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hoshifighting · 2 months

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Arranged Marriage

Synopsis: Where you and Minghao parents had this grand scheme to merge their companies by marrying you off, thinking it'd be a brilliant business move. Determined to stake your claim and keep your marriage intact, your make a bold move during a business party— planting a lipstick-stained kiss on Minghao's lips and yanking him by his tie, leaving no doubt that he's yours and yours alone.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Smut, throat fucking, blowjob, fingering, penetrative sex, public make out, jealous kiss, angst, forced marriage, mentions of diets.

You're standing there in this fancy white dress, all sparkly and shiny, making your way down the aisle to where Minghao's waiting. He's looking all sharp in his suit, with his hair on point and a little smirk on his face. But as you're walking towards him, you can't help but remember the last time you two really talked was at some boring company event.

Now here you are, about to say your vows like you actually mean them. But deep down, you know it's all just a bunch of lies. You and Minghao both know it. It's all for show, to make your parents' company look good. And the worst part is, everyone at this big fancy wedding knows it too.

The party's huge, like a wedding and a business conference all mashed together. People you've never seen before are milling around, probably part of some shady business deal your parents cooked up. It's like this whole thing isn't even about love or unity anymore. It's just one big networking event disguised as a wedding.

But you go through the motions anyway, smiling and nodding like everything's perfect. You exchange vows that are as fake as the smiles plastered on both of your faces. And as the night goes on, you can't shake the feeling that this whole thing is just a sham. A pretty, expensive sham, but a sham nonetheless.

You watch as people schmooze and mingle, making deals and connections left and right. And you can't help but wonder if this is what your future holds too. A life of pretending, of smiling for the cameras while behind closed doors, it's all just business as usual.

But for now, you paste on your best fake smile and dance the night away, pretending that everything's okay. Because that's what you do when you're part of a family like yours. You put on a show, no matter what's really going on behind the scenes.

You're feeling suffocated by the crowd inside, like the tightness around your waist is almost causing claustrophobia. So you slip away to the backyard, sneaking a slice of cake from the waiters. Your mom had you on some ridiculous diet for a whole week leading up to this wedding, all so you could look "good" in your dress.

You plop down on a wooden bench, the dress spreading out in a big poof around you. Just as you're about to take a much-needed bite of cake, you're interrupted by a voice.

"Why isn't the bride inside enjoying her own party?" The voice belongs to Minghao, hands in his pockets as he stands there, looking at you.

You scoff, shooting him a look. "I'm sure no one's noticed. They're all too busy discussing the stock market or whatever." Your tone is sharp, the underlying tension between you and Minghao palpable.

Minghao snorts, clearly not impressed by your response. "Yeah, well, maybe if you spent less time worrying about your parents' company and more time actually enjoying life, you wouldn't be stuck in this mess."

You bristle at his comment, feeling a surge of anger rising within you. "Oh please, like you have any room to talk. Last time I checked, you were just as tangled up in all of this as I am."

Minghao's expression darkens, and for a moment, you worry you've gone too far.

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a half-eaten slice of wedding cake. You watch him go, feeling a mix of frustration and something else you can't quite name. Maybe it's just the champagne talking, but for a brief moment, you can't help but wonder what life would be like if you weren't tied down by expectations and obligations.

You stare at Minghao, disbelief written all over your face as you take in the sight of the one hotel room your parents booked for the both of you. A single queen-sized bed sits in the center of the room, effectively splitting the space into two halves. You shoot a glance at Minghao, and from the look in his eyes, you can tell he's just as shocked as you are.

The tension between you is palpable as you both stand there, sharing silent but deadly gazes. Finally, you break the silence, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, isn't this just perfect? Our parents booking us one room to 'get used' to each other. As if this whole shit wasn't enough already."

Minghao lets out a scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, because nothing says 'happily ever after' like forcing two strangers to share a bed on their wedding night."

You bite back a retort, opting instead for a more diplomatic approach. "Look, I think it's only fair that I take the bed and you can sleep on the couch."

Minghao raises an eyebrow, his expression incredulous. "And why is that?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You roll your eyes, feeling irritation bubbling up inside you. "Because I'm the bride, for one," you retort, "and two, I've been on my feet all night, walking around in a dress that weighs a ton and heels that could rival skyscrapers. I think I deserve a decent night's sleep."

Minghao lets out a short, humorless laugh. "Oh, please. Do you even know how exhausting it is to be the groom? I've been dealing with people all night, pretending to be someone I'm not, just like you."

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms defiantly. "Fine," you say, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips, "then let's settle this once and for all. Who's more tired: the bride who's been carrying around twelve kilograms of dress and heels all night, or the groom who's been putting on a show for hours on end?"

Minghao looks at you for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he's trying not to smile. But then he shakes his head, a look of resignation crossing his face. "You win," he says, finally relenting, "you can have the bed."

You smirk triumphantly, feeling a small sense of victory despite the absurdity of the situation. And as you crawl into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin.

The next day rolls around, and before you even have a chance to properly wake up, you're thrown into a meeting. Brunch with both families sounds nice in theory, but when Minghao's dad starts putting papers on the table and declaring, "Let's get to what matters," you realize this isn't going to be a typical family gathering.

You try to maintain a facade of composure, but the discomfort gnaws at you like a persistent itch. So you do what you've gotten used to doing – you look down, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room.

Minghao notices immediately, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. His cheeks flush with embarrassment from his father's directness, but you can't bring yourself to look up and meet his eyes. The weight of expectation hangs heavy in the air, and you can practically taste the tension swirling around the table.

As Minghao's dad starts talking about business deals and partnerships, you try to focus on the sound of his voice rather than the sinking feeling in your stomach. But no matter how hard you try to block it out, you can't shake the feeling that you're just a pawn in someone else's game – a game you never asked to play.

You steal a glance at Minghao, but his expression is unreadable, his mask firmly in place. And in that moment, you realize just how alone you really are in this world of high-stakes deals and empty promises.

You're lounging on the couch, the TV blaring in the background, but your mind is miles away. The penthouse feels emptier than ever, despite being filled with all the trappings of luxury. You and Minghao live under the same roof, yet it feels like you might as well be living on opposite ends of the earth. Separate rooms, separate lives, with only a perfunctory "good morning" or "good night" exchanged between you.

The loneliness weighs heavy on your chest, suffocating you with its presence. You long for something more, something real, but it feels like an impossible dream in this gilded cage you've found yourself trapped in.

