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dancingbirdie · 7 months

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Behold my labor of love: Astarion SMUT.

This idea came to me after writing my last fic Something Imagined / Something Real. I wanted to backtrack and reimagine Astarion and Tav's first night together after the tiefling party.

If smut is not your thing, no worries! You can scroll down to the first set of asterisks (***) to avoid reading those parts. You don't miss much at all plot-wise.

This is my first time ever writing smut. Please be kind. And I hope you enjoy!

EDIT: This is a flashback fic! Part 2 is Something Imagined / Something Real. And subsequent vignettes to come!

I Want It To Be You

Rating: Mature/NSFW

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: Detailed description of consensual sex, Tav's first time having sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, description of panic attack/anxiety, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

“Are you absolutely certain about this? About… me?”

If she weren’t already lying naked in his arms, she would have shed her clothes for him for that response alone. He wasn’t treating her like some oddity. And he was honoring her decision. It was more than anything Tav had dared hope for.

Her eyes welled with tears that threatened to fall. She laughed, suddenly elated, before nodding her head vigorously.

“I’m sure, Astarion,” she confirmed. “I want this to be with you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TWO WEEKS AGO

THE NIGHT OF THE TIEFLING PARTY

Let’s wait until things quiet down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other.

Astarion’s parting words replayed over and over again in her head as she padded quietly through the woods, away from the campsite. From the comfort and familiarity of the party. They hadn’t agreed on a meeting place, but Tav assumed his heightened senses would locate her soon enough. She was grateful for the extra moments to herself. Her stomach was knotted from nerves and anticipation for what the night might bring.

She hadn’t told him that she was a virgin. He probably deserved to know, she realized that, but she hadn’t wanted him to change his mind just because he’d be taking something no one else had before. It was her choice, her body to give, she reasoned to herself. Whether for the first time or the hundredth time, it shouldn’t matter. Right?

Her past experiences certainly influenced her reticence. Divulging that particular information about herself had resulted in people immediately halting romantic pursuits with her, or leering at her like she was some sort of top-shelf prize they were about to take home. She didn’t want to know if, or where, Astarion might land on that spectrum. Didn’t think her heart could take either reaction from him. Besides, she’d read enough of those dirty romance tomes and scrolls throughout her life (for educational purposes, of course, she justified to herself) to have a general understanding of what happens during sex. Surely she could bluff her way through this. Right?

She wanted to please him. Wanted him to want her as much as she wanted him. It was no secret that Astarion had quickly become her favorite companion in this unlikely band of heroes she was traveling with. He was absolutely gorgeous, of course, but the longer she lingered around him, the less that seemed to matter. He was funny, in a devilish sort of way. Intelligent and cunning. Perceptive. And, while it was obvious that it unsettled the rest of the group, she genuinely appreciated how he prioritized his own self before bending over backwards to help someone else. Secretly, she wished she could emulate that a bit more in her own life, but years and years of people pleasing to win what scraps of affection she could was a hard habit to break.

Clearly she was no closer to doing so, as there she stood. In the middle of a forest. Preparing for a midnight tryst with a person she had just met but grown to genuinely care for. And she wasn’t even sure that he would, or wanted to, return her sentiments.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

Astarion’s voice broke the mundane quiet of the forest that had lulled her into such ruminations. She turned toward the direction she had heard him speak and marveled at the sight of him slipping gracefully between the trees, moving ever slowly toward her.

He had removed his shirt and was clad only in his leather breeches and boots. His alabaster skin practically glowed in the silvery light of the moon. He was the most beautiful person Tav thought she had ever laid eyes on, and it wasn’t only because she could now see the taut, sinewy muscles of his abdomen. He was perfectly fit in an elegant sort of way. Not like Halsin, with large bulging biceps, thick torso and sturdy legs. No, Astarion was like a leopard. Lithe, agile, regal even. And his face. Gods, the poets and painters could opine for centuries on his beautiful face without ever growing weary.

“Is that so?” Tav called out in reply, walking to close the distance between them. By her estimate, she sounded much braver than she felt. Good.

Astarion nodded, raising one hand to cup her cheek. “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you,” he finished, the pad of his thumb grazing sensually across her lower lip.

“You don’t have me yet,” she whispered teasingly, although both of them were clearly aware of how she had shivered when he touched her. How her head bowed into his touch, like a lovesick little thing.

“Don’t I?” he smirked. “You’re here. And I don’t think you want to talk.” He stepped closer, completely absolving them both of any personal space. His free hand came to rest along the curve of her waist.

“I think you want to be known. To be tasted.” He purred, lowering his head so that his lips ghosted the shell of her ear while he spoke.

Tav was thankful for the steadiness of his hands on her. His insinuations alone were quickly rendering her a quaking mess. But she didn’t want to be a selfish lover, and so she collected herself enough to pose a question in return.

“What do you want, Astarion?” she asked, bringing a hand to rest softly against his chest, over his heart.

She noted the way his brows drew down briefly, seeming almost confused by her question. But as quick as it came, the expression vanished, replaced by something much more confident. More assertive.

“What do any of us want?” he breathed. “Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”

Gently, so very gently, he began to trail hot, open-mouth kisses down the column of her neck. Tav’s breath caught audibly in her throat, and Astarion hummed in approval at her response.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?,” he murmured into the crook of her neck. “To lose yourself in me?”

It was fast becoming difficult for her to string two thoughts together. Astarion touching her like this sent shockwaves throughout her body. That curious heat she’d only known from touching herself began to kindle low in her belly. She clenched her thighs together subconsciously, trying to sate that feeling the fire was stirring up inside her. Astarion noticed her squirming, to his immense satisfaction.

“Well?” he coaxed in between kisses across her collarbone. His prompting reminded Tav that she had yet to answer his question, so lost was she in the feeling of his cool lips against her rapidly warming skin.

“I want to be with you. Share this night with you,” she answered honestly, unable to spare enough brain capacity to consider whether or not it was a good idea to be so forthcoming.

“Such a charitable little thing,” he chuckled. “How could I deny you?”

And then his mouth captured hers. It was a searing, passionate kiss. A kiss that promised so much more pleasure to come. One that Tav had never known before, despite having partaken in her fair share of kisses over the years. But this kiss? This was the kiss of time-fated lovers. And Tav was desperate to match Astarion’s pace, desperate to feel more, more, more.

She moaned as he ran his tongue lightly against the seam of her lips, granting him entry to fully sweep in and plunder her mouth proper. Her fingers carded through his silvery blonde curls, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. He groaned in response, the sound vibrating in her mouth.

She finally was forced to break their kiss after a few moments, hungrily gulping in air to alleviate her starving lungs. Astarion moved to ravage her neck once more, licking and sucking the soft delicate skin there. He gripped her ass possessively as he did so, walking her backwards until he was pressing her into the nearest tree.

He lifted a knee to knock her legs apart before raising it higher to press into the juncture of her thighs. He delighted at how Tav immediately parted her legs for him, how she moaned from the pressure, how she subconsciously began grinding against him.

“Look at you, you naughty thing” he crooned in her ear. “Riding my leg for some relief?”

Primal behavior called out, a scarlet blush immediately bloomed on Tav’s neck and cheeks. It only goaded Astarion further.

“Go on then, darling. Rut against me. But I’m getting these lovely tits free first,” he whispered.

He began undoing the laces on the front of her corset. Tav watched his progress, entranced by the gracefulness of his long, slender fingers. She was nearly trembling with anticipation. Once finished, she helped him extract her from the offending garment and allowed him to lift her chemise up, over her head, so that she was fully bare from the waist up. The cool night air turned her skin to gooseflesh, her nipples hardening.

The sensation roused her lust-addled brain enough to realize just how vulnerable she was, standing there half-naked before him. She’d never been so exposed to another person before. Her fingers fluttered as she fought the sudden bout of nerves that insisted she cover her breasts from view.

“Don’t you dare,” Astarion growled, plainly reading the self-conscious expression on her face. “I’ve been dying to see these for days now,” he continued, cupping one full breast and flicking her nipple lightly with his thumb.

It sent a pulse thrumming directly to her core, and Tav moaned openly at the sensation. She could feel her simple linen breeches were completely drenched, was certain she was also dampening Astarion’s leg as she continued to grind against him.

Astarion chuckled, clearly pleased by her reaction.

“So responsive,” he whispered before lowering his mouth to latch onto her breast. He sucked lightly, while his hand continued its assault on the other. She fisted his hair in one hand, kissing the top of his head lovingly while he worked her into a frenzy.

Tav felt like she was quickly losing any ability to maintain balance. Her body was aching, whining, for more. She wanted to be laid out on the ground, wanted him to press her into the soft earth, taking everything.

“Astarion, please,” she panted, pulling at his curls. He groaned in response, releasing her nipple from his mouth.

“Please what, pet?” he teased, kissing and licking up her sternum.

“I need… more,” she whined, bucking against his leg.

He huffed a laugh before sweeping her up in one smooth motion and lowering her to the soft grass beneath their feet.

He began to loosen the fastenings of her breeches with a practiced ease. Tav watched, breathless, as he slid the fabric down her thighs, his mouth following with indolent, open-mouthed kisses. Each touch of his lips on her heated skin left her skin tingling, her hips canting slightly into the open air.

Finally bare before him, she watched as Astarion surveyed her from where she lay beneath him. In nearly all respects, he looked primed and ready to ravage her. His nostrils flared, detecting the heady scent of her arousal. His chest rose and fell with shallow, ragged breaths. For the first time, she took note of the considerable erection straining against the leathers he still wore.

After a moment, he came down to lie beside her, pulling her onto her side so that her chest was pressed flush against his. He trailed a hand down her side, over the rise and fall of her curves, until he reached her thigh. He hiked her leg onto his hip.

But something was off. Amid her clouded thoughts, Tav thought she could sense it, even if she couldn’t precisely put a finger on it. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes? Or the perfect nature of his behavior? He seemed almost too practiced, too formulaic. Like an actor who’s rehearsed their lines to the point that the words have lost their meaning. He was there with her, but somehow he wasn’t, at the same time.

“Are you all right?” Tav asked in a hushed voice, lifting a hand to cup his neck. She rubbed soothing circles with her thumb across his jawline.

“I’m more than all right, darling,” he replied with a smirk, squeezing her ass lightly.

“You seem like… you’re not wholly present,” she explained.

“It’s difficult to decide what I’d like to do to you first,” he reasoned, sidestepping her unspoken question. “I’m torn between tasting you with my tongue, or fucking you with my fingers,” he smirked.

Before she could respond, his fingers took an experimental swipe between her folds. She gasped at the feeling, her hips bucking against him. She watched, speechless, as he lifted that hand to suck the wetness from his fingers. Her wetness. In his mouth.

He groaned in approval. “Mmm. You’re pure sweetness, darling.”

All thoughts eddied from her mind. A singular, primal focus took over, and she suddenly clutched at Astarion’s neck with newfound ferocity.

He seemed to know exactly how his behavior had affected her, if his impish grin was anything to go by. He lowered his hand to swipe against her once again, his fingers stopping to circle that sensitive bud at the apex of her thighs. Tav jerked in response, but Astarion had been prepared for it. He used his other arm to brace against her back, locking her in place against him.

As she writhed against his hand, he repositioned himself to insert a finger inside her. She was deliciously warm and soaking wet. Soft, like velvet. His thumb continued to circle her clit, eliciting a long, low moan from Tav. Embarrassed, she attempted to muffle her voice by ducking her face into his chest.

He chuckled again. “That’s it, sweet one. Let me hear you,” he goaded her. Her moans pitched higher in response.

After a few moments of pistoning in and out of her, he inserted a second finger. But despite how drenched she was, he met considerable resistance, to his surprise. He stilled his fingers in response, uncertain.

It took a moment for Tav to register that Astarion had stopped moving inside her. Caught somewhere between discomfort and satisfaction, the increased sense of fullness his two fingers brought was strange but not altogether unwelcome. She exhaled, but it came out as more of a hiss than a sigh. After a moment of stillness, she raised her head to look at him.

“What is it?” she questioned..

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Astarion murmured.

Tav flushed. He’d realized, despite her best efforts to cover up that truth. Absently, she wondered what had given her away.

She said nothing at first, just studied him. He didn’t seem angry. But then again, she had quickly learned that Astarion was very skilled at masking his true feelings.

“No. I haven’t,” she admitted.

At her reply, he gently removed his fingers from inside her. He moved his hand to clutch her hip instead.

She sighed, rolling onto her back, gazing up at the stars. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

Silence. It felt deafening in her ears. But then –

“I’m a bad choice, darling,” he replied, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over her hip bone. She failed to see the sad smile that graced his mouth. “A terrible choice, really. For your first time.”

“It’s my decision,” she retorted, lolling her head to the side so she could look him straight in the eyes. “I want it to be you, Astarion. But if this is going to be a… problem for you, or become some ordeal where you feel guilty or weirdly triumphant, then we can just–”

“It’s not a problem for me. It’s your decision,” he affirmed softly, interrupting the beginning of her tirade. Some unknown emotion flitted across his features. He schooled his expression before she could really identify it.

“But I have to ask,” he continued, studying her seriously. “Are you absolutely certain about this? About… me?”

Her eyes welled with tears that threatened to fall. She laughed, suddenly elated, before nodding her head vigorously.

“I’m sure, Astarion,” she confirmed. “I want this to be with you.”

His eyes softened, obviously touched by her response. It was the first time tonight, she realized, that he had appeared vulnerable to her. He was staring at her as though he were seeing her for the first time. Like he couldn’t believe that the woman between his arms was real.

Without another word, he captured her mouth in a passionate kiss. His tongue swept in her mouth at the same time he inserted his fingers again, tasting her gasp of pleasure. His thumb began circling her clit once more, and Tav was powerless to silence her moans.

“Good. So good, sweet girl,” he whispered in her ear after a few moments. “You’re so close.”

She let loose a whine, squeezing her eyes shut as she chased that ever-nearing precipice inside her. Astarion’s voice in her ear only pushed her that much closer.

“That’s it. Come for me,” he urged, and she felt her orgasm rip through her at his words. Stars collided behind her eyes as she tumbled from that cliff of pleasure, Astarion holding her and whispering soft praises as she floated back down to earth.

Eventually her eyes fluttered open to see Astarion smiling openly at her. She felt her lips stretch up to return his grin.

“That was… incredible,” she breathed.

He huffed a soft laugh. “I’m not nearly finished with you. Unless you’d like to sto–”

“No,” Tav blurted, a little too loudly, interrupting him. “No. I want more. Please. Show me.”

“Of course, darling” Astarion promised, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. He gently released her and stood, beginning to remove his own clothing. Tav watched him brazenly, drinking in the sight of him.

She moaned softly as he removed his breeches, his impressive length springing free. He remained still, allowing her to take in the sight of him fully naked before her. Curious, she sat up and lifted a hand to wrap around him. She marveled at the way he felt. Like velvet-wrapped steel. She gave a tentative stroke, thrilling as he groaned in response. She stroked him again, harder, intent on learning how to give him as much pleasure as he’d already given her.

But he stayed her wrist with a gentle touch of his hand. She paused, looking up at him, confused.

“As exquisite as teaching you how to stroke me would be,” he explained in a sultry voice, “I’m much more interested in teaching you something else tonight.”

Tav nodded mutely, lying back once more. She opened her legs for him to return to her. Astarion smiled, lowering himself on top of her. He braced his forearms on either side of her head, one hand absently combing through her hair. His hips fit perfectly in the cradle of her thighs, and she moaned as she felt him gently nudge against her entrance.

“This is going to hurt at first,” he explained in a hushed whisper. She nodded, her breathing a bit uneven in anticipation of what would come next.

“But then it will stop. You’ll stretch around me. And then it will feel good,” he continued.

She nodded again, trying to remain focused on his words. But the primal part of her mind was warring against her. And it was winning. She subconsciously bucked her hips into him, marveling as she felt him slip between her folds just slightly. He hissed at the sensation, clenching his jaw.

“Greedy little thing,” he chastised teasingly. “All right, enough talking. But you will tell me if you need to stop, yes?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I promise.”

“Good girl,” he purred.

And then slowly, gently, he sheathed himself fully inside her with a groan.

Tav gasped in response. It was unlike any feeling she had ever felt before. Astarion had been right; it was painful at first. A pinching sensation. A mind-bending feeling of fullness. But then, but then, the feeling was phenomenal. She felt her walls stretch to accommodate him, felt herself clench around him, accepting him in his entirety.

Astarion’s head dropped to the crook of her neck. His whole body trembled, as if it was taking all his restraint to remain still so she could grow accustomed to him.

She canted her hips into him a bit, testing the waters. He groaned again in response, and she released a breathy chuckle.

He raised his head at the sound, peering down at her. “You little minx,” he breathed. “You have no idea what you’ve started.”

She thrilled at his words, crying out in ecstasy as he began to thrust in and out of her. The pace he set was addicting; the rhythm had her pushing her hips up to meet him, her legs locked around his back to pull him closer.

“You’re taking me so, so well, darling,” Astarion grunted, ratcheting up his pace. “You’re so tight. So. Perfectly. Fucking. Tight.”

His words were a fuel to her flame. She cried out his name again and again as he continued to rut into her, reveling in the feeling of him claiming her completely and totally. She was lost to the sensations, adrift in the fullness of Astarion inside her.

Finally, or perhaps all too soon, she felt his pace begin to grow more erratic. His hips lost their rhythmic pumping. His groans grew louder. Sensing his release was close, Tav clutched him tighter, digging her heels in his back to pull him closer, clenching around his length inside her.

“Yes, yes, FUCK,” he barked all at once, and her eyes rolled back into her head as he slammed himself to the hilt inside of her one final time. She could feel his release spilling inside her.

Lost for words, she simply held Astarion as he half-collapsed on top of her, one arm still braced on the ground beside her head. Listless, euphoric, and utterly at peace, Tav raised one arm to gently caress his back, listening to his erratic breaths slow. Distantly, she noted the raised, rough sensation of scars on his upper back, but she was too consumed by their mutual pleasure to give it a further thought.

Eventually, Astarion slipped out of her. He lowered himself to lie down beside her, curling one arm around her waist.

Tav closed her eyes and curled into his side, suddenly overcome with drowsiness. “Thank you, Astarion” she whispered faintly.

“For what, my darling?” he crooned, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.

“For making my first time so wonderful,” she replied.

She was asleep before he could think of a sufficient response.

***

The panic was a monstrous thing. Clawing at his chest, its vice-like grip squeezing his lungs until inhaling felt like breathing through a reed. He could barely think. Barely move. Barely registered the lovely woman still sleeping peacefully beside him.

The part of his brain that wasn’t frozen in fear chastised himself for behaving this way. He had taken plenty of virgins before. In fact, he had sought them out specifically. They were a much easier prey. They became attached to him so quickly, attributed so much more meaning to their first bout of lovemaking than perhaps more… seasoned individuals.

He should have been elated. She was obviously besotted with him. His plan to ensure her loyalty was moving forward without a hitch. So then why was he feeling so horrible?

He turned to observe Tav. So close to him and yet so far away. Swept into that blissful sleep that continued to elude him. He watched her chest rise and fall with deep, steady breaths. Watched her eyelids twitch as her mind made its way through some dream. She was so very vulnerable in this position. And so very trusting. Of him, of all people.

Astarion didn’t like many people. But he had developed a fondness for Tav, despite the short period of time they had known one another. She treated him like a person, not a monster. Not like the others in their party. She seemed to accept him for who he was, cynicism and vanity and all. He couldn’t remember ever knowing someone as kind to him as she was. She was… incredible.

And then it struck him. He was developing… something… for her. Feelings? Affection? The sentiments were so foreign to him, he didn’t even know what to call it.

But the realization caused panic to clutch him even tighter. No. He couldn’t feel this way. He wouldn’t.

This thing with Tav was purely transactional. It had to be. There was no other viable option. She had needed to feel something with someone. He had needed to secure an ally. That was all.

That is all this is, he thought, quashing the weak sentimental part of his mind.

And come morning, he resolved he would make certain that that was all this was for her as well.

***

Tav woke to the sound of birds chirping, high in the trees above her. The early morning sunlight filtered in through the forest, dappling her skin and warming her in the places that it touched. Opening her eyes, she spied Astarion, already dressed and standing a few paces in front of her.

His back was facing her, his face lifted toward the sun. She noted how he held his arms outstretched by his sides, palms facing up as though he were trying to collect all the sunlight pouring into their little grove. Despite his preternatural sense of hearing, he didn’t seem to be aware that she’d awoken, so lost was he in his enjoyment of the sun’s rays.

Tav’s heart nearly swelled to bursting as she watched him. Before all of this, he hadn’t felt the sunlight on his skin in over 200 years. Now, he was reveling in it. His joy was such an innocent, pure thing.

How many times had Tav taken the sun warming her skin for granted? Probably all of her life, she supposed. To see someone so appreciative of something so utterly mundane to her… well, it was a sobering reminder to acknowledge those little pleasures in life, especially the ones that seemed so constant to her.

She also took the time to study the strange pattern of scars on his back. She had felt some of the rough ridges last night, as she clutched him closer while he spilled himself inside her. But she hadn’t realized just how intricate and intentional the markings were. The sight of them sparked a rage inside her. Whoever the monster was who’d done this to him, they deserved to pay a price worse than death.

Someday soon, she swore she would ask him about those markings. But not today. Not right now. Not in the aftermath of spending such a wonderful night together. No, the only thing she wanted for them both today was to revel in post-coital bliss.

Not wishing to startle him, Tav intentionally laid back to stretch out her blissfully sore muscles, rustling the grass and fallen leaves around her. She threw in a halfhearted yawn for good measure. Secretly, she hoped he would return to her, take her again in this quiet forest, beneath the warmth of the sun.

“You sleep light,” Astarion chuckled, half-turning to speak to her but not meeting her gaze. “I thought you’d be exhausted after last night.”

Tav hesitated at his tone. It wasn’t cold per se, but he sounded much more guarded than he had been last night. Perhaps she was just being extra sensitive in light of what they had shared, she reasoned.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asked hesitantly. She watched his back, waiting for a reply. “It felt like… you weren’t truly there…” she added, after a beat of silence.

“I was… holding back a little, it’s true,” he finally responded. “I didn’t want to lose control. Delicious as you were… I didn’t want to go too far.”

“Oh, I see,” Tav replied, a bit dismayed. “I’m sorry you felt that way.”

Astarion turned and gave her a trademark smirk. “Think nothing of it, darling. Now,” he intoned, clapping his hands together. “Shall we get on? We’ve wasted enough time already.”

The words were like a lance to her heart.

“I… I didn’t consider it a waste,” she murmured, trying with some difficulty to hide her hurt.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Astarion huffed. “I just meant I’d like to break camp and get out of here before those tieflings drag us into another one of their messes.”

“Sure, of course,” Tav nodded, smiling up at him, though it came across as more of a grimace. Then she broke eye contact, bending over under the guise of collecting her discarded clothing. Really, she didn’t think she could look at him a moment longer without crying.

“I still need to dress,” she said, attempting a casual sort of air. “You go ahead without me.”

She sensed rather than saw Astarion hesitate at her suggestion.

“Are you sure? We’re a fair walk from camp. I can spare a few moments and wait.”

“Positive,” she replied with false cheer. “Go on ahead. The last thing either of us need is the party jeering at us if we’d return together.”

“Fair point,” Astarion conceded. “All right. Then… I’ll see you, back at camp.” Then he was walking away, back toward the direction of their fellow party members.

Tav waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps before she let loose a quiet sob. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was crying. Maybe it was just the stress of everything that had finally overwhelmed her. Maybe it was how abysmally this morning had gone. She didn’t know how she’d expected the morning after a sexual tryst to go, but she certainly hadn’t imagined what had just taken place. She hadn’t expected Astarion to slip that aloof mask he wore so well immediately back on, not when it was still just the two of them here.

Then again, she reasoned, perhaps there was a perfectly justifiable reason for his actions. They barely knew one another, after all. He didn’t owe her anything beyond general respect. They hadn’t made any promises or ties to one another. They had simply agreed on a night of pleasure. That night had passed on. She should move on as well. Right?

But she had hoped. Oh, she had hoped. That maybe last night could have been the start of something new for her. For both of them. She knew she was a dreamer at heart. But still, part of her couldn’t help but hope that some silver lining would come out of all of this mess.

In any case, she knew she needed to pull herself together before reentering the camp. She would not let anyone see her cry, especially Astarion. So she remained standing in the grove for a few moments longer, collecting herself.

She forced her mind to focus on anything, anything else. She counted the birds she saw flitting amongst the tree limbs. She watched leaves swirling in their light, airy dance toward the ground. And she said a silent prayer to whatever gods were out there and possibly listening. She prayed that everything would work out the way it was meant to be.

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astermath · 11 months

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second chance ₓₒ⋆:

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.

word count: 4.8K (oops)

warnings: cursing, no use of y/n, bullying, regular size font below!

notes: first time writing for steve YES I HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH HIM! YES IT IS THE FAULT OF ALL THE GOOD FIC WRITERS ON HERE! and thus,, I had to participate,, I hope I got his character down, I might write more for him so let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content!

tagging some writers who have absolutely inspired me to write this with their own incredible fics, be sure to check them out <3 @hungharrington @sunshinesteviee @ghostlyfleur @lilacletter @stevenose

As a teenager, you’d grown to hate Hawkins. It was a mundane, small town with boring people, not much to do, not to mention the weird supernatural rumors you’d hear about every other week.

But nothing was worse than your high school, Hawkins High. There was a strong social hierarchy, with you firmly placed at the bottom. You were a class A nerd, getting good grades, and always reading to distract yourself from your lack of a social life. So naturally, you got picked on a lot. At first it was just some girls in your class, laughing at your big glasses and the way you dressed. But as you got older, you’d caught the eye of so called “king Steve” and his goons.

You’d heard plenty about him by junior year; how rich his parents were, how he was the best at sports, how every girl practically dropped to their knees when he entered a room. He’d started noticing you when his friend Carol pointed you out, sitting alone on a bench outside school, waiting for your dad to pick you up. His finger had pushed your book down so he could look at your face, and you were soon met with his all too cocky grin.

“Watcha readin’, four eyes?” The ego was nearly dripping off his words, making your stomach turn.

“None of your business.” you pulled your book away, keeping a finger between the pages you were on. “Doubt it’s near your reading level anyways, Harrington.” You may have been nerdy, but you were no pushover. If they wanted to be condescending, then you’d play their game right back at them.

“That’s no way to treat your king, is it?” Tommy chimed in, like a parrot on his shoulder. You were sure that guy would be nowhere without his friend’s reputation, considering he had the personality of a wet sock.

