refusing to move even when your brain tells it to. But the hand that grabs onto your arm has you shouting in shock, only to be muffled by another and your eyes wide with horror thinking that they’ve got you. But to your relief, it’s only Jensen and he places a finger against his lips, telling you to be quiet before pulling you amongst the havoc for a way out.

You try the backdoor first but for some unknown reason it wouldn’t budge open no matter how hard he yanks it. He tries the window above the kitchen sink as well but just like the door, it’s screwed shut. He pulls on you once more, leading you down the hall this time, the rave music playing loudly in your ears pumping the adrenaline in your veins while the sound of the screams die out one by one.

He makes it to the end of the hall, the staircase free from the killers but with bodies lying lifeless on the steps—a woman with her throat cut wide open and a man with a bullet right between his eyes. He looks back at you, telling you to be quiet once more as he gestures that you both will be heading up. But before he could even set foot on the first step, one of the masked men appears and kicks him forward, making him topple over the corpses.

A scream is then wretched from your throat when you’re suddenly pulled back, the stranger trapping you against him while he positions his knife just under your chin, feeling the sharp edge of the blade kiss your skin. The man from the stairs kicks Jensen in the stomach then again, your co-worker writhing in pain as another joins his attacker, this time with a metal bar which he slams against his chest.

“Hello, nerd! Long time no see.” The one who kicked him greets, the timbre of his voice making your heart pound against your chest. No! “Whatcha doin’ with my girl, huh?” The stranger asks before pulling off his mask and you freeze when you see Lloyd’s face. He then turns to you, a cocky smirk playing on his lips and sending you a wink before he asks, “Whatcha doin’ here, Kitten? Thought you were at a company party?” The sly twist in his voice has you on edge.

The smirk on his face then fades, turning into a scowl when he nods at the man who’s got you trapped against him. You’re then released from his hold but not for long as Lloyd simply takes his place, grabbing you by your arm, wincing from his tight grip and dragging you into the living room where you see countless bodies lying lifeless on the ground and the walls of the house painted crimson.

He shoves you against the couch where you fall against something cold and sticky, only to realize too late, crying out to see that it’s Bucky you landed on; his blood staining your dress and your hands. But you’re then pushed away from him, falling back on the cushions as Lloyd kicks his body off the surface to take the space he once occupied.

You feel like you’re about to convulse as you cry when Lloyd wraps an arm around you. You try to push away from him, not wanting to be near him but he shakes you like a rag doll, making you stop before gesturing over to someone you cannot see as your eyes are blurry from your tears and remain locked on your dead friend’s feet.

“Gentlemen, thank you for all your help.” Lloyd says when the music finally dies and you look up, surprised to see Andy and Nick standing unscathed with only splatters of blood staining their costumes. But what has you more jarred is seeing Kate and Amber bound and gagged, sitting against the floor, they’re eyes wide in fear as they squirm to be free from their restraints.

You’re suddenly off your seat and on your feet, determined to get to them, to help set them free and run away from this horrid place. But Lloyd is quick to yank you back, grunting when you fall onto his lap and his strong arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place.

“Relax, Kitten. They’re safe.” Lloyd assures, his gloved finger grazing against your cheek. “Just had to go through some extra measures to keep them out of the way.”

“We did our part, Hansen.” Andy says, pulling Kate from the ground who forcefully tries to pull away from his grip while Nick does the same with Amber, who in turn quietly follows while tears keep running down her face. “Just don’t forget the deal.”

“Yeah yeah. Just make sure your bitches know what to say if they’re questioned.” Lloyd responds with disinterest. “Meet me by the end of this week for your payment.”

It’s all the words the men exchange before dragging away your friends, their wide and fearful eyes being the last you see before the door closes behind them.

The sound of wood being dragged across the tiled floor then makes you look forward, seeing Chris and Conrad, now with their masks off, placing a chair in front of you and Lloyd while the latter drags Jensen’s beaten body and forces him to take a seat. Both men then go to work, effectively binding their captive’s wrists behind his back with tape and his ankles to the legs of the chair.

The sight of his damaged state breaks your heart as you helplessly feel guilty upon thinking that everything that has happened to him is all your fault. You never should have come here in the first place as soon as you found out about the change of plans. You should have just gone home or better yet, you should have just stayed at home where you know Lloyd would be.

Yet the universe could be so cruel.

“Look what we found on him.” Chris says in a serious tone before pulling out a small ziplock bag from Jensen’s shirt pocket and tossing it over your lap. You glance down at the clear packaging, seeing several small white tablets enclosed in it. What?

“Lover boy here was so desperate to get laid he brought roofies with him.” Conrad adds with a laugh, pushing on the back of Jensen’s head hard that his body jolts forward.

The bag is then taken from your lap, Lloyd holding it up close to his face as he inspects the white circles. You yelp when you’re suddenly shoved off his lap, falling over to the floor while Lloyd steps over to Jensen and grabs him by his hair, pulling his head back while he holds the baggie in front of him, breathing heavily like some wild animal through gritted teeth.

“You were gonna drug my girl, weren’t you?!” Lloyd spits out his words and on Jensen’s face, tossing the tablets in Conrad’s direction, your throat eliciting a gasp when he holds a knife to his neck this time. “Did you take any drink from him?!” He asks, but it takes a second for you to realize that he’s talking to you. He turns in your direction, eyes dark with anger. “Any fizzy shit this asshole gave you?!”

You don’t understand what he’s asking, why the sudden interrogation—then it hits you. In the kitchen while you were busy with your thoughts, Jensen took your stale drink, as he claimed, and replaced it with another. No—it can’t be. He said it had coke in it and sodas make a fizz.

“I won’t ask again, Kitten.” Lloyd pushes and you nod out of fear, knowing that he would find out that you’re lying to him if you said otherwise.

The look on Lloyd’s face shifts into something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand. Like something sinister has possessed him with the way his lips curl in a playful manner.

A groan leaves Jensen’s lips when Lloyd releases him and you push yourself back against the couch when he goes for you next.

“Lloyd, please—!” you beg as he tucks the knife in his pocket, yanking you from the ground and shoving you forward, planting you firmly in front of Jensen before forcing you to bend over. “Let’s just go home—you already beat him!” You cry, pushing against Jensen’s thighs when Lloyd doesn’t budge and keeps dipping you further.

You feel like you’re going to gag when the metallic stench fills your nose especially with how close you are to your bleeding co-worker and you attempt once more to push away from him, no longer wanting the both of you to suffer. But the world suddenly feels like it’s turning upside down when you feel Lloyd pushing up the skirt of your dress, a grunt leaving his chest when he roughly rips your panties off your thighs.

“Now, don’t be like that, Kitten.” He says in a syrupy tone. “Don’t you want to at least show him his sick fantasy of fucking you?” The tell tale sound of his zipper being undone fills your ears and you’re shocked frozen, scared to the wits end that Lloyd would take you here amongst the dead and in front of your friend who he’s beaten to a pulp.

You look away from Jensen when you feel Lloyd’s cock brush against your ass, his tip teasing your pussy lips. You then shout when Lloyd grabs you by the back of your neck, forcing you to look back at your friend who has one eye swollen shut, while the other is stained with blood and brimming with unshed tears.

In one swift move, Lloyd enters you, gasping for air at his sudden intrusion. Pain blooms at the pit of your stomach when he doesn’t allow your walls to adjust and begins fucking you at a brutal pace, your nails digging into Jensen’s thighs as you try to endure your abuser’s torment.

Your body jolts against the chair, following Lloyd’s callous thrusts. You’re then washed in humiliation when you hear Chris and Conrad snickering at your sides, seeing them watch you with perverse eyes, sickened to the core as the thought that they enjoy what they are witnessing comes to your mind.

Both men then hold Jensen in place when he starts squirming in his seat that he almost topples over. Lloyd then abruptly pulls you up, pressing your back against his chest but only to grab on the straps of your dress and harshly pull them down from your shoulders, having your breasts spill into the open.

“She’s got perfect tits, doesn’t she, lover boy?” Lloyd taunts as he keeps up the pace of his hips, grabbing your breasts, kneading, squeezing, and pushing them together. “Why don’t you feel how soft they are?” And it’s as if things couldn’t get any worse, Lloyd moves you forward along with him, tipping forward when your knees hit the edge of the seat. His hands grab onto the back of the chair and you wail in horror when he forces your breasts to press against Jensen’s face, the sticky blood smearing all over your skin.

Lloyd laughs and so do his friends and all you feel is shame and disgust at what he’s doing to you—that the man you once loved would hurt you in the sickest way possible.

A gasp is once more wretched from your throat when Lloyd slams hard against your cunt, feeling his thick cock slide even deeper when your walls grow wet, the toe curling sensation from his tip repeatedly hitting that sweet spot of yours trying to take over. You feel like a woman possessed as you grit your teeth, pushing hard against the unwanted pleasure that slowly begins to crawl up your skin and seep into your bones, not wanting to give Lloyd the satisfaction that, despite such circumstances, he still manages to make you feel such a way.

Yet your attempts are deemed fruitless when you whimper and eventually turn into a moaning mess, your body responding to each of Lloyd’s touch; your pussy walls clenching around his throbbing cock with each thrust he makes and how your skin shivers, singing each note in sheer perfection as you climb higher and higher to your peak.

“You see that, nerd? You see how she turns into a fucking slut when you fuck her good?” He goads between heavy breaths, adjusting the position of his legs to have you lean more against his victim, his hands grabbing onto your tits once again only to rub it further against Jensen’s face, feeling the bristles of his goatee rub roughly against your skin.

“Too bad you’ll never get to have this.”

Lloyd's hips begin moving more erratically, the sound of your skins slapping with one another filling the stolid air. You swallow thickly, refusing for any more moans to leave your lips as you’re slowly enveloped in ecstasy, Lloyd’s cock pulsing deep in your pussy.

A blinding white light suddenly fills your vision and you shake uncontrollably as you come hard around Lloyd’s shaft. Tears once again spring from your eyes and you’re confused about what causes it. Is it embarrassment from feeling the pleasure? Pain from Lloyd’s roughness? Or is it sadness of how the evening of fun turned into a nightmare? You can’t think as you’re dissolved into nothing, your body floating in orgasmic bliss.

Lloyd follows soon, growling low and animalistic as he keeps his cock buried balls deep, painting your pussy walls with streaks of white as he spills his seed, filling you to the brim.