You're lost in the numbing glow of the television when your phone buzzes with a notification. It's Minghao, informing you of a press conference he's scheduled for later that night. You furrow your brow, puzzled by the sudden announcement.

But it's his last message from the previous night that catches your attention. "Can you at least put on your best smile tonight?" he'd asked, a request that feels more like a demand. And you can't help but feel a pang of frustration at his presumption.

You make your way to his room, finding him hunched over his computer, the glow of the screen casting harsh shadows across his face. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms as you watch him for a moment before speaking up.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, your voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. "Put on my best smile? What's that supposed to mean?"

Minghao looks up from his computer, his expression unreadable. "It means exactly what it sounds like," he replies coolly, his tone clipped. "We both know how important appearances are in our world. So why not make an effort for once?"

You roll your eyes, feeling the anger bubbling up inside you. "I think you mean that you want me to play the dutiful wife once again, to plaster on a fake smile and pretend like everything's fine," you snap, the bitterness seeping into your words.

Minghao's jaw tightens, and for a moment, it looks like he's about to argue back. But then he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly tired and defeated. "Look, I know this isn't what either of us wanted," he says, his voice softer now, tinged with regret. "But it's what we have to do. For our families, for the company."

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "Is that really all that matters to you? The company? "But fine," you say through clenched teeth, pushing yourself away from the doorframe. "I'll put on my best smile tonight. But don't expect me to enjoy it."

You sit in the backseat of the chauffeur-driven car, your gaze fixed on the passing landscape outside the window. The skyscrapers blur into a haze of steel and glass, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside your mind.

Minghao breaks the silence with a casual remark, his tone tinged with amusement. "You don't look like someone who agreed to the terms of our agreement," he observes, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

You let out a frustrated huff, tearing your eyes away from the window to glare at him. "Yeah, well, maybe I need some time before I can fully commit to this whole acting profession," you retort, your words dripping with bitterness.

Minghao presses his lips together, trying to suppress a laugh at your expense. The corners of his mouth twitch with amusement, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he looks away, pretending to be absorbed in the passing scenery.

You bristle at his reaction, feeling a surge of indignation coursing through you. "What's so funny?" you demand, your voice sharp with irritation.

Minghao shakes his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Nothing," he replies casually, his tone disarmingly nonchalant. "I mean, take all the time you need… Just try not to look too pitiful when we walk through those doors."

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

As the chauffeur stops and opens the door for you, signaling your arrival at the event, Minghao's voice cuts through the silence.

"Hand," he says simply, holding out his hand towards you.

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a skeptical look. "Excuse me?" you reply, not quite sure you heard him correctly.

Minghao's lips twitch into a smirk as he repeats himself, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I said, hand," he repeats, his tone playful yet insistent.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at his audacity, but begrudgingly, you reach out and grab his hand, almost aggressively. His grin widens as he intertwines his fingers with yours, the touch surprisingly delicate despite the underlying tension between you.

As you and Minghao step into the event, hand in hand, you can feel the weight of your parents' surprised stares on you. Their eyebrows shoot up in disbelief at the sight of you two holding hands, a rare display of unity between the two families.

Minghao squeezes your hand gently, a small smirk playing on his lips as he catches your parents' reaction. "See?" he murmurs softly, leaning in close to you. "It's easy. A little thing like this makes them happy."

You can't help but feel a surge of resentment bubbling up inside you at his words. Easy for him to say, you think bitterly. He's always been the one who effortlessly falls into line, who knows exactly how to play the game to get what he wants.

But despite your inner turmoil, you force a tight smile and nod in agreement, not wanting to cause a scene in front of your parents. "Yeah, easy," you echo, your voice strained as you try to keep up the facade.

As the long-winded speeches from the ambassadors drone on, you find yourself sinking deeper into your chair, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. Minghao leans in close, his voice a soft whisper against your ear as he asks if you want something from the bar. You shake your head, declining his offer with a tired sigh.

He nods in understanding and excuses himself, disappearing into the crowd for a moment. But as the minutes drag on and the speech finally reaches its conclusion, Minghao still hasn't returned. Your eyes scan the room, searching for any sign of him, and that's when you spot her – a woman leaning in close to him, her body language oozing with flirtation.

Your stomach churns with a mix of anger and disbelief. What does she think she's doing? That's your husband she's flirting with, for crying out loud. You glance down at your wedding ring, then back at Minghao, then down at your ring again, the weight of it heavy on your finger.

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you stand up from the table, your movements cautious as you make your way over to them. Fuck, you hate that you're doing this right now, but you can't just sit idly by while some random woman tries to make a move on your husband.

Minghao's eyes widen in surprise as he catches sight of your determined gaze, and for a brief moment, you almost feel guilty for interrupting. But then you remember who you are – his wife – and the guilt fades away, replaced by a steely resolve.

"I have a wife," Minghao's voice cuts through the air, firm and unwavering, as you approach him and the woman who's been flirting with him. His words send a jolt of surprise through you, momentarily halting your steps.

But before you can even react, Minghao continues, his tone tinged with irritation, "And she's storming over here, so please, just leave me alone."

"Hi, Hao," you greet Minghao as you finally reach him, unable to hide the hint of irritation in your voice. "You took a long time. What happened?"

Minghao's eyes widen slightly at your abrupt approach, and he stammers for a moment before the woman beside him interjects, "Oh, she's your friend?"

Minghao's response is immediate and almost defensive. "No, I don't know her," he says quickly, his tone betraying his discomfort.

You can't help but suppress a smirk at his awkwardness, feeling a small surge of satisfaction at seeing him squirm. "Nice to meet you," you say smoothly, extending your hand to the woman. "I'm Mrs. Xu."

The woman's eyes widen in surprise as she takes your hand, clearly caught off guard by your assertive introduction. "Oh, um, nice to meet you too," she replies, her voice slightly shaky.

You turn your attention back to Minghao, noting the relief in his eyes as you come to his "rescue." Poor Minghao, you think to yourself, feeling a twinge of sympathy for him despite your earlier annoyance. He clearly didn't know how to handle the situation, and the sight of you coming to his aid seems to help him breathe a little easier.

The woman walks away, leaving you and Minghao standing there in the aftermath of the awkward encounter. You turn to him, your expression a mix of frustration and concern.

"Come on, Minghao," you begin, your voice low but firm. "You need to know how to handle situations like that. What if people who know our family saw that? It could cause all sorts of rumors and complications."

Minghao's jaw tightens as he meets your gaze, a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. "I didn't ask for her to approach me," he retorts, his tone defensive. "I told her I have a wife. What more do you want from me?"