“My king?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” You tried putting your book away, but Carol had snatched it from your hands just before you could reach your bag.

“Oooh, is this your diary or somethin’?” she flipped it open, shit eating grin plastered over her face as she ran her nail over your name written on the opening page.

“Do you mind? Give it back!” you’d reached out to grab it from her, but she’d already tossed it back to Steve, who was now holding it high above his head.

“Come and get it sweetheart,” He smirked. “Might have to get real close for it though.” Tommy laughed like a hyena at his taunting, and you swore you would have punted him if they didn’t outnumber you.

You scowled, ready to just grab your bag and make a swing for it. “Over my dead body, Steve.” You spat his name, and he grinned at your response.

“Ahh, shouldn’t have said that.” He dropped the book down into the muddy puddle in front of you, stepping on it to make matters worse.

You watched, mouth slightly agape as tears welled up in your eyes. Carol cackled while you stood frozen, clutching your bag as you watched the pages soak up the filthy water under his foot. You had every reason not to like Steve, he was like every movie’s description of a high school bully. But he’d destroyed something personal of yours. So now you had every reason to hate Steve.

And the bullying never stopped there. He’d laugh when Carol put her gum in your hair, when Tommy would bump into you extra hard in the hallway, when you’d turn around every time you saw him.

So when graduation came, you couldn’t be happier to get out of there and go to college.

Except your dad got fired from his job. And so, after just a year of college, you’d abandoned your dream of majoring in English literature and returned to the sad, miserable old town you grew up in.

So you’d taken on a job in your local bookstore, hoping to make enough money to rent an apartment anywhere else soon. You spent the rest of your time reading and writing, usually outside to get some inspiration. You weren’t surprised to see a lot of familiar faces, though you’d never actually spoken to most of them. College was expensive, and a lot of people from Hawkins were just going straight into working than bothering to study. Or maybe some were in the same unfortunate position as you, tragically locked to your hometown.

You were sat outside the backside of the mall, listening to people’s conversations around you. Though you were never much of a socialite, you were very interested in the way people interacted with one another, especially if they were from completely different backgrounds than you.

Two books sat besides you, knees brought up close to your chest as your papers leaned against your legs. You messily wrote down strings of sentences and words of inspiration, a description of what you were seeing too, every now and then. You were an aspiring writer, hoping your literary skills would one day break you out of your current situation, but with the current state of the world, that’s all you could really be. Hopeful.

You were daydreaming about the life you’d build for yourself, finger running over the tip of your pen. You were so involved in your own train of thoughts, you almost hadn’t noticed the sudden new presence besides you.

“Watcha writin’, pretty girl?”

The voice sounded familiar. A little too familiar for your liking, actually. You kept your eyes on the page, hoping you conveying your disinterest was working in driving the guy away. You sighed, clicking the pen a few times. “Do you really care, or do you just wanna bother me?”

You could hear a faint chuckle, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t sound nice. Still, you were working, and you preferred not to be disturbed when you were.

“You got me there,” the guy spoke, and you could tell he’d moved a little closer, because you could now smell a sliver of his cologne. “Was never one for books, but I’ve been wanting to read more. What is this, Pride and Prejudice?” He picked up one of the books, and you turned, about to take it from when your eyes landed on his face, freezing midway when you finally realized why he sounded so familiar.

Steve motherfucking Harrington.

Same cocky smile, same brown eyes, same somehow always perfectly styled hair, and probably same asshole altogether.

You squinted slightly, not sure if you were hallucinating or not. “... Steve Harrington?” You question, and you could tell he doesn’t quite know how to react at first.

Truth be told, Steve had changed. A lot. All the things he’d gone through, the connections he’d made, the ego checks he got, it made him a new man. Or so he definitely liked to believe. But he was also painfully aware of his reputation, his old persona still haunting him sometimes. Still, he’d never seen you before, so he hoped it was a relatively positive image you had of him.

“I guess my reputation precedes me,” he smiled, and you think it’s the first time you’d ever seen him genuinely smile. Not the smile he gave you when his friends were teasing you, no, this one was much softer. “Or maybe... We’ve met before?”

And then it clicked.

Steve had no clue who you were.

Sure, you’d developed a better sense of style over the years. You no longer needed braces, you had grown into your body better, and your glasses fit your face a lot more. But you didn’t think you changed that much. Besides, your personality had remained the same. You were still the sharp tongued, book loving, nerdy girl he’d bullied back then.

It was true, he didn’t recognize you. He was almost certain you were new in town, telling his best friend Robin that if he knew you, he’d definitely recognize a face that pretty. She had no clue who he was talking about, this mysterious girl he’d seen reading and writing all over Hawkins, so she just told him to make a move. So he did.

“So uh,” He leaned his arm over the backside of the bench, facing you. “I was wondering if you’d maybe like to go out sometime. Y’know, catch a movie, go to the arcade, whatever you’d like to do for fun, uh...” he flipped the book open on the first page, reading your name aloud. And then it clicked for him too. You weren’t new here, and you most certainly knew him. He looked back up at you, already getting ready to apologize when you snatched the book from his hands and got up.

“Go fuck yourself, ‘king Steve’.” You scowled, shoving your stuff in your bag and angrily walking off.

He had to admit, that stung, hearing you use his old nickname like that, and then watching you storm off. He was starting to realize that there were more consequences to his high school endeavors than he’d initially imagined, that he couldn’t just move on and pretend that he was a new person now. He had to make things right. Starting with you, the pretty girl with the glasses.

“And-- and then, wait for it-- I look into the book, right?” Steve stands behind the counter of Family Video, hands motioning vividly as he tells his friend about what had happened the day before.

Robin nods, mumbling some kind of “uhuh” as she continues to organize the shelves.

“And it’s her! It’s four eyes!” He exclaims, looking expectantly at his colleague, hoping for a big reaction.

“I’m sorry, who?” Robin’s face contorts in confusion, turning to face him with a hand on her hip.

“Shit, uh, she was like always reading and stuff, and she had these-- these glasses, they were way too big for her face, and--”

His sentence was cut short by the jingle of the door opening, and the two of them looked to see you there, who was clearly not expecting a welcome committee. Your gaze crossed Steve’s, and for a moment he felt like you were about to kill him with just your stare. You rolled your eyes, scoffing audibly and started looking through the shelves.

Robin looked at Steve, mouthing a “is that her”, to which he nodded stealthily. She replied by smiling approvingly, as if she now understood exactly why he wanted to make things right. You were really pretty, she could definitely see that.

You damn near slammed down the tape you wanted to rent for the day on the counter, avoiding eye contact as you looked through your bag for your wallet.

“Are you already registered at Family Video or—“

“No.” You cut him off, head snapping up.

“Alright,” Steve nodded, slightly intimidated. “I’ll just need your name and phone number for the registry.”

You stared at him for a few moments, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Did he really think you were that stupid?

“Are you fucking—“ You looked over at his colleague. “Is he fucking with me?”

Robin shook her head slowly, slightly intimidated. Though she could see why he had to work his way up to talking to you, she had to admit, it was quite funny seeing Steve actually struggle talking to a girl like this.

“We need it in case you don’t return the tape.” He gave you a thin lipped, awkward smile as he got the keyboard out to type it in.

“Fine,” You huffed, “but if I get a personal call from you, I’m changing numbers.” You started to list your phone number and complete your registration. You just wanted to watch the Breakfast Club for christ’s sakes, this was taking ages…

“That’ll be 10 dollars,” he put on a sweet, almost customer service-y smile, “please.”

“Yeah, fine, just—“ You rummaged through your bag, brows furrowing when you still couldn’t manage to find your wallet. You were certain you had it, although you did grab your stuff in a bit of a rush that morning. “I swear it’s here, it’s just under all this other stuff…”

You were about to dump the contents of your bag onto the counter when Steve held up his hand, pulling out his own wallet. “It’s fine, I got it.” He deposited 10 dollars of his own into the cash register, sliding the tape back over to you along with a receipt. “Courtesy of Steve Harrington.”

You looked down at the tape, and something in you wanted to smile. You were still getting used to this, guys doing nice things for you because you were pretty, but it was different from Steve. You were mad at him, and rightfully so. Te, measly dollars wasn’t going to cut it.

You muttered a “thanks”, stuffing the tape in your bag and waving Robin a quick goodbye before speed walking back outside. Your cheeks burned hot, and you hated to admit it, but it was a really cute gesture from Steve.

“She seems nice.” Robin said, watching Steve’s expression falter with a bit of an amused grin.

Steve leaned his face into his hands, watching you leave through the window. “The nicest.” He sighed, lowering his head to rub his hands over his face. “I’m gonna have to give that another try though.”

Robin chuckled, going back to the task at hand. “Good luck with that, casa nova.”

And so he did. He kept trying. It wasn’t just because he wanted to prove something to himself, he was genuinely intrigued by you. Even back in high school, he wondered what was going on in that head of yours when you’d daydream in class, or when you were writing during breaks. But he knew he’d never hear the end of it from Tommy if he talked to you, so he chose the easy way out. Coping by making fun of you. At least that way, he never had to prove to anyone if he liked you or not.

But it wasn’t fair, not towards you, of course. He never should have treated you that way, and this was his chance of making things right. And maybe finally finding out what was always happening in that pretty mind of yours.

You were stacking books on the shelves at your job, humming a tune to yourself. You liked your job, you always got to buy books at discounted prices and read whenever it was quiet. It was a nice step-up to what would hopefully become a real writing job one day, having your own books sold in a place like this.

“Excuse me,” a voice stirred you from your daydreaming, “I’m looking for something new to read.”

You turned, and as soon as you once again caught sight of Steve, your customer service smile faded into a scowl. “You stalking me now, Harrington?”

He put up his hands in a defensive position. “Woah, jump to conclusions much?” He chuckled nervously. “No, I uh... Robin told me you worked here. So I decided to drop by.” He followed closely behind you as you walked to the back to start stacking the shelves there.

“So what are you really doing here, besides bothering me?” You turned, a book clutched to your chest. It reminded him of how you used to walk the halls, always with a book held over your heart. It was almost poetic, now that he thought about it. He knew books were your comfort, so it only made sense you’d always keep one near.

“Like I told you,” he leaned against one of the shelves, hand slipping down just a tad which almost made him lose composure, “I’m looking for somethin’ new to read.”

You raised an eyebrow, and you had to admit, he had your attention. “You?” You scoffed, followed by an almost mocking chuckle. “Shit, I didn’t even know you could read.”

He pretended to be hurt, hand over his heart as he said your name in an offended tone. “I’m wounded! I’m trying to explore more literature and here I am getting judged!”

You couldn’t help but giggle, blood rushing to your cheeks from embarrassment. You were supposed to be mad, not humor his flirting, no matter how cute he was. “I uh... Well, I read this book not too long ago. It’s about two lovers who travel the world playing the music together, and one of them dies, so the other has to like, find their own sound...” You realized you were rambling a little, wide eyes looking up at him. “Or... Something like that.”

“Yeah! Yeah, that-- that sounds great. Cool. Totally.” He tried his best to brush off how your eyes were making him feel. So pretty, even when behind your glasses, he could tell how much emotion they held.

“Cool, cool,” now you were the one trying to play it cool, fingers fidgeting with the hardcover you were holding. “I’ll, uhm-- go check our stock really quick.”

He let you do your thing as he looked around the store, flipping through the pages of random books he found. Truth be told, Steve hadn’t read a single book ever since he stopped being forced to because of high school. Not because he hated reading, he just... Wasn’t very good at it. He’d often mouth along with the words, sentence by sentence, sometimes even whispering them to himself.

You returned not long after, strangely enough, with nothing in hand. “So, I think we ran out, but uh...” You adjusted your glasses. “I can lend you my copy.” You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling nervously. “If you want.”

Steve was quite surprised by your proposal. He knew how precious your books were to you, but giving one to him? The guy who’d stomped on your own personal property not even that long ago? Damn. Maybe you were just that nice. Which made him feel even worse for treating you like shit.

“Totally! Yeah, uhm, I’ll take good care of it. Like, seriously, I’ll protect it with my life.” He grinned, and you hated how infectious his smile was.

“Good,” you handed him your copy, and he could tell it was well loved. “I better not find any mud on this one.” He nodded at your comment, swallowing down his guilt at the memory. There was a bookmark at the front, and he could tell by the dozens of sticky tabs sticking out that you were serious about your reading. So he decided to be serious about it too.

“You can give it back whenever you’re done.” You smiled awkwardly, subtly letting him know he could read it at his own pace. “Just come drop it off when you’re ready.” He was about to thank you, when you raised a finger to interrupt him. “In the exact same condition, Harrington.” Though your gesture was sweet, he could tell you still weren’t fully on good terms with him. That was fine by him, he was glad he was making any progress at all, really.

“Yeah-- yeah, for sure, no problem.” He stood there for a few seconds, book held under his arm as his other hand busied itself running through his hair. “I’ll uh... I’ll see you around.”

You smiled at how nervous he seemed. “Yeah, totally, see you around Steve.” You gave him a quick wave and went back to stocking the shelves.

Steve heart swelled with a familiar feeling as he walked out. He knew you were pretty, gorgeous even, but seeing you smile, and say his name like that... Man, he felt like an even bigger idiot for being such a douche to you back in the day. You were being so nice, and you had absolutely no reason to. He stood outside, thinking of your sweet voice and cute glasses, and clutched the book to his chest.

Huh. That did actually feel kinda nice.

And so he walked home like that, the entire way, with a tight hold on the book. He’d rather die than let it get damaged now.

One of the first things he did when he got home was go to his room, sit down on his bed and open the book. On the first page, you had your name written, and it brought him right back to when he first saw you again. Something inside him feels superficial and shallow for only talking to you now that you look different, but all the circumstances were different too. You’d both grown, matured, he just wished you’d give him more of a chance to show it.

But in a way, he supposed this was the first step to earning your trust.

He’d spent almost the entire night reading, smiling and even chuckling at some of your annotations. He was glad there was a key at the start, so he knew which color meant what. He’d even grabbed a dictionary from downstairs because he didn’t understand some words, but was eager to learn more. Reading your comments made it feel like you were right there with him. They were funny, making him crack a grin at how outraged you could be at some of the characters’ decisions.

He imagined your face when one of your comments mentioned you’d cried, and his heart twisted at the thought. Because he knew what you looked like when you cried, thick tears running over soft cheeks, lashes wet. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t still look pretty, but man, he was now more insistent on proving he’d changed than ever. Maybe his budding crush was helping that a little too.

A little more than a week later, he’d returned to the store you worked to return the book. Frankly speaking you weren’t sure if was actually going to bring it back, let alone in the exact same condition you’d given it to him in.

“So, what did you think?” Your face beamed a sort of excitement you’d only see when your interests were being discussed, and this was definitely one of them. Besides your boss, you never really had anyone to talk to about books. Though Steve was more of an unconventional choice, you enjoyed the conversation nonetheless.

What surprised you even more was that he’d actually read it. Like really, really read it, including your annotations and comments. It warmed your heart to know he had put actual time and effort into enjoying the whole thing, and he looked pretty cute talking about it too.

“But the ending broke my heart, seriously—“

“I know, right? How could she not have forgiven him for not leaving behind the music sheets? It was clearly to help her move on!”

“Ugh, I know! Man, you get it.” He laughed softly, fingers running through his chocolate colored hair.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” You laughed along, the noise in your throat slowly dying out as you got a bit too caught up in the sight of him. Steve Harrington was a handsome young man, that was common knowledge. There was a reason all those girls were always swooning over him, and you hated to admit that you could see where they were coming from. But you didn’t like the overly cocky, flirty side of him you knew in high school. You like this side, the soft, considerate, attentive Steve you’d been getting to know a little better.

Yeah, you were growing fond of him.

Which is exactly why you’d said yes to hanging out with him at the park the day after. Just “hanging out”, in his own words. He’d been careful not to make the same mistake he did the first time he talked to you, rather easing you into spending time with him one on one. He’d hate to break your trust now that you were finally able to look at him with something other than anger in your eyes.

It was already quite late when the two of you met up. You’d been busy with work, and him with helping out Dustin, so once the two you arrived at the park, it was already dark. You didn’t mind, though. Less chance of other people bothering you.

You settled on a more secluded area, Steve had even been nice enough to bring a blanket to sit on. You were initially just going to discuss the contents of the latest book he’d borrowed from you, but you had a feeling something else was left to be said.

And he was well aware of this too.

So when you were staring up at the sky, moonlight illuminating your features in a way he’d only seen described in the books he had read, he figured he couldn’t keep talking to you without clearing the air. You deserved that much.

“You know,” he cleared his throat, “I thought about what happened a lot.”

You bring your gaze over to him, tilting your head slightly. “My my, whatever could you mean?” You said, teasingly so. He knew you wanted him to just say it. And who was he to deny you of a justified apology.

He took a deep breath, fingers running through his locks. It had become almost a nervous tic to him.

“I’m really sorry about everything I did.” He said, in the most genuine tone he could muster. “Seriously, I-- I’m just kind of... ashamed, really.”

You could tell he was struggling to look at you, and you wondered how much thought he’d given this already.

“You never really realize how stupid and insignificant high school shit seems until you get out in the real world, you know? Like-- none of it matters, none of that popularity, shit, and-- and I wish I’d just realized that sooner because now--” He caught sight of your eyes and for a second, completely lost his train of thoughts. He realized he wasn’t getting to the point, suddenly understanding Robin’s need to nervously ramble entirely.

“Point is, I’m really, really sorry for the way I treated you.” His hand inched closer to yours, itching to grab it to emphasize his point. “I’ve changed a lot, and I hope that’s become at least slightly believable.” He smiled nervously, all kinds of possible responses you could give running through his mind.

They all came to a halt when he saw you smile.

That sweet, kind smile he’d seen back in high school and avoided because of how it made him feel.

The same smile that was currently reducing him to a nervous teenage boy with a crush.

“It’s okay, Steve.” You spoke softly, and the words came as a mercy to his overbearing thoughts. Your hand moved over his, and you ran a thumb over his knuckles. His hand was soft, warm, and a little clammy from what you could only assume to be the nerves.

“I’m not gonna make you beg for my forgiveness, don’t worry.” You chuckled, and his heart damn near melted at the sound. He secretly wished they could bottle whatever feeling your laugh gave him, so he could keep it with him in times of need.

“Really?” He tilted his head, brown locks falling in different ways around his face. “Because, like-- I’ll do it. Wait--” He got up on his knees and reached besides the blanket, plucking a stray flower from the grass and kneeling in front of you. He cleared his throat in an exaggerated way, before addressing you with your name. “My dearest, will you please forgive me for being a top shelf douchebag to you before?”

You couldn’t contain your laugh, feeling your face heat up at the sight of him kneeling in front of you. “Steeeeve!” You exclaimed, hands coming up to cover your face. “Okay, okay, I forgive you!”

He chuckled along with you, reaching out and gently tucking the flower behind your ear. “Alright, well--” he sat down again, now significantly closer than before, turned towards you. “would you perhaps do me the honor of going out with you then?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think about your answer as he looked at you in anticipation. Instead of answering, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his plush lips. It was better than you’d imagined, his hand finding its way on your cheek as he melted into it. He made a soft, almost pleading noise, once you pulled away, and you swore he’d never looked prettier.

“Sure, I’ll go out with you.” You brushed a lock of hair out of his face. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

He grinned. “I’d hope so, after a kiss like that.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, before connecting your lips again.

He would have done so either way. Because you’d officially rendered Steve Harrington speechless. And painfully in love.

#aster writes stranger things #stevemath #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #king!steve x reader #steve stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fan fic #steve harrington fic #steven harrington writing #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fan fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n

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mondaymelon · 1 year

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— 𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗮𝘂: 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲, 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘂𝘀. ♥

:feat~ alhaitham, kaveh, cyno, tighnari: (warnings~ obsessive behavior + teensy bit of angst)

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu

Lately, you've been playing a lot more Honkai Star Rail…

ALHAITHAM is jealous.

Which is new to him, as someone who just about has everything he could need. Everything, that is, except for you.

It’s nearly been a week since you last logged on.

And that scares him. He knows he should trust you, but the mere thought of you leaving him is enough to make the acting grand tremble. You are his light, and without you, he is dead - nothing.

It’s cold.

He misses your warmth. Your happy laughs and snide remarks he witnesses as you play and read through dialogue, seeing your bright smile through your front camera, all of it unbeknownst to you.

But, all this time, did that mean nothing to you?

Oh, but all of a sudden, is that you? You’re finally back! The scribe can’t hold back his smile, eyes sparkling as you start to load in. He can feel your comforting presence, something that invigorates him, such a simple thing, yet it fills him with the will to live.

Ah, but something is different.

Who’s this Dan Heng you keep mumbling about with such a… dreamy expression?

No, that couldn’t be right. That look was reserved for him only. How could you think of someone else with that gaze?

Oh, so this is what jealousy feels like.

KAVEH is baffled.

Confused. I mean, is it really all that much to make a fuss about? Sure, you haven’t logged on in a while, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

He’s confident that you won’t leave him! Because, after all, you said it yourself… something along the lines of “SDFJSDFKLSDJFLK I LVOE KAVEH SO MCUH FDJSGLK” ...Or, at least, that was what you had texted over the chat feature to one of your in game friends.

He adores you, so it’s only natural that he praises every word you speak!

Ah, but what’s this new game on your device?

Honkai… Star Rail?

I-Is this what you’ve been spending all your time on? Time spent without him?

But why?

It’s only then that Kaveh notices.

The new way you’ve begun to act whenever you occasionally log on, the way you’re growing distracted, the way you sigh as you collect your daily commissions, the way you barely glance at his way, almost tired of the game that he’s in…

It’s okay, Kaveh tells himself, staring at the ground. The room is dark, and he hasn’t eaten in days, body shaking.

They’ll come around again.

They always do.

CYNO is reconsidering.

All his life, he knows that what he’s been doing is in the light of justice. All his life, he’s known that he is in the right. All his life, he has not doubted his path.

Yet…

“My Eminence, where have you gone?”

The world was so barren without you. You were incomparable, the pure life that radiated from your being gave him a sense of elation that he had never experienced before. It was a honey-like feeling that was shamefully addicting.

Was it his fault that you had left? He should’ve changed for you.

Perhaps he had missed your subtle signs, perhaps you were upset at him - he had to have done something wrong, otherwise, why would this have happened?

“I’m sorry.” His distraught hands hid his expression, his crystal tears, as he knelt before his shrine to you - a secret oblation that he held in his heart, with things he treasured. A lock of your hair, a page from your notebook, a jewel pendant that you had left behind… they were such items that he disgracefully cherished.

“I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll do anything.”

So please, let me see you one more time.

TIGHNARI is acceptant.

He’s knowledgeable in so many things… the wildlife of Sumeru’s rainforest, countless antidotes… he knows the forest like the back of his hand.

Despite that, he comprehends you more. He knows what makes you smile, what makes you irritated, all of it - because he loves you, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

You’re someone that’s off limits to a person who’s as lowly as him, as insignificant. Truly, he doesn’t deserve to even be in your presence, but it’s too impossibly warm to resist. After all, the savior is just that benevolent, and your radiance blinds him.

He’s not good enough.

That’s all that can ring through his head when he’s with you. And it’s true to him, because you are perfect in his eyes, and in the eyes of the world. Yet his heart still dares to shamefully race whenever you smile.

So it only makes sense if you leave.

At first, it did come as a surprise, but not much of one. Because he knows he deserved it, and that he was never worthy of your attention in the first place.

Still, his heart aches. But if you’re content, then so is he. Who is Tighnari to argue with your divine judgment?

So, he understands. He understands that you grew tired of him.

Ah, but still, he dares hold a small shred of hope that you’ll come back to see him again.

Is that so sinful?

(a/n) i love the sumeru men too much please send help

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dancingtotuyo · 14 days

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Part III

High Infidelity | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: You and Joel hull the kids to the beach for a much needed vacation. Things begin to change.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: Tommy being a shitty husband & father, Father's day celebration, cursing, consumption of alcohol, emotional affair/cheating, some physical boundaries crossed. Pining

Notes: Y'all know the drill by now, thanks to my loves @janaispunk for beta reading and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading and providing me with some authentic prison information and inspiration, and @saradika-graphics for the dividers!

Words: 5273

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

It’s June before you’re able to escape to the shore. You make it in just over 4 hours. It’s good timing considering the multiple bathroom stops you had to make. It’s a small house that probably hasn’t been renovated since Joel was there as a kid. It sits two blocks off the shore on stilts that make you feel secluded from the people that pass on the quiet street below, and when you stand on the porch, the salty sea breeze caresses your body as you let your eyes close. You can just make out the crash of ocean waves. You can feel the breeze carrying all your cares away.

Nate and Sarah excitedly explore the inside of the house. Their muted enthusiasm floating through the walls makes you smile. You’re thankful for this, thankful for Joel.

The sliding door opens and then shuts. You don’t move. It’s Joel. You know the sound of his footsteps, the way he moves through the world by heart. He settles against the railing, arm pressed against yours.

A smile spreads across your lips as your eyes open, landing on his. He smiles back. “Hard to enjoy the view with your eyes closed, Darlin.” His deep baritone rumbles smoothly. You see it in him too, the way the breeze carries away the wear and worry of the world.

“It’s peaceful out here.”

He nods. “Yeah, it is.”

“We should probably get back in there before the kids break something.”

Joel nudges you with his shoulder. “Don’t jinx us like that.”

“Our two? Unsupervised? That’s asking for it.”

“Our two?” A playful glint glimmers in Joel’s deep brown eyes. “My daughter is perfectly well behaved. It’s your little menace that’s the bad influence.”

“Oh my four year old is the bad influence?” You cross your arms, doing your best to keep the smile at bay.

“For sure- got his dad’s streak for mischief. My Sarah is a perfect angel.” He sticks his tongue out at you.

You roll your eyes, slapping his shoulder, but you don’t have a good response. He’s not wrong. Nathaniel knows how to get into places he shouldn’t. “I seem to recall an incident involving a ten pound bag of flour that says differently.”

Joel chuckles at the memory. Nathaniel was barely a week old when Sarah shrieked in the kitchen only for you to find her and the kitchen dusted in white powder. You had cried upon seeing it, postpartum hormones raging. Joel had cleaned your entire kitchen top to bottom.

“She felt so bad for making you cry,” Joel laughs.

“I think I scared her.”

The door opens again. Sarah and Nathaniel break out, rushing for your legs and begging to go to the beach.