You think that it’s finally over, that Lloyd’s objective has finally been met. But a life draining gasp then fills your ears—not from you or from Lloyd but from Jensen. And it’s only then that you realize what has happened when you see Lloyd’s hand gripped on the hilt of the knife with the blade stuck deep into Jensen’s chest.

“No!” You cry out as Lloyd stabs him repeatedly, grunts of passionate anger escaping him each time he sinks the blade into the body before you.

Tears of despair and horror are what fall from your eyes, closing them as you hope that this is all a bad dream. You ball your hands into fists as you try your hardest to close in on yourself, to leave this place of torment that Lloyd has condemned you into.

Yet, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t. With the sound of metal hitting bone, along with the devious laugh of the men around you and the way your body shakes from Lloyd’s continuous blow, you’re repeatedly pulled back into the present, unwillingly witnessing the murder of your friend.

You suddenly feel your body shake, your chest tightening that you think the room is losing air and the smell of blood getting stronger and stronger that it makes bile ride up your throat. With Lloyd’s final stab, he pulls you away with him, leaving the knife buried in Jensen’s throat. The world around you suddenly turns, your vision spinning uncontrollably that before you could even let out a scream, everything suddenly goes dark.

You sit inside the employee lounge along with the others in somber idleness. The police came over just before the store opened and ordered that it remained closed for the rest of the day to make way for an investigation. Vince wasn’t happy with the commands of the law enforcers but there’s nothing he could do—there was nothing anybody could do.

A massacre, one of the officers said. A mass murder, another voices, declaring that some of the victims were employees of the store. You already knew who it was—Bucky and Jensen.

One by one, the employees were interrogated, some taking minutes while others taking hours. You glance at Kate who sits across from you on the lunch table, noting the small bruise on the side of her neck. You try not to imagine what Andy told her or did to her that night. You don’t even dare to ask as you refuse to relive the grim evening, nor want to feed her any memory of it.

You sit up once your name is called and you feel the eyes of your other co-workers land on you. The detective, stout and looking somewhat annoyed to be doing such a thing, looks your way and asks your name once more to confirm your identity.

He beckons you to follow him and you do, but not before looking down at your best friend when she grabs your hand, seeing the fear etched in her eyes. You give her a small smile and give her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting her go and following the detective into the other room.

You do as you’re told when he tells you to sit, staring down at the round table that sits between the both of you as you wait for his first question.

“I’m Detective Bodecker.” He starts, his belly protruding as he leans back against his seat. “And I just want to ask you a few questions regarding your co-workers. Is that okay?”

You nod.

“Do you need some water? Anything to make you comfortable?”

You shake your head.

“Very well. Let’s begin.” He hums and grabs his notebook from the desk, flipping a page. “Where were you on the night of October 31st?”

Your mind suddenly begins reliving the night in question. Jensen’s bloody face and Lloyd’s devious smile playing in your head. You blink those thoughts away, not wanting to give out any information on your face.

Taking a breath, you begin your tale.

“I was at a party—”

#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x f!reader #so good so bad #the gray man #chris evans characters #dark fic #horror fic #beanie's freaktober fest #freaktober fest #shadeysprings fics

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itsmealaiah · 3 months

Note

HIIII I LOVE UR WRITING SO HERES MY REQUEST🧌

Billy fucking the (female) reader and degrading her ‘cause she talked with some random guy at the supermarket. HE WAS JEALOUS. Mad jealous. THANKSSSSSSA❣️❣️❣️

🤭 yes thank you for requesting ❤️

Fucking apologise

(not my gif 🫶)

pairing: 2015 bill x fem (im in love with this era 😭)

synopsis: when bill sees reader talking to an old friend by coincidence at a supermarket when reader are both shopping, he gets pissed off, and fucks the living shit out of reader until reader apologises.

MDNI ⚠️ tags/ warnings: smut, p in v, harsh dom! bill, degradation, dirty talk, begging, cursing, head (slightly; f receiving), usual smut features here 😏, slut shaming, use of the word wh0re

a/n: i actually hate tests

f/n means friends name (i hope 😗)

Your POV:

"Bill does this look good to you?" I ask, holding fruit up for him to see., examining it, trying to decide if it was ripe or not. "Hmm, yeah it looks okay, put it in the cart" He replies, and walks away to get more of the items, leaving me all by myself, strolling through the aisles of food when I see someone oddly familiar, perusing the shelves of items. I get a closer view, and recognize him, the angle of his face making me able to identify who he is. My old friend from primary school, f/n. I gasp, and he turns around, a smile building on his lips. "y/n! I haven't seen you in so long! How have you been?" He asks, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug, the air escaping my body. "I've been good" I gasp once again, trying to relieve myself from his grip. "oh! sorry" he apologises, letting go. "didn't mean to hurt you" he says, his smile fading. "nono, it's okay, just took me by surprise, thats all" I pass him a light smile, showing him it was okay.

"That's good, so what are up to these days?" he questions, leaning onto the handle of his cart. "Not much, I met someone" I say, and he oo's. "Who?" He asks, and I blush. "you might know him, I think he went to our school when we were little" I face down on the ground. "I might, tell me more" I think for a moment, trying to remember the features of bill when we were younger. Black hair, loose clothing, and a sweet attitude even when people were bullies to him. "Bill kaulitz? that ring a bell? His hair was always messy, but it looked so adorable" I gushed. "Ohh! Him! I remember him! He was always so kind to me" His smile grew bigger. "Yeah, we've been dating for about three years now" my face reddens, and f/n laughs. "you must really love him, huh?" He questions, and I nod. "mhm" I mumbled. "Y/n!" I hear someone call, sounding like bill? His footsteps make their way down the aisle, one of his hands resting on my shoulder. "Who's this?" He asks, gazing down at me.

"I'm f/n, nice to meet you! y/n was just telling me how great of a person you are" He says with a bright smile. Bill only nods, a small 'mhm' leaving his mouth. "He was my old friend from primary school, I haven't seen him in forever" I look at bill, a frown lying on his face. My heart sinks at his facial expressions, knowing he must be mad. "Y/n said you went to school with us" f/n tries to lighten up the conversation, drifting my attention away from bill. "She was blushing so hard when she mentioned your kindness" He laughed, slapping my arm playfully. Bill didn't respond, his face only darkening in what seemed to be anger. "Well it was nice to see you again" I laughed nervously, taking the cart and bill away to another aisle. "What the fuck was that?" He hissed, eyes blazing with hate. "Just a friend" I murmured, picking up an item and placing it in the cart.

"Just a friend?" He chuckles darkly, his hand grasping my arm so im facing him, seeing the absolute, pure jealousy swimming in his eyes. "Yes!" I exclaim, pulling myself away along with the cart to the checkout. He follows suit, mumbling curses under his breath as the person working slides the groceries under the scanner one by one, watching them intently, waiting for them to finish. "Your total is fifty-five-seventy" the woman states, clicking on the screen in front of her. I put my card into the keypad, and we get out of the store, bill lurking behind, his hand on my waist. "When we get home, you're gonna fucking wish you never talked to f/n" He snarls, opening the car door and steps in while I place the groceries in the backseat.

"Bill!" I screamed while his tongue dug into my clit even more, more than what seemed even humanly possible, my hands on the edge of ripping the crisp, white bedsheets as I bucked my hips up near his face as he happily licked up all the juices leaking out of my aching pussy. "mmph, please bill, s'too much!" I moaned, while his fingers explored my folds, rubbing small circles. "Pleas-agh!" choked sobs left my lips as he continued, his nose sometimes nudging over the spot that made me melt. His tongue piercing was heavenly, the coldness of the metal up against the heat of my core was a mix of pleasure and pain. My orgasm was slowly creeping up, the knot forming in my lower stomach, as my cries echoed through the room. "Bill! gonna- c-cum!" I slurred, my words jumbling over each other.

He pulled away, and I whined. "Come back! Please!" I begged, trying to reach up for him, but he pushed my hands down back to my sides. "Shut the fuck up, you think you deserve to cum? After what you did?" He laughed meanly. "You don't deserve shit" He grabbed my jaw so I was looking into his eyes. I was about to roll over, to try and sleep, when he pinned me down, arms surrounding the sides of my head. "Listen, you little slut, you're gonna cum when I say so" he lifts one arm so its resting on my jaw once again, staring straight into my fearful and fucked out-eyes. "and only when I say so, you got that you whore?" He demands. "Please" I sigh, too desperate for him, to return to pleasuring me and my body.

He tears off his remaining clothes, revealing his hard erection, pre-cum leaking from the reddened tip, my mouth wide open. He strokes himself slowly, and I gasp. "Like what you see you little whore?" He grins wickedly, rubbing the head of him against my soft folds, making me whimper, the teasing too fucking much to handle. "Bill-Oh!" I cry out, his hands grabbing hold of my hips, as he pounded in and out, my body rocking from the force of his dick, sliding from my body never fully, and thrusting back in each time. "Fucking slut" He pants, lips beginning to work at my neck, marks consuming the skin as he bites the flesh, tugging it with his teeth. "who's the one who only can make you feel like this?" He demands, slowly up just a bit. "Y-you" I whine. His cock brushes up just right near the spongey spot again, whorish moans exiting my mouth.

He pulls away from my neck, and I see his face, lips swollen and pink, his eyes half-open, the way his chest is heaving up and down fastly, making me nearly cum right then and there. I snap out of my trance as he fills me up fully again, his hips rocking against mine, small little marks sure to form there as well. "Taking me so well my slut" he whispers, leaning down to my ear. "Cumming!" I yell for the second time. "Not yet" He growls, slapping my thigh. I wince, my eyes momentarily shutting. His cock begins to twitch, signaling he's on the verge of bliss as well, as he falters just for a second.

"mm-cumming, cum with me baby" he utters, low and sultry, the ropes of his cum filling my insides, as I cry out, arching my back. "Cum, now" he whispers, still inside of me. I oblige, my release consuming my entire being, my legs shaking from the thunderous force as I cum on his dick and lower abdomen. I fall weak against the pillows, and bill pulls out, grabbing some tissues to wipe me up. "you sorry?" he asks, eyes blazing with a hint of anger, and i nod. "wise answer" he lies down next to me, plopping down with a sigh as he closes his eyes, arms finding my waist, forcing me into his close embrace as I struggle to grasp sleep.

He snuggles his head into my chest, little noises of thanks spewing out from his mouth. I close my eyes, praying that I fall asleep, and soon enough I do. However, the thought of bill being so possessive keeps ringing back in my head. Do I really want a boyfriend who's always jealous?