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair as you try to keep your temper in check. "I just want you to be more aware of how your actions reflect on both of us," you reply, your voice tinged with exasperation. "We're married, Minghao. That means we have to think about each other's reputations and how our behavior affects them."

Minghao's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a stubborn set to his jaw as he crosses his arms over his chest. "I know that," he says, his voice quieter now, more subdued. "But sometimes things happen, and I can't control them."

You shake your head, feeling a surge of frustration rising within you. "That's not an excuse, Minghao," you say firmly. "We both have to do better if we want this marriage to work. We have to be a team."

Minghao's lips twitch into a smirk of his own, a challenge flashing in his eyes as he steps closer to you. "Oh, is that so, Mrs. Xu?" he replies, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "And what exactly would it take for me to earn back the privilege of being called by my first name?"

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh at his cheekiness. "Maybe if you stopped getting yourself into awkward situations with random women at parties," you shoot back, unable to resist the opportunity for a playful jab.

Minghao feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "Hey now, that wasn't entirely my fault," he protests, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Besides, you were the one who came to my rescue, remember?"

Minghao's playful grin falters as you shoot him a pointed look, hands firmly planted on your hips. "Am I wrong now? What should I do then?" you challenge, your tone laced with frustration.

He shrugs, his expression sheepish as he searches for an answer. "You need to make them know I'm your husband," he suggests vaguely, a glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes.

You narrow your gaze, a surge of determination coursing through you as you follow his line of sight to the woman who had been eyeing him earlier. She's still watching him, her gaze lingering a little too long for your liking.

"Fine then," you declare, your jaw set in determination. Without another word, you reach out and grab Minghao by the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Before he can protest, you press your lips to his in a firm, possessive kiss.

For a moment, Minghao freezes, his hands hovering uncertainly in the air. But then, as if realizing what's happening, he responds eagerly, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair as the kiss deepens.

You trail kisses along his neck, feeling a low hum of satisfaction reverberate through him. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer as you continue to explore the sensitive skin of his neck with your lips.

When you pull back slightly, his eyes meet yours, a hint of mischief dancing in their depths. You reach up and gently tug on his bottom lip, a silent invitation for him to surrender completely to the passion between you.

Minghao's lips part in response, his eyes darkening with desire as he leans in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, the intensity of the moment threatening to consume you both.

As you finally break the kiss, your lips swollen and tingling with the taste of him, you look at his face, satisfied with your handiwork. His lips, jaw, and neck are adorned with smudges of your red lipstick, a visible testament that being arranged or not, he is your husband.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you reach out and grab Minghao by the tie, tugging him gently but firmly in the direction of the exit. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your sudden assertiveness, but he follows your lead without hesitation.

As you walk through the party, you make no effort to hide the fact that you're leading Minghao out by his tie. You want everyone to see, especially that woman who dared to flirt with him earlier. With each step, you feel a surge of satisfaction knowing that you're marking your territory, making it abundantly clear to anyone watching that Minghao belongs to you.

People turn to look as you pass by, their curious glances met with a confident smile from you and a sheepish grin from Minghao. You hold your head high, your grip on his tie unwavering as you guide him through the crowd.

Finally, you reach the exit, and with one last glance around the room, you pull Minghao outside, the cool night air washing over you both. Alone at last, you turn to him with a victorious smirk.

"Well, that was fun," you say, a hint of laughter in your voice as you release his tie. "But I think we've made our point. Shall we get out of here?"

Minghao chuckles, shaking his head in amusement as he takes your hand in his. "Absolutely," he replies, a warmth in his eyes as he looks at you. "Anywhere you want to go, Mrs. Xu."

As soon as you step through the door of your home, you're wrapped up in a frenzy of passionate kisses with Minghao. Clothes, shoes, and his tie fly off haphazardly as you stumble towards the nearest surface, unable to keep your hands off each other.

Between kisses, Minghao pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. "I didn't know you were that jealous," he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You hiss in response, your breath catching in your throat as his lips trail along your skin. "I wasn't jealous," you protest, your voice tinged with frustration. "I was just...rescuing you, you bastard!"

Minghao laughs at your outburst, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Hmm, just like a predator," he teases, his hands roaming over your body with a newfound confidence.

You scoff at his comment, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "You've seen nothing yet," you reply, meeting his gaze with a challenge in your eyes.

Minghao's eyes light up with excitement as he looks at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Yeah," you confirm with a smirk, pulling him in for another kiss.

But then, his hand moves to the top of your head, gently guiding you downwards until your knees find the ground. You look up at him with a mixture of desire and anticipation, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you eagerly await his next move.

With a shaky breath, Minghao pulls himself free from his pants, his cock standing proudly before you. You wrap your hand around it, feeling the heat and hardness of him beneath your touch. A wicked grin plays at your lips as you tap the tip of his cock against your face, biting your lip in anticipation.

Minghao lets out a shaky moan at the provocative sight before him, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you. "Fuck, you're so damn sexy," he groans, his voice rough with need. "You know exactly what you're doing to me, don't you?"

You smirk up at him, your hand still wrapped around his cock as you tease him with your lips. "Mmm, maybe," you purr, your voice dripping with seduction. "But I want to hear you say it. Tell me how much you want me, Minghao."

His breath hitches as he meets your gaze, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guides you closer to him. "I want you more than anything," he confesses, his voice thick with desire. "I need you, baby. Please, show me how much you want me too."

You eagerly lower your mouth onto Minghao's throbbing cock, sucking greedily as you take him deeper and deeper into your mouth. You can feel him thrusting his hips, the need for more driving him to move against you.

Your hands slide down to his thighs, giving him the freedom to move as he pleases. His fingers tangle in your hair, guiding your movements as he sets the pace, his hips rocking against you in a rhythm of his own making.

As you take him deeper, you close your eyes, relaxing your jaw to accommodate his length. Minghao's voice breaks through the haze of pleasure, his words a gentle reminder of his concern for your well-being.

"Tap if you need to breathe," he murmurs, his hand tightening in your ponytail as he continues to move his hips.

You press your hand against his thigh in affirmation, letting him know that you're okay as you continue to take him deeper, your throat working to accommodate his length. Minghao lets out a low groan of pleasure, his hips moving in tandem with your movements as you both chase the pinnacle of ecstasy.

Between thrusts, Minghao's voice fills the air with a husky whisper. "God, you feel so fucking good," he moans, his words driving you to take him even deeper. "You're amazing, baby. Just keep going, just like that."