You spend the next several days lazing on the sand, reading more than you have in years as you soak in the sun. The kids run around chasing seagulls and other creatures. Joel helps them catch waves on boogie boards. You both take them further out to ride the waves. Sarah’s arms clutch around Joel’s neck, and Nathaniel does the same to you. They build sandcastles and Joel digs holes big enough to bury them both.

At night, the kids are out by 8 o’clock if not earlier allowing you and Joel to sit out on the deck and drink. Your skin is warm from the constant sun. Joel’s cheeks are tinged pink on your third evening, his chest rosier. The salty air works at his hair, bringing out curls. You like this version of him a lot. You like this version of yourself too.

Your feet sit in his lap as he massages your legs and feet, calves worn out from lugging your belongings across the sand and back. He stares up at the sky, twilight bringing the first few stars with it. You sip your homemade margarita, Joel’s specialty, from a red solo cup.

“I shoulda brought my guitar. Only thing that could make this moment better,” he says.

You hum softly, shifting in your chair. “Wouldn’t be able to massage my feet if you had your guitar.”

He laughs, so easy, so relaxed. You can’t remember the last time things felt this good. “Don’t worry, you’d still get your massage.”

“Why didn’t you bring it?” You cock your head to the side.

“Wouldn’t fit in the car, miss over packer.”

You roll your eyes softly kicking at him. “We’ve used everything I packed. Speaking of which, what do you want for breakfast tomorrow?” You take another sip of your drink. Joel finds a knot in your calf, working it out as you let out a slight hiss.

Joel shrugs, carefully watching your reactions careful to inflict as little pain as possible. “Ask the kids.”

“It’s Father’s Day.”

“Kids like pancakes.” Joel sips from his own drink before returning to the knot.

“But you don’t.”

“Doesn’t matter what I like, Darlin.”

“Well, it does tomorrow.” You cross your arms.

Joel sighs rolling his eyes.

You narrow yours. “Don’t make me force it out of you. You know I will.”

He considers it a minute before deciding it’s a losing battle. “Those omelets you made for my birthday. I really liked those.”

You smile. “I can manage that.”

You sit in bed with Nathaniel the next morning to call Tommy. As early as possible is preferred, not that Tommy will care. He’s been blowing you off more, hardly talking when you call or visit, seemingly uninterested when you talk about Nate. It’s exhausting. You dread it, but you continue anyway.

It takes a while before Tommy’s voice comes through the speaker. You force an exaggerated smile to your face for Nathaniel’s sake. Daddy is an abstract being to him. “Hey babe. Happy Father’s Day!”

“Oh… that’s today?”

You push back the annoyance rising inside you. “Nate wants to say hello.” You hold the phone up to your four-year-old’s ear.

“Hello?” he says.

You can barely make Tommy’s pathetic response. He won’t even pretend for Nathaniel and that’s the unbearable part of all this.

“Happy Day!” Nathaniel says, taking hold of the receiver before he dives into updating his stranger of a father all about their beach vacation. Tommy stays quiet the whole time.

Rage begins to boil just under the surface. Before it can bubble over, Nathaniel says goodbye, shoving the phone into your chest and dashing out of the room the moment he hears Sarah moving around in the living room.

“Tommy?”

“Look, I need to go.”

You're not sure what’s worse. The hurt or the anger inside you. “I love you.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you on Friday.”

“Tommy.” It sounds like a scold. That’s exactly what it is.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for your wife and son?”

“You’re the one who called me.”

“Are you actually going to call on Friday? Or am I gonna end up sitting next to the phone all evening?”

You get silence.

“Tommy?”

“I’ll call.” And then the line goes dead.

You want to scream or yell or cry or all three. You settle for throwing a pillow across the room and giving yourself 5 minutes to cry. There may only be three months of this left, but you’re not sure you’ll actually be talking to your husband at the end of it, not that the two of you do any talking now.

Wiping your eyes, you make your way to the kitchen to start on Joel’s promised breakfast. Nathaniel and Sarah sit at the table comparing sea shells. “Aunt Bonnie?”

“Yes baby doll?” You smile, kissing her head.

“Which one would Daddy like on his card?” She points to a collection of about 5 shells.

“Hmmm,” you crouch down to her level, looking them over. “I think he would like any of them, but this one looks like him.” You point to a blue-grey shell.

She picks it up, inspecting it carefully. “It does look kinda grumpy like him.”

You laugh. That isn’t what you meant, but she wasn’t wrong. “I’m making omelets. What do y’all want in yours?”

The kids are digging into their breakfast when Joel walks out of his room, arms stretching above his head to reveal a little sliver of his tummy. Sarah quickly shoves her Father’s Day project under some magazines.

“Look who decided to wake up.” You smile over your shoulder. “Morning sleepy head.”

“One day of the year I get to sleep in.” He mumbles, shooting a teasing glare your way. He clocks your red eyes before you can turn away.

“Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!” Sarah yells, standing on her chair to give Joel a hug. He chuckles, pulling her into his arms, spinning around, and setting her back on the chair with ease. She laughs.

“Thank you, baby girl.”

“Happy Day!” Nathaniel grins at his uncle.

“Father’s Day.” Sarah corrects. Nathaniel simply shrugs like he’d said the correct thing to begin with.

Joel chuckles, kissing his nephew’s cheek. “Thanks, Bud.”

You track his footsteps over to your side of the kitchen as you invest your full attention on the omelet in front of you. You know he caught your tear-stained eyes. “Fresh coffee in the pot,” You say, keeping your voice even.

You feel his full body heat behind you, a hand falls to your waist as he reaches into the cabinet next to the stove for a coffee mug. Something settles in your stomach.

“What did my idiot brother do now?” He keeps his voice low so the kids don’t overhear.

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Darlin.”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Your head snaps toward him. He’s right there, face so close to yours. Always nearby.

“You sure?”

You bristle a little bit. He drops his hand but stays in your space. “Not right now. We’re celebrating you this morning.” He smiles softly at you. “And I don’t want to burn your omelet, so scram.” You cock your head to the side.

He waits a second, searching for any signs he’s missing something. When he’s sure he isn’t, he gives you a soft smile and a tender kiss on the forehead, and steps over to the coffee pot, leaving you feeling warm and hazy.

The kids help clean up after breakfast. Sarah stands on a bench at the sink to wash dishes and Nathaniel waits patiently with a dish towel to dry the lighter dishes. You and Joel sit at the table, second and third cups of coffee in hand as you oversee their efforts.

“I think I’m going to enjoy this next phase of parenting,” Joel says with a long, content sigh.

You feel the easiness thrumming in your veins. Why couldn’t life always be this way? “Yeah if my anxiety about broken dishes or wet feet doesn’t get the better of me first.”

He chuckles softly, sipping from his mug as an easy silence falls between you. You watch the kids and Joel watches you. Sun pours through the many windows of the beach house. You’re not ready to leave tomorrow.

“You wanna talk about it now?”

You sigh. “Not really. We’re supposed to be celebrating you today.”

“I’ll be able to enjoy myself more if I know what’s going on in your head.”

You keep your gaze focused on the kids, rolling the words around in your head. You feel emotionally exhausted by it all and you’re not even through the morning hours yet.

“Darlin,” Joel kicks at your foot, smile on his face. “C’mon. We can talk about it.”

You set your mug down, turning toward him. “He’s just blowing us off again. I spent more time waiting for him to come to the phone than I did talking to him. He hardly interacted with Nate this morning.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to push away the tears pressing to escape.

Joel reaches across the table, taking your hand. He runs his thumb over your knuckles. It grazes past your wedding band, almost taunting you now.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t fair to either of you,” Joel says.

“You’d think I’d stop letting it affect me at some point.”

Joel bites his lip, eyes pinned to your ring finger. “He’s your husband. Needs to start acting like it,” Joel says gruffly. You catch the spark of something in his deep brown eyes, but you don’t have time to place it.

“We’re done!” Sarah exclaims with a proud smile, her shirt soaked through.

You pull your hand from Joel’s, wrapping it around your warm mug as you laugh. “Thank you for your help. Both of you.” Nathaniel puts the dish towel carefully over the oven handle, shooting you the biggest grin.

“Can we do presents now?” Sarah asks, curls bouncing with her.

“Presents?” Joel says. “Y’all didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Don’t be silly, Daddy.” Sarah says, looking to you for permission.

“I think now is a great time for gifts.”

Both kids run toward their shared room. They had been very excited at the promise of bunk beds. You ease out of your chair. “Not you too.” Joel shakes his head.

You shoot him a wink. “Suck it, Miller.”

Flashes of your delayed Mother’s Day celebration jump between you. Joel had switched up the weekends and hadn’t been prepared, but had made up for it the following weekend. You hadn’t heard from Tommy. He never even mentioned it.

You grab the small box from your suitcase, a small white bow tied around it. The four of you settle in the living room. You sit tucked into one end of the sofa while Joel sits at the other end, a bouncing kid on either side of him.

“Me first!” Sarah says, handing her card and hand-wrapped gift to her father.

Joel takes care, slowly reading the card out loud. His gift consists of a souvenir snow globe and a puca shell necklace. She picked them out with great care at the beach shop the two of you stopped in yesterday. He oos and awes over both.

“You should put on the necklace!” Sarah says, standing up on the cushions of the couch.

“Maybe I want to admire it more,” Joel says.

You bite back a smile. He’s already lost this battle and you both know it.

“Don’t be silly, Daddy.” She grabs it from his hand, determination, and concentration painted on her face as she wraps it around his neck.

“Yeah, don’t be silly, Daddy.” You tease, shooting him a wink. He pokes his tongue out at you as Sarah almost chokes him in the process of securing the necklace.

“Not so tight, baby girl.”

“Oops,” she giggles. “All done.”

She steps back to admire her handiwork, looking quite pleased. “What do you think, Aunt Bonnie?”

“Beautiful,” You smile, laughter evident in your tone of voice. “You look ready to hit the beach.”

“My turn!” Nathaniel announces, handing Joel a hand-drawn picture depicting their day at the beach yesterday. He goes into great detail describing everything he drew. Joel’s hand rests on Nate’s shoulder blades, head tucked toward him as he takes in everything the boy says with practiced patience and intentionality.

It strikes something in your heart, a deep longing. That should be Tommy. But it also sends a deep sense of gratitude toward your brother-in-law for picking up where his brother has failed. You swallow back the tears, losing track of how much you’ve had to do that today.

“Thank you, Bud. I love it.” Joel kisses Nathaniel's head.

“You’re welcome, Daddy.”

Joel freezes. Ice rushes through your bloodstream. Your eyes meet Joel’s. What do you say to that? Neither of you knows the answer.

“He’s not your daddy, Nate,” Sarah says, pulling out her older sister voice. “He’s your uncle.”

“Oh yeah,” Nathaniel shrugs, unbothered by his mishap as he swings his legs back and forth, hitting the couch with his heels as he does.

“Aunt Bonnie, do you have the other gift?” Sarah asks, determined to keep the morning on schedule.

“Yeah, right here.” You fumble around, finding the box tucked between yourself and the couch. Joel keeps his eyes on you trying to figure out what’s running through your mind, but he can’t.

Sarah plucks the box from your hands before presenting it to her father. “This is from all three of us.”

She looks very proud of herself. Joel takes it with a smile, eyes flickering back to you briefly. You give him an encouraging nod.

He loosens the bow, pulling off the top. The kids lean over either side of his body, excited for the reveal even though they’ve both seen it. He pulls it out, inspecting it carefully. A black watch face with silver accents and an olive green watch band. His eyes dart to yours. You smile at him.

“You’ve been talking about it for years.” You smirk, sipping your coffee. “You were never gonna do it yourself.”

“It’s exactly what I wanted.” He shakes his head, a stunned chuckle shaking his chest. “How’d you know?”

“Found an old picture Tommy had stored away last fall.”

“Look at the back.” Sarah bounces with excitement.

Joel flips it over. His brows knit together as he catches the inscription. Happy Father’s Day. We love you. Sarah and Nathaniel. 1997.

“Do you like it?” Sarah looks up at him with sparkling excitement.

“I love it.” He kisses her cheek, thanking both the children. He wraps it around his wrist, buckling it into place.

“Now you won’t be late anymore,” Sarah says, making you and Joel laugh.

“We can only hope,” you say.

Joel looks up at you with one of the most heartfelt smiles you’ve ever seen. His lips move silently. Thank you.

You nod in response.

You spend the final day of your vacation on the beach until the sun has disappeared. Joel ends up running back to the house to grab the car so your two very tired children don’t melt down. You hurry through bath time, trying to get all the sand from hair and bodies. You’re sure you’ll be finding sand all over your and Joel’s homes for months.

You provide goodnight hugs and kisses, but Joel takes bedtime duties. You’re cleaning up the kitchen, and packing up pantry items when the first lines of You Are My Sunshine drift out of the kid’s bedroom in Joel’s soft melodies. The kids' sleepy voices talk him into another lullaby and then another before their eyelids slip closed and their breathing evens out.

The door clicks softly and you’ve already pulled the margarita pitcher and new solo cups. “See they talked you into the whole set list tonight.” You smile, filling the cups with the last of the margaritas.

“It’s the last night of vacation.” Joel chuckles. He grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and the half-eaten bag of pretzels. “They asked so nicely.”

“And you’re a big softy.”

You grab both cups, following Joel out to your spot on the deck. It’s cooler tonight, the breeze a bit stronger. You sit across from each other, feet propped in the seat of the other’s chair with the blanket spread across your legs. Joel sets the pretzels right at your knees.

“Did you enjoy your day?” You ask, sipping on the day-old margarita. It goes down easier tonight, and your cup is filled to the brim.

“It was a good day.” Joel smiles at you, easy and relaxed. The world and your issues feel so far away here despite the day’s earlier events. “Probably the best Father’s Day yet.”

“Oh you mean it beats the raw banana bread from last year?” You’re laughing before the sentence fully leaves your mouth. Joel’s head falls back, chest vibrating with laughter.

His hair curls more from the salty air and fits him, tanned skin, curly hair, Puca shell necklace and all. You wonder if you look like a similar version of yourself, the relaxed beach version.

“Sarah trying to choke me with the necklace beats whatever it was you tried to bake last year.”

You stick out your tongue. The pretzel bag rustles as he grabs a handful. You take another drink from your cup. Joel Miller makes a mean margarita.

“What about you? Did you have a good day then?”

You take an extra second to think about it before nodding. “Yeah. I can’t complain when it comes to well-behaved kids and the beach.”

“Nathaniel calling me dad didn’t throw you off, I hope.”

Your shoulders tense a little bit. “I think I’m the one who should be asking that.”

“Kinda surprised it hasn’t happened sooner if I’m being honest.” Joel’s pointer finger slides along the lip of his cup before he brings it to his lips.

You bite your lips, staring at the house across the street. “Same.”

“Sorry, that was kinda a mood killer.” Joel’s hand rests on your calf.

“It’s fine. You’re more of a father to him than his real dad.” You try to wave it off, but the facts are reeling in your mind like a movie. “Fuck, you were in the delivery room, and coached his T-ball team, and you’ve tucked him into bed more times than Tommy ever has.” You swipe away the moisture that’s gathered in your eyes, chasing them with another gulp of your drink.

“Hey… maybe you should slow down there.” Joel leans forward, his feet dropping from your chair as he grabs the solo cup from you and the pretzels tumble to the deck.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” You reach for the cup, but Joel keeps it out of reach, setting it on the ground next to his.

“I do.” He’s firm with you, grabbing your hands and tucking them between his. You can’t meet his eyes, embarrassment flooding your body. “What's going on in your mind right now?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Darlin,” He tugs gently on your arms. Your feet greet the warm deck as you're forced to sit up straighter. The side of your knee bumps against his. “You can talk to me.”

“I just want to enjoy our last night, Joel.”

“Can’t do that if I’m worried about you.” He tips your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

The street lights flicker off his warm eyes. You feel his touch linger under your chin. Extra warmth gathers in each place he touches. The words bubbling up in you, helpless to stop the thoughts circling in your head for months.

“I’m not sure my marriage is salvageable. I don’t know if I’ll recognize my husband when he gets out. I don’t think he’s the same person-“ You can’t finish through the choked-out sobs.

Joel lets out a soft sigh and before you know it, he’s tugging your pliant body into his lap, rubbing your back. He kisses your head. Your head finds the crook of his neck, fingers digging into the back of it. He’s the steady rock he’s always been. It does little to soothe your racing mind.

You have so many questions and no answers. Tommy’s release from prison always felt like a distant finish line. Now, three months away, it feels like just the start.

“No matter what, I’ve got you,” Joel says, hand cupping your cheek. “I’m here for you.”

How much longer can you continue to find solace in your brother-in-law's arms? How much longer will Joel play the part Tommy is supposed to? Supporter, parent, partner…

You pull back, fingers still wrapped around his neck. The metal of your wedding ring presses against his skin, but he’s used to feeling it. He doesn’t even think about it anymore. Your forehead nearly touches his. The pools of his deep eyes are endless. They’re different than Tommy’s. You don’t mean to compare, but you like it, soft and inviting after sleeping on rocks for years. You think you catch the hints of desire in them. You’ve forgotten what it feels like to be desired.

There’s a fight, a push and pull between you. Who’s going to do it. His hot breath fans across your lips. Who’s going to be the one to finally cross the line you’ve been toeing for so long and drag the other one into exile with them? It’s a lush oasis in the middle of the desert you’ve been traveling. One move and you can dip your toe in.

Joel gives in first, leaning in. Your eyes flutter shut with anticipation, another touch of his breath. His nose nudges against yours. You catch a whiff of the salt on his skin, and then, nothing, a mirage all in your head leaving you stranded in the desert.

Confusion knits your brow before your eyes are open. Joel is still close, closer than a man that’s not your husband should be, but he feels further away than ever.

His thumb nudges your bottom lip. He gives a weak smile in an attempt to cover his true emotions. “We can’t…”

He’s right. You hate yourself for getting so carried away. “I know.”

Your hand drops from his neck. You might be sitting on his lap but he’s never felt farther from you.

“You should go to bed.”

You think to fight him on it, but you decide not to. You stand up. Joel doesn’t move, thumb playing with the lip of his solo cup. He can’t meet your eyes and it feels like you might be losing him too.

Before you can think better of it, you lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Your fingers rake through his hair twice over. His eyes close and he lilts into you just the slightest.

“Thank you, Joel. For everything.”

His Adam’s Apple bobs as you pull away. He keeps his eyes pinned ahead, fingers curling around the red plastic. He’s barely holding on to control.

“Good night,” he says, voice gruff, never looking away from his fixed point.

“Goodnight.”

Joel finishes off yours and his margarita before he falls into bed. It’s just enough to keep him buzzed as he runs toward rest. He can’t get the feel of you out of his mind, how close he was to ripping apart his whole family.

He’s in and out of sleep when the door pops open. He assumes it’s Sarah. She probably had a bad dream, and tosses the corner of the comforter back. Except, the full size mattress dips lower than it should. He reaches out but instead of Sarah’s small frame, he gets a handful of your waist as the smell of you fills his nostrils. In the haze of sleep, Joel opens his eyes just enough to find you facing away from him.

The bed isn’t big enough for his legs not to tangle with yours, not if he wants restful sleep. Your body doesn’t tense under his touch. You don’t say anything. Neither does he, but your body melts into him until he finds his arm fully around your middle, back flush against his front.

Joel Miller considers himself a good man, but a good man doesn’t yearn for his brother’s wife. A good man doesn’t give into the temptation to have her so close, to be with her so intimately. Tonight, Joel Miller doesn’t worry about being a good man. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but tonight, Joel Miller falls asleep with you in his arms and bed. Tonight, Joel Miller’s deepest desires come true. Just for tonight, he gets to pretend you’re his.

You wake up to an empty bed like you have since Tommy went to prison, but something feels off about it. A familiar smell lingers under your nose, and unfamiliar warmth fills you even though the sheets are cold.

You let out a soft groan, eyes fluttering open. You stare up at the ceiling, convinced once again that something feels off. You turn to look at the clock on the bed stand but there’s not one there. The walls are a different color and you shoot up as it all comes flooding back.

You almost kissed Joel last night. The way you tossed and turned before giving into temptation and crawling in beside him. He hadn’t fought you, hadn’t said a word but pulled you flush against him in the bed that was just a bit too small. You’d slept like a baby for the first time in years.

Joel sits at the table with the kids as they shovel the last of the extra sugary cereal into their mouths. A special vacation treat. You expect Joel to ignore you or at least be standoffish, but he hands you a cup of steaming coffee with the same smile he always does, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes as if nothing happened.

You offer a smile in response. A silent agreement to never speak on it again.

You’ve been home for a week when it comes, a plain white envelope stuffed with something soft labeled with a return address you’re all too familiar with written in Tommy’s chicken scratch handwriting.

You wait until Nathaniel is down for the night, but it throws you the whole evening. Letters from Tommy are more rare than phone calls. You’ve received one, maybe two since he was incarcerated. Considering he’d promised to call on after Father’s day and hadn’t, the mysterious letter makes you feel unsettled. What shoes are left to drop?

You run the envelope through your hands, thumb picking at the corner of the seal, uncommitted to actually tearing it open. You’re worried whatever lies within will only hurt you more. You can’t sustain more hurt.

Finally, you dig into the corner, tearing it open. Your eyebrows knit together. White fabric is neatly folded and tucked within. You pull it out, revealing a square of white fabric, like a bandana unfurls and a note falls to the floor. As you take in the black and white drawing on the fabric, you gasp. It’s a drawing of the picture you keep on your nightstand. The moment Tommy met Nathaniel for the first time. Tommy’s arm is wrapped around you, Nathaniel in his arms with the biggest grin on his face. It’s a moment that’s seared into your memory. Seeing it portrayed like this brings tears to your eyes, the emotions from that day and the last 696 flooding your body.

Before the tear completely blur your vision, you pick up the note. You can barely make out Tommy’s handwriting when your eyes are clear, but you manage.

Baby,

You and I both know I didn’t draw this. My cellmate did based on the photo. You probably know that. They call them paños. I’ve seen a lot of the ones guys in here have sent to their girls. They’re pretty cool.

I’m sorry. I wish I could be better for you and Nathaniel. I love you, Bonnie.

Tommy.

Tears stream down your face. Just like that your heart seems to forget the heartache of the last couple years. This proves that your Tommy is still inside him somewhere, fighting to come back to you. You’ll do anything to have your Tommy back.

It doesn’t matter if you're grasping at threads. Your heart overpowers your mind. You’re determined that you can pull him back by those threads, maybe not now, but once he’s out. Once he’s out, you can bring him back. You’re his Bonnie. He’s your Clyde. You’re tied together. Your heart beats for him, but you don’t catch a piece of your heart breaking off from the rest. That part can't beat for Tommy. It’s attached to someone else.

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 7 months

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Sick Days with Joel Miller

(Joel Miller x female! reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x female! reader (no outbreak) Word count: 4.5K of pure fluff and light smut Rating: 18+ MDNI, explicit descriptions of smut, swearing, age gap (reader is early 20s and Joel is late 40s) Summary: You're used to doing everything yourself, a facet of being single for so long, but when you start dating Joel Miller that all changes. Especially when you get sick during the first six months of your relationship, and Joel tries to take care of you. Main masterlist

A/N: This was so much fun to write y'all. I'm currently sitting in bed with a stuffy nose, sore throat, wicked headache, and hopped up on cold meds, wishing I had Joel Miller to take care of me 🥹. Also please excuse the fast and loose car mechanic jargon I used, I couldn't resist. The fast and furious series is also my guilty pleasure sick day movie choice, that and the OG star wars trilogy 🌚 An enormous thank you to my lifeline @iamasaddie for reading and giving me feedback and the most encouragement.

This is pure fluff with a bit of spice thrown in, I hope you enjoy! Please comment and reblog if you like it, and I might do more oneshots like this! - 🌹N

It’s the first time you’ve been sick since you and Joel started dating, and it’s different. Different from what you’re used to.

To preface, you rarely ever get sick. Rarely. And you pride yourself on that. You’re not entirely sure whether it's due to your ironclad immune system, or the fact that you’re a germaphobe who’s constantly washing their hands, but either way you manage to miraculously miss the seasonal bouts of illness that filter around when the weather gets colder.

So you’re not entirely sure how you manage to succumb to the throes of this particular cold, but the sore throat and stuffy nose that you woke up with were unmistakable. Other than crying, which wouldn’t help the pounding headache that you had also been blessed with, all you could do was groan and silently curse, rolling back over in bed and snuggling under the covers. You mindlessly stretch your arm out over the sheets, reaching over onto the other empty side of the bed. The cold, unmussed sheets, not filled with the broad, warm body that usually occupies the space make you groan internally once more.

You’re not a crybaby. Not one for milking the sick patient act, and after being single for so long you mostly run on autopilot. Your independence and resilience outweigh your desire to have anyone take care of you or do anything for you really. Well, that was the case up until now. Until you met Joel.

You’ve had partners before that have ‘taken care’ of you when you were sick. Or well, tried to. The key word being tried. Other than a measly backrub and cuddling with you for the appropriate amount of time until they deemed it was time to go cause they weren’t getting laid, you pretty much handled it yourself. And you liked it that way. You didn’t need anyone else to play martyr and attend to your every beck and call.

Joel on the other hand, he does things. His presence interrupted your stream of self reliance and knocked you on your ass when you didn’t know what to do with yourself. When you had nothing left to do for yourself, because he had already taken care of it all.

The light in the hood range above your oven went out? Joel fixed it. The bathroom sink began leaking underneath the cabinet? No less than a day later you come home and you already find him lying on his back, head underneath the vanity, toolbox beside him, twisting pipes this way and that.

Just last week you mentioned to him that you’ve been hearing a squeaking sound coming from the car every time you press on the brakes, next thing you know he’s out in the driveway, broad shoulders hunched over the hood as he tightens and loosens bearings, tinkering the way he knows best.

“Alright, you shouldn’t hear that noise anymore. The rotors on your front brakes needed tightening,” he mentions casually, wiping his hands off on a greasy rag as he comes into your kitchen from the garage. Looking up from the magazine you’re reading, you pause your chewing around a mouthful of toast.

“Huh?” you raise a brow at him quizzically. “I only told you about that yesterday though. I was just gonna take it to the mechanic.”

The corner of his lip lifts up slightly as he smirks. “And now you won’t have to worry about it for the rest of the day, or tomorrow, or the day after that. It was an easy fix, plus the mechanic woulda overcharged the hell outta you darlin’.”

You roll your eyes, “Gotta love that fucking misogyny,” you huff as you get up and head into the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee for you both.

“It’s the way of the car industry unfortunately. Most guys who own shops are just crooks out to get anyone’s money, and most people don’t really know any better.” He replies casually as he washes his hands at the sink beside you.