#bill kaulitz fanfic #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz #itsmealaiah #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader smut #bill kaulitz x you

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fayes-fics · 1 year

Text

Mrs Bridgerton

Mrs Bridgerton Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Modern AU. Your ex-husband craves you in a way you had no idea about until one fateful call...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, explicit language and thoughts, dirty talk, sexting, sex tape, masturbation, pregnancy kink, smidge of breeding kink. Mentions of marriage, divorce, pregnancy, custody, parenting, heartbreak, emotions. Bit angsty maybe? Not sure.

Word Count: 4.3k

Authors Note: This is an anon request fill from January here. (tldr summary: ex-husband Benedict can't stop thinking about you) Nonny, I changed up a couple of details of your ask; the porn he watches is your old sex tapes from when you were married. Also, he doesn't call once he was spent; he accidentally calls very much in the act ;) I hope that is okay. Guys, I have no idea what this is; sorry. Thanks to @colettebronte for checking I haven't completely lost it and @eleanor-bradstreet for the gif used above. <3

“Mrs Bridgerton!.... Mrs Bridgerton!” A teacher calls out across the playing field as she jogs towards you. It takes you a few seconds to realise she is indeed addressing you. It's been a couple of years since you went by that name—almost a ghost from the past at this point.

“Ah, actually, it’s Ms y/l/n now,” you correct as she draws closer. “I’m, well, I’m divorced from Emilia’s dad,” you explain somewhat apologetically.

“Oh, I am so very sorry! I'm new here. I just asked her if her parents were here, and she pointed you out.”

“No, no, it’s okay. It's an entirely fair assumption to make,” you placate, shielding your eyes from the sun to catch Emilia's gaze and give her the thumbs up at the end of the grassy running track.

“Well, I just need one of you to sign this permission form for the trip to the Science Museum next week,” the teacher states, thrusting a clipboard towards you.

“Oh certainly, no problem,” you assure, taking the proffered pen and signing on the dotted line she indicates. You know how excited Emilia is about that upcoming trip, even though she insists on going to the museum with you or her father at least once every few months.

“Wonderful, thank you.”

You just nod as another teacher brings them all to the starting line with a blast from their whistle, and your focus shifts entirely to cheering on your five-year-old daughter in her first school race.

-----

He knows you haven't seen him, and he doubts even Emilia has clocked him, wearing a baseball cap pulled low as he is. He deliberately keeps a low profile when you arrive. He is here to see Emilia on her first sports day. Only that. Or so he keeps telling himself.

But then he sees you, and something in his stomach knots hard. It’s been more than two years, and still, every time, it floors him. A few months after your split, he took to using Eloise as the go-between for your shared custody arrangements and has never stopped. Since then, he has not seen you in person, too cowardly to face you. His biggest mistake was letting you go.

You met in your late twenties at a party hosted by mutual friends, and that night, he knew his life would never be the same. Something about the connection was instant and electric. He had the best sex of his life, right there in a spare room of a party. Both drunk and foolish, you didn't use protection. So it was only a few weeks into your burgeoning relationship when you found yourselves staring dumbfounded at a blue and white stick that would alter your lives forever. You married quietly two months later at the town hall, with just a few family members and close friends attending, neither of you wanting a big fuss. It was a big gamble in many ways, but you were both willing to try, crazily in love and filled with a youthful optimism that can be so blinding.

All was well until parenting a newborn drove you both to exhaustion and beyond. A wedge grew between you, even as your beautiful daughter developed into the best miniature version of both of you, with his beauty and your brains. You tried to make it work. But bickering about petty things and distancing became the only constant in your dynamic. Part of him had hoped Emilia would be enough glue to hold you together, but it was too much to pin on a small child. Just after her third birthday, he watched his world crumble as you tearfully packed up your possessions and took the light from his life with you.

And now. Now it's a regret that haunts him every day. Replaying the mistakes he made over and over, the ones that meant you slipped through his fingers. Too preoccupied with his career frustrations and plagued by chronic lack of sleep to realise the damage before it was irreparable. He knows now, too late, that with a little more effort and compromise, perhaps you would still be together as a family. He certainly never stopped loving and desiring you.

So when the teacher calls out Mrs Bridgerton, his heart almost stops beating and, to his shame, there is a stirring in his jeans. God, he wishes that was still your name, so much so there is a bitter taste in his mouth as he watches you correct the teacher in an endearingly accommodating way. A large part of him wants to leap up and grab you, lift you into his arms, beg that you use the name again. His name. But he doesn't; he just lingers in melancholic reverie, recalling with perfect clarity how it felt to push the white gold band shakily onto your left hand as you recited your vows.

Then with a sharp nearby whistle blow signifying the race start, his focus is pulled back to why he is here. His little wonder, the centre of his universe. Emilia Bridgerton. The most beautiful person on the planet.

“Go, Emilia!!” he shouts, transfixed as his little girl moves out ahead of the pack, unthinking of anything but supporting his baby girl.

-----

Your head cuts to the side, and you freeze. You would recognise that voice anywhere. And how many Emilia’s can there be in the race?

He's not looking at you; his whole focus is on the field, but you can't seem to look away. Not even to watch your precious daughter. You haven't seen your ex-husband in more than two years. Using his sister as a go-between just seems like the best way to deal with your residual guilt about leaving him. But now? One look and your insides feel like you are falling down a chasm, lungs suddenly too small for the breaths you need to take.

Time seems to slow like molasses as you observe him. He’s wearing a baseball cap, almost akin to a disguise, but you can see underneath it that profile that still makes your heart flutter. Too much, really, considering you are exes. But his beauty was never the problem; it was part of the reason you always stayed. Those soulful eyes would draw you back every time. Those eyes that now haunt you daily, the Bridgerton genes far too strong not to override all of yours. Emilia is the prettiest little female version of your ex-husband you could ever imagine, and it's both your greatest joy and your greatest pain point, living with a growing reminder of the person who still owns your heart regardless of how much you might wish otherwise.

Looking back now, leaving him was an impetuous decision made from a place of utter exhaustion, not able to see a way out of the treadmill your lives had become at that time. But pride stopped you from admitting perhaps you made a mistake, serving divorce papers before you could think too hard about it. He didn't contest and agreed to all of your terms of custody without a fight. You didn't ask for spousal support; you earned more from employment anyway, most of his income coming from his trust. You never loved him for the Bridgerton name or fortune; in fact, sometimes, it felt like you loved him in spite of it.

And now, one look at him, and you are breathless and in a complete emotional and, yes, physical quagmire. Your body yearning for him, your traitorous brain supplying image after tumbling image of intimacy, the likes of which you have never known before or since—warm bodies wrapped around each other in ecstasy, that velvet voice pleading with you to come with him, for him, always so eager. It makes your chest heave so hard you have to look away to regain composure, doing so just in time for the universe to seemingly return to normal speed, as you watch Emilia cross the line, victorious in her first-ever race.

You cannot help it; you leap up and cheer too. And she looks over, beaming and jumping up and down. Running towards you and throwing herself into your arms as you kneel with a huge grin.

“Mummy mummy mummy!!” she peals excitedly, her breath gusting hard into your ear. “I did it! I won!”

“I know; well done!” you exclaim, rocking her happily in your arms. “You did wonderfully!!!”

“Did I see Daddy?” she asks, craning over your shoulder. You tense and swivel yourself to follow her eye line, but where he was standing just moments ago, there is now just an empty patch of grass.

“Oh, I don't think so, my love; it was probably someone else’s daddy who looks similar,” you suggest, the lie feeling odd on your tongue, It's obvious he doesn't want to be seen, and a part of you is grateful to avoid an awkward meeting. Emilia is still scanning the crowd, unconvinced by your assertion. “How about an ice cream from the van over there?” you offer cheerily, wanting to distract her from looking too hard for him.

“Okay!” she chimes happily, squirrelling a warm little hand into yours and pulling you towards the pedestrian gate.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spy a navy blue Jaguar pulling out of the other gate and know without a doubt it was him.

-----

He couldn't do it. He thought he could, but he feels the weight of your stare and has to leave. The minute Emilia crosses the line, he gives a little victory punch and takes off. Not able to face you. So much of him wants to, but the gutless part of him apparently resides in his leg muscles. Before he knows it, he is in his car and pulling out onto the West London streets, not daring to look back. It's not his day to pick up Emilia; that's still two days away. He would not want you angry for overstepping the agreement you have in place.

As he pulls up at a traffic light, his phone pings a match on the dating app Anthony bullied him into downloading last week. The temptation to fling his phone right out the window is strong. The idea of being with someone else, especially after the tumult of seeing you today, just feels wrong.

The only person he has slept with since your divorce was the second biggest mistake of his life. Someone he met at a bar celebrating Colin’s last birthday after too many whiskeys. A close enough facsimile to you that, through the haze of alcohol, he let himself be seduced. The lizard part of his brain somehow convinced it was you, even as she rode him in a way that chafed. Nothing like the way you moved, positively undulated, on his cock. Regret clung to his skin, the fug of hangover already kicking in as he watched her wordlessly re-dress and leave almost immediately, never exchanging numbers. He never saw her again. The fact he called your name as he came was probably the majority of the problem.

The only thing that stops him from flinging the phone is all the history it contains. Pictures of Emilia growing up from a tiny infant to now. But also his text exchanges with you, that increasingly he finds himself scrolling back through on self-indulgent nights, back to when things were good, and you would send each other little notes of love interspersed with sexting that; even now, he can barely read without getting hard. Unable to resist, as he waits for the light to go green, a dozen or more quick thumb flicks upwards on the thread for your previous number, and he finds some of his guilty pleasures.

8 March, 3:25 pm

Y/N: You had better plough me over the kitchen table when you get home xoxox

4 April, 5:02 pm

BB: Tough work day, need you, babe

Y/N: How’s this, daddy?

Y/N: [photo of your naked glowing, slightly rounded pregnant body]

BB: Fucking helllllll, I am one lucky man

Y/N: Come home, fuck me, daddy

BB: You need to stop calling me that…

Y/N: Why? I am literally pregnant with your child.

BB: Yeah, and that’s why it's so wrong…

Y/N: Just get here, pls. I am so fucking wet….

He is pinch-zooming on the photo, head tilted, his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth… when a car horn makes him jump, the phone slipping from his grip and falling onto his emergent hard-on.

The traffic light has turned green.

With an apologetic nod in the rearview mirror, he drives off, shaking his head, knowing it’s probably very wrong to be looking at pictures of you, his ex-wife, and wanting to fuck you so bad that his foot leans heavily on the accelerator. His blood pumping hard, already knowing he will be taking himself in hand the minute he gets to his place.