As Minghao's cock throbs in your mouth, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Drool drips from your chin, a testament to your eagerness and arousal, as you continue to take him deeper, your mouth working tirelessly to please him.

With each throb of his cock, you can feel the tension building, the heat of his arousal radiating through you. Your eyes roll back in your head, lost in a haze of pleasure as you surrender yourself completely to the ecstasy of the moment.

And as Minghao's cock pulses in your mouth, you know that you've pushed him to the edge, his release imminent. With one final throb, he cries out your name, his body tensing as he spills his cum into your waiting mouth.

You swallow eagerly, savoring the taste of him. You moan softly as Minghao's lips meet yours again, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, and he slowly guides you towards his room.

As you fall onto the bed, Minghao's fingers trace lazy patterns along your inner thighs, making you squirm beneath his touch, unable to hide your arousal as he gazes down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

"You're so wet…" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he continues to tease you with his fingers.

Minghao's lips curl into a smug grin as his fingers trailing lower until they reach the damp fabric of your panties. With agonizing slowness, he begins to peel them away, revealing your glistening folds to his hungry gaze.

"Tell me what you want, baby" he whispers, his voice a low growl in your ear as he leans in close. "Tell me how you want me to make you feel."

You arch your back, aching for his touch as you meet his gaze with a sultry smirk. "I want your fingers inside me, Minghao" you breathe, your voice dripping with desire. "I want you to make me come so fucking hard"

Minghao's eyes darken with lust as he hears your words, his fingers finding their way to your slick entrance. With a wicked grin, he plunges his slender fingers deep inside you, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, he finds it – that deep spot that sends electric jolts shooting through you. Your pussy clenches around his fingers in response, a desperate attempt to hold your orgasm.

But Minghao isn't finished yet. With a wicked grin, he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers his intentions. "You're not going to cum yet," he murmurs. "Let me hit that spot with my cock, then you can cream around it as much as you want."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, with the promise of what's going to come. With a nod of agreement, you bite your lip in anticipation, eager for the moment when Minghao will fuck you with his cock.

As Minghao positions himself above you, his gaze locked with yours in a silent promise of pleasure to come, you sneak a peek at his cock. It's long, with bulging veins and dripping with pre-cum, making it clear he's rock hard and ready to go. The contrast with his slender body just makes it look even bigger.

Before you can even think of a response, Minghao speaks up, his voice low and husky. "You ready for me, baby?" he asks, his eyes smoldering with desire.

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can get a word out, his cock is stretching you out, leaving you breathless and speechless as he fills you completely.

As soon as Minghao finds your g'spot, your pussy immediately tightens around him, milking him with such intensity that he has to hold himself back from coming right then and there. His pretty moans only serve to heighten your own arousal, making it even harder for you to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure as he tries to control himself. He hopes that you'll stop clenching, but as soon as he hits that spot again, he hisses in response, the sensation driving him wild.

Realizing that he's in danger of cumming too early, Minghao decides to focus on fucking you in just the right way, hitting that spot with precision and intensity. He squirms, desperate for you to climax first, knowing that your pleasure will only fuel his own.

With each thrust, each movement, the pleasure builds between you, reaching a fever pitch that threatens to consume you both. Minghao's hips move in a steady rhythm, his cock driving deeper and deeper into you with each thrust, his own pleasure mounting with each passing second.

And then, finally, it happens. You reach the peak of ecstasy, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm as pleasure washes over you in relentless waves. Your pussy clenches around Minghao's cock, milking him for all he's worth as he loses control, his own release crashing over him in a tidal wave of pleasure.

With a tired groan, Minghao collapses beside you, his body spent from the intensity of your shared passion. He turns to you with a lazy smile, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction.

"If I'd known all it took to get you to kiss me was making you jealous, I would've done it ages ago," he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

You roll your eyes, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "I wasn't jealous," you protest, crossing your arms over your chest.

Minghao raises an eyebrow, his expression incredulous. "Imagine if you were then" he scoffs, his tone teasing. "I don't think we'd be here right now if you weren't just a little bit jealous."

You huff in mock indignation, but deep down, you know he's right.

ou nudge Minghao playfully, a smile dancing on your lips. "Well, lucky for you, a little jealousy was all it took," you quip, teasing him.

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling as he gazes at you. "I guess I'll have to remember that for next time," he replies, his voice tinged with amusement.

You laugh, shaking your head in mock exasperation. "Oh, so there's going to be a next time now?" you tease, raising an eyebrow.

Minghao grins, leaning in closer to you. "Count on it," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he brushes his lips against yours.

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pimosworld · 1 month

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Hi it’s me!! Since you are open to requests, could you please do a very fluffy smut with Joel where the reader is very insecure about her body and he makes her feel loved and it’s just so sweet?? In need of a comfort daddy Joel 🥺

Pairing- Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary- Joel wants you to see your body the way he does, a work of art.

CW-18+, MDNI, NSFW, A smidge of angst because (body image issues), Fluff,miscommunication, reader is not described other than not feeling herself lately, Soft dom Joel, smut, body worship, mirror sex, fingering, unprotected piv, cream pie, self acceptance, no use of y/n

WC-2.0k

[Joel Miller Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

A\N- My first Joel request and I would say I was feeling inspired by some body issues I’ve had lately. Thank you anon for this lovely request I hope I did it justice.

Clothing optional

There was a war going on in your house. Two separate wars to be exact, although you personally had no idea about one of them.

You’re currently on the frontlines in your room with a pile of mass casualties on the floor beside you. As you stand and face the mirror in front of you it’s unclear who the enemy is. Logic would have you believe it’s the clothes, the clothes that fit not long ago…that much you’re sure of. The cruel part of your brain, the part you couldn’t seem to shut off was telling you the enemy was your body. This body that has carried you through life, through ups and downs, through grief and happiness. Yet you stand here and shame it, calling it the enemy.

This dress, one that you were never really that fond of but could always rely on it fitting was the straw that broke the camel's back. It hugs in all the wrong places and definitely seems shorter than you remembered the last time you put it on. The lace at the seams is frayed a little and you swore you heard a stitch pop when you tried to unzip yourself. Now you’re frozen in fear that you’re stuck in this godforsaken thing and you’ve still not figured out what you’re wearing to impress Joel’s business partners. He was always so put together, what could they possibly think of you by his side.

“Sugar ya in there?” A knock on the bedroom door and Joel’s sweet voice causes you to panic.

You’re not even close to being ready. Tears streaming down your face, makeup ruined and your claustrophobia is aching to get out of this dress.

“Don’t come in.” Your garbled voice is evident all rushed out in a frenzy as you hear the door swing open.