“And I suppose that makes me ‘most people,’” you grumble, packing the coffee grounds into the filter, before placing it into the machine.

Without missing a beat, Joel slides your mug under the dispenser first. It's a cute little white ceramic mug that says Pot Head, beneath it is a comical image of coffee pot with bloodshot googly eyes . It was his present to you after you started dating, and he first slept over at your place. He soon realized the depths of your monosyllabic crabbiness in the morning, when he tried to talk to you before your first cup of coffee.

Now, six months into your relationship, the coffee pot is usually the first appliance that gets turned on in the morning, usually by Joel, the early riser that he is, while you soak up a few more moments of sleep. It’s pretty futile though, because once he gets out of bed, you can’t get comfortable under the covers, your personal space heater leaving a massive dent in the comforter.

“You ain’t most people to me,” his voice deepens with that Southern drawl as he moves to stand behind you, drying off his hands. God, he’s so fucking big. His presence crowds you, feeling his broad chest against your back as he places his hands on either side of you, pinning you to the counter.

You hum with a knowing smile as you hit the button to start dispensing the coffee. “Is that so?”

He leans in, brushing your hair off of your shoulder, leaning in to nuzzle your neck. “You’re my person. Mine. That’s about all that matters.” Pressing featherlight kisses into your neck, you sigh and let your head fall back against his broad shoulder, giving him more access.

“Well,” you try to collect your thoughts but the logical, words forming, part of your brain shuts down, turning to mush as he begins to nibble and bite at your neck. “Thank you for fixing the squeaky sound,” you barely get the words out between shallow breaths.

“No problem at all darlin.’” He grinds his hips into the plush of your ass and starts sucking on your pulse point. You whimper pathetically, grabbing a hold of his hands on the counter bracketing you, pushing your ass back against his crotch, reveling in how hard he is. Your pussy throbs with want, as you feel it clench around nothing, wetness seeping out of it.

“Should be silent as a whistle now.” His voice is gravelly deep now, and you snake a hand around the back of his neck, clutching his body closer to yours as you continue to let out small mewls. “Your noises on the other hand, are driving me fuckin’ insane. Wanna get more than just a squeak out of you.”

He reaches down, palm skimming over the curve of your hips, down to your ass before he squeezes, while biting down on the junction between your shoulder and your neck. At that, you squeak.

“Joel…” your last two brain cells firing off weakly as you try to form a coherent thought. “What- What about the c-coffee?”

“You had one cup already this morning,” he murmurs into your skin, “it’ll keep.” His left hand moves to grip your hip, the other one squeezing your asscheek again, not before he gives it a firm smack. You jolt forward in his grip and moan, bending your upper half over the counter, your body already responding so easily to his touch.

“Bedroom.” He says gruffly, releasing your hips and stepping back with a smirk on his face. You blink your eyes open, not realizing you had them closed in the first place and turn around with a glare.

Joel lazily tilts his head in the direction of your bedroom, his hand grabbing the obvious bulge in his pants. “C’mon my little pot head.”

So yeah, needless to say you really didn’t have to worry about being reliant on yourself for many things anymore. Joel was happy to do those things for you, and you were more than happy to show him your appreciation in return.

Being sick however, that seemed to stump him. There wasn’t anything to physically fix aside from your ailments, although he wishes that could be the case. That he could just snap his fingers and your nose would be cleared, sore throat gone, headache disappeared. But it wasn’t that easy.

Normally, you’d try to ride it out for a day or two as best you could, without making a fuss over it, but today the buzzing in your head was too intense to ignore. You yanked the top drawer of your nightstand open, bemoaning as you fruitlessly rummaged through the empty box of Nyquil pills, empty Advil bottles, and one lonely tub of Vicks shoved towards the back.

“For fuck’s sake. Of course,” you gritted. Closing the drawer, you roll back into the sheets, throwing an arm over your eyes and letting out the deepest sigh ever. Just then your phone vibrates on the nightstand. You pick it up and squint with bleary eyes as you focus on the text. It’s from Joel

[Joel]: Mornin’ darlin.’ Still up for the 7pm showing tonight?

You furrow your brows for a moment before you roll your eyes, back into your skull it feels like.

“Shit. The movies.”

It was Tuesday. You guys had made plans to see a cheap show after Joel got off work tonight. Some new crappy instalment of the Fast and Furious movies, hence the cheap night choice.

You sniffle as you fumble to type out a reply. The rhythmic pounding in your head distorts your concentration.

[You]: Morning babe. I don’t think so. Sorry. I came down with something last night and I feel like shit.

You add in multiple variations of the sad crying emoji, and the water gun to be dramatic.

[Joel]: No worries hun. I’m sorry you’re not feelin’ well.

[Joel]: Wanna do something else?

You wish. You love any plans and dates you have with Joel, and you’re more than happy to cancel those plans to stay in with him on any day of week. Today shouldn’t feel like an exception but you don’t want to inconvenience him, and you also don’t want him to see you when you practically look like an extra off the set of The Walking Dead.

You sigh again harshly and sniffle.

[You]: I don’t think so. I feel like shit. Just wanna stay in bed and rot, plus I don’t wanna get you sick.

He’ll probably think you’re being overdramatic. The productive storm that you are getting bested by a measly cold, it’s stupid. Unheard of.

[Joel]: I think you’ll survive. Can’t have you dying on me so soon into our relationship, we still gotta hit the one year anniversary.

Biting your lip, you shake your head. How this man remains to be flirty and cute even when you’re feeling low and incredibly not cute is beyond you. Your phone buzzes again.

[Joel]: Plus if you’re sick now, then chances are I woulda already caught whatever bug you have cause I saw ya two days ago.

Well, he’s not wrong when you think about it. Your cheeks heat up when you think back to Sunday night, when he had stayed over. You were straddling his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as he licked into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip and gripping your hips while you lazily bounced up and down his thick cock.

Ironically, it was supposed to be a Fast and Furious marathon night in preparation for the cheap movie you would see in theaters tonight. You barely made it through the first 20 minutes of the first movie in the series before Joel’s thick fingers started aimlessly tracing the inside of your thigh as you sat beside him. Your pussy throbbed at the memory, the phantom stretch of his cock, almost matching the throbbing residing in the front of your head.

Yeah, so maybe he was past the point of contagion. You’re so lost in reminiscing, he must realize it’s taking you a minute to respond, fully well knowing the effect that his words have on you. So he texts again.

[Joel]: Was a pretty fucking good Sunday night 😈

The devil emoji causes a chuckle to sputter up through your chest, but it’s pretty short-lived when you realize you can’t chuckle and breathe in through your congested nose at the same time. You recently taught him how to use emojis in his texts, so you’re surprised when he actually puts it to the test.

[You]: That it was babe. But I don’t wanna burden you, plus we can’t really do anything. 🙄

You add on the eye roll emoji, sure that he’s feeling the same way too. What guy wouldn’t? Surely not any of the guys you dated in the past. They tried, but deemed it wasn’t worth it when you couldn’t even suck their dicks without needing to pause every few seconds to breathe through your mouth and cough. Your sore throat feeling like it was wrapped in barbed wire.

[Joel]: Who said we had to do anything? I’d still wanna spend time with you. I just like being with ya.

Damn this fucking man for being such a sweetheart. You didn’t deserve him.

[Joel]: I’ll be over in 30. Want me to bring anything in particular?

[You]: You’re in the middle of the workday Joel, you don’t need to come over.

Of course you want him to come over. His presence is the only thing that would lift your mood if you’re being honest, despite feeling like your body’s been hit by a semi. But you don’t want him to leave work. That’s too much, and you’re not that whiny girlfriend.

Seemingly unimpressed by your response, he replies again.

[Joel]: 👀. 🍔 🍦 🍿?

[You]: I’m not terribly hungry right now. Just bring yourself. And maybe a bottle of nyquil plus some advil 💊? Also, look at you with all your emojis, I’m impressed 😉

[Joel]: 👍🏻sounds good. See you soon 🛻

Tossing your phone into the comforter, you slowly roll out of bed. Like a slug, you slide out from under the covers, over the side of the mattress, planting your feet on the ground before you keel over.

You pad into the kitchen, glancing at the coffee maker forlorn. Probably not the best option with how your throat feels right now. Frowning, you grab a mug from the cabinet, not your pot head mug, but a plain one with simple red flowers painted on it, and flick the switch for the kettle on. Your options for tea weren’t endless as a coffee drinker, but you only really drank the muddied flavored water when you felt sick. Settling for a package of stale peppermint, you place the tea bag in the cup of boiled water and go to plop yourself back down onto the living room couch.

No less than 25 minutes later, you’re curled up on the couch, mug of tea in hand, and your head resting on a pillow as you start the first Fast and Furious movie. Might as well, since you didn’t technically watch it with Joel the first time. Plus, Paul Walker was easy enough on the eyes that you didn’t really mind watching it over again.

Joel arrives minutes later, letting himself in, a bag from the pharmacy in one hand, and a plain plastic bag filled with containers in the other. Before you can question it, the savory fragrant smell of Chinese food wafts through the living room, infiltrating your senses and overpowering your congested nose.

At that you raise your head off the couch cushion, sitting upright with your legs crossed.

“Hey babe.” He drops the food off in the kitchen and comes over to the couch, pulling out the Nyquil and Advil, placing them on the coffee table.

“How you feelin’ ?” He kisses the top of your head and you grunt in response.

“Like absolute garbage,” you croak with the smallest smile you can muster, as you look up at him. He huffs in response and gives you a placating smile, not before peering down into your mug to see the transparent brown water. “Tea? Jeez you weren’t kidding”

“It tastes like garbage too.” You wrinkle your nose after taking a small sip. The smell of the takeout slowly brings you back as you perk up and look at him. “You brought Chinese?” The hopeful smile in your face grows exponentially as he nods.

Joel hums. “I know when you say you’re not hungry, that’s a lie. I also know that you have the biggest appetite of any woman I know.” At that your eyes narrow and your mouth drops open.

“And-” he cuts you off before you can respond, “I know that if there’s any kinda food that could convince you to eat when you don’t have an appetite, it’s greasy Lo Mein, General Tso chicken and fried rice.”

Sighing with contentment you smile and slouch back in your seat. Whatever words were on the tip of your tongue soon disintegrate as gaze up at him with utter awe and adoration.

“Thanks Joel, really. You didn’t have to do all this.”

He frowns at you, confusion clouding his features. He's so adorable when he looks confused.

“It wasn’t a lot. You asked me to bring the cold medicine.” Flashing you a smirk, he brushes your hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear. “I was just thinking one step ahead of you, and this way you can have leftovers. Also if I could, I woulda tried to cook you something, but we both know that woulda been a disaster.”

You snort in response. “Well, still. I really appreciate it.” You nuzzle your face into his hand, as his thumb strokes across your cheek gently. You can feel your stomach twinging with hunger now, now that you’ve smelled the food. It almost matches your hunger for Joel.

He must have changed at home before he came over. The faint scent of his sandalwood body wash floods your brain as you take in his dark flannel shirt, stretched over his broad shoulders, dark wash jeans hugging his strong thighs. His curls peek out at the back of his neck as they dry soft and fluffy while his molten brown eyes look at you with a mix of adoration and concern.

Meeting his gaze, you look up at him through your lashes as you turn your face to kiss the tip of his thumb. Before he can stop you, you curl your tongue out, swirling it around the tip and closing your lips around it as you suck his thumb into your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks out, you suckle harder, feeling heat slowly flood your body.

Joel exhales sharply, as he grinds his jaw, clenching his other hand into a fist.

“Christ baby. You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?” He presses his thumb down on your tongue, forcing your mouth open as he pulls it out, letting it catch on your bottom teeth as you bite down playfully.

It was just as easy to rile him up as he did with you, and you fucking loved it. You give him a saccharine smile. “Good. We can die together, seeing as I feel like death already”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “Why don’t you take two of these,” he opens the Advil bottle and places two tablets in your hand, “finish your tea, as much as you can,” he adds when you scrunch up your face at the mug, “and go take a hot shower. I’ll put the food out for us.”

You pop the pills in your mouth, chug the rest of the tea, grimacing as you taste it and stand up to face him. Joel grabs your face with both hands, that look of pure warmth emanating through his big rounded eyes as he plants a soft kiss your forehead, before kissing you on the mouth. In a feeble attempt to protest, you weakly pull back but his mouth continues to seeks yours out. "Joel," you murmur against his mouth, "my germs.”

“I love you, and I love your fuckin’ germs. They’re my germs too.” He pulls you into a big bear hug, you feel all the pent up tension from this morning dissipating from your body. Burying your face in his chest you inhale and make a small noise of contentment. You love his scent. It’s so inherently Joel. It’s home.

“Now go on.” He swats you on the butt playfully and you giggle, sashaying past him.

By the time you finish and get dressed, he’s already got the takeout containers organized strategically on the coffee table with plates, cutlery, and glasses set out. The lo mein and General Tso chicken dishes are closest to your side of the couch, while his dishes, the black pepper beef and spicy Singapore noodles, remain closer to his side, separated by the fried rice in the middle. Your heart warms and expands in your chest at the sight.

“I didn’t even wash my hair and it felt like that took fucking forever. The water pressure in that shower head used to be good,” you grumble as you take your hair out of the messy bun on top of your head, shaking it out for good measure.

“How long’s it been actin’ up?” He asks while pouring some soy sauce over his noodles.

Already, you can see the wheels turning in his head. Always the contractor.

“For the last couple months but it’s really bad now.” You fix him with a knowing look and speak up again before he can say what you’re already anticipating. “And before you say you can fix it, I’ve already had repairmen over before you who tried and failed. Saying something about a part that needs to be ordered and it’s super fucking expensive.”

He says nothing in response, just raises a brow at you. “Whatever you say darlin.’”

“C’mon let’s eat.” You change the subject and bounce over to the couch, shimmying by him and dropping down onto the couch.

“Seems like the Advil kicked in,” he surmises with a smiles. Your energy is evidently higher now that the headache has gone away.

Humming, you lean in to kiss him. You press your lips into his, feeling his tongue glide against the seam of your mouth as you open up and let him in. Moaning quietly, you break off the kiss before it gets heated, and before you have to breathe through your mouth again - although your congestion has gone down significantly, the hot shower definitely helped. “That, and your presence helps too.”

He grins at you, a twinkle dancing across his big brown eyes. “Good. I’m glad. Nowhere else I’d rather be.” You look away bashfully, and begin piling stuff onto your plate.

“You started watching this again?” He nods at the TV with an unimpressed expression as Vin Diesel broods over the hood of an old muscle car.

“Yeah,” you mumble around a mouthful of chicken, “we barely watched 20 minutes of it before you had your fingers buried in my pussy.” You look at him pointedly with your mouth full and he bites the inside of his cheek.

Licking his lips, he leans down till his mouth is right next to your ear.

“I’d rather hear that tight little pussy purring around my fingers, than the hear the engine of a 1970 Dodge Charger baby," he says lowly, stretching his arm over the back of the couch as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck. "Even if it is one of my favorite cars.”

Slowly, he runs his fingers up and down the sides of your throat with a featherlight touch, careful to not squeeze as you finish swallowing your mouthful of food.

You groan and let your head fall back, submitting to his touch. Joel knows all your buttons to push, he learned them pretty quickly on into your relationship, and it made him all the more attractive to you. Every touch of his that made your breathing get shallow, every perfect press of his body against yours.

He knows you like being choked. Knows how sensitive your neck is, how you melt under his hands, turning to putty as soon as he wraps his large palms around the slender column of your throat. He makes it so fucking easy, your body so hyperactively attuned to his, no matter how crappy you may feel apparently.

“Joel,” you warn him but it comes out more as a breathless whine. Chuckling in response, he concedes and releases your neck.

“Not fair.” You glare at him and poke him in the chest with the opposite end of your fork.

He shrugs and gives you that shit eating grin again. “Fair is fair darlin.’”

Shaking your head, you resume the movie and both dig into the food. As delicious as the takeout is, you recognize that you don’t have as big of an appetite as you usually do, given how run down you feel, and you get full pretty quickly. An hour into the movie you’re curled up against Joel’s side with your feet tucked under you, a thick blanket pulled over you both, and a beer in his left hand.

“As if that would ever happen,” he grumbles out loud as he watches Paul Walker and Vin Diesel ramble on about fuel pump injectors and supercharged turbo's.

Secretly, you love how invested Joel gets in these shitty movies, it's partly why you put them on to begin with. Well, that, and because it usually ends with both of you getting distracted, and him railing you into the cushions of the couch. Still, it’s endearing to see him get annoyed and worked up over the mechanical and technical inaccuracies in the movies. It's also fascinating and super fucking attractive to see how his brain works. The competency kink in you preens at his humble flexing of mechanical knowledge.

You hum in question, too tired to formulate a better response.

“You put that much nos (nitrous oxide) in a car, and you’ll be blown to fuckin’ pieces at the smallest bump in the road. Jesus,” he shakes his head and gestures with his beer bottle at the screen. His right hand is curled around your shoulder, thumb brushing against your cheek, back and forth. The soothing movement coupled with your full belly is quickly lulling you into sleep.

“Well, Paul Walker seems to know what he’s doing, seeing as they made like 7 more movies after this one. Plus it’s just a movie babe. ” You nuzzle further into his shoulder, struggling to keep one eye on the movie as you hear Joel make more unenthused comments.

“Movie or not, they coulda done their research. Half the shit they’re describing under the hood of a car sounds made up. And there's 7 fucking more of these films?”

He huffs in disbelief, taking another sip of his beer. "Yeah we wouldn't have made it through the rest of em.'"

“Okay Mr. Mechanic, we get it. It’s not 100% accurate, but you gotta admit the racing is pretty cool.”

He looks down at you from the corner of his eye, the corner of his lips pulling up slightly. “It’s alright I guess. More importantly, how are you feelin’ now?”

He rubs small circles into your back, as you practically fold over into his lap now, eyes refusing to stay open.

“Mmmm, much better,” you stretch your legs out, arching your back like a cat, making a small sound of relief. “Thank you babe. For the food, the meds, for coming over and taking care of me.” Giving him a dopey smile, you peak one eye open at him.

“Anytime darlin,’ you don’t have to thank me, s’my job. And I’ll gladly do it any time, sick or not.”

The warm depth of his voice seeps into your bones, as you soon doze off in his lap. He waits a little while till your breathing evens out, then kisses your head again as he slides out from underneath you to use the washroom.

You perk up and blink your eyes open to see the credits rolling across the screen, just as you hear the toilet flush. It's soon followed by the sound of the shower turning on and off, and then muffled sounds of clinking and clanking as Joel starts to take apart your shower head.

Smiling to yourself, you close your eyes again and curl up on the warm spot he left behind. Maybe sick days aren’t so bad after all.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fic

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lipglossanon · 9 months

Text

I Only Touched Her Hips (But She Saw It)

☆───── ⋆⋅🐾⋅⋆ ─────☆

dogman!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, owner/pet relationship, mounting, knotting, dirty talk, creampie, nipple play, oral (f and m receiving)

Not proofread ✌️

Part 1: Stay Right Through

Title from Tell Her Tonight by Franz Ferdinand (also throwing in The Dark of The Matinèe cause I listened to it as well 💜)

☆───── ⋆⋅🐾⋅⋆ ─────☆

It’s Monday and you’ve called out of work, the lie slipping off your tongue easily.

Leon had woken you up early, face buried in your soaked cunt as he licked you through two orgasms— all before 4am. After, he flipped you over on your stomach and mounted you with a growl. The other coworker on the line completely oblivious to the fact you called in sick with your ass in the air and Leon knotting your pussy so good your cock drunk before 8am.

All morning, you’ve been stuck on his knot, shivering and milking his dick as he keeps playing with your pudgy clit.

“Mmm little owner you’re still so tight even after this whole weekend of being stretched on my cock,” he laughs as he bites another mark into your neck.

You whine, brain feeling so fuzzy as he keeps you pinned down and mounted on every surface available.

By the end of the day, Leon seems to have run out of steam. You take advantage of the break and order in takeout while you go grab a quick shower. Your cunt is puffy and sore, but you kinda like it. It feels so dirty and good that you’re actually kinda hoping after dinner that Leon will be up for another round.

You pat your cheeks, scolding yourself for being so thirsty when this can’t keep up; you literally cannot keep calling out of work so your hybrid can knot you all day. Shivering at that thought, you firmly shake your head and finish your shower. You need to make sure Leon knows he can’t just do whatever he wants, heat or no heat.

Once you’re dried off and dressed, you hear the doorbell chime. By the time you make it into the living room, Leon already has the food set out on a table in the kitchen.

“Thank you,” you smile at him, feeling soft affection bloom in your chest.

“Of course,” he walks over to you and butts his head against your arm making you giggle and ruffle his ears.

You both sit at the table, Leon digging in immediately as you pick at your food.

“Leon, we need some ground rules in regards to… intimate relations,” you cringe at yourself.

His dark blue eyes stare at you, a grin coming over his face, “You mean I shouldn’t knot your pussy so much?”

You feel a rush of heat travel through your body, making your nipples ache.

“Yes,” you deadpan, “you—we need to tone it down. I can’t miss work like this all the time.”

He nods, looking contrite, “Yes ma’am. I’m sorry about this morning. I just… you smelled so good and I just wanted a little taste. I got carried away.”

Another buzz of arousal sweeps through you, “I know, Leon. And on the weekends,” you rub your face bashfully, “I don’t mind it so much since we don’t have anywhere to be, but during the week please refrain.”

“Yeah?” you can see his tail wag excitedly, “promise I’ll be good, keep my hands to myself.”

You smile at him making him mirror you, “You’re such a good boy, Leon.”

He whines, tail thumping against his chair, hands clenching on the tabletop.

“Can I scent you?” he asks, a blush kissing his cheekbones.

“Of course, Leon. You don’t have to ask for that, okay?”

He’s nodding as he moves over to your side, “Yes, ma’am.”

You giggle as he snuffs into your neck, his rough stubble and hot breath causing goosebumps. He buries his face there and smells your skin.

“Lick?” his voice rumbles out at you.

“Mmm that’s okay too,” you murmur, feeling his rough tongue lap at the skin.

“So pretty and taste so good,” he mumbles, lapping roughly against one of the marks he left, “my owner.”

You sigh and pet his soft ears as he licks at your neck. Once you’re finished eating, you shoo Leon off to the bathroom to take his own shower while you change your bedsheets. Hot embarrassment floods your body to see the state of your bed, but the lizard part of your brain feels nothing but arousal.

Leon pads into the room, still shower damp and shakes his head gruffly flinging water drops everywhere.

“Leon!” you try to chastise but end up laughing.

He quickly moves over to you, wrapping you in his arms, whining as he chuffs against your hair.

“Don’t want you to go to bed.”

“Why?” you giggle as he noses your neck.

“It means you’ll be going to work tomorrow,” he pouts, ears drooping when he pulls away.

“Come snuggle with me,” you offer, grabbing his calloused palm and tugging him towards the bed.

“Really?” his tail wags slowly.

“You’re always welcome to snuggle with me, Leon,” you tug him close, “what kind of owner would I be?”

He snorts and shuffles you onto the bed so he can bury his face into your chest.

He nuzzles against your breasts, “Would’ve been a mean owner.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, feeling sleepy and warm with his body on top of yours, “just a mean ole owner.”

“Yeah,” he sniffs your chest pushing aside the tank top til your breasts are spilling out, hardening under his gaze and hot rough tongue, “such a mean owner.”

“Leon,” you gasp, writhing under him but not able to move.

You mewl and whine as he slowly laps at your hard buds, teasing them with his canine teeth before sucking them into his mouth. Bringing your hands up, they hesitate to push him away, but then he suckles your nipple gently and your fingers grip onto his ears as you arch up into his mouth.

He groans and continues to lathe and suck at your breasts, growling when you tug his ears.

“Sorry,” you gasp out, pulling your hands away like you were scalded.

His hands grab yours and out then back on his ears, “Like it.”

The words are mumbled into your chest as he eagerly goes back to nipping and sucking your tits. You moan when he squeezes your breasts together to suck and lick both nipples at the same time. Tugging at his ears, you press his mouth against your hard buds.

“Leon, oh good boy, such a good boy for me,” you babble as he starts to rock his hard cock against your panty clad pussy.

“Can I knot you? Please?” he gives you his best puppy dog eyes.

You’re nodding before he even finishes talking, “Yeah, yeah, want it, be a good boy and knot your owner’s pussy.”

Leon snarls and rips your panties at the seams, quickly burying his throbbing cock into your soaked pussy. Your back bows off the bed, a low needy moan slipping past your lips.

“So good,” you choke out as Leon starts up a relentless pace, rabbiting his dick into your cunt so hard it’s making your pussy gush slick.

“Gonna cum,” you scratch at his shoulders, “fuck never been this fast before.”

“Little owner’s just feeling too good,” Leon licks and sucks at the bruise on your shoulder from last night, “pussy wanting my knot, nnh, sucking me in.”

“Knot me, Leon,” you gasp as your orgasm teeters on the edge, “breed my pussy, wanna feel your knot.”

He growls and bites down on your neck, forcing his knot into your clenching hole.

“Stuff you full,” he grunts, “pussy taking my knot so easy now.”

His humps harder into your fluttering walls, leaning down to bite your nipples roughly. The band of arousal strung tight in your belly snaps.

Your nails scratch into his skin, spine arching up as you push your head into the mattress. Pussy walls suck and milk at his throbbing cock, knot snuggly keeping you plugged for the load he spurts straight into your cunt.

“Milk me, milk my cock, little owner, get every drop, need to give you my pups,” he’s growling and snarling against your breasts, shoving himself deeper into your spasming walls as he fills you with rope after rope of hot cum.

He settles down on top of you, keeping you locked together and stuffed full. Not meaning to, you fall asleep like that, softly petting his ears.

The next morning is a blur. Leon pouted and whined so much as you got ready, you finally caved in and decided to take him with you— only now you’re seriously rethinking the choice to bring Leon to work with you.

Your coworkers awed and oohed at him as he stood behind you, not letting anyone pet him. Waving them off with laughs, you led him to your enclosed office, shutting the door so the noise doesn’t bother him.

At first it was going well, he seemed to be content just sitting in a chair and watching you. Lunch went great; ordering from the canteen and splitting it with Leon who gave you a sloppy kiss on the cheek in thanks making you giggle.

It’s midafternoon now and only a couple of hours left in the workday, but Leon’s restless. You’re still typing away on your computer, but you can see him pace out of the corner of your eye. He walks over to you and kneels next to your knees. Your heart rate jumps in nervous excitement, but he only nuzzles your outer thigh.