-----

Emilia is happily smushing the cone of her 99 ice cream in her little fist as you walk the few streets to your sister's place, where you left your car earlier. She has kindly agreed to let Emilia stay tonight and have a sleepover with her cousins.

Later, you have your first date since your divorce, and you’ll probably need the rest of the late afternoon to psych yourself up enough to go. You've already cried off so many matchmaking attempts that you had to say yes eventually, just to stop the incessant badgering from all angles. Strangely, this one is Eloise’s doing, and you are still slightly weirded out that your ex-husband’s sister is engineering your first date in more than seven years.

Waving goodbye a few minutes later, you slip into your car and sit for a few deep calming inhales, trying not to think of how much Benedict stole your breath earlier. Some part of you thinks maybe you just imagined him there, a fevered mirage, your subconscious telling you to cancel this stupid date idea and stay home with your two best friends, Ben and Jerry. But then Ameila seemed to think he was there too, and honestly, it feels like you don't know what to do about anything anymore.

-----

He wastes no time, flinging aside the cap, tossing his car keys onto the hallway table and sprinting upstairs to his bedroom, only pausing to insert his noise-cancelling earbuds and discard his clothing.

He is already leaking a little when he throws himself onto the bed and fists his cock with a groan. His other hand is hovering over the play button on the video he definitely knows he shouldn't be watching, hidden in a nondescript folder.

Your soft giggle tickles his eardrums as the video jolts to life. It's one he shot of you on his phone on your honeymoon—it’s one of his favourites lately.

“Bennnnn,” your voice a teasing murmur as the screen fills with a glimpse of your breasts, his hand trying to take a sweeping shot of your body as you writhe underneath him, both of you buried in a soft glow under a tent of sheets wrapped around your bodies.

His own younger self chuckles loud in his ears, behind the camera as he is, both of your breaths loud as the movement becomes more pronounced.

This is him fucking you and filming it. The camera pans down, and there, almost too tough to see in the grainy low light, is his cock surging into you; the shot is never still enough to see in full detail.

Somehow the lack of clarity makes it more of a turn-on. Benedict whines low as his hand moves in a firm motion, jerking hard, losing himself in reminiscence of what it is like to be buried inside you, your scent, younger you panting hard, pleading quietly for him.

His hand speeds up, and he gasps as the video grows more urgent, the noises so loud right in his ear. He can hear the delicious sound of your wet cunt around his shaft, and it's like a sense memory, that viscous heated cling he can never forget.

“Ben, oh god Ben, you are so good, fuck me harder,” younger you moans loudly on the video, and both Benedicts, the old and new, couldn't resist that siren call.

“Y/n, oh god, give me your all, y/n,” Benedict growls, screwing his eyes shut, just relying on the auditory experience of the video now.

But not realising with his slurred speech; it's just given his phone a command…

-----

You are driving towards your place when your hands-free car display lights up with the last name you expect.

Benedict.

Your stomach plunges. Just like earlier when you found yourself staring at him and reimagining so many things you know you shouldn't. You reach over and click the little green button to connect the call, heart in your mouth.

“Ben?” you say his name softly, almost timid. Worried about what it might mean after that strange non-encounter less than an hour ago.

The noise that greets you makes every hair stand on end. It's a throaty groan. He seems to hiss your name, and all you do is frown as your car speakers vibrate with the sound.

“Ben, are you okay?” you check.

“Oh god, I am more than okay, baby,” he growls, and every inch of your body is rioting. “Just please, please don't stop, fuck you feel so good. So tight and hot. I want to live inside you,” the words panted, desperate.

Your foot slips hard on the pedal, and you almost crash into a damn tree.

-----

Your voice sounds different in his ear, and there is a background hum that wasn't there before, but he is so close to something so intoxicating he doesn't think to open his eyes and check the video.

“Talk to me,” he pleads low, knowing you on the video won't respond but somehow still wanting to talk to you regardless, “tell me how you feel.”

There is silence and then a slight shaky exhale.

“Ben.”

“Yes, yes, yes, say my name,” he pleads, leaking over his own knuckle as his hand becomes a frenzy on his cock.

-----

You pull over, quaking. There is only one reason he uses that tone. That's his bedroom voice, and fuck if it doesn't make you as weak now as it did back then. You can only assume his phone has accidentally dialled you while he is what? Masturbating? You flush so hotly at the very thought, and yet you can’t school what you say next. Your treacherous libido taking command of your lips.

“Are you touching yourself for me, Ben?” you breathe, and your clothing suddenly feels too tight, too hot.

Your speakers vibrate your seat as he groans loud and lewdly, and it's a beeline straight for your clit, now throbbing insistently against your car seat.

“Yes baby,” he moans and now, in the background, you can hear it, a slight slapping sound, his cock passing through his fist.

Your pussy clenches instinctually, and you feel a heavy pull, a depth charge of lust. Your lips tingle with the thought of kissing him, running your mouth over his body, wrapping around that cock you remember so well.

“I want you to come for me, Ben,” you plead, a hand straying down between your thighs, scarcely believing what is happening, what you are doing so brazen, parked up on the street mid-afternoon on a Wednesday.

“I will; oh god, I'm going to come so hard,” he snarls. “Do you want it inside you?”

Your fingers glance your clit over your yoga pants, and the heat is overwhelming. “Yes, Ben,” you pant, “inside me, give it to me, give me more of your beautiful babies.”

What you are saying is taboo. And so truthful you don't think to censor it. You would bear as many children as he wants to fuck into you. Still, even now.

“But you are already pregnant with my baby darling,” his voice taking on a softer edge, more wistful, “and you look so, so beautiful.”

You freeze.

“Benedict?” you say quietly.

“Yes, my love,” he purrs.

“Who do you think you are speaking to?” your ask is awkward, screwing your eyes shut, your hand moving away from the apex of your thighs. Suddenly mortified, perhaps it's not you that he thinks he is speaking to after all. Oh shit, did he get someone else pregnant? The panicked bile rises until he sighs the following words.

“Y/n, my wife, my life. God, I miss you so much. I know this must be a fever dream; I know we didn't talk like this in the video, but fuck if it doesn't sound so real,” he ends so wistfully.

“What video?” your question is slow, a weird weight on your chest that is your heart pounding out of control.

“Our honeymoon, darling,” he moans, and you can hear he is still masturbating, although slower-paced now. “When you let me video us fucking. I watch it so much these days that I'm surprised it's not worn out. And yet I can't not; every time I fuck my fist, it's to you.”

“You watch us? Every time you…?” your hand clutching your chest now.

“Yes, my love. I miss you so so much. I should never have let you go. You are my angel, the love of my life, the mother of my child and the only person I ever, ever want to fuck.”

The confession knocks your whole world off its axis. And you crave him. The feeling is so utterly all-consuming you struggle to take your next breath. You have to go to him. You have to see him. It's not even a choice not to. Every fibre of your being needs him.

“Ben,” you murmur, “don't come for me yet; I want to fuck you.”

“You do?” the hope in that gasp makes you lightheaded.

“Yes,” you breathe, “I miss your cock so much.”

You scramble to throw the car into gear and pull out into traffic. You are about a minute's drive away or less if he is home. Something in your movements so very urgent.

“Tell me what you are doing,” you whisper, trying your best to pitch the ask just the right level of seductive as you race down the road, turning into his street.

“I’m fucking my fist,” he moans, “but I wish it were you, my love.”

“I'm almost there,” you pant, pulling into his driveway with almost a squeal of tyres. You grab your phone and jump out of your car, crushing the handset to your ear as you run up to his front door and punch in a code, hoping it's still the one he uses. The crest of victory is palpable as the lock beeps and relents, the door popping open.

“Keep stroking yourself gently,” you order as you close the door and start to disrobe as you bound up the stairs.

“Y/n…” his voice is suddenly tremulant “this…. This isn't a dream, is it?”

“No, Ben, it's not,” you breathe, and you are down to your underwear as you skid into his bedroom, panting.

His eyes are wide with shock as you stride across the room, his cock still in hand and utterly naked; he looks just as delicious as the day you married him.

“Hello, Mr Bridgerton,” you purr.

“Y/n,” he stutters, and it's everything—surprise, desire, hope, relief, yearning and ardent.

“Call me Mrs Bridgerton,” you shoot back, and the responding noise he makes is so utterly feral you almost orgasm without so much as touching him.

-----

Eight months later

“Emilia, not there,” Benedict chuckles good-naturedly.

“Then where daddy?” her pout turns epic as she hands the offending item to him. “You do it!” she huffs.

“Okay, hold still,” he laughs and slides the small tiara into her hair. “See? Just perfect,” he opines, dropping a kiss onto her chestnut tresses.

“I look like a princess!” Emilia exclaims proudly, twisting to look into the mirror.

“Yes, you do,” Benedict concurs. “A pretty princess bridesmaid.”

“The prettiest,” you agree from the doorway, and both heads turn around and greet you with mouths that gape open.

“Oh, Mummy, you look like a real princess!” Emilia gasps, running towards you and giving you a quick hug before skipping out of the room gleefully as her grandmother Violet calls her name from downstairs.

“You look breathtaking,” his tone full of wonderment as he slowly gets to his feet, his eyes never leaving you. “But isn't it bad luck for me to see you like this?” he adds with a flash of concern.

You move towards him, and him towards you, drawn together. “I think we’ve had all the bad luck we are going to have,” you smirk, very much enjoying the sight of him in a sharp, custom-tailored suit. “At least I hope so, seeing as we have this thing to deal with,” you raise an eyebrow, pointing to your five-month bump.

“Thing? Darling, I thought we agreed; his name is Henry,” he sighs in mock indignation, his large hands skating around the swell of your belly, his lips warm on your temple.

“When did I agree to that name?” you frown amiably.

“Last night,” he responds silkily, right into your ear now.

“Oh no, you can’t possibly hold me to that,” you decry. “Anything said when inside me is null and void, Mr Bridgerton; you know I can barely remember my own name at that point.”

His rich chuckle vibrates against your whole body. “Well, let me remind you….”

“I’m listening,” you sigh, eyes closing as you sway into his hot neck kisses.

“It's Mrs Bridgerton,” he rumbles. “Or it will be again in about an hour.”

“I can't wait”, you whisper. “Say it again.”

“Mrs Bridgerton,” A dark, slow tease.

You are almost late for your own (second) wedding just downstairs.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton angst #bridgerton angst #1k notes #1k notes omg you guys!