****

The other war.

A war that’s been silently brewing in the house over the last few weeks. Joel noticed something different about you. It took him a lot longer than he’d cared to admit once he realized. He knew your body in and out. Every freckle, every line, every scar or birthmark. He’d made it his mission in life to be able to pick you out of a lineup blindfolded, only tasked with his hands or his mouth.

He was insatiable for you.

He never understood when other men would say that after some time you won’t be as obsessed with each other. After marriage things become monotonous and it feels like a chore. He loved chores, being able to complete a task. If loving you and worshiping your body was a chore then he wanted that duty everyday.

At first he thought he must’ve said or done something to upset you. He knew his mouth could be pretty reckless at times so he gave you a few days to cool off.

When you shy away from him or insisted your shirt stayed on during sex he started to grow suspicious. Maybe he hadn’t told you enough how much he appreciated your body. He thought he did a pretty good job of it but things get complicated when you’re in the heat of the moment. He made your brain go all fuzzy and it was hard to concentrate on what he was sayin’.

He’d had just about had enough when he walked into the kitchen the other day. You were reaching something high up on the shelf. Instead of asking if you needed help he just stood there ogling you as your shorts rode up, exposing the bottom of your ass. He wanted to sink his teeth into it. He wanted to grip your thighs and bend you over the counter. He could just imagine it as he pounded into you from behind while you screamed his name, the ripples from his thrusts dancing across your skin. You looked so startled when you saw him there, his eyes blown black with lust as he stepped towards you. His heart broke a little when you scurried away and returned aggressively wrapping your robe around you.

****

A peace offering.

You knew there was no way he was staying outside at any sign of your distress. He enters your shared bedroom slowly like he’s approaching a frightened animal. You’re sure you look like one in your state.

He’s quite the opposite. Crisp black on black suit, his hair combed back out of his face to show off those beautiful brown eyes. His cologne wafts towards you with hints of bergamot and cedar wood. Just the sight of him has you weak in the knees.

“You wanna tell me what’s got ya all worked up?” He takes a tentative step towards you as you shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself.

He clicks his tongue, hating how defeated you look right now. “Listen sugar, I’m gonna count to ten.” He gently unfurls your arms from you and wraps them around his middle. “And by the time I get to ten.” You take a shuddering breath against his chest relishing in the comfort he’s bringing you. “You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong.”

“One.”

“None of my clothes fit, I hate the way I look right now and I don’t want to embarrass you tonight because I look ridiculous standing next to you in some dress that I hate.” It’s all rushed out and muffled into his chest as he cradles your head and rocks you back and forth.

“Is that all?” He teases as you nod your head. “I’m thinkin’ maybe there’s a little more.”

“Two.”

“Well…the other day.” You let out an exasperated sigh as you look up at him. “You were starin’ at me, in the kitchen. I couldn’t tell what you were thinking, but it didn’t look good.”

He thinks for a moment, back to his thoughts in the kitchen and you must have read him all wrong.

Joel steps back from you briefly as he undoes his tie, letting it drop to the floor. “The other day in the kitchen.” His hands start to work at the buttons on his dress shirt as he shucks it off his broad shoulders. “I wasn’t tryin’ to stare. I was tryin’ to keep my hands to myself.”

Your breathing picks up as he undoes the buckle on his slacks and lets them join the rest of his clothes. He palms himself through his boxers, his hard length growing at the slightest touch.

“Joel, what are you doing?” He doesn’t answer you as his hands grip your shoulders turning you toward the mirror. “We’re gonna be late for the dinner.”

He leans in, taking your earlobe between his teeth as you gasp. “We’re not goin’ to the dinner sweetheart.” Joel’s eyes lock with yours in the mirror as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do ya see how beautiful you are?”

His grip stops you from shaking your head no and you figure you might as well get with the program now, since he’s being so generous.

“You wanna do this your way or my way?” He asks with an eyebrow raised in question.

“Your way?” You shakily answer as he smiles all wide and kisses your cheek.

His hands make quick work of the zipper that was stuck and he eases it down your back. Carefully dragging it down your body, letting the fabric pool at your feet. His hand kneads your breast and soft whimper leaves your lips as it trails down your stomach. “You weren’t plannin on wearin’ any panties to this event?” His fingers dip lower circling your clit just barely teasing you.

“I…I hadn’t gotten around to them yet.” Your voice is shaky as he winds his other arm around you pulling you taught to his chest.

“Well good thing…you won’t be needin’ em tonight.” His words send a shiver down your spine as you stand there, naked as the day you were born trying to stay afloat. “Now, I asked you if you see how beautiful you are?”

“Yes.” You moan out as he slips two fingers inside, chuckling to himself as he works you open.

You cry out at the loss as he pulls them from you, holding them out in front of your face. It’s lewd the way he licks his fingers and his grip on you tightens as your legs threaten to give out at the sight.

“You want me to show ya’ what I was thinkin’ about in the kitchen?” Rhetorical question of course but you're feverishly nodding your head all the same.

He places a soft kiss to your neck as he guides you to the bed. Neither of you trusting your feet to carry you there. “Lay down for me baby girl. Face me.” You lay down on your stomach, resting your head on your arms as you watch him place the mirror near the edge of the bed.

His fingers tug down his boxers and it surprises you every time, the sheer weight of him. His cock twitches at the sight as if it knows you’re looking, admiring as you stop yourself from reaching at the angry red tip to swipe your finger through the bead of precum leaking out.

The bed dips behind you as he straddles your thighs. You can see him in the mirror watching you as you wiggle your ass, that fight part of your brain no longer concerned with the way you look. Not with the way he’s looking at you. Like he wants to eat you alive.

His fingers grip your flesh as he tilts your hips up, he’s rock hard as he slides the tip through your aching folds. You clench around nothing as you try to draw him in.

“Eyes on the prize baby.” You tear your eyes from him as you catch yours in the mirror. He wants you to watch, but not him.

You’re the prize.

He sinks down in one fluid motion and it takes every fiber of your being to keep your eyes open. You both moan in unison as he starts a slow agonizing pace.

Joel watches you as long as he can but he can’t tear his eyes away from the ripple of your skin as he pounds your flesh. Hitting something deep and devastating inside you as you clutch the sheets. Soft chants of his name punched out in his thrusts as he tries to hold off his release. It feels too good and just like his daydream. Having you bent over all fucked out, unable to form a coherent through. The only thought he wants running through that head is how perfect you are.

“Oh fuck…I’m the luckiest man alive, ya know that.” He grits out as he meets your eyes again.