“Pets, please?”

You melt, smiling sweetly down at him, “Of course. You’re doing so well, such a good boy for me today, Leon.”

After ruffling his hair and ears with both hands, you turn back to your computer and keep one hand running through his hair while you use the other to type. The work’s a little slower, but you don’t mind. You feel him shift and move around a lot more, pulling your attention back to him.

“You okay?”

He snuffs against your leg, turning those pretty blue eyes up to you, “Can I sit between your legs? Wanna be closer to you.”

You push out from your desk, giving him space to shuffle on his knees til he’s in between your legs, tucked under the desk. His rumbly growl sounds pleased as his tail wags back and forth. You hesitate, but part your legs rucking up your skirt so Leon can settle against you better.

He lays his head down on one of your thighs, shutting his eyes as you start to rub his ears. After a few minutes, your body relaxes and petting Leon falls into the background as you get back to work. You’re so engrossed in finishing up these last few emails, that it doesn’t click that a rough wet tongue is licking at your thighs until it grazes your damp panties.

You gasp, pulling out of your work daze and looking down at Leon, whose head is burrowed under your skirt as he licks your cunt through your panties.

“Leon,” you hiss down at him trying to shove his head away but he ignores you and licks your clit over and over with unerring accuracy even through your underwear.

Your hips rock against his mouth, the pleasure bubbling through your veins making the fight leave your body.

“You’re so bad, Leon,” you whisper, pulling your skirt up higher to see his flushed face and blown pupils between your thighs.

He whines but doesn’t stop sniffing and licking your panties. You part your legs as far as they can go in the chair with a sigh.

“Mmm Leon, this is wrong,” your hands tangle in his hair, not really stopping him from pulling the gusset of your panties to the side so he can lick your bare pussy.

“Then stop me, little owner,” his mouth pulls away for a moment so he can tug your underwear completely off, “I’ll stop if you really want me to.”

You whine and tug his handsome face back into your needy cunt, making him growl and lap at your clit roughly. With your panties off, you tug your skirt up until it’s bunched around your hips. Leon pushes your chair out a little from your desk so he can place your thighs over his shoulders, letting his tongue fuck deeper into your drippy hole.

“Your mouth is a sin,” you whine down at him, riding his face a little harder.

Leon grunts and buries his face deeper into your soaked folds, rough tongue fluttering into your hole as his nose and stubble scrapes against your pussy lips. He shakes his head so his nose bumps and rubs against your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Gonna cum, Leon,” you gasp, tossing your head back as you hump his mouth.

He growls, the vibrations sending you over the edge, slick coating his mouth as your orgasm shakes through your body. You yank his hair to pull him close, grinding your pussy all over his face.

“Good boy, so good,” you slur, finally letting go of him.

When you finally look down at him, Leon’s panting heavily.

“Want to—“

He shakes his head, ears flopping.

“I came,” he whispers, a blush spreading down to his neck, “when you yanked my head into you.”

You push out of your chair to kneel in front of him, pulling his spent cock from his pants.

“Let me clean you up,” you murmur, mouth eagerly licking up his cummy mess.

“Owner,” he whines, hands balled up into fists at his side, “m sensitive.”

You sigh and lap up all the sticky jizz coating his cock, tongue trailing down to lap across his knot and then softly suck his balls into your mouth. He growls softly when you finally pull away, swallowing down his salty cum.

He yanks your head up to lick eagerly into your mouth with a groan.

“Can’t wait to go home,” he mumbles against your lips, “are we leaving soon?”

You pull away to look up at the clock, “We can leave in a few minutes, Leon.”

Rubbing his ears softly, he nuzzles into your neck with a sigh.

“You’re the best owner.”

#lipglossanon #dogman!leon s kennedy smut #dogman!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #dogman!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #dogman!leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #fem!reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy smut #lipglossmasterlist

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darkbluekies · 1 year

Text

The witty & uncanny pt 3 (finale)

Doctor!yandere OC x reader x mafia!yandere OC

Summary: Stuck with two yanderes, your life is now turned upside down. You're kept asleep and your body is breaking down. The yanderes have won.

Warnings: yandere duo, drugs/medicine, kidnapping, restraints, bruises, blood, "humiliation", “infantilization”, mentions of sexual intimacy, changing readers clothes when they're unconscious, throwing up, following reader to bathroom, washing reader, open ending, indication of reader dying(?), unhealthy behavior, toxicity, reader breaking(?), indication of Stockholm syndrome/giving in.

Word count: 5.8k

Part 2 the outtakes

You run the quickest you can, only hearing your own heartbeat in your own ears. You’ve never been this terrified in your entire life. The gun is still safely tucked away into the pocket of your black hoodie. Your legs are aching badly by now and soon enough, you have to stop to rest. Despite all the adrenaline you’re pumping in your veins, you’re still human. With a quick look around to make sure that you’re alone, you sink down with your back against a tree. You feel for the gun and sigh out, relieved that it's still there. You’re unsure if it is going to help you in this twisted situation, but you’re going to try your best. You can’t do more than that.

“Y/N!” Silas says.

You look around, seeing him stand a few meters away. In panic, you shoot up on your feet, but your legs refuse to move further. All you want is to run away, but the sight of him scares you to your core. But you know you have to flee before he wins again. He can’t win again, can’t get what he want. You pick up the gun in a shaking hand, hoping to see him scared … but all he does is smile. A nostalgic, almost fatherly smile.

“My favorite gun, I’ve missed it”, he says calmly and lifts his dark eyes to you. “But I’ve missed its new owner even more.”

“Leave me alone”, you warn him with make believe courage, “or else I’m going to shoot you.”

Silas lifts a black eyebrow. “Shoot me?”

“I shot the doctor.”

Silas smiles wider and takes a step forward. You force yourself to stand still with your head high. You can’t show how terrified you really are. He’s like a demon, he feeds of off your fear.

“I must be a bad influence on you, my little thing”, he snickers, putting his hand over his heart. “I never wanted you to take after me. It’s not safe for you. You’re my precious little darling, you shouldn’t run around with a gun. Give it to me and I will take you home safely.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You really think that? You don’t think I have taken measures to make sure that you’re leaving with me?”

You're about to turn around and run when someone comes up behind you locks their arm around your waist. With a surprised yelp, your back gets pressed into a taller man's build. You squirm around and manage to catch a glimpse of the blonde doctor’s face behind you. You freeze and look back at Silas who’s grinning ear to ear. Less than a second later, a sharp pain from a needle shoots through your neck.

"Sleep tight", Dr Kry whispers.

You wake up in the same room you escaped from weeks ago. The only difference? Both your wrists are secured to the railings of the metallic bed by what looks like belt buckles. You start to wiggle your hands in hope of them slipping out, but whoever’s tied you has made sure that you’re not going anywhere.

The room is foggy no matter how much you blink. You wish you could rub your eyes, but your hands won’t move.

You try to speak, but you break out in coughs. Your throat is drier than a desert.

“They’re awake”, Silas says.

“Good”, Dr Kry answers.

“They don’t sound too good.”

“Just a side effect from the drug. They need to drink some water.”

You gasp, seeing the doctor move towards you with a paper mug in his hands. The closer he comes, the more you fight against the restraints. If he put drugs in your neck that easily, who knows what he could have put in the water?

“Be careful”, Dr Kry whispers and sits down on a rolling stool next to your bed. He helps you sit up before placing the paper mug to your lips. “Drink a little.”

You shake your head frantically.

“It’s just water, Y/N”, Dr Kry reassures you and takes a sip himself. “See? Harmless.”

"I don't want anything from you."

You start to squirm against the restraints again. You start to move your legs and manage to kick the paper mug out of his hands. The water splashes over his legs and your blanket. Dr Kry sighs heavily and for a second you’re scared that he’s going to do something to you. You shouldn't have acted so impulsive. Instead, he stands up and wipes his blue overalls.

“Seems like you have everything in control”, Silas snorts.

“As if you could do this better”, Dr Kry says and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, I know I can.”

Silas picks up the paper cup, walks into the bathroom and returns. You watch him carefully, studying his every step as you involuntarily shrink. You know very well what Silas is capable of and what he does when he’s denied anything.

Silas walks over to you, standing right beside your body. You force yourself to keep your eyes on the clock on the wall, to ignore his presence. Silas leans down to your ear.

“Either you drink this voluntarily or I’m forcing you to”, he whispers.

His hot breath fans your ear in an uncomfortable, animalistic manner. You shrink and swallow, nodding unnoticeably. Silas holds the cup to your lips gently and you open your mouth, letting the water in. Dr Kry watches in amazement how you swallow every single drop of the water. Silas smiles smugly and throws the paper cup in the trash.

“See, doc?” he purrs and puts his hand on your head, scratching your scalp. “I know how to control our little beast here.”

"Unbelievable", Dr Kry scoffs.

You finally turn your head away, being done with his embarrassment. You look down, noticing something.

"Where are my clothes?" you ask in horror.

Sometime during your involuntary nap, at least one of them changed you out of your black hoodie and jeans to a flimsy hospital gown.

"Your clothes are in the backseat of my car", Silas answers calmly. "Since you like to run around the town like a madman, I thought that if you want to do it again, you'll have to look like one as well."

Your mouth falls open "I-I want my clothes! You're striping me off of my individuality!"

"We're keeping you safe", Dr Kry says and grabs his keys. "Now, I'm going down to the cafeteria to get you something to eat. Any requests?"

"If you think I'm stupid enough to eat it-"

"I take that as a 'no', then."

With that said, Dr Kry leaves the room, locking the door behind him. Silas chuckles.

"That cheeky little bastard doesn't trust me", he says, eyes on the door. "He thinks I'm going to steal you away the very second I get you alone."

"Why wouldn't you?" you question.

Silas turns his dark eyes to you. "Because I gave my word to him. Unfortunately."

"So? You haven't kept your word earlier."

"Of course I have."

You scoff. "Like what? Name one time."

"I swore that I'd get you back." He tilts his head. "Didn't I hold that promise very well?"

You don't answer. You have to physically bite your tongue from spitting something out that you'll have to pay for dearly later on.

Dr Kry returns with a paper container.

"I got you meatballs", he says. "I hope that's fine."

"I'm not eating that", you mutter.

"I think you are. I don't think you've forgotten that your hands are a bit occupied — because those restraints seem to hurt — and if you want something, we have to do it for you … which means that we decide if you eat or not. Not you.” He holds the fork to your lips. “Now, open your mouth.”

You turn your head away.

“Don’t be a brat”, Dr Kry says.

“I don’t want to eat that!” you whine. “I don’t trust you!”

“I haven’t done anything to it, Y/N. Open up, please.”

Your stomach growls and you sigh, giving in. You open your mouth slightly, just enough to let the food in. Dr Kry smiles proudly. A string of brown sauce runs down your lips and he catches it with the fork before gently placing it into your mouth again, just like one would do with a baby. You cringe.

“I think our drooly baby here needs a bib”, Silas chuckles from his chair.

His embarrassing comments always ruins the mood. You pull yourself away form the food again and Dr Kry sighs, turning his head to the gang leader.

“Are you serious?” he hisses. “I just made them eat. You’re no help.”

Silas holds up his hands in front of him innocently, but his eyes sparkle with mischief. Dr Kry turns back to you and picks up a new spoonful of mashed potatoes and meatballs. You hesitate while glancing at Silas, waiting for him to make another comment.

“Don’t mind him”, Dr Kry says. “Just focus on me, okay?”

You move your eyes to the doctor. He sighs at your teary eyes.

“Does the restraint hurt?” he asks softly, caressing your left wrist over the belt-looking thing.

You have barely been able to feel the pain from the leather bands holding you down, but they do sting. You nod to his question, although it’s not the reason why you’re crying.

“I will remove them”, Dr Kry promises. “But I’ll have to do something else instead. We don’t quite trust you yet.”

“What are you going to do?” you whisper resentfully.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll see.” He holds the fork to your lips again. “Open up again, please.”

You comply this time. In silence, you manage to eat the entire container full of food.

“Now you should take an afternoon nap”, Dr Kry says.

“I’m not a child”, you spit.

“You sure do act like one”, Silas says, raising one of his dark eyebrows. “Running away, throwing temper tantrums … shooting people.” He stands up from his chair. “If you want to act like one, we’ll treat you like one.”

“Until you start to act like an adult”, Dr Kry adds. “Until then, you better believe that we’ll keep on treating you like you’re five. Now, time for a nap.”

He helps you lie down again. You refuse to close your eyes, refuse to let them out of your sight. They don’t talk much to each other. Silas is sitting in his chair with his phone out and Doctor Kry is by his desk, filing paperwork.

You want to scream when you feel the need to go to the bathroom. For thirty minutes, you try suppressing it. Asking to go feels more humiliating than Silas wanting to give you a baby bib.

“I need to go to the bathroom”, you say lowly.

The two of them look up immediately.

“What did you say?” Dr Kry asks.

“Bathroom”, you repeat shortly.

“Absolutely. I'll help you.”

He stands up and walks over to the bed. You breathe out a sigh of relief as the restraints disappear from your arms. Quickly, you sit up and massage your sore wrists. There’s clear marks after the leather bands, a bit of blood as well. Dr Kry takes your hands in his, inspecting. He hisses.

“We’ll have to put bandage on that”, he says. “You shouldn’t have moved too much.”

Silas walks over to you to inspect your wrists. He twists and turns to see every angle before placing a kiss on both marks. You flinch, ripping your arms back in shock.

“Come now, Y/N”, Dr Kry says and puts his hand on your back. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”

“T-Together?” you question.

“You could hurt yourself. There are things in there you could use to harm yourself with. Im not letting that happen.”

Damn him and his professionalism.

You sigh heavily, giving up, silently relieved that it’s not Silas. Dr Kry follows you into the bathroom, standing by in silence. He doesn't give you a spare glance, staying as professional as he is. You wash your hands and sigh at the marks in your wrists.

"Let's get that patched up", he smiles.

"This is humiliating", you say weakly.

"It's just a precaution. I can't let you hurt yourself."

You show your wrists to him, eyebrows raised.

"That is a different case", he says.

A harsh knock can be heard on the door.

"Don't try anything, doc", Silas warns on the other side. "When are you coming out?"

Dr Kry massages his nose bridge with his index finger and thumb, sighing heavily. He unlocks the door and walks you out. While Dr Kry walks over to his desk, Silas walks back to his chair with his phone. You glance towards the door. Whatever Dr Kry had in mind to give you to substitute for the restraints will be sure to keep you bedridden. This is your only chance. None of their eyes are on you. Quickly, you shoot towards the door with all the power you have in your body. As on demand, the two men let go of their things and hurry after. You manage to grab the door handle before Silas has grabbed your shoulders and Dr Kry your arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" Silas asks, pulling you back.

"Let go of me!" you shout.

"Doc, whatever you had planned you better use it now."

Doctor Kry jogs over to his desk again and grabs a needle. You squirm in Silas’s grip and plead the doctor to put the syringe away.

"Stay still and it won't hurt as much", Dr Kry says, holding his hand on the base of your throat. "Deep breaths, count backwards from ten."

"No, please!" you scream desperately.

Silas covers your mouth with his rough hand and in the next second, the needle penetrates your skin. What feels like a stinging, burning sensation spirals through your body, effectively numbing it.

"Good job, almost there", Dr Kry praises. "Keep on breathing, you're doing great."

You feel your body growing weak in Silas embrace. He tightens his arms to keep you held up. You eventually stop fighting.

"Good job, Y/N, you did so well", Dr Kry smiles, removing the needle from your neck. "Silas, put them into bed."

Silas scoops you up like a bride on the wedding night and carries you back to your bed. Dr Kry starts to take care of your wrists and soon they're wrapped in white, comfy bandage.

After dinner — which consists of another meatball meal — they decide that you should go to sleep. But you refuse. They could do anything to you when you’re asleep. You don’t want to be moved again, you don’t want to be acknowledged.

“Y/N, close your eyes”, Silas says. “You’re just torturing yourself by being awake.”

“I don’t want to sleep!” you whine.

You wish that you could do something, but your body is feeling heavy and numb. You’re not sure where your limbs are or if they're held by one of the two men. Your body is already asleep, you should be too according to Silas and Dr Kry.

"Alright, I'm done with this", Dr Kry says after a long silence.

He stands up and walks over to the machines by your bed. You scurry to the other side of the bed with the little power you have left in your body.

"What are you doing?" Silas asks. "Don't do something without my approval."

"If Y/N won't sleep voluntarily, I'm going to help them", Dr Kry answers and lifts down a plastic mask connected to one of the machines by a tube. He pulls out a rubber band thats supposed to hold the mask latched onto the face. "Here, let me just put this over your nose and mouth-"

You cover the lower part of your face with your shaking hands. Your eyes glow with fear. They can numb your body until it's unmovable, but your eyes will always stay alert and alive.

"Y/N, please", Dr Kry sighs, putting his free hand over yours, about to pry yours off your face. "Just let me-"

You hide your face down in your arm. He stops and looks at you. Your body is trembling like a leaf swirling in the wind.

"Y/N, it's just anesthesia", he says comfortingly. "It'll help your mind relax so you can sleep. It's not going to hurt you."

He tries to move close again, but your crying halts his movements.

"Please …", you whisper weakly, shaking your head. "Please don't …"

Dr Kry sighs heavily, looks at Silas and then places the plastic mask on your stomach in defeat.

"Alright", he says. "I'm not going to force you. If you want to use it, just hold it over your mouth and inhale the gas."

He returns to his desk. Silas is about to stand up, but a particular strict gaze from the doctor makes him sit down again. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. Sometimes you wonder if Silas is the one behaving like a child. After all, he throws tantrums, runs away from problems and shoots people. But if you said that out loud, you'd spend a month in his basement.

You stay awake for another hour out of spite, but you can feel how your body wants the sweet prize of sleep. You try to shut your eyes and drift of to sleep, but all the worries and thoughts about what they could do to you when you're out is stopping you from actually falling asleep. Your head is pounding with fear and minute by minute, you're slowly drifting to insanity.

You glance at the mask and hesitantly lift it to your face, making sure to cover both nose and mouth. Carefully, you give in and breathe the strong gas into your lungs. It doesn't take long until your head clouds up. The mask slips out of your hands and your head rests against the pillow.

Dr Kry looks up from his papers and sighs out in relief. Quietly, he moves over to you and picks up the mask, pulling out the rubber band to wrap around your head. The mask stays in place over your face.

"How long will that work?" Silas asks and stands up.

"It'll work for as long as we keep the mask on them", Dr Kry says. "We can make them sleep for as long as we want."

Silas fixes a strand of your hair that has been caught by the rubber band with a gentle smile.

"Are they usually this difficult?" Dr Kry wonders, raising a blonde eyebrow.

"Yes", Silas says. "That's why I've managed to develop a technique. You can't be soft with them, you have to be strict and force them. Otherwise they'll refuse and fight. Like today."

"No wonder they hate you."

Silas picks up the gun he stole back from you, placing it under Dr Kry’s chin. The blonde man doesn't react.

"They don't hate me", Silas growls. "Don't make me fucking shoot you."

"Are we back to this?" Dr Kry sighs, nodding his chin down on the gun testingly. "I have told you were to happen if you shoot me here. I wouldn't test my luck if I were you."

"You're such a clever thing, aren't you? God, you piss me off."

Nonetheless, Silas puts the gun back in his waistband. Dr Kry looks down at his phone, looking annoyed.

"I have to go help another doctor with a surgery, can you watch Y/N?" he asks. "Don't leave the room unless necessary and don't touch anything. Wrong button and you've hurt them."

"What will stop me from going through your drawers?"

"Your morality, I hope. I'll see you later."

With that said, he walks out and locks the door.

“‘Don't leave’, he said”, Silas scoffs and strolls over to your bed, lying down beside you. “How the fuck did he think I'd do that if he locks the door? My pretty baby, you are so precious, that pesky doctor doesn't know how to handle you.”

He knows you can’t hear him, but he finds it nicely to talk to you without you cursing at him in return. Silas smiles at you and pulls you closer to his body, hiding your face into his chest. He secures the rubber band in the back of your head with a small smile.

“Get the fuck of out the bed”, Dr Kry sighs as he enters the room two hours later. “You’ll break it.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I broke a bed”, Silas grins, pulling you closer to his chest.

Dr Kry grimaces. “Oh my God, be quiet, that’s disgusting.”

“Why? You’re a doctor, shouldn’t you be able to talk about those kind of things?”

“Do you ever just keep your mouth shut?”

“I could, but why not use my mouth for the greater good?”

“You’re not Superman, now get out of the bed.”

Silas sighs heavily and rolls his eyes. He starts to move out of the bed gently, making sure that you won’t get hurt. Before walking to the chair, he places a kiss on your forehead. With a smirk, he pets Dr Kry on the shoulder.

“Why so stiff, doc?” he asks amusingly, raising his eyebrows. “Haven’t you gotten laid in a while?”

“My sexlife is none of your business and yours is none of mine, so be quiet”, Dr Kry answers murderously cold and turns to his desk.

Silas smiles widely, almost like a school boy.

“You really like getting on people’s nerves, don’t you?” Dr Kry asks over his shoulder.

“No, just yours”, Silas smiles and sits down in his chair.

Dr Kry grits his teeth. “What an honor.”

Silas looks down at his phone, noticing a new message from his right hand man.

“Those stupid- … I have to go”, he growls and stands up, grabbing his coat. “Seems like I have to do everything myself! I’ll be back in an hour, don’t do anything to Y/N without my approval, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, just go”, Dr Kry says. “If it’s urgent, take the back door, there’s a special elevator for that.”

“Thanks, doc.”

With that said, he runs out. Dr Kry decides to sneak over to you and fix your blanket and mask. He caresses your cheek and sighs out in satisfaction. You look so sweet. So innocent. He touches the bandage on your wrists. Why did you have to fight so harshly? He doesn’t like seeing you hurt.

Dr Kry sits by his desk until Silas is back, an hour later, blood covering his clothes.

“What happened?” Dr Kry gasps.

“Shit happened”, Silas mutters. “Can I take a shower or something?”

“Yeah, sure. There are a towel in the bathroom and a bathrobe for patients. Wash the clothes in the sink and hang them somewhere.”

“Thanks.”

Silas walks into the bathroom and undresses. He thinks about you and the hospital. There’s nothing he’d like more than to bring you home and keep you in his bedroom again, but it’s not safe for you. It never was, but he had nowhere else to keep you. Here, you have doctor Kry to keep an eye on you when he has to work … and no one knows you’re here. Maybe he should keep you here? The doctor has everything necessary to keep you where they want you. Silas sighs and runs his hand through his wet, black hair. The water is hitting him in the face, but there’s something comforting about it.

He returns ten minutes later, wearing the white bathrobe.

“Do you think Y/N could stay here long term?” Silas asks.

“Yes, of course”, Dr Kry answers. “This room is mine, I can keep whoever I want in here for as long as I want.”

“Perfect.” He sits down by your bed, lifting your hand and giving it a gentle kiss. “Doc, if I pay for every medicine you need, could you keep Y/N safe while I’m working?”

“I’d do it even if you didn’t pay me.”

Silas smiles slightly.

Days go by, turning into weeks. You’re kept asleep for the most part, only woken up to use the bathroom, eat and wash yourself. You’re too drowsy and confused to do anything yourself. The two men take turns in helping your limp body. It’s an exhausting, dissociation feeling. You don’t know what time nor day it is when you wake up, and you certainly don’t know how long they’ve kept you asleep. You barely feel real. You’re starting to wonder if the real you is a small spider in the corner of the room, looking at the half dead human in the bed.

You’re sitting completely bare in the bathtub, hugging your knees close to your chest as Silas washes your hair. You don’t care about neither Silas or Dr Kry seeing your most vulnerable areas anymore. They’ve seen it all by now and you’re too gone to care. They’re keeping you alive, you’re grateful for that. Almost … a little too grateful. A guilty, shameful gratefulness. You should take care of your own body, two men shouldn’t have to do it for you! You’re ashamed of letting your life be controlled by them, but you’re happy that they’re taking care of your basic needs — at least. You sigh. You have to get a grip of yourself before it’s too late.

There’s a heavy feeling that has started eating you up from the inside. Something is building up in your stomach and is resting in the bottom of your throat. You want to burp, but you’re not able to, it keeps getting stuck. Every part of your body is aching, everything is wrong and on edge. You can’t take it anymore and finally allow yourself to break down in tears. Silas is quick to turn off the shower and turn your body to him.

“What’s wrong, little thing?” he asks worriedly, fixing your wet hair.

“I feel so sick”, you sob.

“It’s okay, it’s just the medicine. It’ll go away.”

He holds your wet face between his hands and kisses your forehead.

“I know it’s hard”, he says. "But you're my little champion, aren't you?"

Through your tears, you manage to nod. You have to be some kind of champion after everything you’ve been through.

Silas smiles reaches for the shower handle. "Are you doing fine? Should I continue?"

You nod, feeling completely out of it. Is this state making you lose your mind? Why did you kiss him back? Why are you answering him at all? Why are you taking his words to heart? Get a grip on yourself. He continues to wash your hair, now more touchy after your accidental affection. You curl up, sighing. Get a grip.

You're lifted out of the tub in a towel. Silas helps you dress in the bathrobe and makes you stay in front of the mirror while he dries your hair with the towel.

"Look at yourself, look how pretty you are", he smiles, placing a kiss in the top of your head.

You shiver and shake your head. After these last couple of weeks in a make believe coma and being stuck with these men you can no longer feel any empathy towards you. You’re disappointed in yourself for starting to cave in and you look half dead. How can you be pretty?

“You don’t think you’re pretty?” Silas gasps and hugs you from behind. “Nonsense, baby. You’re the most beautiful thing on this wretched planet. I wish you could let me show you how much I adore you.” He kisses your neck. “I’d make you feel so good, make you feel like the only person in the world. You’d never doubt yourself again, I promise. Please, will you let me take care of you?”

You shake your head. If you give yourself to him, you’ll never get out of his grip again and you know that very well. The very thought of it makes you sick to your stomach once again. You hold your hand over your weirdly aching stomach, frowning. Something’s creeping up your throat.

“What’s wrong?” Silas asks.

“I still feel sick”, you whisper. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Silas acts quickly. He pushes you towards the toilet, forces you down on your knees and opens the lid and pulls your hair out of your face.

“Go for it, I got you”, he says.

As if on commando — and maybe his rough actions — you empty everything Dr Kry’s forced down your throat the last few days. Your body hasn’t been able to digest much correctly when you’ve been forced to sleep for hours on end. You’re not sure much in your body is working right for the moment being.