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br-disaster · 2 months

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CQL's crybaby Nie Mingjue appreciation post

I always see people talking about CQL's Nie Mingjue crying constantly, and they're right to do so, but I haven't seen those scenes compiled so I thought it would be a good idea to do it, since it's one of my favorite things about this version of NMJ.

*I'll consider the times he was tearing up too because I think they're important, but i'm only considering "full crying scenes" the ones where there are actual tears falling down his face.

*It's all in chronological order.

Episode 41 - defending Meng Yao

Why is NMJ crying? Crying is his response to everything, okay? NMJ is very emotionally invested in everything he does. He's very mad these men for saying terrible things about Meng Yao while benefiting from his labour. He's so emotionally invested in everything he does.

Is it a full crying scene? No, he tears up the entire time he's scolding the cultivators but those tears don't leave his eyes.

Episode 10 - being threatened by Wen Chao

Why is NMJ crying? Wen Chao is being very disrespectful, as he often is. And it's understandable, NMJ is hurt, his home was invaded, some of his soldiers are dead and it's overall a terrible time for everybody. To be honest, though, I think he's tearing up out of pure rage because Wen Chao just mentioned what Wen Xu did to the Cloud Recesses.

Is it a full crying scene? No. I almost didn't include this one because it's very subtle but his eyes look too shiny to be ignored.

Episode 10 - expelling Meng Yao from the Unclean Realm

Why is NMJ crying? It's a very emotional and conflicting moment on top of a terrible day, on top of a very stressful period of his life. He was betrayed by his friend who saved his life right afterwards; his home was invaded and they're at war! He has every right to cry as much as he did.

Is it a full crying scene? Hell yes, and it's glorious. They even end the episode with his miserable little crying face.

Episode 41 - Everything, really

Why is NMJ crying? Everything sucks, he's defeated and hurt in front of the man who killed his father. He didn't get his personal revenge and he didn't free the world from Wen Ruohan's tyranny either. Instead, he watched helplessly as his men were murdered and now he has to watch his former deputy mock his father's death and threaten to have Wen Ruohan damage Baxia like he did with his father's blade.

Is it a full crying scene? No, only because he's being very brave about it. I have no idea how those tears didn't fall.

Episode 41 - confrontation at Jinlintai

Why is NMJ crying? Very difficult topics being discussed here. People who are way better with words than I am have already written amazing meta on how having his worldview challenged like this affects NMJ emotionally, so I won't go there. But between the song of turmoil making him more emotionally unstable and the disdain with which JGY talks about the men he killed, evoking this very traumatic moment I just mentioned on the previous crying scene; I think it's very understandable.

Is it a full crying scene? Yes! Most of the time he's holding back tears, but you can see the one dramatic tear running down his nose (on the outside of it) on the second gif!

In conclusion: he has so much to cry about, it's surprising he didn't cry more, it must have taken so much strength (or he was just crying offscreen, which is plausible, because sadly this isn't The Nie Mingjue show and we don't see him all the time)

Anyway, I am not here to claim he's not a crybaby because he absolutely is, but on the actual show we only have 2 full crying scenes. They were so impactful it feels like much more crying happened. Fatal Journey is it's own thing so I made a separate post for those tearing up, crying and emotional breakdown lovely scenes <3

#nie mingjue #this isn't meta this is me discovering the joy of making decent gifs #cql #long post #kinda #despite often being at the crime scene i won't tag jgy or nieyao because i don't go there and i'm not a fan but yall do whatever you want #i just wanted to look at his pretty crying face and have more than just screenshots of it #like look at him!! how can you say mean things to him or in his general vicinity knowing it will make him cry?#monsters all of them #the zoom on the second to last gif makes it so funny though #anyway i hope my gifs aren't horrible to tumblr standards

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nuwildcat · 2 months

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Okay, so I noticed something in Man Suang that got me really excited. First and foremost here there be spoilers so if you haven't seen it you should not read under the cut.

Let's talk about how they managed to make Hong appear dead, cause it got my nerdy self excited.

So we start with our ill fated dinner and we see Khem pouring tea for both Khun Wichiendej and Hong. On the first watch through this kinda gets lost in all the drama but I did note it going, wait he poured for both of them.

Weirdly, noticing that made my brain more convinced that Hong actually died for a smidge longer than I would like to admit, but I had hopes. And luckily enough I was mistaken.

Toward the end of the film we get an awesome stitching together of past events that steps us through the shenanigans that were pulled to make sure that Hong came out of that dinner alive.

But as much as I love the kitchen aunties uniting to save their young master, that's not the part that got me all excited, it was this moment:

Khem pours the teapot and magically we get two teas. This is where on my rewatch I sat up and went:

I KNOW WHAT THAT IS! It's an assassin's teapot!

What's that you ask? OH JUST THE COOLEST TEAPOT EVER. (I assume my Irish ancestors would have loved to pull this one out if they ever got their hands on one).

Basically the teapot literally contains two teas, that with skill and precision you can pour one after the other, allowing you to poison someone and not another.

There's a youtube video on this if you would like to watch it here.

So what does that mean? Well, Khem had to train with the teapot, which we saw in the flashback explanations. (I cannot gif team, it's not a skill I have).

BUT THIS MOMENT HERE, like there are wild amounts of trust happening between Hong and Khem here that make me feel all the things. These boys get thrown together by circumstances and Hong trusts Khem to not fuck this up in the moment.

AND I REALLY ENCOURAGE YOU TO WATCH THE VIDEO CAUSE FUCKING THIS UP WOULD BE EASY.

These pots aren't easy to use and they take skill. If they had fucked up they would have imitated death for one of the most powerful men in the country at that moment.

WOW, just wow.

Anyway that's the Irish lady ranting about cool teapots in a Thai historical movie.

💜'Cat out

#mansuang #man suang #mansuang spoilers #man suang spoilers #man suang meta #mansuang meta #killer teapots y'all #we got killer teapots #I get excited about the weirdest things I swear #but I did a little screech when I noticed this

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scarletwinterxx · 3 months

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loving's so easy to do - mark lee scenario

okay but tell me why do i think Mark is the type of boyfriend who would giggle if he sees you wearing his initials on a necklace? ksksksksks istg this boy got me kicking my feet in the air giggling like a school girl😭😂🥺💛

anywaysss i hope you like this one! 💛

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"Hi, baby. I missed you" Mark says the moment he sees you walking down the pathway towards him. He tilts his side to the side while he stares at you lovingly. If any of his friends is here right now, they would call him whipped but he would not care one bit because he is.

How can he not be when you're smiling like he hung the sun in your sky, you skip towards his open arms waiting for you to come to his embrace.

"Hey you, what are you doing here?" you ask him, still clinging to him. You feel him kiss the side of your head, smiling at the action you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

"Can't I pick my girl up after work?"

You blush at his words and he loves it. He knows the effect he has on you, he knows that even after dating for a few years you still blush when he calls you his girl.

It's not a secret you want to keep, if you could you would scream it at the top of the tallest building for the whole world to hear. You are Mark Lee's girl.

"Let's go, we can grab dinner then go over your place?" he asks, still not letting you go. Instead he steps to the side to open the passenger door for you.

"Sounds like a plan" you smile at him, then you look towards the passenger seat ready to get in but you saw a bouquet of blue tulips resting there

"Baby" you look back at him, he just smiles back at you.

"It's my favorite, and you know what those flowers mean? Inner peace, you're my inner peace. My heart's rest and home"

Feeling so happy you're in love. You thought this is what all those books were talking about, finding the right one.

He ushers you inside the car, helping you buckle in before making his way to the driver's side. He closes the door before facing you with a big smile on his face,

"What?" you ask

"What what?"

"I know that look, love. There's something else is there?"

"Okay you know me too well, but I saw this and I thought of you. If you don't like it, it's totally fine-" "I haven't even seen it, and shut up any gift from you I'll love it" you tell him.

This time Mark couldn't help himself, he leans closer to you. Pulling you gently towards him so he can finally kiss you, he's been waiting all day for this. He kisses you softly and slowly, like he's refreshing his memory of how it feels to have your lips on his.

"Okay okay, here I hope you like it" he says after the two of you broke apart. It's a small bag with a small box inside, you look at him skeptically before opening it.

Inside is a dainty necklace with the letter M hanging on it. The chain was simple, something you can wear everyday. Safe to say it was perfect.

"Lovie, I love it" you pout again, feeling a bit teary eyed

"Hey hey no crying, do you love it that much" he chuckles, taking your face between his hands. You nod, you can't wait so you put it on yourself

"This is so cute oh my gosh I'm never taking this off" you say while looking at your reflection on the mirror.

Unbeknownst to you, Mark is watching from the side falling even deeper in love with you.

"You know I love you right?" he mumbles

You look over at him, holding his face in one hand "I know, you tell me like atleast four times in a day" you tease him. Leaning over the console to peck his lips

"I love it, thank you so much. And I love you"

With Mark, you proved loving someone could be easy. Being with him feels like all the puzzle pieces of your life are finally falling into place. Even on bad days, he can make it better because he truly is everything good in your world.

#story #tags #fluff #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct mark #nct imagine #nct fluff #nct scenario #nct boyfriend #mark fluff #nct au #mark lee scenario #mark lee imagine #mark lee fluff #mark lee au #mark lee boyfriend

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buckleyx · 1 year

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HI HEY HELLO i have a little blurb and i wanted to share!!(and it kinda pertains to a work event i had yesterday💀)

So you know how the first responder units have little events where they gather around a park or smth with their trucks, and parents bring their kids to look at them?? Well imagine evan buckley with that sjdbsjbd. He’s just having so much fun with the kids, lifting them up to see the cool parts of the firetruck, passing out little candies, talking the little ones through what they do every day, and you’re like “oml i cannot WAIT to have this mans children.” (Was literally me last night giggling about him)

OPEN HOUSE E.B

the gif i used is not mine! all credit goes to the owner!

Author’s note: This idea was honestly so cute!! I got so excited reading and writing it! Thank you so much for requesting love <33 Buck with kids always makes my heart jump vgcxgcc

Evan Buckley x gender!neutral reader

Warnings: FLOFFFF PURE FLUFF and unedited hehe

masterlist

Buck always loved the idea of an open house. Once a year opening the station to the public, talking about the stories you all shared on shifts, seeing kids bubble up with excitement as they see a firetruck. Buck loved it, he proudly called it his favorite day of the year.