His strong hands haul you up against his chest as he wraps his arms around your shoulders. All you can manage is a head nod as you keen at this new angle.

You can feel the beads of sweat from his hair drip down onto you as you cling to his arms, he growls in your ear as your climax peaks over you, taking you by surprise as you cry out his name.

“This pussy was made for me darlin’.”

He can feel you suck him in and his balls draw up tight. Your front bathed in a sheen of sweat down your breasts and across your stomach as you ride out the aftershocks. His hips slow to a stutter as he holds your prone and pliant body, pulsing inside you as you let out a soft exhale.

You’re completely and utterly wrecked and he thinks you’re like one of those renaissance paintings with the naked ladies. Better than that because you’re real and you’re all his.

It takes you a moment to gather yourself as you lay there, Joel’s hand draped over your body at the edge of the bed. You can finally look in the mirror and see the war that was waging was all on your head.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

#joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel x reader #soft joel miller #joel the last of us #joelmiller #tlou imagine #joel miller fanfiction

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3rachasdomesticbanana · 24 days

Text

Among Strangers | Bang Chan

•Synopsis: A handsome stranger takes it upon himself to take care of you in a crowded subway as you try to evade a man that had been following you after a night of drinking.

•Pairing: au Bang Chan x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, stalking, public unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, crowded area, sex with a stranger, biting, possessive chan, brief mentions of bondage and claustrophobia with a surprise ending. (I think that's everything)

an: This was first posted on my Wattpad but it was pretty ass and didn't do well so I fixed it up a little bit (a lot... Like it was so bad lol) and figured maybe it would be better appreciated here.

Part II

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

After a chill hangout at the bar with some friends from work, you all decide to head home. It's been a chill night with not too much drinking. Since you live close by, walking home seems like a good idea for some fresh air. But as you split from the group, you realize you're not alone. You start to get this eerie feeling like you're being followed. Looking over your shoulder you see a hooded figure and the hair on the back of your neck stands straight up. At every turn there he is, shadowing your every move, sending shivers down your spine.

Nervous about the idea of him following you home, you hop onto the subway thinking you could hide among a sea of people. With the size of the crowd there's no way he could find you. You're confident it'll work as you weave your way through the crowd, tripping over your own feet in a rush to lose him. You aim for the door at the end of the car on the other side just to create some distance between you and him. You steal a glance over your shoulder, heart pounding, checking if the man is still behind you. But in a rush, you accidentally step on someone's foot, sending a jolt of embarrassment through you.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim, cheeks reddening. “I'm so sorry.”

When your eyes meet the stranger in front of you, you're met with kind gentle brown eyes belonging to a beautiful man with dimples and perfectly styled hair buzzed slightly on the sides.

“No worries.” He smiles sweetly showing off his perfect dimples while his velvety Australian accent engulfs you and calms down some of the panic in your chest.

Looking over your shoulder again, you catch sight of the man coming into your view. His gaze meets yours, and a smirk plays on his lips before he casually looks away. Panic surges again, your moment of peace gone, sending your heart into overdrive and your eyes to widen in alarm. The handsome stranger in front of you notices your reaction and follows your line of sight to the man in the black hoodie, mirroring your concern.

"Hey, you okay? That guy giving you trouble?" His voice cuts through the chatter of the people around you. His voice, laced with a hint of concern and tinged with something darker, making you snap your attention back to him.

The dim subway lights overhead cast shadows across his young face, highlighting his handsome features more rather than diluting them. You feel a knot tightening in your stomach realizing just how worried for you he is. He glares at the creep and the muscle in his jaw ticks once.

“He’s been following me since I left the bar. I was too afraid to go home so I tried to make a detour to shake him off but he's fucking relentless.” you explain in a quiet hush.

The creep looks over at you again as if to make sure you're still in his eyesight and looks away quickly to not draw attention to his shady acts.

“Maybe he'll back off if he thinks we're together? He looked away pretty quick when he saw me. I'll stay with you for however long you need. Just to be sure that you're safe.” The stranger beside you says sweetly.

You felt fucking lucky to have run into someone willing to help you, to keep you safe. You could've ended up locked in some damp dark basement if not for this man you thought to yourself. You can already feel the mild tipsiness from the alcohol wearing off and you feel more alert and aware of your surroundings.

“Thank you so so much.” You reply and the man holds his hand out for you.

“I'm Chris.” He gives you an award winning smile that lights up his whole face and yours.

You mirror his smile and take his hand. One shake and you gasp at the sudden static shock that you feel spread throughout your whole body rather than just your fingertips. His hand is soft and warm and your body suddenly feels hot all over as if you drank a lot more than you really did.

“Y/N.” You introduce yourself timidly and he gives a small nod of his head.

The train rattles to a stop and opens the doors behind you and Chris, letting on more people eager to get home after work. It becomes increasingly crowded and you're forced even closer to Chris. So much closer that you have to take a couple of steps back in an attempt to have some space, only for your back to hit the glass window of the other doors. Another stop and more people push in, bringing the creep closer to you and forcing Chris's chest to push into yours. He apologizes, placing gentle hands on my arms.

“If you get uncomfortable let me know. I'll try and make space.” He tells you, placing a hand above your head as the train rumbles along.

“Y-yeah okay.” You mutter, feeling the hard muscles underneath the white button up shirt he's wearing.

With the alcohol completely gone from your system now, you realize that the situation you're in is beyond embarrassing. Your breasts are rubbing against his chest with every rock and shake of the train in an almost lewd way. Granted you are thankful that he's keeping you away from being pressed up against some weirdo or worse the guy following you but still, It's awkward. There's no way he can't feel your heart beating so rapidly. The train makes a sudden bump and your bodies are pushed together even more.

“Sorry.” You whisper when your hands instinctively go around his middle. He chuckles and you feel it vibrate through your chest, causing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter awake.

“It's okay y/n. You give great hugs.” He says, the butterflies go mad and your face grows warm.

He's so sweet and so good looking there's no way he was flirting with me just now. No way, he's just a really sweet guy. Yeah… he's just being nice.

As the train continues to go on you feel eyes on you, burning a hole straight into your skull. Looking around Chris's muscular frame you see the creep, staring, lewdly licking his lips and undressing you with his eyes, no doubt. You squirm to try and get out of eye sight but Chris's strong hand holds you still.

“What's wrong?” He whispers. His voice makes you shiver against him and his fingers tighten on your arms briefly.

“That creep is staring at me.” It makes you feel disgusted. Your skin crawls the way his eyes slide over your face.