“What’s going on?” Dr Kry asks worriedly and enters the bathroom. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“You’re the doctor!” Silas says. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“I’ll do an examination. When they’re done, take them out to the bed and I’ll take a look.”

Silas nods and turns to you, helping you.

“You’re doing good, Y/N”, Silas says. “Get it out.”

“It smells”, you whine with a grimace.

“You’re a champion, baby, aren’t you? You can push through.”

You whine tiredly. After a few more minutes of pure hell, you’re finally empty. Silas wipes your mouth with some paper and flushes the toilet. He carries you back to the bed where Dr Kry is waiting. You’re sat down.

“Okay, Y/N”, Dr Kry says. “I have some suspicions, but I need to test you.”

He performs a medical test on you to make sure that his medicine hasn't had too bad of an effect on you. He's counted on you feeling weak and heavy, but he couldn't have prepared himself for your digestion giving up.

"What's wrong with me?" you ask carefully, fearing the worst.

"I'm afraid that your digestion might need some help." Dr Kry reaches for the oxygen mask. "I'll figure something out while-"

"No, please don't make me sleep again!"

Dr Kry halts with the mask in hand.

“I think it’s the gas making me like this …”, you say. “Doctor, please don’t make me sleep again, I’ll be quiet and let you work.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them, doc”, Silas says, moving closer to the bed. “Just work.”

Silas sits beside you and lets you play games on his phone. He smiles gently everytime you manage to win a round of Candy Crush. Dr Kry smiles from his desk at your focused facial expressions. The two men relax, finally you’re showing some signs of giving it. You’re not crying, not fighting, just enjoying the moment by distracting yourself. They hope it can stay like this, but they both know all of this is on borrowed time.

“Do you still feel sick?” Dr Kry asks after a while.

“I’m feeling weird, but I’m not sure how to describe it”, you say quietly, suddenly shrinking again when remembering your awful situation. “It’s a bit better after I got to throw up … but I’m scared to eat. I don’t want to feel like that again.”

“I’m going to go get some tea for you to see if it can help your digestion. After that, I think you should go back to sleep.”

Dr Kry leaves the room. You turn to Silas with pleading eyes.

“Why do I have to sleep?” you ask carefully. “I don't want to. It’s so terrifying waking up and not knowing how much time has passed. I’m missing out on life …”

“When you’re asleep, you don’t have to feel any of the bad feelings or see what a horrible place we live in”, Silas answers, fixing your hair. “You’re safe from everything.”

You look down in your lap to get away from those dark, lovesick eyes of his. Silas slides over his phone to you again.

“Distract yourself, baby”, he says. “You’ll soon get some tea and then you’ll be feeling better. Keep on playing your little games. You look so cute when you focus.”

You decide to keep your mouth shut and do what he says. You manage to do two rounds of Subway Surfers before Dr Kry is back with a steaming cup in his hand.

“Here, Y/N”, he says and gives you the cup. “This should get your organs up and running.”

“I won’t throw up again, right?” you ask carefully.

“No, you won’t.”

You sip on it, taking your sweet time with a glance towards the oxygen mask. Will this be your life from now on? Kept asleep and only awoken when someone else wants you to be?

“Are you done?” Dr Kry asks after a while.

You look down in the cup. Empty. You gulp.

“No …”, you lie and pretend to take another sip.

“You’ve been sitting with that for ten minutes now. If you’re not done with it, it’s mostly likely ice cold by now.”

“When I’m done, you’ll make me sleep …”, you say. “So if i don’t finish it you can’t make me.”

“You little brat”, Silas laughs. “You’re so cute.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep, Y/N?” Dr Kry asks. “You’re not having to worry about anything, you can just relax. We’re waking you up when there’s nothing bad happening.”

“It’s not fair”, you whisper, shaking your head.

“Life’s not fair, peach”, Silas says and stands up, grabbing the mask. “Time to nap, little thing. Don’t worry, we will be here to protect you.”

You want to fight back, want to protest, but your body has given up. You know that there’s no use. They’ll get their way no matter how much you disagree. The mask gets once again placed over your face.

“Such a good patient”, Dr Kry praises as if he’s read your thoughts. “Letting us do whatever we want to you.”

You send him a gaze you intend to be a glare, but your head has already fogged up. Silas helps you lay down and the last thing you feel before everything turns into that familiar yet terrifying pitch blackness, is the soft pillow against your back. Silas tucks you in, making sure that none of your limbs are in any uncomfortable position. He sighs, stepping back. The two men look at each other with fear in their eyes, both knowing that this won’t work forever. Today was only one sign of the damage they do to you. Your body will fully break down someday, and that day might be the day they’ll lose you forever. But for now, they’ll keep you in the land of dreams where nothing can hurt you — not even you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere mafia #yandere stories #yandere oc x you #yandere doctor #yandere duo #yandere scenarios #yandere oneshots #yandere series #yandere ocs x reader #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc

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strawberrystepmom · 7 months

Text

gojo and f!reader are in a semi established relationship aka idiots in love. they are about 20 and 21 here. cw some insinuation of infidelity on reader’s part but not against gojo. wc 1.2k

divider by the ever wonderful @/cafekitsune ❤️

Almost as if he’s made of pure pixie dust, Gojo appears in your bedroom without a noise or sign of his arrival while you rest in bed, blankets pulled up around your hips.

“I wish you’d at least text me before you do that.”

You don’t react anymore, learning a few months ago he teleports in and out wordlessly simply to get a rise out of you, and he sits on the edge of your bed opposite your body with a huff.

“I don’t understand why you hate surprises so much. If a handsome man appeared in my bedroom out of thin air using his awesome power I’d be excited.”

You snort, patting the bed and inviting him to lie down even though you really shouldn’t. In fact, you really really really shouldn’t yet you open your blankets and watch him slip out of his jacket. He tosses it on the floor as carelessly as ever and he comes to your bed in a white t-shirt untucked from navy pants, long arms automatically seeking out the shape of your curves.

“Satoru, I don’t mind if you sleep here but we shouldn’t be doing that.”

He frowns, cocking his head to the side.

“What? Cuddling?”

“Yeah, cuddling or fucking or any of it. It’s not appropriate.”

Raising his brows, he sits up in your bed for a moment and contemplates what you mean.

For the last several years, the two of you have been locked in this push and pull game of who will break and admit everything first - who will let the first I love you slip in the real world and not just during sex when both of you are left with enough deniability to dart out of the corner those three little words have painted you into?

The dynamic is complex, sure, but it has worked this far and it perplexes him why you would want to change something that is working so well. Lying back, he doesn’t wrap his arms around your waist and hold you close but traces the curve of your shoulder with the soft pad of his index finger instead.

He doesn’t want to ask because he already knows why you are putting walls back up to keep him out, yet he does.

“Hiroki?”

You shouldn’t but you groan frustratedly hearing the name of your current boyfriend leave Satoru’s pretty mouth. The two of you aren’t official and have only been seeing one another for several weeks but you want to give him an honest shot to be with you. The last two men you’ve dated haven’t fared well, losing out to the man with the moonlight colored hair currently occupying your bed, but you feel Hiroki deserves better than that.

He deserves far better than what you’ll eventually do to him when you get bored and go running back to the man next to you but you keep the thoughts to yourself lest they become a self fulfilling prophecy.

“Yes. It’s inappropriate.”

Satoru chuckles and slips his finger beneath the strap of your tank top, slipping it off and tracing down your collarbone despite the way you slap at his hand.

“What’s he like?”

Heat rushes into your face, cheeks searing from the tone of his question. It’s condescending but you know he can’t help it, his attitude a side effect of having the world presented to you atop a shining silver platter. You’re not even angry with him for asking, you’re angry at him for proving that you’re struggling to find a way to describe Hiroki.

He’s a sweet man, your age with only four months separating your birthdays. He’s patient and mild and a little skittish around strangers. His favorite music is acid jazz and his favorite color is purple. He eats hayashi rice at his favorite restaurant every Wednesday night.

These are not ways you can describe the man you are seeing to your frustratingly dazzling pseudo boyfriend.

Sighing, you reach for Satoru’s hand and pry it off of you before his finger can come any closer to your throat and chin and face. You’re sure he was gearing up to pop it in your mouth like he always does. His hand creeps right back to where it was the second you drop it.

Finally, you stumble upon the word you want to use to describe Hiroki and it leaves your lips with a defeated sigh.

“He’s normal.”

Satoru laughs so loud you’re afraid it’ll wake up the entire floor of your neighbors. You shush him, burying your face in a pillow you’ve plucked from behind you.

“Normal, huh? As if that’ll keep your interest for long.”

Scoffing, you sit up and his hand slides down your chest and into your lap. He struck a nerve but he isn’t apologetic, blue eyes blinking up at you lazily from where he rests against the pillow he designated as his when you moved into this apartment two years ago.

“What are you insinuating?”

He smirks, glad you’ve once again slipped into his carefully laid traps. Your teeth are bared and your brow is furrowed, arms folded over your chest. Once again you’ve underestimated how well this man knows you.

“I’m just saying that if normal is what you wanted, you would have left after graduating instead of sticking around.”

Instead of getting involved with him, abnormal as he is.

“You’re being an ass.”

You know he’s right despite the insult, so you barely argue. This has been a cycle since the start of your twenties - swearing Satoru off completely only to let him sleep in your bed because neither of you sleep well when you’re alone until it eventually comes to a head and your feelings spill over and it’s back to square one.

“I mean, at least you always come back to where you belong.”

Shooting him a downright terrifying glance, you shift and roll onto your side so that you are no longer facing him. He rolls onto his own side and presses the front of his body against the back of yours, a familiar cradle you’re glad to be wrapped in.

When he settles, his fingers trace down your sides in wide swaths and you squirm before flipping back onto your other side to face him. You capture his face between your palms and look over each of his features, his dimples and nose and beautiful skin and those fucking eyes you want to be less suceptible to.

Then you kiss him. It’s as chaste as you ever have, or at least since the last time you decided you wanted to call him yours, and he smirks against your lips.

“That’s all you get tonight,” you start and he begins to whine and argue until you press your finger against his lips, shushing him. “Let me do this right and call Hiroki in the morning to break it off first.”

Grumbling, he acquiesces because as always, at least you’re back where you belong even if he has to wait until the morning to remind you why you were silly for leaving in the first place.

#kendall writes #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoken #this is satoken canon sorry for being a scumbag 😔

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lemonlover1110 · 1 month

Note

“no, it’s okay, you don’t have to leave - i don’t mind changing in front of you.” With Hawks please!

Pairing: Hawks x f!Reader

Part of this little prompt game I'm doing for the day (perhaps the week), come join!

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Your ideal date with Keigo fell into pieces the moment rain started falling onto the ground. Your date was going fine until you felt the water droplets on your skin, forcing you to run to shelter. You end up back at Keigo’s apartment, completely drenched.

“Next time we have to do a better job at checking the weather.” He chuckles as he hands you a towel. You would be laughing along with him if your outfit wasn’t completely ruined. You take the towel from him and dry yourself off.

“Do you have anything I can wear?” You ask, hoping that he does. It’s too early in your relationship for you to have clothes in his place, but you pray that he has something. You absolutely hate the feeling of wet clothes on your skin.

“I’ll check.” He says before walking away, leaving you in the living room. You begin to shiver, the wet clothes making your situation worse. You look out for him, getting impatient. He finally appears, wearing some dry clothes as he brings out some oversized clothes that certainly aren’t your style– But you don’t care. “I’m sure these will work.”

“Thank you.” You take the clothes from his hands, putting them down on the couch before you lift up your shirt. You begin to get dressed without a shame, and the cold that once threatened his body goes away as his cheeks get warm. He doesn’t waste a second before turning around, about to leave to give you some privacy.

Is he seriously nervous? He’s seen much more before… But not from you. He shouldn’t feel embarrassed at all. In situations like these he’s usually confident. He clears his throat before telling you, “I’ll be in my bedroom, call out my name when you’re finished.”

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to leave– I don’t mind changing in front of you.” You mutter out, and you realize just how imprudent it sounds. You feel your face get hot as you hurry up and finish getting changed. You hear him chuckle, but he still remains turned around. “I’m finished, you can look now.”

“What do you want to do now?” He asks, feeling a little awkward after what just happened. It’ll go away in an instant though, he’s sure.

“How about a movie?” You respond, and he nods in response.

#[🍋] prompt game #mha #mha x reader #bnha hawks #hawks #hawks x reader #mha hawks #keigo takami #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x y/n #keigo x you

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kopilot-pop · 8 months

Text

[Tired] pt.1

- Le Sserafim x 6thMember!Reader

Summary: After a harsh criticism from one of your teachers, you started to fall into a bad habit again. You started staying overnight at the company, your knees are always bruised, and you probably shouldn’t have 3 cans of Redbull everyday… Thankfully, your bandmates have easily recognized your behaviors and decided to put it to an end.

Warnings: overworking, self-hate, etc.

a/n: I think I’m a bit too obsessed with hurtfics lmao. I mostly wrote this as just a platonic relationship fyi.

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

Nauseous.

That’s how you feel right now.

Sitting in front of you is the dance teacher, with her legs crossed and tapping her clipboard. This wasn't the first time, actually, this is the third time you were put in this situation this week.

You’re the main dancer of the group, so the teacher always put extra pressure on you compared to the other girls, but today she seemed extra fed-up with you.

Thus, here you were, dragged out to an old practice room in the middle of a session with your whole group.

“That’s it?” She sighed.

“That’s all you can do? Really? Did you even notice all the mistakes you’ve made? Listen, Y/n-”

There’s not much you can do. You’re well aware of the steps you missed and you’re also well aware of how talented the woman sitting in front of you is, too. That doesn’t change the fact that every word that comes out of her mouth feels like a stab wound.

“I don’t care how talented you think you are-“

‘I don’t think I’m talented.’

“Did you even practice at all? This is a special stage L/n Y/n-"

‘You watched me practice every day.’

“Are you trying to be an embarrassment on live tv?”

‘I’m trying my best not to.’

“Main dancer my ass, a trainee could do better than you-”

‘You just came back from yelling at them…’

“Are you not even embarrassed to stand next to your group? I mean, if I’m being honest here Kazuha-”

‘Ah, there it is.’

If there was anything this teacher was know for, it’s the constant comparing and belittling between teammates. You thought you might have gotten used to it by now, but that hit your throat.

You don’t have anything against your teammates - goddamit, you’d risk your life in a second for any of them. But, whenever she decided to use the girls to bring you down, it hurt just a little more than usual.

After several minutes of the teacher’s lecture, you were finally let go.

When you entered the practice room the girls were starting to pack up. You checked the clock and realised that it's almost midnight. Eunchae is curled up against the wall, wearing your jacket, while Sakura is trying her best to wake her up. Your leader noticed you immediately and walked up to you in worry.

"Hey Y/n, everything okay?"

"...Yeah. It's nothing."

Her deep frown made you sick to the stomach. You don't want her to worry- you don't want any of the members to worry. This is something you can deal with yourself, right? If you get better everything will be perfect. Just perfect.

"I was thinking of staying a bit more. Y'know, the teacher had me held up for quite while." You let out a tired chuckle.

Chaewon didn't like the idea at all and you could tell.

"I... fine. Just make sure you to keep contact, okay?"

"Of course."

"Huh- is Y/n not coming with us??" Yunjin with her tired body dragged herself towards the two of you. She gives you a tired hug and leaves for the car.

"Don't take too long Y/n." Sakura gives you a worried smile after helping Kazuha carry a sleepy Eunchae on her back.

"Yeah, I promise."

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

You're an amazing liar.

That's what Chaewon realized while staring at the sun slowly coming up from the skyline.

As the leader, she stayed up late waiting for you to come home. A worried Yunjin insisted on waiting with her, but unfortunately she fell asleep after a bit on the couch.

Chaewon called you 50 times and messaged you a 100 times, but you haven't responded to a single one of them. She was pissed off at first, but that anger slowly dissolved into worry- all sorts of concerns popping up in her head.

'What if you passed out? What if you got hurt while practicing? You sprained your ankle in the past, what if the same thing happened again? Oh, what if your trainee habits are happening again? What if-'

Her train of thoughts stopped when she heard the door lock beep. She practically sped to the front door.

You sent her a nervous look, frozen while trying to take of your shoes.

"..."

"Hey unnie.."

"Do you know what time it is?"

Chaewon folded her arms and glared you down. She started her usual lecture. How worried she was, how disappointed, and how absolutely furious she is because of you ignoring all her efforts to contact you. She was absolutely furious.

"Didn't Kkura unnie tell you to not take long? Didn't I tell you to answer my calls?? It's 7 in the morning Y/n! You're telling me you were in the practice room for, what- 6 hours?! Do you realize how dangerous-!"

"YES! Yes, I know! And I'm sorry. Just... please... can we talk about this later?"

Chaewon looked at the bags under your eyes and let out a sigh.

"..Fine... Go get some rest.... This isn't over."

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

A/N: I know this isn't the best place to cut, but like... I'm extremely tired. So sorry. I'll come back with a second part soon. Love y'all <3

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feistyfreaks · 5 months

Note

IK ITS NOT EVEN OCTOBER ANYMORE BUT I HAVE A REQUEST…. I always read about shy readers and I have no issue with it but I would love some appreciation for the nice popular girls! Maybe a ghostface!miguel x Nice popular reader (female)

i tried my best making these two work with each other so .. i hope you enjoy 🥲.

LOCKED IN TEMPTATION.

≪ pairings ≫ ⋮ npg!reader x ghostface!miguel

₊❏❜ content ⋮ school lockdown, armed murderer, threatening, degradation, dark themes, sexual coercion - dubcon/cnc, oral (m receiving), throat bulge, katoptronophilia (mirror sex), unexpected orgasm/squirting, & unprotected sex.

taglist ⋮ @pewpunk @111gltzpzy @theloneshadow @gabriel1898 @mimisxs (divider by @cafekitsune ♡)

“wait for me!” your friend called out, making you turn around. “which class are you going to?” you ask chloe, stopping in your tracks. “ugh, to biology.” she groans in response, her voice itching with annoyance. “why are heels such a pain in the ass.” she complains.

“maybe you shouldn’t have worn them to begin with.” cory suggests with a corny smile. “it’s not my fault i wanna look pretty.” chloe whines.

you all take a turn, “hey do you guys wanna use the bathroom?” you intervene.

“yeah, sure, i could really use the break.” chloe replies, sighing. you take another turn down, this time heading down the hallway towards the bathroom.

your girl group follows you in. beatrix leaned over the counter, applying lipstick. “hey did you guys hear the news?” cory blurts out, adjusting her glasses with a shocked look on her face.

“hey girl!” beatrix smiles as you two do your special handshake. “no why?” you reply, smiling, turning your attention to the girl with all your books in her hand. “supposedly there’s this new serial killer in town and he disguises himself with a ghost face mask.” cory says.

“a serial killer?” chloe scoffs, hopping onto the counter, now invested.

“yeah.”

“sounds scary,” beatrix adds, “do you have your mascara i could borrow? mines dry as fuck.”

“yeah, sure.” you grin, handing her your mascara. “thanks you’re the best.”

“so what’s his body count?” chloe asks with a wily smile. cory glances at you and beatrix, and back at chloe. “as in..?” beatrix raises a brow with a smirk on her face. “you guys are so dirty minded.” chloe bursts out laughing, “i meant in kill count, duh.”

“then you should’ve specified.” cory says as you all giggle in unison. suddenly her expression changes, glancing back at the phone and her jaw drops.

“well he’s made himself known.. surprised he hasn’t broken a record yet, the reports of deaths this month averages around two fifty.”

you all exchange looks.

“yikes.”

“well that doesn’t sound too good.” you mutter, scratching the back of your head.

“here.” beatrix hums, handing you back your mascara wand as you smile.

“welp, glad i’m not one of his victims.” chloe exhales. “guys we better hurry up or else we’ll be late.” beatrix adds as chloe plops off the counter, heading her way out the bathroom.

“see you last period.” she waves.

“i’ll get going too.” beatrix winks at you, following behind the blonde.

cory stays with you while you fix up your makeup and finish putting on your mascara. “have you got a message to be on watch of any suspicious activity?” cory looks at you, “i mean. maybe an amber alert, that’s all. but that’s probably irrelevant to the situation.”

the bell rung and you two stare at each other in disbelief. “my moms gonna think i’m skipping.” cory whines, face palming herself. “third time this week.”

but before the both of you could run out the door, the sound of a phone being picked up was heard.

and an announcement was made.

“students and staff we are now undergoing a lockdown, this is not a drill. please lock your doors, cover the windows and escort students back to class if needed. i repeat this is not a drill.”

“oh shit!” cory screams, dropping your books on the floor as your heart drops.

“what do we do?! we’re gonna get in so much trouble!” her eyes widen, hands clasping around her head as she pulls on her red locks.

“fuck, fuck fuck!” without thinking she pushes you into a stall, locking the door as the both of you prep yourselves onto the toilet seat.

“we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die!” cory murmured, grabbing your hand. “no we’re not!” you protest quietly, trying to calm her down.

“i’ll never see my mom again!” your friend babbled. you squeezed cory’s hand. “we’ll make it out alive together, i promise.”

you shouldn’t really be promising at times like this, but you had to get her to shut up somehow. you two heard the sound of footsteps running all over the place until it became silent.

those six minutes felt like six months.

you slowly lowered your foot, thinking coast was clear — just then you heard the bathrooms door creak open. you quickly swooped yourself off the floor.

that’s when you realized.

idiots.

you two hadn’t locked the bathrooms entrance.

you covered cory’s mouth as you put a finger on your lips; signaling her to stay quiet. heavy footsteps echoed throughout the bathrooms tiled floor and stopped in front of the dropped books that was scattered in different directions. you threw a hand over your mouth, watching her lips quiver.

someone shoved all the stalls opened until yours was the last one that remained.

you glanced down, their feet was the only thing that was visible in the small opening under the door. her grasp on your hand tightened. the two of you held your breaths.

you tried to steady your inconsistent breaths, squeezing your eyes shut. cory was surprisingly staying quiet for the most part. the seconds ticked and it felt like hours that the intruder stood there.

until they finally stepped back.

their footsteps were then heard from afar as you supposed they were leaving. the door creaked open again and just before you could sigh out in relief, cory’s foot got caught in the toilets sensor and the loud sound of the toilet flushing made the two of you gasp.

the footsteps stopped, and the two of you looked at each other dumbfounded.

“i know you’re in there.” a deep voice broke the silenced room. cory stared at you, looking for instructions.. possibly anything from your face that hinted what to do. but you didn’t give any.

you looked just as pale as she did.

“fine then. i’ll count to five, and if you don’t step out, i’ll make you come out.”

“one.”

cory gulped.

“two.”

she eyed you, shaking her head in disapproval when you reached to unlock the door.

“three.”

you stepped down slowly, your feet visible to the man behind the door.

“four.”

you gathered all your courage, slowly squeaking the door open.

“five.”

you looked up at him, your fists curled into a ball as your nails engraved into your palms.

“two?” he chuckled, stepping forward as you defensively stood in front of your friend.

you tried to appear intimidating, but of course you made yourself look like a fool, and instead he was the one that looked intimidating.

cory clung onto your arm, sniffling into the crook of your neck. your heart beat quickened, trying your best to keep up the brave act.

“how pathetic.” he laughed, “you’re not even armed. you don’t scare me little girl.”

he stepped closer and defensively, and without thinking, you kicked his shin. hard.

“run!”

he hissed, but before you two could make a run for it, he tugged on cory’s arm, pulling her backwards. you grasped onto her tightly, tugging her forward with all your strength. he pulled her towards him, and with a harsh yank your sweaty palms let go.

“you’ll pay for that.” he scoffed, head locking cory and aiming the knife towards her pulse point. “so who’s it gonna be?”

“you, or her?”

you glance at your friend who looks like she’s on the urge of fainting, her glasses are practically slipping off the bridge of her nose and her eyes were just as wet as an opened faucet running. you couldn’t stand watching her get hurt in front of you.

“don’t hurt her!” you beg out in defeat.

“let her go!”

“what’s the magic word?”

“p-please..? i-i’ll do anything!”

he lets her go and cory stumbles back, her glasses shattering. she weeped and with her blurry eyesight she ran out of the bathroom, almost tripping on her tangled feet.

“what a selfish bitch.” he laughs, “look at her go, four eyed freak can win a marathon.” he chuckles, practically wheezing.

you felt embarrassed, humiliated, a fool, stupid even.

tears formed in your eyes as he cornered you into the wall. “friends’ll backstab you so easily, how ironic.” he hums, his knuckles caressing your pale cheek sweetly.

that’s when your heart sinks, this was the guy from the news. ghost face mask. check. scary looking. check, and probably does have a kill count around two fifty. you mean. look at em.

you gulp, batting your wet eyelashes at him. “aww, don’t give me that look.” he coos, trailing the knife along the length of your neck. “you look like you need a hug.” he teases, almost feeling sorry for you. he leans into you, “i won’t hurt you.. not unless.. you give me what i want.” he whispers.

you sniffle, your knees felt like jello from how much they trembled. “a-and what is that?” you ask, voice ever so quiet. “hmnnn.” he hums. his thumb gently presses onto your bottom lip, pushing harder until his pad was rubbing onto the wet muscle of your tongue.

a raspy groan escaped his throat, “i want sex.” your pupils dilate as a rush of heat makes its way down your spine. “s-sex?” you repeat dumbly, almost gagging as he presses further on the flat of your tongue.

“you heard me, get down on your knees f’me.” he smirks underneath his mask. before you could even react his hand pushes your head down as you drop down to your knees submissively.

you felt weak, and powerless.

“that’s it. that’s a good girl.” he praised, his bulge threatened to escape its cage. huge, hard and curved into his slacks. he grabbed the back of your head, practically shoving his groin onto your face.

“go on. unbuckle my belt.” he demanded. you tugged on the leather feeling excitement pool into your panties. you zipped down his pants and his cock jumped out eagerly. he groaned, his dick thick and veiny, and tip raging red as beads of his pre dribbled down his long shaft. he grabbed his cock with his other hand, smacking the girth onto your cheek and smearing the pre onto your plump lip.

“open.” he ordered.

you looked up at him, those pretty eyes dripping with tears. you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue to give his head kitten licks.

he found your lapping’s cute, you didn’t even know what you were doing. you lick the vein underneath his cock before sucking on the tip like a lollipop. imitating the women in the pornos you’d rub off to.

he slapped the shaft on your tongue before slipping into your mouth smoothly. he groaned at the sight of an inexperienced girl try n take his whole engorged cock into the small of her mouth. he shifted, placing his hands on your head, securing you in place. you moaned at the sudden action.