You had been greeting people all morning, handing out some information flayers about the department while showing off the ambulance. A bright smile played on your lips as you saw your boyfriend standing next to the firetruck. He was explaining a story to the kids standing around him. You couldn't make out what he was saying but you rolled your eyes as you saw him mimic what looked like being electrocuted. (too soon?)

"I'm sorry?" A little boy interrupted your train of thought. He looked at you with big eye's, pointing his finger at your paramedic patch that was neatly sew on to your uniform. "Can I help you?" You asked softly, kneeling down Infront of him.

"I wanna be a firefighter." He said proudly.

"Really? That's cool! What's your name?"

"Robin!" He eagerly exclaimed.

"Well Robin, do you wanna see a firetruck?" Robin nodded his head with excitement. You got back up, fixed your uniform and offered the boy your hand. He gladly accepted, walking with you over to Buck who had just waved goobye to the kids he was talking to.

"Hello Buck." You greeted. "Robin here wants to be a firefighter."

Buck let out an exciting gasp, mimicking the smile that was plastered on the young boy's face. "Hii Robin! Do you wanna see a real firetruck up close?"

Robin held out his hands, silently asking for Buck to hold him. Buck grabbed Robin on his arm and immediately went to explaining all the different functions of the truck. The boy leaned on his side, carefully listing to everything Buck had to say.

Buck was a natural when it came to kids. You saw it with Christopher and Jee-Yun. And honestly you couldn't wait to have some of your own. Buck had mentioned it once or twice that he saw you both as parents and honestly you couldn't agree more. Especially after today.

You watched in awe as Buck helped Robin in the firetruck. He mimicked the sound of a siren, making you and Robin giggle loudly.

"There you are!" Two young mothers made their way over to the truck. Waving at their son in Buck's arms.

"He's a natural." One of the mom's complimented. "I haven't seen our son so quiet and focused in a long time."

"Yeah he is." You smiled, admiring your boyfriend. He really is.

My requests are open! :)

911 Taglist: @roseelonee @persie123 @nycbaddie @mrspeacem1nusone @ittzzgillianj @princessamericachavez @campingmonkey @barzy90 @911readercollection @rapunzelflynnrider @stark3y-l3cl3rc-p3t3rs @essienoe @chloepluto1306 @zephyrmonkey @ittzzgillianj @quacksonhq @x-hey-its-paige-x @essienoe @quaksonhq

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Let me know if you want to be added for future work!

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thefallennightmare · 6 months

Text

Just Pretend-five

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Again, this chapter means so much! Please take the time to really enjoy it, its a long one.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze

NOAH

"Wait, he called her that?" Jolly asked as he leaned forward while resting his elbows on his knees.

Malcolm gave us a weak smile. "It's not the worst thing he's called her."

My knee bounced with agitation as I sat on the couch of our bus with Jolly on one side of me and Nick on the other. A while ago, Malcolm and Chase came knocking on our bus wanting to talk to us about what happened last night. We were already in the next city and spent the morning in our respective buses until recently. Chase was really worried about Y/N and needed to talk to us about it.

"Steven said it was pretty bad," Folio said from his spot at the kitchen table area, twirling a drumstick between his fingers.

Chase and Malcolm, who were sitting next to each other on the couch opposite of us, shared a look before Chase let out a deep breath.

"You guys have to promise you won't tell her you know? She's already so broken inside, the last thing she needs is knowing you all know what happened."

My burning gaze was trained hard on the floor at my feet as I fiddled with the bracelets on my wrists, anger sitting in a festering bubble low in my stomach. Chase and Malcolm haven't even told us what was said last night and I'm already trying to hold myself back from confronting Trey.

"Noah," Malcolm's usual playful voice was gone; filled with so much coldness and despair.

I snapped my eyes up to him, jaw clenched hard. "What?"

"I don't know what you said to her yesterday but I haven't seen her that bright and vibrant in so fucking long. She was beaming, man. She felt so good about herself that she wore something she knew would piss Trey off. You did that."

Chase stood up and walked past me to grab a beer from the fridge but not before giving me a pat on the back which in turn caused a small smile to slip as I nodded.

"You don't understand how much your friendship with her means to us. All we ask is if you guys remain in her life after this, which would be good for her, please don't hurt her." He said with a serious tone.

"I promise," I said. "Now, what else did Trey say?"

Chase popped open the beer, downing half of it in one go, and fell onto the couch again with a groan.

"Trey told her to go change. She stood up for herself or tried to, anyway. He called her a two-dollar whore that was only dressing like that to impress Noah."

Jolly dared a glance at me but I kept my gaze trained ahead at Chase, not wanting to deal with Jolly's questions right now.

"Trey belittled her into believing that without him, she would have nothing; no band, no friends."

Malcolm hesitated as he spoke. "Trey called her a waste of a hole. To quote him directly. "Your mouth is the only thing you're good for and even then you're pathetic.""

My face gave nothing away, almost blank, even though I was biting the inside of my cheek, and my voice was almost monotone. "What did she say to that?"

"Nothing," Chase sighed. "She shut down, Noah. Almost in a catatonic state as she stood there and let him pick apart everything he thought was wrong with her."

"You guys have only been around for part of this but us," Malcolm bumped his knee with Chase. "We've been here since day one and have seen how much she's changed. She was going to move in with us in Los Angeles but Trey won't let her. He keeps her in Vegas because he doesn't want her to live with anyone that's not him."

"Why won't she leave?" Bryan asked as he leaned against the door that led to the bunks. He'd been quiet the whole time, just listening.

"You don't know what it's like to be with someone who drains you," I muttered.

Nick was the only one who heard because he rubbed my shoulder, understanding exactly what I meant.

"She's our sister," Chase said with a broken voice. "We just want her back."

All of us were silent, letting the words hang in the air, until after a few long moments, Folio spoke up.

"We should go do something. Get her out of the bus so she's not sitting inside her own mind."

Everyone agreed, and while they discussed different things to do, I motioned to Hollow Souls bus. "Is Trey there?"

"No," Chase shook his head. "He has a radio interview so he'll be gone all day."

"Good."

As their voices faded in the background, I peered out the window of the bus to let myself calm down. I didn't want to let the others know how upset I was right now. Hearing what Trey said to Y/N and learning she didn't do anything to stop it made the anger vibrate through me. I knew it wasn't her fault; I knew all too well you couldn't blame yourself for the way others treat you.

Jesse once made a joke about how we’re shit at showing our feelings. That much is true, but when Y/N's within any distance of me or even miles apart, my feelings can’t help but bleed out. I still don’t know how to express this which only makes it fester more than it needs to only because it’s new. I hate getting attached- not since that time all those years ago. Especially when people come, eat & leave.

My biggest fear? I didn't like how much control she had over me. I've always been in control.

I’m in control, I’m in control.

The words repeated in my mind like a mantra.

Another thought that kept me up the last few nights: Am I really sitting here just waiting to have my heart ripped out of me?

Is Y/N worth the potential heartbreak down the road when the moment comes of choosing Trey over me?

I let out a long deep breath at that thought. It wasn't like we were in a relationship and I was going to make her choose so why was I so worried about the heartbreak.

Suddenly I wished Jesse was here so I could talk to him about this. His first question would be:

What’s the point of any of this?

Well shit, I don’t know now. I thought I did in the beginning but now, who the fuck knows.

Is this what love is? My mind is being ripped to shreds feelings of being led to death? What I knew of it was that I don’t know any peace without her.

I think…I think I'm fucked.

Movement from outside caught my eye, and I watched Y/N stepped onto the concrete beneath her, long hair flowing over her shoulders as the wind brushed over her. Affection and adrenaline surged through me as I shot up from the couch and bounded down the stairs of the bus doing my best to keep quiet.

It was an overcast day, the suns' rays barley breaking through the thick clouds but it was just enough to create a glow around Y/N. Almost an angelic aura.

My angel.

She didn't notice I was standing a few feet from her since she was in her own thoughts so I took this as an opportunity for our day of fun to start.

"What the fuck?"

She squealed with laughter when I snuck up behind her and lifted her in my arms, her legs dangling in the air. Her body twisted and turned until I had her thrown over my shoulder, arms smacking at my back.

"Noah! Put me down!"

I readjusted my hat, the one she almost knocked off, and let out a little laugh. "Not going to happen, angel. You can smack my back all you want, I'm not letting you go."

Her smacks to my back stopped, but she continued to squirm in my arms while I carried her over to my bus.

"Please, I'm way too heavy for you to carry me."

My feet nearly tripped over each other as I came to a sudden halt and gently let her down to stand in front of me. Immediately I noticed the dark circles under her eyes and how red the whites of her eyes were.

Fuck, she'd been crying.

"Don't say that," I said while slowly shaking my head.

Her shoulders fell. "Noah, I'm tired. I want-.What are you doing?! PUT ME DOWN!"

Her screams echoed throughout the parking lot as I scooped her up again, this time bridal style, and carried her the rest of the distance to my bus where Malcom was sitting on the last step, typing away on his phone.

"Everything alright?" He asked with a chuckle.

I set Y/N down again and she made quick work to fix her hair out of her face before hitting me with a very playful glare.

"Cute look, angel." I mused with a smile.

Malcolm shook his head with a chuckle before retreating up the stairs to our bus, leaving the two of us alone. My fingers fiddled with my bracelets as nerves away at me. This wasn't the first time we were alone with each other but every time we were, she had this effect on me.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

Her soft voice broke me out of the trance she always put me under but I recovered fast by lifting one shoulder in a half shrug, lazily smile playing at my lips.

"You look good today; I can't help it."

A deep red hue brushed over her cheeks as she averted her gaze from my face down to her feet as she shifted on them.

"You're just saying that. I'm still wearing my sweats from last night," her voice was quiet but I could still hear the defeat behind it.

I took a step towards her. "What do I have to do to prove it to you, angel?"

My name fell from her lips as she finally gazed up at me and I went to reach for her hand, our pinky's brushing against each other, Bryan's loud voice called down from the bus as he stepped off of it.

"Matt's letting us borrow the crew's van but made us promise not to get any sand inside of it. It's a bitch to vacuum." Bryan mimicked in a high voice that sounded nothing like Matt.

"We leave in ten minutes."

He gave me a look as I nearly jumped back from Y/N and stuffed my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans, giving Bryan a nod.

"We'll be ready to go. I just have to grab a few things."

Y/N raised a brow between us. "Where are you guys going?"

Chase came out of the bus next and threw an arm over her shoulders. "We are going to be spending the day at the beach; all of us."

She tensed in his embrace. "What about-?"