Chris curses under his breath and pauses. “I'll push up to give you enough space to turn around so he can't see your face. Maybe once these doors open we can quickly get off and lose him then.”

You nod at his idea and he pushes on the door, putting an inch between you two. It's not a lot of space to move but you try your best, turning around facing away from Chris and the creep. Now, at least like this, your breasts aren't crushed into him. Only now, your ass is pressing against his front. From one awkward situation to another…. This is what I get for going out after work on a Wednesday. You think to yourself. I should've gone straight home or at least changed.

The skirt you decided to wear to the office today is now hitched up just barely covering your ass. If you can just keep still maybe he won't notice and the situation doesn't get any more embarrassing than it is.

“So uh what do you do for work y/n?” Chris asks and clears his throat. You can feel every word against your back.

“Uh, I work at CBO. I'm an editor over there.” You feel him nod behind you slowly.

“I heard they're supposed to get a new CEO. Some big shot is what the news is saying.” He responds but you shrug. You haven't heard much about the new CEO except for that he's the son of the previous CEO as well as the new owner now that his father is retiring.

“I'm sure he'll be a great boss. I actually haven't met him yet. I don't even know what he looks like” You utter softly sounding uncertain. Would he be a great boss? Would he take care of you? Who knows he could change everything with just one hand.

══════════════•✦•✦•══════════════

The train enters a tunnel and you watch the lights outside in the darkness flick and zip past in a blur before noticing Chris's reflection. His eyes are on you, studying your face in the glass of the door. Your eyes meet in the all the air gets sucked out of your lungs like a sudden punch to the gut. His gaze is smoldering, far too hot to be on the receiving end of such intensity. No one says a word although his lips slowly form a sexy coquettish smile.

“Do you need me to stay with you when we get off while you call your boyfriend?.” He whispers.

You shake your head no, eyes still on his reflection. “Don't have one of those but I can call a friend to pick me up.”

As you're about to open your mouth again to thank him for the hundredth time, the train comes to a screeching stop and the lights in the car go out. Men and women grumble and some even scream. The force causes Chris to slam into you and your skirt bunches up further about midway up your ass. In a panic you tell him and he curses under his breath.

“I'll try to fix it but I have to touch you, y/n. Is that okay?” Him asking for consent to touch you makes him that much more attractive.

“Yes, please.” You say, just as a voice is heard over the speaker.

“Passengers, please be patient there seems to be some debris on the tracks that is blocking our route. They're already taking care to remove it. We'll be moving on shortly.” The voice is replaced with calming elevator music playing loudly.

That's a smart way to keep everyone calm so that no one panics. Only one panicking right now however is you. The feel of Chris's fingertips against your bare thighs is driving you insane. His touch is hot but you shiver like his fingers are made of ice. Why is it turning me on so much when he's just trying to fix my skirt?. The move is too slow to be legal that's why. His movements feel so sensual.

“Sorry, I'm trying not to draw attention.” He explains as if he can hear your thoughts.

Shit you want to stop him. To say never mind and to leave it as is and pray that the train will be stopping soon to let some people off… but you don't. Instead you hold your breath and squeeze your legs together. Your arousal grows to an unbearable high. It's just a simple touch. Why is it driving you crazy? You aren't inexperienced at your age by any means. You've had lovers before but this man's fingers, they burn wherever he touches.

“The material of your skirt seems to be stuck on my fly.” He says and the urge to crawl into a hole is strong. “I can fix it but I'll have to lower my zipper. Tell me what you're comfortable with y/n.” He whispers leaning closer to your ear.

Loose tendrils of your ponytail flutter around your ear from his breath and you mentally remind yourself to breathe. Would it be selfish to ask him to lower it? What if he's uncomfortable with that? This isn't just about you now.

“I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”

He places his palm flat against your thigh comfortingly. “Whatever you decide, I won't be uncomfortable. As long as you're comfortable y/n, then so am I.” The conviction in his voice calms you and you give him a curt nod once.

“Lower it please.” You whisper, your voice sounding small with embarrassment.

His hand moves again from your thigh to your ass and you bite your lip hard. His knuckles graze the bareness and you unexpectedly feel him stir from inside his black slacks. Seems like I'm not the only one turned on by the other. Slowly and agonizingly, he lowers his zipper to not be heard over the piano and violin playing through the speakers.

“There. Are you okay?” You don't feel okay. You feel like you’re on the verge of dying from embarrassment and horniness. You can feel the opening of his pants against you and his growing erection pressing into your ass.

“I'm okay.” You lie. “Thank you Chris.”

Out of habit whenever you're riddled with anxiety, you shift your footing which only makes your ass rub against his erection more. “Shit. I'm sorry, I move around when I'm in an embarrassing situation and this takes the cake for me.”

He chuckles softly. “It's okay. I uh, I can't really control it unfortunately. Not when I've got such a beautiful woman like you in my arms. You make it… difficult to say the least.”

You rest your forehead onto the cold glass feeling the blush take over your whole face and he chuckles again.

“If I knew my evening would be like this I wouldn't have gone to happy hour with my co-workers.” Your sad confession fogs up the glass and you close your eyes.

He places a comforting hand on your hip. You're so packed he can't seem to stand the way he was before. His arms are restricted from raising any further than your hips now.

“It's okay y/n it's not all bad. We got to meet after all.” He says, making you smile.

“That's true. I don't know what would've happened if I didn't run into you.” His hands linger and you get so used to the heat that when he finally does move them away you feel cold and shiver under him. He groans softly, sending something like an electric current to the space between your thighs. That sound… you want to hear it more. Biting your lip you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“Y/n…” Chris quietly says, sounding amused. “What are you doing?”

You shake your head feigning innocence. “My feet. It's these heels, I'm sorry.”

Why did I do that? I've seriously lost my mind but why do I want to do it again? The feel of him hard against your ass must be making you certifiably insane. This isn't right. Your better judgment screams at you. It's just your hormones getting out of hand.

When he places both hands on your hips and leans in, you expect for him to call you out on that blatant lie but instead he whispers, “Do it again.” All while slowly playing with the hem of your skirt.

You stifle a silent gasp, jaw dropping in disbelief, yet you obediently follow his instructions moving your hips just slightly. When you do, his left hand grips onto your hip tight and he sighs. His erection, that's fighting itself to stay inside the confines of his briefs, jerks forward against the fabric. Before you can shift again, his right arm wraps around you and his fingers find the wetness of your panties.