"like that, huh? like it rough? I'll show you rough." without a heads up, he thrusts deeper into your mouth; moaning at the sensation of your tongue. you gagged at the large object forcefully making its way down your throat.

"fuck, your mouth feels good."

you didn't know why, but hearing this man talk down on you only served to arouse you. your panties were soaked, and that familiar sensation of needing to pee aroused in you. your teeth scraped against the sensitive skin of his cock and the grip on your hair he had on you tightened, thrusting in deeper and fucking your mouth more aggressively.

he thrusted his entire length into your mouth, tip to base and began to grind down on your face. he looked down, his huge girth had created a bulge in your throat and his pre had spilled out and trickled down your chin. the sight, the lewd squelching sounds, and the stimulation was just enough to make him lose it. he came in your mouth deep, his seed coating your throat white as you gag.

he pushed your head until the tip of your nose brushed against his pelvis, he made sure you swallowed every last bit of his cum. he yanked you off his cock, moaning. you panted, gagging as you try to gather yourself from the previous blowjob session you just performed.

his hand brushed through your hair and tugged your head upwards. your abdomen was pressed against the counters cold surface, and your school girl uniform was pulled up; the wet patch between your puffy slit was now exposed.

you bit your lip, feeling the same pad prod at your swollen clit. “you like being used don’t you?” he smirks, pulling your panties to the side as his fingers slide through your slit. “look at you, you’re dripping wet.” his voice is filled with amusement and dominance that wants to humiliate you.

his fingers dip into your hole and you twitch, becoming sensitive from his touch. you balance onto the tip of your toes and a squeal makes its way out of your mouth. your knees buckle; your clit throbbing onto the pad of his finger as you spatter on him. a throaty groan rumbles into you ear, your juices drip down his fingers as he slowly finger fucks you through your high, completely drenching him with your orgasm.

“fuck baby, i’ve barely touched you and this pussy is already so eager.”

his fingers slip out of you, and you shook slightly, a shaky breath escaping your mouth. you writhe, legs betraying your instincts. you feel an arm wrap around waist securely. with his other hand he grabbed your face, making you look at yourself in the reflection.

“mmyou’ll let me stretch this pussy out, right?” he hums, lining up the head of his cock with your tiny hole. “t-that’s not the agreement we made.”

“the agreement was to do what i want, i never specified darling.”

“fuck you.” you hiss, gritting your teeth.

“that’s not very nice nena. apologize.” his voice deepens, coaxing you into apologizing to him because he didn’t like the fact you were disobeying his orders and talking back. but he’s nice enough to spare you another chance. he tugs your hair back roughly, “it’s not so hard to say sorry now is it?”

you glance at the ginormous figure behind you, “a-and why should i apologize?”

“fine then, you ungrateful brat.” he growls, bending you over and pushing the tip further into you, your jaw hung open and whimpers flow out of your mouth.

fuck you felt full. but it felt so good to be treated like such a whore.

in fact.. it turned you on.

stinging tears brim at your lash line; the pain tingled with pleasure. his fingers trail down your body and latch onto your hips, grinding you back onto his cock. you groan, pussy throbbing with every rock as his tip stimulates your cervix. “yea, feels good right?” he murmurs into you ear. thick girth feels like he’s stretching you out to the ends of earth.

but you love it.

he groaned curses into your ear and leaned forward, chest pressing onto your back making you bend over further more onto the counter top as he adjusts his position, fucking into you with deeper thrusts.

his hands kneaded with the plush flesh on your hips n thighs, finger pads trailing upwards to trace your spine before gripping onto your locks and pulling your head back up again, forcing you to stare at yourself in the mirror.

his hand came down to knead with your sensitive bud as the tip repetitively abused your cervix, your eyelashes fluttered. tears running down your cheeks and mouth agape from the ecstasy. your pretty lashes coated with mascara you spent your precious time on fixing was now running down your face.

“mírate siendo una puta.” he chuckled, hips fastening and with each thrust your ass recoiled onto his lap.

from your few spanish lessons you took, you partially understood what he meant and your cheeks grew red. “yea, keep squeezing down on me like that—” he drew in another shaky breath, “you're going to make me cum again.”

your toes curled, eyes rolling back, white ring stamping his dicks girth. with a harmonized groan he pulled out, wrapping his hand around his shaft and finishing jerking himself off as his head spewed out his climax onto your sopping cunt. he tapped the leaky head against your hole.

his hands gently held your stammering hips. he reaches to grab a few paper towels and cleans you up; respectfully pulling your skirt back down as he pats your head reassuringly. sliding the thin cloth of your panties back in place.

“hope you don’t mind not being able to walk for a few days.” he chuckles incoherently.

#ff⋆reqs 🧁#ff⋆inbox 📬#feistyfreaks #hornyhour #miguel o’hara smut #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #no nut november #kinktober

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emilio-the-dumb-wrestler · 4 months

Text

Chase took a picture of himself in the dirty gym mirror. Damn he looked good he thought to himself. Years of dedication and dieting has left him with a body that made men and women swoon for his attention. The bad thing about this though was Chase knew he was good looking. He treated everyone poorly and it wasn’t long before he had enough enemies that they decided they needed to do something about it. I watched him take a picture of himself smirking as he was loving the reflection he had and as soon as he took the picture I slipped right on in. Taking full control. Chase was fully aware of everything happening. I made sure of that. But for now it was me in full control. And he was helpless to anything I did. “Well chase it looks like you have quite the number of enemies. You pride yourself so much how you look that it’s time to make some lasting changes!” I said out loud in his deep voice. Chase was screaming inside my head. Trying to take control but able to do a thing about it.

Rubbing Chase’s hairy stomach I knew that the first thing I was going to do was give Chase a gut. Something he prided himself on never having. Well times change and it was time for him to gain some serious weight. Chase screamed inside his own head and I just laughed.

Going home I thought about more ways to really punish Chase and I got even better ideas. Like normal I got tired of Chase screaming non stop so I put him to sleep. Leaving me to figure out all the wicked things I was going to do. At his apartment I looked at myself in the mirror. Chase really was a good looking man. Fit and muscular. Size 14 feet. He really was something to see. Looking down I rubbed his stomach. Using my magic I mumbled the spell to activate all changes I willed on him. His stomach began to bulge. And I laughed the whole time. “No that’s not big enough. Chase shouldn’t be able to see his feet !” And as if on command his stomach surged forward. Blocking his view of the ground. “Perfect !” He rubbed a ringer down the middle of his stomach and said “he’ll never be able to suck this in even if we tried !” And just liked his stomach flexed and churned. Bloating out more. Chase’s abs disappeared completely and his muscle would never respond to him trying to flex them again. His stomach would be permanently bloated outward. Always hanging in front of him no matter what he did. “This is more like it. This way this weight will stick and never go away!” And just like that Chase would never be able to lose another pound.

I decided the hair for his body needed to be thicker. Like a sweater he could never remove and just like that his body began to grow very thick hair. A dark beard sticking out of my chin and touched the top part of his chest that was quickly becoming coated. Arms and shoulders now thickly matted in hair.

I made his body begin to smell like he hadn’t showered in days. Making this is new permanent smell while sweat began to bead on his forehead and drip down his hairier body. His shoes had gotten tighter as I made his feet thicker and hairier to match the rest of his modified body. But that wasn’t all I was going to do. “This body will need to smoke everyday. A have a beer everyday or else Chase will get sick!” Definitely going to love having those addictions now.

I spent a week in his beefier hairy body. Getting chase used to his new life. The smell. The sweating. The smoking and the beer. I quit his job for him in accounting because it was going to be too much for him after my next change. Walking down the street I let Chase wake up. Letting him feel his body jiggly as it walked. Letting his feel that wind blowing through all the hair ! Chase was screaming instantly. Crying in his own head. I opened the door to the clinic and Chase demanded to know what was going on. I just laughed and ignored him. When the doctor came in I quickly signed the papers. Not even giving Chase enough time to read them. I wanted this to be a surprise for him. He demanded to know what was going on. The doctor came in with the syringe and prepped the needle. Chase demanded to know what was happening. “You sure you want this ?” Said the dr and I shook chase’s head for him. It was then I decided to tell Chase. In his head like a thought I told him how accounting was a thing of the past. I told him how my final change for him was to make another change. One that I couldn’t use magic for. Chase screamed and cried. He begged me not to do this. I held out his arm. Still under my control. Chase screamed. The needle was inserted in his arm by the doctor. And the doctor gave me one last chance to back out. I took the needle from his hands and plunged the fluid directly into Chase’s thicker hairier arm. And left his body completely.

I watched as Chase’s jaw went slack. Drool began to pool into his beard. For all the doctor knew. Chase just offered himself up for a liquid lobotomy. And injected himself too. Instantly dropping his iq from 140 to 60. Chase would never be an accountant again. He would be a big dumb lumbering brute for the rest of his life now.

#bodywrecker

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fayes-fics · 11 months

Text

Too Much

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome), modern AU

Summary: Anthony and Benedict take on a challenge you set them.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, dom/sub dynamics, use of pet/play names/titles (baby girl, kitten, sir), dirty talk, vaginal fingering, sex toys (vibrator), oral sex (m to f), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, brief loss of consciousness.

Word Count: 4.1k

Authors Note: this is a double request fill for @demonic-black-queen and Anon (HERE and HERE). I hope you don't mind me combining your requests into this one-shot. Im not sure about it, but I hope it fits your requests. Unbetaed. Enjoy<3

“What the…?!?”

You almost jump out of your skin and spin around to find two sets of shocked eyes trained on you. You didn’t hear anyone enter the flat with your AirPods in.

“El isn’t here,” you point out once you rally from the scare.

You decide to push through the mortification of being found dancing through your flat in your underwear on a Saturday afternoon. They are the ones who shouldn’t be here, after all, her two oldest brothers. Both look utterly delicious in faded tees and jeans, something you are trying (but failing) not to notice.

“Yes, we know she’s away for a week; that’s why we are here,” Anthony responds, steadfastly looking at your face, but you can see a vein in his temple is pulsing.

“We came to assemble some standing desk she’s been on about,” Benedict explains, stepping out from behind his older brother. “We are so sorry to intrude; El told us you would be out this weekend too,” he adds apologetically, but you don’t miss the momentary flicker of his gaze down your body.

“I was supposed to be,” you admit with a conciliatory nod, “change of plans, useless now ex-boyfriend,” you throw your hands up in a shrugging gesture.

“What happened?” Benedict blurts out, then appears to check himself. “Sorry, ignore that; it’s none of our business.”

You decide to shock them with part of the truth. If they are going to interrupt your alone time in your own home, you are going to have a little fun. See how they react. “Couldn’t make me orgasm enough,” you twist your lips into a coquettish pout, raising an eyebrow. “Couldn’t tame me properly enough either; I need a better dom than that.”

Benedict splutters a surprised cough and then looks thoroughly entertained.

“Not surprised. You’re a total brat,” Anthony mutters under his breath.

“What was that?” you throw back boldly, wanting to see where this could go. An illicit thrill runs down your spine as you cross your arms under your breasts, knowing it frames them so well.

“I said you’re a little brat, and you need to learn when to shut up,” Anthony states louder, more intentionally, his eyes flitting down to your cleavage. You see out of the corner of your eye Benedict’s gaze ping-ponging between you, a bemused expression on his handsome features.

“You’re not the boss of me,” you volley back every cell alive at this challenge. You’ve always had this antagonistic, dangerously flirty vibe with El’s oldest brother whenever he comes to visit. It’s like he knows without saying what buttons to press to rile you up in every sense.

Anthony advances on you with a strong gait; you inhale sharply as he pulls up inches from you, so close you can feel his body heat—looking down at you with a clipped expression.

“If I were, you’d be quiet and over my knee by now,” he opines darkly, and you ripen, feeling your body readying for him.

Please, yes, please.

Instead, you just raise an eyebrow. “I’d like to see you try,” you goad, tossing your hair a little for good measure.

Anthony’s face morphs into a predatory smile; you have to swallow around a lump in your throat as he leans in. “You don’t stand a chance with both of us,” he cautions.

Your breath catches, your eyes flitting past him to Benedict, whose face is still one of amusement, but something else is there too, a glint, a heat in his eye you didn’t notice before. “Are you a dom too?” you ask, attempting casual. It's not even a question you bother posing to Anthony; his nose is inches from your neck, sniffing your scent, animal-like.

“I can be when the situation calls for it,” Benedict responds assuredly, pushing off where he leans nonchalantly, “and this definitely calls for it,” he adds, licking his lip and turning to face you more squarely.

“So what say you?” Anthony prompts, his voice like velvet, a hand hovering but not touching your hip, awaiting your permission to touch, to play. Respectful in a way that makes you want this, them, even more.

“I say…” you pause for dramatic effect, meeting Benedict’s eyes as your hand lands in Anthony’s hair, and he inhales sharply at the drag of your nails on his scalp. “Try me, Bridgerton.”

The challenge issued is the green light Anthony needs, grabbing your hips harshly, sure to leave fingerprints.

“Limits?” he inquires as his teeth graze your neck.

“Nothing that will scar; otherwise, let’s see what you come up with,” you return, pulse racing, being intentionally vague, wanting to see how wild they can be.

“Alright then,” he huffs, amused, “safe word?”

“Blueberry,” a soft sigh escaping your lips as he bites into you harsher.

“That’s cute,” you feel his smile against your skin.

“Exactly, just like me,” you reply precociously, and there is another chuckle—from the younger brother this time, as Benedict rounds behind you and a large hand cups your entire skull, tilting it back so you look up at him through heavy lashes.

“You’ll regret riling him up,” he warns, leaning close. “Tell me, what do you like to be called when you play like this? Hmm?” His question is sweet and considerate to ask. “Little one? Kitten? Baby girl?”

“All, any of those,” you whisper, your cupid’s bow catching his lip as you do so, Anthony’s hands sweeping down to grab your buttocks and heave you against his toned body. Benedict crowds into your back, and you feel your stomach clench as you are trapped between them.

“I like a girl who gives options,” Benedict murmurs approvingly and then he captures your lips in an almost bruising kiss, those long fingers flexing against your scalp, directing you as Anthony’s mouth slides around to your throat.

Oh, this will be excellent.

“Are you both going to get as undressed as me?” you urge as Benedict breaks the kiss.

They both laugh in response, and you feel the vibration against your front and back; it's enthralling.

“It might be best if we stay dressed for today,” Benedict answers, causing you to pout at him. “You don't think we can bring you blinding pleasure without removing our clothes?” he intuits your thoughts.

“No, I don't,” you reply honestly.

Anthony pulls you towards him, his lips ghosting yours. “Oh, then you have so much to learn about what a good dom is, baby girl. I could make you pass out and not remove an ounce of clothing.”

You gasp into his bruising kiss as Benedict's hands sweep around your sides. “He's right,” Benedict gusts into your ear, his fingers tracing the notches of your spine. “We can make you come so many times you’ll beg us to stop.”

“Yeah, right,” you goad defiantly into Anthony’s mouth, and he yanks you away by the hair at the base of your scalp.

“Challenge accepted, baby girl,” he growls.

With a nod to Benedict, you squeal as they pick you up as if you weigh nothing and move towards your bedroom, slamming open the door open so it bangs loudly against the wall and throwing you onto your bed with a force that would usually annoy you, but right now just heightens your pleasure, a little bit of rough handling sometimes increases your arousal.

They both climb onto the bed on either side of you, bracketing your body so you can't move, twining their ankles around yours so your legs are held open while guiding your hands to your headboard.

“Hold on here, and don't let go until we say so,” Anthony orders, hot in your ear. “Now, where is your vibrator?”

“Bedside drawer,” you stutter, nodding to the one over Benedict’s shoulder.

He twists around to find it as Anthony runs a finger across your bra. “How attached are you to this underwear?”

“Not particularly.”

“Good,” he states firmly, “because I am in the mood to rip it off your body.” the casual way he says it makes you gasp as Benedict turns back with your vibrator in hand, placing it onto the pillow above your head for now. They both run their hands over the plane of your body, landing on your underwear. “With both of us, this little scrap doesn't stand a chance, ” he warns.

Your gaze pings between them, your arousal rocketing as they grasp the fabric between their dextrous hands; the noise of fabric ripping fills the air. They remove the scraps of material from around your body, cool air swirling your soaked flesh where they hold your legs open.

Fuck, that is hot.

“Oh, this is lovely, kitten,” Benedict rumbles as his long fingers trail through your trimmed, shaped hair patch.

It's the first time someone has complimented your pubic hair, and watch wide-eyed as a smirk crawls across his face, his hand slipping lower. You gasp as he unerringly finds your clit and brushes against it, achingly light. Anthony’s hands are busy pulling your thighs even wider apart, then spidering up your inner thigh until his, too, reaches your folds.

“Baby girl, you are soaking for us,” his voice gravelly as you moan when he slips a finger inside you. “Oh, you like that, don't you?” he adds, his smile also dangerous.

You bite your lip and nod enthusiastically, still barely believing this is how the surprise encounter has turned out. With Benedict's fingers on your clit and Anthonys inside you, you know you are in trouble already. They know precisely what they are doing; Anthony slides a second finger inside, so you feel a stretch as Benedict hooks his thumb under your clitoral hood and starts to flick against your most sensitive nub.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, your head flopping back and then their warms lips are on your body, starting at your neck and nibbling their way down your heated collarbones to the edge of your bra.

As if timed perfectly, they each push down a cup, and their tongues swirl your nipples simultaneously; you are thrown so close to orgasm it's unbelievable. Eyes shut and crying out.

“Kitten, does it truly take so little?” Benedict laughs, trailing his nose over your nipple as he expertly teases your clit.

“I have no idea what is happening, fucking hell,” your throat dry, your mind unable to compute how quickly they are hurtling you towards an edge.

“It's evident this little brat has never had a real dom tame her before,” Anthony says airily, adding a third finger into you and wringing mortifying sounds from your body. “Holding her down and showing her just how fast she can come with…” he pauses to hook onto a spot inside that makes you squeal, “expert hands…” he adds, bemused.

“Yes, fine, okay, you win,” you exhale shakily, your pussy burning white hot, “just please, please don't stop,” you whine, your hands curled tight around the cold metal posts of your headboard.

With a glance at each other that you know is some silent communication, Anthonys' fingers rocking deeper into you and curling into a hook on every stroke as Benedict circles your clit at an increasing pace, all as their tongues tease your nipples incessantly, their bodies holding you down and open to their wonderful ministrations. A long low curse leaves your lips as you ratchet so high it's almost dizzying.

“Yes, that's it, baby girl, give it to us,” Anthony buzzes against your breast.

“Come on, kitten,” Benedict adds, surging up to capture your lips as he senses the tugging fluttering sensation around your clit.

And then you are breaking, your mind switching off, routed in the fireworks in your body, fighting them to buck your hips against the tide ripping through your body, but they won't let you, holding your legs down and open as you orgasm helplessly under their control. Your cunt clenching Anthonys' fingers so forcefully he growls.

“Brother, you have to have your fingers inside this little cunt when it orgasms; feel the power there; it’s quite amazing,” he comments casually as you float somewhere on a cloud. “I tell you, it must be absolute heaven to have that clenching around your cock.”

“Then I suggest we swap,” Benedict volleys back, bemused.

“Wha… what do you mean?” you slur drowsily, barely back in the room from your out-of-body and mind experience, moaning gently as Anthony’s fingers slip from inside you.

“Now you will come around his fingers, baby girl,” Anthony tutors.

“But I just came?” you frown, still confused.

Benedict chuckles, his hands trailing up your patch of hair to your dewy belly. “You think once is enough, kitten? Oh no, you will keep coming until we tell you otherwise,” an undercurrent of something dark and smokey in his cadence.

“But I…” you protest weakly.

“You thought we were joking?” Anthony responds incredulously, “No baby girl, you will come over and over and over.”

You swallow thickly as you realise they mean it, and you cry out as Anthony’s thumb slowly circles your clit, still swollen and throbbing from your orgasm.

“Oh god…” you whisper, feeling overwrought.

“Oh yes, come on, you should be able to come again very soon,” he lectures, “maybe harder this time.”

“Look at me,” Benedict commands, and you swing your head to the side to give him your full attention, your eyes staring into his inky blank pupils as a crooked grin claims his face, and he slips a finger inside you. Your mouth makes an undignified noise as he does, still fluttering a little from your orgasm. You feel him triumphantly studying your facial reaction as he reaches even deeper than Anthony. “Aren't you delightfully tight,” he murmurs into your cheek, and you are grateful his movements are slow, precise, gently adding a second finger and rocking into you with a rhythmic push.

“That's it, baby girl,” Anthony praises, and you sway your face towards him, letting him kiss your lips and hush you with soft brushes on your clit.

“Go easy on me,” you warn, but it's met with a hollow chuckle, and suddenly, their hands start to move faster, and you look at them in turn pleadingly.

“When will you learn, baby girl?” Anthony replies, his tone flint-edged as he flicks your clit so deftly you pant. “We are in charge here; we set the rules. The minute you tell us what to do, we will do the opposite. Until you learn not to be such… a… little… brat...” he punctuates each of the last three words with a tooth grazing around your nipple, and you are clinging to the headboard for dear life, knuckles turning white as you feel yourself pushing higher and higher.

They aren't treating you daintily, and it's precisely what you need. Your mouth hangs open; you twist to bite your own bicep as they suckle on your breasts and twine their legs higher around yours as you start to fight their hold.

“Nuh uh uh,” Anthony clucks, “don't fight us, baby girl, you know you want this, come on break again, show him what you can do,” he dares you, as Benedict's fingers feel so powerful you can't avoid what is coming.

“Oh my little kitten, I can feel you pulsing,” Benedict nuzzles your face with his nose, driving his fingers into you forcefully as Anthony circles your clit so fast you can't breathe.

Your eyes roll back, emitting a noise halfway between a squeal and a shout as you feel yourself breaking again. A dam inside you gives way, a gush of wetness as you convulse vice-like around Benedict's fingers, both of them making noises of triumphant surprise as your entire body tenses under their grip. Every fibre in you feels like it snaps then pings back. You scream so loud you are grateful this converted warehouse has such thick concrete walls.

“Wow… I had to use all my strength to fight to stay inside you there, kitten; my brother was right,” Benedict murmurs, but you can barely take it on board as his fingers slip from inside you. Incapable of doing anything but whimpering, your body experiences little aftershocks that make your brain akin to static.

And then Anthony is reaching over your head, and the trademark buzz of your vibrator starts up.

“Nononono,” you protest lightly, forgetting it was there, even as you know they aren't going to heed you. Your only way out of this is your safe word, which is the very last thing you want to utter. Anthony trails the vibrating tip in a long line down the middle of your body, your whiny protest being disregarded. You scream again as the strong pulse hits your overly sensitive nub.

“Oh god, I can't. I can't; it’s too much,” you wail, your head thrashing from side to side—it's the only thing you can move with them both restraining you.

“You can, and you will, kitten,” Benedict replies, his large hand on your belly, smearing your juices across your skin.

Your whole body is overstimulated; sweat slicks your body as you flush so hot again, your nipples burning from the shadow of stubble around their mouths, your cunt still clenching in waves, your clit almost painful, distended, throbbing so hard you swear it's where your heartbeat now lives.

“I can't come again. I can't.”

“Stop whining,” Anthony barks and presses the vibe firmly into you so you feel the waves all the way up into your public bone.

“Please no…” you wail, wracking breaths, fighting air into your lungs.

“That's not your safe word, baby girl,” Anthony reminds you as you curl your lips under your teeth, not wanting to say it by accident. “Hmm, that's what I thought,” he smirks before heavily running his tongue on your breast again.

You are cursing now, panting, unable to fight the tide approaching you yet again, so fast, so strong.

“Here it is,” he gloats, and his whole leg presses harshly on yours as your hips want to cant up high off the bed.

This time it’s a wave you feel powerless to fight, so you just let it wash over you. Every cell of your being feels electric, your body tingling as you can't stop quivering.

“Please, please, please, please,” you stutter into his lips, tears forming at the corner of your eyes, appealing for mercy, but he doesn't remove the vibrator from where it rests on your white hot clit.

“Oh baby girl, do you have any idea how beautiful you are right now?” he flatters, running a hand into your hair that is no doubt sweaty and tangled. “Kiss him,” he orders, nodding to Benedict.

Drowsily, you find yourself turning to obey.

“Good fucking girl,” Anthony hisses a compliment in your ear as Benedict's tongue invades your mouth. “It looks like you are finally behaving for your doms.”

You feel yourself slipping away slightly as Benedict breaks the kiss, falling into a space where your mind is in the backseat, willing to follow their instructions without a thought except to please them.

“Brother, I think this kitten is finally in her little submissive state,” Benedict opines, running his hand possessively on your skin, petting you like a cat.

“You are right,” Anthony concurs, and you passively smile as they look down at you.

“One more orgasm, my baby girl, then you can rest,” Anthony whispers into your cheek, and you nod blithely.

“No vibrator, please. Tongue,” you appeal meekly, twining your fingers around the metal posts you cling to.

“Oh, kitten, you want one of us to slip between your legs and suck your swollen little clit into our mouth? Bite down until you scream?” Benedict dusks in your ear, painting a debauched picture with his words.

“Please yesss,” you implore, looking at him so beseechingly.

“Whose tongue?” Anthony inquires.

“I don't mind; you are both so wonderful, sir,” you confess with a sigh, floating away.

“This was your idea,” Benedict capitulates to his elder brother. “Go ahead; I’ll hold her down and talk to her.”

Anthony nods, and you feel a crest of victory in your veins as he swings above your body and shuffles down, ploughing his tongue into your folds without preamble. He licks a strong line up to your clit, and you cry out with the slightest nudge. His strong arms wrap around your legs and pull you obscenely wide open to his ministrations; there is no way for you to battle this hold. Then Benedict is kissing you hard again, stealing your breath, the sensation of both of their tongues inside different parts of your body utterly overwhelming.

“Does that feel good, kitten?” he nudges your head to the side to whisper in your ear as Anthony feasts on your body.

“Yes sir,” your words still slurred, drunk on sensation.

“Do you promise to always be a good obedient little one for us from now on?” he queries with a smug tone.

“Yes sir,” your heart sings that they might be willing to play more with you as Anthony’s talented tongue circles your clit teasingly, making your belly tense in anticipation.

“Should I tell you what we plan to do to you next time?” he intones as he tugs your earlobe with his teeth.

“Please, yes sir,” you appeal.