"No, do not worry about him. We planned this day for you. So, go get dressed and meet back at the van in five minutes," Chase pushed her towards their bus.

She scoffed playfully, the brightness slowly returning to her eyes. "What if I said I was already dressed?"

Bryan snickered as he noticed how Chase stiffened before trying to explain himself.

"I'm just fucking with you," Y/N patted his cheek. "Give me ten minutes."

As she walked away, I couldn't help myself as I watched her with a fervent gaze before her form disappeared from my line of sight.

"You're staring," Chase mentioned.

"Yea, I know," I sighed before running up to the bus to grab the few things I wanted to bring with today.

NICK R.

By the time I got to the van, there were only a few spots left open. Bryan sat behind the wheel while Malcolm sat in the front seat. In the middle, Folio sat in the section row directly in the middle seat while Jolly sat in the back with Chase. Suddenly my mind whirled with an idea, a smirk crossing my face.

"Jolly and Chase, swap with Folio," I rushed out when I noticed Noah walking up to the van.

Folio gave me a look. "Why?"

"Dude, just do this. Before Y/N gets here." I hurried the three of them to swap places.

"The back is tight enough already. Now you have Noah back here with his long legs he's going to be taking up the entire space," Folio grumbled.

Jolly snickered while him and Chase now sat in the middle section of the van while Folio reluctantly sat on the farthest seat in the back. "I know what you're planning, Nick."

Hoping into the empty spot next to him, I raised my hands innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Noah walked up to the open door of the van with his backpack slung over his shoulder and scoffed when he noticed which seats were left open.

"You assholes are really sticking the tallest one here in the back?" He groaned while climbing into the back of the van.

"You'll thank me later," I smirked wickedly while nodding towards Y/N who emerged from Hollow Souls.

Noah sucked in a breath as he took in the sight of her.

NOAH

Fuck. She's breathtaking.

Her outfit was simple for a day on the beach; Black sweatpants and a sweater to match, random designs scattered over it. Her long hair was straight down her back as she tucked a strand behind her ear.

"Oh," Y/N murmured as she noticed the only empty spot left in the van was in between Folio and I.

Which meant she had to climb over me to get to her spot.

"Here, let me get out-."

I began, but she didn't bother to listen as she stepped into the van to climb over me to her spot but dropped something out of the large tote bag she was carrying.

"Fuck me," she groaned while bending over to grab whatever fell.

My attention wasn't on what fell out of her bag but her perk round ass in front of me. My heart was in my ears pounding so fucking loud I couldn't focus on anything else but Y/N bend over in front of me. Her ass was so close to my lap and I bit the inside of my cheek hoping my cock wouldn't give way how this sight was affecting me.

Chase leaned an arm over the back of his seat as he stared at us, a knowing smirk on his face.

"Fuck you," I mouthed.

Y/N sighed while tossing her back on the floor next to the door. "Sorry, guys. I'm having a off morning."

"No, you're fine," I smiled up at her as she squeezed past my legs to get to her seat.

My hand grazed over her hip to help guide her as she finally got comfortable between Folio and I. The skin of my palm still burned from my gentle touch on her hip and I had to shift in my seat to adjust myself in my jeans.

I don't need a fucking boner right now.

"Are you alright?" Y/N questioned. "Why did they stick the tallest guy in the back?"

"I'm wondering the same thing," I grumbled while staring directly at the back of Nick's head.

Even if he didn't say it, I knew he was the one that set up this entire thing.

Folio sighed while leaning forward towards Jolly. "Can you move your seat up? I've got no leg space back here."

Jolly snorted. "No."

When Bryan finally began driving, I eased into the ride by looking out the window; the scenery whipping past us before I could focus on it. While Folio and Y/N had their own conversation, I thought of ways to make this day special for her so she didn't have to think about Trey or what happened last night. She needed to see how we all saw her which is why I made sure Bryan brought his camera. It wasn't nice enough to go swimming but Jolly also brought his guitar in case we wanted to strum a song or two.

"Oh by the way," Y/N's soft hand patted my knee, and I felt a spark from her touch. "I texted Keaton to remind him about the $100 he owes me. He said he would give it to me when you let him borrow your copy of Smash Bros."

Jolly turned around so fast, his hair smacked Nick in the shoulder. "We already gave him our copy of Smash Bros."

Y/N held up her hands. "Hey, I'm just the messenger. A messenger that wants her $100."

With a chuckle, I pulled out my phone to send a quick text to Keaton while the two of them bickered.

Send Y/N her $100 and I'll buy you your own copy of the game.

Keaton responded before I had the chance to put my phone back into my pocket.

Oh shit, she's that special? Buying me a game you already know I lost?

Rolling my eyes, I typed out my response quick so Y/N couldn't see.

I'll buy it for you when I'm back in town. Even take you out on a bro date.

Only if you bring Y/N along. I think she'll be good for you. I've been trying to set you guys up for a while now.

I ignored that text and the way my stomach flipped and slipped my phone back into my pocket just in time for the view of the beach to come into view.

As soon as the van pulled into a spot in the empty parking lot, I grabbed mine and Y/N's bag while stepping out on the concrete. The sun's rays were nonexistent on this side of town, a slight breeze making me pull my jacket closer to my chest as Y/N stepped out of the van.

"I can hold my own bag, Noah," she reassured me.

I shrugged her off while throwing both of our bags on my back and motioned her to follow everyone else who began their walk down to the beach. Since it was chilly this afternoon, the only other people there were couples reading, throwing a ball for their dog, or the occasional runner.

"Careful," I looked over my shoulder to Y/N as we were walking down a pretty steep cliff.

She pushed my hand away with a smile but let out a small scream as she lost control of her footing and my hands quickly shot out to grab her. I pulled her into my chest to support her and once she was safe on her feet; I knew I should have let her go but with the way she gazed up at me through her lashes had me transfixed. Everything around us fell away like it always did and I felt myself being pulled towards her lips.

"Last one there has to vacuum out all the sand from Matt's van," she smirked before pushing past me, running in a fit of giggles.

Through all the confusion and question running in my mind, one this was crystal clear as I watched Y/N kick up sand as she ran past Malcolm, purposefully knocking off his hat, and she turned to face me with her arms up in the air. The brightness in her smile paled in comparison the bright blue of the water behind her.

"Come on, daddy long legs! Keep up, will ya!"

I'm so irrevocably fucked.

The afternoon passed by in such a furry that when it was nearing early evening; I tried to think of ways to extend our time together. Since it was too cold for swimming, we spent our time either throwing a ball back and forth, Jolly playing guitar while I sang a few tunes something I noticed Y/N watch intently. Bryan snapped pictures and videos for one of our tour vlogs and whenever he tried to get some footage of Y/N, she hid her face or move out of view.

Another thing I noticed.

Now, not a shock to anyone, everyone had stalked off to go find some food since no one brought any snacks. So Y/N and I sat quietly next to each other on a blanket as we let the sounds of the waves and seagulls fill the void between us.

Y/N had a book perched on her lap as she stared down at it transfixed at the words on the page and I marveled at the beauty of such a simple task. Malcolm tried to give her shit for it earlier.

"Who the hell brings a book to the beach?"

"I do," she stuck her tongue out at him and I swore I got hard from the brief flash of flesh.

"Everyone has their own hobby, Malcolm," Chase chastised his bandmate.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I like to go hiking when I can. Every so often, I'll bring a book with me. I'm big into Philosophy right now."

"See?" Y/N squeezed my arm. "Noah gets it."

"If you're curious about what I'm reading, you can ask," she didn't bother taking her gaze away from the book as she turned the page.

I didn't say anything, simply grabbed the camera Bryan left and snapped two quick photos.

"Oh, please don't," she groaned while covering her face with her hands and hair. "I do not look good enough for pictures."

"You look beautiful, angel," I whispered while gently removing her hands from her face then brushed away the hair.

She shook her head. "No, I don't."

My heart ached for her. Trey implanted all of these negative thoughts in her mind, stomping so hard and deep that it was going to be hard pulling them out.

"What do I have to do to make you realize it?"

My words from earlier echoed around the space between us.

“You don’t need to do anything, Noah. I’m not who you think I am in your head," she turned her head to face the water in front of us.

I shifted in my spot on the blanket so I kneeled in front of her. “I think you’re wrong and I’m a great judge of character.”

Her lips twitched as they tried to force a smile, her mewling over my words. “Hm, that part is true. You really think I’m beautiful?”

She was fidgeting with the string of her hoodie, twirling it between her fingers. She wasn't fishing for more compliments; she really wanted to know if that's how I saw her.

“You don’t think you are?"

Y/N shrugs her answer, not daring to voice her thoughts.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, knowing that what I was about to say would give way to something from my past I didn't like to talk about. "Well, I do. I know Trey fucked with your head and you might not want to talk about it now but know, I'm here for you whenever you're ready."

"It's a lot and I don't want to put that heavy burden on you, Noah. It should be mine alone to deal with."

I lifted her chin with a knuckle but she still averted my gaze.

"You shouldn't be with someone that drains your spirits. Drain the light from your soul, angel."

Her bottom lip trembled as she let out a shaky breath. "It can't rain all the time."

Suddenly, I realized that the only way to get her to realize that I knew what she was going through was to tell her something few knew.

"You know," I started, then let out a deep breath. "My ex did the same thing."

She raised her head, shocked, as the words die off of my lips. “She did? I don’t see how, you’re so-."

I raised a brow. “So what?”

The way she hesitated made my heart lurch as waited for her answer.

"You're-." She stammered before letting out a deep breath, almost as if admitting the words would put it out into existence. "You're wonderful, Noah.

The intensity even from her dull eyes made my skin buzz with the same adrenaline from before and not wanting to say anything in fear of running the moment, I snapped a few more pictures of her which made her reach for the camera.

"I don't think so!" I chuckled while rising to my feet. I readjusted my hat when she tried to reach for the camera again, her own laughter sounding like a church choir on my ears.

Eventually she gave up and let me snap a few more pictures of her as we walked together down the beach; her picking up a seashell or her walking along a rock wall that went straight out into the water.

"Be careful, angel," I warned from below on the sand. "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

She gave me a wicked smile from above. "Would you catch me if I fell?"

Even though the season changed throughout the day and with the waves crashing around us, I grinned up at her. "Though the skies are turning grey, I'll never let you fall, angel."

My favorite picture? It was the one I just took of her as she shed her shoes and rolled up the bottoms of her sweats up to her knees. She stared deep out in the vast distance of ocean and sky, eyes slowly filling with the light the longer we spent together.