“How about we take our clothes off?” he begins, and you bite your lip, eager at the idea, moaning loudly as Anthony sucks on your clit, flicking the nub with a speared tongue. “Will you get on your knees for us?” Again, you can only nod, under their spell entirely. “Good kitten,” he praises, running a hand over your breast and pinching the tip so hard you scream. “I love how responsive you are; I cannot wait to be inside your mouth, your cunt…” the way that word drips decadently from him makes you uncurl your hand from the headboard and grab his shoulder. “Put that hand back right now, you bad kitten,” he warns gently, and you immediately obey. You go to apologise, but it comes out a scream as Anthony flicks on the vibrator and pushes it into your cunt just an inch, but it's enough to make you light-headed.

“Yes, that's it; I want you to scream as I fuck you, just like that,” Benedict growls, his breath uneven, and you notice a teeming urgency as he thrusts his hard cock caged inside his jeans against your hip.

Something about his desperation makes you crave them, saying whatever pops into your head uncensored. “I want you both to fuck me so hard, sir… at the same time.”

Benedict growls a little and bites your earlobe again. “Yes, kitten, we will do that.”

You can sense the desperation in Anthony, too, the mattress moving slightly as he pushes his pelvis into it rhythmically. His suction and heated mouth are enough, but with a flick of his finger, he turns the vibrator to the maximum, and you start swirling a black hole of consciousness, the pleasure so intense that you let out a noise that sounds inhuman to your ears.

“Yes, that’s it, my little wild kitten. Let’s hear all those gorgeous noises,” is snarled against your damp forehead.

It's the last thing you hear as your mind yells too much, too much, and a sudden, intense, almost violent tidal wave sweeps you away, overwhelming everything, the world going dark and quiet….

…. You emerge from that inky place to gentle whispers and soft hands petting your body in soothing motions.

“Come back to us, baby girl,” Anthony coos, and it takes you a few moments to realise he has moved from between your legs and is at your side again. You also realise your hands are no longer wrapped around the spindles behind your head but resting gently on your tummy as they rub your shoulders, relieving the slight ache there.

Their voices continue with lavishing praise as you gradually return to your senses, running your tongue over your lips, your mouth feeling full of cotton wool.

“What happened?” you croak, barely audible.

“You blacked out on us, baby girl,” Anthony giggles, “just for a few seconds,” he reassures.

They draw you into a joint comforting embrace as your blissfully fuzzy mind comes back online, your body weak from shaking so much. You feel akin to a newborn animal, learnings your limbs and blinking in the light. When their faces come into focus, their expressions are adoring, their fingers tracing gentle patterns on your body.

“Welcome back, kitten; you are amazing,” Benedict smiles sweetly.

“Thank you,” you slur in reply, sated and so happy.

You fall asleep at their encouragement, pressed between their comforting bodies. And the best part? They are still there when you wake up again a few hours later.

They may actually assemble the desk for El…. eventually. Just maybe not tonight. Or tomorrow. Before she gets back. Maybe.

Anthony & Benedict taglists: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau

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dancingtotuyo · 18 days

Text

10. hold you from the world and it's curse

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You begin to come to terms with things. Ellie struggles with the limits of her immunity.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy related things, angst, hurt & comfort, self worth issues, Character Death, references to canon violence and gore, talk about guns & shooting people (mercifully), lots of grief, anger,

Notes: huge thank you to my constants, my rocks @ramblers-lets-get-ramblinand @janaispunk for beta reading and letting me yell and scream and break their hearts.

If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader! The final part is out now!

Words: 4933

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

When Maria was pregnant, she unashamedly let her bump grow in front of the gaze of the town. It came on with the winter months but she kept her coats unbuttoned and off while inside. She was excited, cherishing it all, marking and sharing milestones as she could. You don’t do any of it. You keep your bulky coats zipped and make sure your layers disguise your growing abdomen.

It’s not a secret by any means, but you know even in the tight-knit community of Jackson there are still people who don’t know as you approach your 23rd week of pregnancy, even if you feel twice as large at this stage as you did during your first pregnancy. It’s been getting easier to keep the layers on as the temperature falls and Christmas approaches.

But it’s only a few days from Christmas, and there’s a dance. You’ve fallen in love with the dances again. While it’s a relatively casual event as everything in Jackson is, you’re not prancing in there in your worn leggings and layered jacket. The body heat flowing between the dancing bodies is more than enough without your layer. With the extra heat you’re producing on your own, you’re sure you’d pass out in 20 minutes.

You have one option: the dress with quarter-length sleeves and a skirt that hits your knees. You basically lived in that dress when pregnant with Carter, but it accentuates your condition. That’s the last thing you’re ready for, the stares, the questions, the congratulations. You feel a vein of guilt rush through you. You shouldn’t dread people congratulating you on this.

You rest your hand on top of your swollen stomach. You’re starting to feel the baby move more often. It’s just as weird as it was with Carter, but it still sends a little thrill through you each time.

Joel walks out of the bathroom to find you sitting on the bed in his sweatshirt staring at the closet like a monster might come barreling out at any given moment. “Sweetheart,” he says. “It’s almost time to go.”

You bite at your thumbnail, the closet mocking you. It’s just a dress. Why does it feel like so much more? “We don’t have to go. Let’s just stay in.”

“After you bribed Morgan with heaven and earth to watch Carter?” He crosses his arms, eyebrows raised.

“We could just stay here? Do other things.” You shoot him a suggestive wink.

Joel seems to consider it for a moment. He surprisingly enjoys the dances. There’s something about the semblance of normalcy, and the night he kissed you in front of the whole town is a fond memory, but he likes being alone with you more. He sees through it though. You’re avoiding something.

Easing next to you, his shoulder brushes yours. He gazes at your profile as you keep your eyes pinned to the closet door. His fingertips brush along your cheek rounding behind your ear. “What’s actually buggin you?”

Chewing your lip, you finally meet his gaze, unshed tears shimmering in your eyes. “If I put on that dress, everyone is gonna know.”

He sighs, arm wrapping around your shoulders. You lean into him, your heart rate slowing. “We can’t avoid it forever.”

“I know. I just thought I could for longer.”

“Baby, you’re over halfway there,” Joel cracks a smile. “And I promise that most of the town already knows.”

“Yeah, but they don’t officially know.”

Joel wraps his arm around you, letting his hand fall over the one that rests on your bump. “We have to face it sooner or later. Maybe even embrace it?” He kisses your temple. He manages to pull a slight smile from your lips.

He rubs your arm softly as your head eases to his shoulder. “I’d really like to spin you around that dance floor, kiss ya for everyone to see. We don’t have to go for long, but I think you’ll feel better.”

You inhale deeply, nodding softly. “Help me up. I’ll get dressed.”

“Now I know you’re not that pregnant.” He grins, standing before you and pulling you to your feet anyway.

You laugh, arms wrapping around his shoulders. You sway, pressed against him for a few seconds. Your lips press against his and then he’s pressing against your hips, directing you toward the closet. “Get dressed, Sweetheart.”

He kisses your head and slips out of the bedroom. You steady yourself with a deep breath before finally opening the closet. You can do this.

Carter is sitting on Joel’s lap as he reads him a book. Morgan preps a light snack in the kitchen. You haven’t worn a dress in ages. This is the only one you own. You traded the others ages ago.

Carter sees you first, letting out a soft gasp. “Mommy, you look so pretty!”

Joel’s head snaps up, the book lowering in front of him. Carter jumps off Joel’s lap, rushing toward you. You laugh, going to your knee to accept his hug. He’s still small enough for you to pick up and spin around, squeezing him tightly too you. He laughs as you pepper his cheek with kisses. “You’re gonna listen to Miss Morgan, right?” You stare right into his eyes, keeping him at eye level with you.

Carter nods with a great solemness. His big eyes sparkle in the light, his nose pressed to yours. His bright eyes are so close to yours, so reminiscent of Gabe’s. It sends a soft ache through you that he doesn’t get to be here for these moments. “Daddy already made me promise.”

“Did he?” A grin captures your lips as you glance over to Joel.

Joel rises from the couch with a chuckle, adjusting his jeans over his hips.

“Mhmm,” Carter says, kissing your nose before he slides to the ground. He rushes off toward the kitchen. “Miss Morgan? Is my snack ready?”

Joel laughs, watching the child disappear before sliding his arms around your midsection. “You look beautiful, but that’s nothing new.”

Heat floods your cheeks. Once again you’re smiling like a flustered schoolgirl. “You gonna take me out, Miller?”

“Tempted to take you upstairs.” He winks. His hands travel down your back to your ass. No underwear lines, just as he expected to find. One of these days he’s going to figure out what you have against the damn garment. The last thing he needs to know is that you’re bare under the skirt, that when he spins you around tonight and your skirt spins you’ll feel the air moving against you.

You let out a laugh, pushing against his shoulders. “Too late for that, Miller. I put on the dress. We’re going.” You head toward the kitchen.

Joel lets out a groan trailing behind you. You give Morgan a few instructions, but she’s familiar with the routine by now. “I love you,” You kiss Carter’s cheek as he eats at the table. “Mommy and Daddy will be back after you go to sleep.”

“I know.” Carter grins proudly, face scrunching up slightly. “Love you, Mommy.”

Joel leans down, kissing Carter’s other cheek. “You behave.”

Carter cheese again, kissing both your cheeks in quick succession. “Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, bud.” He chuckles softly.

Joel pushes you toward the door, helping you into your warmest coat before you can find a way to stall. Your legs freeze on the way to the Tipsy Bison, cool air shooting right up your skirt. This might be the first time you’ve regretted your commitment to not wearing underwear.

Joel’s hand stays pressed to your back on the short walk over as if he’s trying to keep you from making a break to the safety of your home but The Tipsy Bison welcomes you in with warmth and vibrance, drowning out all your fears. When Joel helps you out of your coat, something amazing happens. The world keeps spinning. People go about their evening, seemingly oblivious to your arrival and your announcement. Throughout the night, you get a few stares and a few congratulations, you take them all with grace.

After exhausting you on the dance floor, your stamina not what it was thanks to your pregnancy, Joel guides you toward a back corner. Chairs line the wall but few people mill about on the outskirts.

“I’ll go get you some water,” Joel says, kissing your warm cheeks.

You smile at him as he weaves through the throngs of people. Before you can sit down, you catch sight of Ellie further down the line of chairs. She watches, arms resting on her knees, the cheer of the night like an outsider looking in, the rush and thrill of the night ineffective against her armor.

You tilt your head to the side before approaching. You ease beside her, letting out a soft sigh. You hook your foot under the legs of a stray chair to pull it closer so you have a place to prop your feet. Ellie doesn’t acknowledge you. She makes no movements that indicate she’s even aware of your presence.

You follow her line of sight to the opposing corner. Dina and Jesse are flirting like all of Jackson doesn’t have eyes. Cat rolls her eyes at something Chris Lamer says to her, a playful insult likely rolling off her lips. The sight brings a smile to your lips. At least within these walls, they can act like teenagers.

“You’re not feeling very social tonight?”

Ellie lets out a sigh, falling back in her chair. She shoves her hair behind her shoulder. It’s getting longer than you’ve ever seen it. She shrugs. “Just not feeling it tonight.”

“Wish I’d known that before I bribed Morgan to watch Carter.” You offer a teasing grin. She doesn’t return it, crossing her arms over her chest as she shifts in her seat. Your brow furrows. “What’s up, Ellie?”

She bristles, taking her time to find words. “You look nice tonight.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“People do that when they don’t wanna talk about things.”

“Which usually means they should talk about things.”

She glances over at you, unamused. You smile back, but she doesn’t say a word, letting her eyes fall back over to her friends.

“You know,” you say. “I didn’t want to come tonight.”

She looks surprised. “You and Joel love these things.”

“Yeah…” You nod, eyes scanning over the crowd. “But I can’t really hide this anymore.” You motion to your swollen abdomen. “Especially not in this dress. Which is about the only thing that fits me now.”

Her eyes flicker over to you, landing on your bump. You catch something in her eyes. “I thought you’d gotten used to it.”

“Don’t know that that’ll ever happen,” you sigh.

“Even with Joel moving in?”

That’s when it clicks. The changes. You should’ve known, or guessed. Joel brought the last of his things over last week. Ellie decided early on to stay in Joel’s house, or her house now.

“Ellie, if you’ve changed your mind-”

“No,” she cuts you off. “I haven’t- at least I don’t think I have.” She bites her lip, frame ridgid. “Guess I didn’t think it would feel any different. He basically lived over there already.”

“But his things are gone now.”

Her eyes snap to yours like you’ve hit the nail on the head. Her eyes look shiny under the Christmas lights strung from the rafters. She blinks a couple times.

“I didn’t think I’d miss that damn owl mug so much. I used to hate the way its eyes followed me when I was in the kitchen.”

A laugh tips out of your mouth. “Glad to hear it. I’ll smuggle it back over to you.”

Ellie’s head shakes, a smile pushing against the edges of her face. “Hell no. I said I missed it, not that I wanted it back in my house.”

The two of you laugh together until a comfortable silence forms between you. You feel like there might be another layer, but you’ve pushed as much as you can tonight surrounded by people. She’s smiling, the tension gone from her body, and that’s the most important thing right now.

“Change is hard.” Ellie says.

“So damn hard.” You agree. “Don’t make yourself a stranger, okay? I know you’re like kind of an adult in this world and a certified homeowner now.” You wink at her and she laughs with a shake of her head. “But we still want you around as much as we did. Really even more.”

“So you’re not tired of me?” she asks. She’s joking, but you catch the hint of a real question, that soft need for assurance.

Your arm wraps around her shoulders, tugging her close. “Never. I mean, who else is gonna talk to Carter about space. That shit goes right over my head.” She laughs, head falling onto your shoulder. “But in all seriousness, I don’t think I’d ever get tired of you, Ellie. You’re my family.”

“Guess I’m not very good at this family stuff.”

“We’re all still learning.”

She nods softly, waiting just a few seconds before pulling away. She looks better, lighter. Her eyes land over on her group of friends, seemingly glued to one particular female. You look between them, a knowing grin on your face. “You know, I think she’d say yes if you asked her to dance.”

Ellie’s eyes snap to you, confusion dancing in them.

“I’ve known you for years, my dear. You can’t hide much from me.”

She bites her lip as Joel finally materializes out of the crowd with your water in hand. “Sorry it took me so long. Adam was trying to rope me into trouble.”

You raise an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Stayed out of it. Cross my heart, darlin.” He leans down to kiss your cheek.

“You two are gross.” Ellie teases as she stands, stretching her arms above her head.

“Promise I can make it even grosser.” Joel chuckles, easing into the chair next to you.

“That’s not even a word.” You roll your eyes, swatting him away from you. He only laughs more, arm settling across the back of your chair, finger tips twisting and turning lightly across your shoulder.

“As much as I’d hate to see that,” Ellie says, taking a step back. She’s returned to her usual, playful self. “I’m going to join my friends.” With that, she dashes off.

You and Joel talk in hushed tones, playful flirting firing between you. He’s distracting you, definitely trying to seduce you, and it’s working. As he pulls you through the crowd, you’re surprised to see Ellie dancing with Cat.

You’re in the clinic the next afternoon when she bursts in looking wide eyed and terrified. She reminds you of the 14 year old you met two and half years ago. Your heart drops to your stomach. She was on patrol. They weren’t due back until tomorrow.

“Ellie, what-”

She collides with your chest, sobs shaking her small frame. Your arms fly around her, holding her close. Your brain wracks through names and faces. Who was she with? Who did your community lose this time? But your brain won’t work, can’t piece together who you’ve seen today tucked within the safety of the clinic and who you haven’t.

Eventually, she pulls away, eye red and swollen, cheeks flushed from crying and wind chapped. She doesn’t look any closer to sanity than when she walked in. Her eyes search frantically about.

“Ellie,” you say firmly, trying to capture her attention. She doesn’t seem to notice, slipping through your fingers when you attempt to grab her shoulders.

She scrounges through a bin until she feels the cool metal of scissors. The metal flashes in the clinic lights. She slams them down on the counter. “Cut it.”

“Cut what?” You’re confused and worried, your mind spinning as you’re still trying to process who was lost today, two days before Christmas. “Ellie-”

“My hair!” Tears stream down her hair. “I should’ve never let it get this long- I don’t even like it- and now-” Another sob breaks through, her voice cracking.

You pull her back into your arms. She fights against you. “Please, just cut it off!” She’s desperate, barely hanging on. “I want it gone.”

“Okay.” You say. “Okay. Sit down.”

She plops onto the nearest chair, eyes fixed on the letters of the eye chart straight ahead. It’s silent, nothing except the snip of the sheers. You could hear a pin drop, can hear her long tresses drop to the floor. You take it to her shoulders, about where it was when you first met her. This isn’t the first time you’ve cut her hair, but it feels like the most impactful.

“Shorter.” She says.

You place your fingers midway between her shoulders and earlobes. She shakes her head. You move a little further up and still another shake of her head. You repeat it until your fingers are right under her earlobes. Finally, you get a nod.

You hand her a hand mirror when you’re finished. She looks it over. It suits her, you think, makes her look older.

“Thanks.”

“Ellie?”

She hears the question in your voice, knows what you’re asking. She’s not sure if she can manage the words to describe the pictures looping through her mind.

“We ran into a couple infected. Got most of them except for one. I- my hair got caught on a bush.”

She holds eye contact with your reflection in the mirror. She shakes her head, the tears return. “I told Chris to go. I could handle it.”

You shudder. These are always hard, no remains to bring home, very little closure. You know first hand what it’s like, but losing teenagers on patrol is the hardest, losing someone Ellie’s age brings the danger too close.

“He came back. Put his arm in front of its mouth when it went to bite me.”

“Fuck…” it’s out of your mouth before your brain catches up.

“I told him to leave me. I had my knife. I would’ve been fine.” It's barely a whisper, her hands shake.

“Ellie.” You reach out to take the mirror from her but she slams it to the ground. It shatters.

“I would’ve been fine!” Her body shakes with all the rage it can hold, angry tears stream down her cheeks. “I had to shoot him! I would’ve been fine, but now he’s dead instead!”

You pull her into you. She tries to fight it, but you don’t let go this time, not until her tears dry up and her body stops shaking. When she pulls back, you cup her cheeks. Her voice is hoarse, scratching her throat until she settles for a whisper. “I have to do something. This can’t keep happening.”

“Ellie, it’s not your fault.”

“I think it is this time.”

Your heart breaks for her, because you see the determination set in her eyes. She’s convinced and there’s not a single thing you can say or do to change her mind.

“I could fix this. I could save people! What’s the point of everything? Why was I made immune? To watch everyone get infected and die around me?!”

“What happened to Chris wasn’t your fault.”

“He tried to save me because he thought I needed it! And then I had to put a bullet in his head. There was no reason!”

“You didn’t kill him. Cordyceps did.”

“Are you sure? Or is that just what you tell yourself so you don’t get mad at Maria for killing your husband?”

Your breath catches in your chest. You know she doesn’t mean it, but it stings. It digs deep. You had blamed her at one point, spat the words in her face, but you push it away. You apologized. She granted forgiveness. You don’t blame her anymore.

Her eyes burn with a rage you’ve never seen. You see the guilt weighing on her. You’re not sure she’ll be able to shake this one, another ghost to the host that haunts her.

It’s quiet in the clinic. You can’t explain away what she feels. This one was preventable. There was a happy ending in sight. You both know that.

“Look at my blood. I’m ready.”

“Not today.”

“Why not!?”

“You’re not in the right state of mind for this. None of us are.”

“It’s a vial of blood!”

“Not today, Ellie.” You’re firm.

“What if something happens to you? Or Joel? Or Carter? Or this baby? And I could’ve stopped it?” She’s pleading, grasping at straws.

“Another day. When you’re in a better place.”

“I can’t do nothing anymore!”

You hold her gaze. She’s stubborn, but so are you. She’s like a deer stuck in headlights, mind darting between rushing forward or darting back until it’s frozen. Then she’s gone in the blink of any eye. Only then do you allow room for your emotions to fill the empty clinic.

You’re alone for maybe an hour before Joel finds you face up on one of the cots, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes. He lets out a long sigh, kneeling at your bedside. His hand runs over your head as you turn your head to him.

“I take it you heard?”

“From the source herself.”

Joel inhales sharply. “She wouldn’t talk to me when I went over.”

You take a deep breath, chest quivering as you do. You ease into a sitting position. Joel helps you up. Your feet dangle over the side. He sits next to you, arm supporting your back.

“She feels guilty?” Joel asks.

“She’s blaming herself.” You run a hand over your face. “Chris put himself between her and the infected. Got bit so she wouldn’t.”

“Shit.” Joel cringes.

You nod, keeping the rest to yourself. It doesn’t feel right to share the rest of what happened. You walk home together. The town feels silent. You pass a few people on the street, but they’re mostly in their homes, holding their families close.

Maria comes out of Ellie’s house as you reach your congregation of houses. Unspoken words pass between you and your oldest friend. Joel kisses your head.

“I’ll go get Carter from Tommy’s,” he says, leaving you and Maria.They nod to each other in passing.

“She tell you?”

Maria nods. You catch the tension in her chest, even under her many layers. She’s reliving it too.

“You know that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” You’ve rarely heard her voice quiver.

Your arms wrap around her. She holds on to you. “I know.” You don’t have more tears to shed, but you would if you did. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that… now.” Maria sighs, arms staying around you. “She doesn’t. Not sure she ever will.”

“I know.”

The two of you stand in the middle of the street, depending on each other for support until Joel and Tommy pull you inside, worried you might freeze. You spend the evening at Tommy and Maria’s. It’s mostly quiet. Joel plucks at the strings of his guitar. He’s only missing one string now. Elias plays contently in the corner. Carter sits beside Joel, intently watching the way his fingers play across the frets. You’re doing what the rest of the town is, leaning on family for support.

Eventually, the front door opens. Dina and Jesse pull Ellie inside. She looks like a ghost of herself, eyes skirting around trying to figure out who she should sit beside. You get the feeling you weren’t the only one who got snapped at today.

“We didn’t want to leave her alone,” Dina says.

You pick up the blanket on your lap, making room for her next to you on the couch. Her head picks up, looking for permission, like you might reject her after what she said earlier. You only nod your head and she’s falling beside you, curling up in a ball, head tucked into your side. You wrap the blanket around her.

“Thank you.” You smile up at Dina and Jesse.

They nod. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Ellie,” Dina says. Ellie manages a small nod.

The pair leaves and the quiet settles again. Joel is more thoughtful in his chord progressions, humming a soft melody. Carter makes his way toward you. He peers down at her.

“I like your hair, Ellie,” He whisper yells. Ellie’s lips tip up just a little bit, but she doesn’t move otherwise. “I hope you feel better soon.” He kisses her cheek before wiggling in between you and Maria on your other side.

Joel’s voice starts to raise as he sings. His voice has polished some the past few years, after being dormant for two decades. It reminds you more what he sounded like before the outbreak. Carter is asleep before the first song ends. As Joel transitions into another song, there’s movement in your womb. It’s happened more lately, but this picks up. Whatever the baby can hear, it likes.

You peel through your knowledge of gestational benchmarks. You’re approaching the mark that it would be able to hear sounds outside of your womb, your voice, Joel’s. The kicking ramps up. You shift and Ellie picks her head up. “Should I-��

“No, you’re fine.” You both keep your voices low.

But she looks unsure as you shift again. You let out a soft sigh, taking her hand and pressing it into the firm mass just above your hip. Her brow furrows and then she feels it, a firm thud right under her hand.

“Woah… That’s so weird.”

You smile. “You can hit back.” She looks confused. “Just nudge back. I promise, it doesn’t hurt.”

She does, a little soft at first and then harder. There’s a pause and then a double tap against her hand again.

Ellie laughs. She actually laughs. Joy flashes across her face. Her hand doesn’t move for the rest of the evening.

Joel is curled around you in bed that night, holding you tightly to him. Ellie sleeps in the downstairs guest room and you’re 98% sure you heard Carter’s footsteps head down stairs as soon as your bedroom door closed. It would hardly be the first time he’s crawled into bed with her.

Joel can feel the baby moving around under his arm. He doesn’t say anything about it, but you can feel the faint smile against your neck. Tonight with Ellie, the smile on her face as she essentially played with the baby, your baby sticks in your brain. You meant it to cheer her up, figured it would slide into that category of weird but cool. It seemed to, but it was really the first time you’d embraced the pregnancy, and it felt good.

“You think Ellie’s gonna be okay?” He asks.

You bite your lip, contemplating your response. You get a literal punch to the gut, getting out a soft grunt.

Joel chuckles. “That was a hard one.”

Something sprouts in your chest. He’s never directly acknowledged feeling the baby even though you know he has before tonight. You’re okay with it.

“The baby seemed to like your singing tonight.”

Joel’s arms tighten around you. His smile grows. “That so?”

“Yeah,” You lay your hand on top of his. “Guess you’ll have to sing more often.”

“Suppose I will.”

Silence falls again. You know he’s still waiting patiently for your response to his first question. You give it a minute.

“I think it’s going to take a long time.” You roll over so you can face him. He cups your face, thumb running across your cheek.

He nods, mouth opening to say something before he closes it, eyes roaming over your moonlit features.

“What is it?”

He sighs. “Just thought of something, but I shouldn’t-”

“What?”

“If we were out, and I got infected- I’d take care of it myself. I wouldn’t make you do that. Wouldn’t make anyone do it.”

You run your finger over the scar on his temple. It’s a serious conversation, one you hate the idea of, but you can’t help the teasing remark that comes out. “You so sure about that?”

Joel takes your hand in his, kissing each of your fingers. “To protect you, I’d do anything, Sweetheart.”

You let out a shaky breath, touching your forehead to his. “I think you’d have to put the bullet in my head.”

“Ain’t ever gonna happen. I’ll make sure of that.”

You want to shake your head at the chivalry, at the thing he can’t promise, but somehow you still believe him. Joel Miller will learn how to turn back time before he lets anything or anyone near you.

His hand falls back to your stomach, running over and around your bump. You inhale deeply, feeling drawn toward sleep.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hmmm?”

“If it’s something else that gets me… where I’m not putting you in danger…”

“Joel,” You want him to stop. You can’t think of that happening. You can’t think about him not coming back to you in one piece. Especially after what happened to Paul this summer. Especially now that you’re pregnant.

“I want the last thing I hear to be your voice. Not a gunshot. That’s all.” He rubs your back.

Tears gather under the lids of your closed eyes. He’s thought about this. You fight the constricting happening in your chest, remind yourself this is all hypothetical.

“Okay.” You manage, wrapping your arms around his neck. “When we’re both old and senile, I’ll make sure to tell you goodnight so that it’s the last thing you ever hear.”

He chuckles lightly, kissing your temple. “Okay.”

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