I broke out in a huge smile as I pulled the camera away from my face when she tried to look at me but the rapid wind blew her hair in all different directions.

"Shit, I knew I should have brought a hair tie," she cursed while trying to flatten her hair.

"Here," I pulled off the one I always kept on my wrist and handed it to her.

Once her hair was on top of her head in a very messy bun, I snapped one last picture of her before setting the camera back down on the blanket. Y/N cringed when she saw her reflection in the camera of her phone.

"Oh, yikes. Why the hell did you take a picture of me looking like this?"

There was a long piece of hair that she missed, it was hanging on the side of her head, so with a gentle touch I tucked it behind her ear, my fingers grazing over the skin of her neck. She shivered in my touch as her face reddened.

"Well, I still think you’re a beauty. You've never seen my hair when it’s ocean fucked," I grinned.

With a gentle push to my chest, Y/N began walking into the water.

"Well, are you going to let me see that hair all fucked?" She teased.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath but quickly recovered when I realized how deep into the water she was going. "Angel, it's freezing!"

She ran her fingers through the waves. "Come on, the water's fine! Stop being a pussy."

Kicking off my shoes, I cursed when I realized I was wearing too tight of skinny jeans so not being able to roll them up; I followed her into the waves.

"You're insane," I chuckled.

Both of us were knee deep in the water, our clothes soaked, but neither of us cared. The way she came alive and free out here made me smile.

Fuck, she really was beautiful.

"If you were a bird, what bird would you be?" She asked when she came to a stop in front of me.

"Well," I ran a hand over my chin to show I was thinking deeply of this question. "According to the fanbase, they see me as a duck so I guess that."

"I love that! Oh, you know what would be funny?" She grinned.

I shrugged. "No, but I have a feeling you'll tell me."

"When you scream to Dethrone, you should be funny by saying this is dethrone you quacks, instead of fucks. It'd be a way of showing the fans you read everything online," she deadpanned before falling into a fit of giggles and looking up to the darkening skies above her.

Seeing how much that small joke made her laugh made me make a mental note to say that next tour.

"What about you? What bird would you be?"

"A crow," she answered so fast, almost as if she thought about this question in depth before. "They’re mysterious, they’re misunderstood and always take care of the ones they love.”

I hummed with her answer. "I can see that. You'd make a lovely crow."

She bumped her shoulder with me as the waves crashed harder around us. "You'd make a pretty cool duck. And we'd be bird friends."

"Well," I glided my hands through the water. "If you're a bird, then I'm a bird."

We stayed like that for a long moment, staring out deep past the horizon, and when her fingers brushed against my palm, I nearly folded when her hand linked with mine.

"Thank you for today. I haven't had this much fun since, well, the zoo."

I smiled warmly at her while looking down at our hands, still intertwined. "Anytime, angel. That's what I'm here for."

Our eyes met with fire as she turned to look up at me through lashes and I twirled the loose strand of hair between my fingers. Her hand fell from mine to play with the rosary at my neck and I drank in the sight of the way her lips parted slightly when she let out a breath, her bottom lip pink and raw from how hard she was biting it.

Her name slipped from my tongue into the air around us as I cupped her cheek while leaning down to close the distance between us. We were close, so fucking close all I would need was less than an inch to feel her lips on mine.

I bet they tasted like the chapstick she put on earlier; an action I watched closely.

Almost there.

"Fuck!" I cursed when cold water splashed up at my chest, Y/N doubling over in laughter as she splashed me again.

"You think that's funny?" I bent low at my knees with a sinister smirk on my face.

"No!" She began backing away from me. "Don't. I'm sorry."

Y/N was laughing so hard she could barely catch my breath and seeing how alive she looked right now made my heart soar into my throat. I nearly clutched my chest at the feeling.

"NOWAAH! NO!"

I tackled her into the water, bringing her underneath the waves with me, our laughter carrying us up the hill to the group of people who watched us with amusement in their eyes.

CHASE

"I haven't heard that laugh in a long time," Malcom spoke next to me.

I agreed with a nod as we watched Y/N try to dunk Noah underneath the water but she couldn't reach him and ended up tumbling in the water again; him falling in right after.

"We have to do something, Mal. We can't keep sitting by and watch him treat her like that," I said with a melancholy expression.

"She won't-."

I threw a hand toward Noah and Y/N who were now walking back to the beach, drenched from head to toe.

"That's what she deserves! Someone that makes her laugh like that. That takes countless pictures of her because he likes the way she looks."

Malcolm nodded while grabbing my arms. "I know, man. We both want that for her but we can't force that on her. She needs to realize it herself."

Nick spoke up. "You don't have to worry about Noah hurting her. That's the farthest thing from his mind. He might be stubborn as hell but when he cares about someone, he makes sure they know that."

Folio took his hat off to shake out the salty air from his hair. "He's a Scorpio, what did you expect?"

"Whether or not they admit it, they both need each other," Jolly smiled down to Noah who waved up at us.

My eyes tracked every movement Y/N made as she rung out the water from her long hair, the salt already creating waves through every strand. Even from this distance, I could see the small smile that graced the soft features of her face. There was so much hope in that tiny smile and to me, that was enough to see the light at the end of her tunnel.

"There's a restaurant around the block we can walk too. Lets go!" Jolly shouted down to them.

Noah knocked Y/N down to the sand before he took off in a race, her shouts of protests falling at his back.

NOAH

"Here, take this," I extended a dry sweater towards Y/N.

She was holding her arms to her chest, teeth chattering, as she did her best to show she wasn't cold

"N-no. I'm fi-fine."

"Angel," I warned. "Your lips are blue. Take the sweater."

We stood at the back of the van to change so we could head to dinner. I brought a jacket that I wore with the hood up and an extra hoodie which I tried to make Y/N take.

"Just take the sweater, alright? I brought extras for a reason."

Shaking hands reached for the sweater then she motioned to me to spin around. "No pe-peaking."

I made a show of covering my eyes with my hands and turned my back to her, waiting for her to change out into a sweater of mine and an extra pair of sweats that she had brought herself. Chase gave her shit for bringing extra pants but not a sweater.

"Alright, you can look now."

Her soft voice made me look over her shoulder just in time to see her hold her phone up and snap a picture of me.

"Angel, since when were you a photographer?" I smiled.

"Shut up and smile, Noah."

"Yes ma'am," I smirked while holding up my middle finger.

"Hmm, has anyone told you that you have long fingers?" She threw me a teasing stare.

And I'd love to fucking use them on you.

Clearing my throat, I tossed our bags into the back of the trunk and let it slam shut before nodding towards the guys that waited for us at the front of the van.

"What's the holdup back there?!" Malcom called out just in time as he saw us walk around the side of the van.

"Sorry, I had to change," Y/N smiled sheepishly.

While Hollow Souls walked in front of us, the guys teasing Y/N to no end about how wavy the salty waters made her hair; I hung back with Jolly and could see out of the corner of my eye he was giving me the typical DAD OMENS stare.

"I know what I'm doing, Jolly," I nodded with a smile to reassure him.

"I'm glad because we just want to make sure you don't slip and fall too fast."

As we reached the Greek restaurant, I reassured all of them one more time that I was being smart about this thing with Y/N. I wouldn't put my all into it without understanding the outcomes; not again.

Chase grabbed a table outside on the patio and Y/N went to choose a seat until I motioned towards the one in the middle. Nick sat on her left while I chose the one on her right, the one she almost chose; the one closest to the street.

"Do you want to share an appetizer?" I asked her as she browsed through the menu.

"As long as I get some tiropita, I'm all for sharing," she beamed up at me.

The salty brine from the ocean that clung to her hair and skin infested my sense and I let my racing heart calm for a few beats.

Once we ordered our food, it was then that I noticed a group of large guys walk out of the restaurant, their eyes immediately tracing and landing on Y/N. She was clueless to their stares, having a deep conversation with Folio who sat across from her.

"Shit, no way! That can't be her!"

"Dude, it is. That's their drummer, Chase!"

"We have to go get a picture!"

"Let them be, Jake. They just want to enjoy their meal in peace.

"Fuck that."

One guy stalked over towards our table with his phone out, camera app already open.

"You're Y/N! From Hollow Souls!" The guy, Jake, said.

She turned her attention away from Folio and plastered the typical 'nice to meet you' smile at the fan. "Hi."

"Would it be alright if I get a quick picture with you? I'm a huge fan."

I watched this exchange with a stern expression, eyes darting back and forth between them. My hand wanted to reach for hers under the table but I refrained.

Y/N pointed to the table in front of her. "We're actually getting ready to eat-."

"Oh, come on. Just one picture!"

Shit, this guy was persistent.

"She said no," I answered but the guy cut me off.

"Technically, she didn't." Then he looked back to Y/N. "Just one?"

Y/N swallowed thickly before pushing herself out of her chair and walked over to the fan. "Yeah, one is fine."

The guy held the camera at a high angel to get a selfie with Y/N throwing up two fingers in a peace sign. For the picture, he had his arm around her shoulder and when she went to pull away; he grabbed onto her hip, keeping her in place.

"Okay, we're done," She twisted out of his grasp.

"What about a group shot?" The fan asked hopeful.

"I said we're done," Y/N said this time with more force in her voice.

The guy nodded. "Alright, well can I get your number? I'm sure once you and Trey break up, you'll be looking for someone else. You're hot as fuck."

The sound of metal scrapping on concrete echoed down the street as I pushed myself out of the chair and calmly walked over to Y/N, wrapping a safe arm around her shoulder.

"I think we're done here."

She gave me a look of gratitude before folding herself deeper against me, soft hand sprawling across my back. Eventually the fan stalked off towards his group of friends as I let Y/N sit back in her seat, me following close behind.

Her hand squeezed my thigh under the table, fingers grazing over the small tear in my jeans and I melted into her soft touch.

"Thank you," she said with a genuine smile.

I motioned to the gyro in front of her, not wanting to let her know how bad she was effecting me. "Eat before it gets cold."

For the rest of the evening until the moon shined bright over us as we talked, I would steal glances with her doing the same. Every so often, our gazes would catch and we would quickly look away, redness creeping over our cheeks; or in her case, her nose.

The thoughts of earlier when I remembered what Jesse talked about came creeping in and in that moment, I wondered to myself if Y/N was worth it.

There wasn't a doubt in my mind she was. I'd prove that to her as long as she lets me, no matter how crazy it seemed to others.

That's what this thing was; it was the death of peace of mind.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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