“So I'm not the only one fighting temptation I see.” His warm sweet breath fans across your cheek and your body sags a little in his arms when his fingers begin to dance.

Focusing on your breathing is all you can do so you don't faint from his touch. And trying to stay quiet now becomes a struggle the more his fingers move.

“Is this okay y/n?” You can only nod, too afraid of accidentally moaning and embarrassing yourself anymore today. He just chuckles and stops the torturous tango that his fingers were doing. “Use your words baby girl. Tell me if it's okay or not.” he instructs.

“Yes. It's okay, more please.” You hoarsely whisper, voice thick with lust.

Chris doesn't move, doesn't make a sound for what feels like minutes rather than seconds. Afraid that he might not have heard you, you open your mouth to repeat yourself when his fingers slip under the satin of your thong and into your slick folds.

“Good girl.” He says, his voice dripping with sex.

You lay your head back onto his shoulder as he works you just barely over the edge. Long fingers slipping in and out, massaging your thoroughly drenched cunt with ease. He grinds the heel of his palm against your clit and everything around you begins to blur. Lust, that primal urge, it ignites like a flame inside you, pulsating with an insatiable hunger that courses through every fiber of your being. You're so close to cumming around Chris's fingers, soaking his hand with your desire. You want to tell him just how close you are but if you let up on the hold your teeth have on your bottom lip you won't be able to control the sounds you'll make.

The lights come on just as you're about to come undone and he quickly removes his fingers just as quickly as he inserted them. The train begins to move again and you squint at the sudden light overhead that blinds you, breathing heavily. Before your eyes can adjust to the light and before your core begins to crave Chris's touch, you feel him fumbling behind you freeing his cock and distracting you from the frustration of your denied orgasm.

“Is there anything I should know?” He inquires, sounding like he's in a business meeting.

You don't need to ask what he's referring to. The real question though is do you really want to do this here, with someone you just met? What if you get caught? You both could get arrested. You could get fired. But there's no room in your mind for logic right now with the thrill and your need to cum clouding you. Fuck it.

“No nothing, I'm good. This is what I want.” You see his reflection smile.

“Good. Now, keep your eyes on me y/n.”

You feel the tip of him, covered in precum pressed firmly on your ass and his hands slide under your navy skirt pushing it up further. He hooks his thumb under the string of your thong and pulls it to the side. Your eyes never leave his face.

“No noise.” He warns, situating himself behind you, lining his cock up just right.

His cock feels thick and hot slipping between your thighs. You're so wet that there's little to no resistance as he pushes further and further until he's fully inside you. You let out a shuddering breath and your eyelids flutter close, feeling his warmth.

“No noise, remember? Look at me y/n. I want to see you when you cum on dick.” He tells you quietly, his voice more quiet than a whisper.

Your eyes fly open and stare at his reflection in awe of how gorgeous and composed he looks. He looks calm, like he's doing nothing other than waiting for his stop but his hands tell you otherwise. You feel it in the way he's gripping you to steal himself and to keep from bucking his hips into you at full force like he wants to. Like you want him to.

Instead he has to go at such an aching delicious slow pace so that the people behind him or next to you both aren't aware of what's going on. Your fingers long to hold onto him, to anything really. You're stuck standing still with your palms flat against the glass in front of you. Your breathing begins to fog the glass but you keep your focus on Chris and notice how his eyes go half lidded.

The brown seems to have gotten darker than the warm milk chocolate from earlier. One of his arms snakes around you and he presses his hand flat on your belly giving him more leverage. When he starts to move just a tad faster your heart rate skyrockets. The fear, adrenaline and lust mixing together creates an intoxicating concoction. Every glance, every touch, becomes charged with an energy that enthralls you. Your pulse echoes in your ears, drowning out all rational thought.

Chris's thrusts are covered up by the rocking of the train as it speeds down the rails. Your orgasm isn't far at this rate. Like a slow burn you feel it building up. A simmering that starts deep within your core, radiating up and outward. You're struggling to stay standing, to stay quiet now.

Your breathing comes out in ragged pants and your knees threaten to buckle the closer he brings you to ecstasy. You aren't the only one struggling, Chris's breathing is just as shaky and primal as yours and you hear him whisper something in another language before he murmurs “Fuck.” Into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. When your walls tighten around him he curses again and his gaze looks wild.

“Why do you feel so good around my cock y/n?” He asks but you don't dare respond. He smirks, grinding himself into you. “You take directions s-so well. So… obedient.” He whispers.

You can hear how he's losing his control. His composure has melted away and he no longer looks calm and collected. He looks like a man high on sex and chasing the release that's within reach.

“Y/n… fuck. Tell me, can I cum inside you? Will you let me fill you? Use your words beautiful.” He nips your neck just below your ear and you tremble.

“Yes. You can,” You bite your lip again to hold back what would've been a loud gasp when the train jerks Chris forward causing his cock to slam into your sensitive cunt. “You can cum inside. I'm so close Chris.”

“Then cum baby. Fucking cream on it y/n. Shit, so good.

Hearing him lose himself like that is your undoing and you're falling apart around him. The air becomes heavy with the heady scent of arousal, thick and intoxicating, swirling around you and Chris like a seductive veil. Each breath is laced with the taste of pleasure. Time seems to stand still as you stare at him. Eyes wide as you breathe through your nose squeezing your lips shut tight desperate to make no sound at all. Your cunt convulses around his cock begging to milk it of every drop.

The aftershocks of your orgasm shoot through you as he continues to thrust deeper and deeper. His own orgasm right at the edge. His arm tightens around you, hugging you closer to him. his breath becomes shallow and erratic as he reaches his climax.

“Fuck, fuck.” He whispers and he bites down hard on your neck over your fast pulsating pulse, sucking your flesh to keep himself from telling you how you belong to him now.

He bites you to keep the grunts and praises from tumbling out of his mouth uncontrollably. Because something about you makes him lose control. He doesn't do shit like this. He's careful, always planning and thinking things out. He just doesn't do spontaneity. He didn't plan this, it just happened. You just bulldozed into his life and he can’t get enough. What is it about you that makes him desire this cunt he's currently filling to the brim that he craves to make sore and swollen with his cock until the sun rises? Whatever it is, he's already addicted. He needs you in his own space, tied up nice and pretty like a gift only for him to unwrap. Fuck. He's already thinking of all the positions he'd have you in if you were at his place.

You watch in awe at how intense and irresistible he looks while he spills himself inside of you. His eyes hold so much power over you. You feel the weight of his possessiveness in his unwavering stare and it excites you immensely. You find yourself thinking of asking him to come back to your place where you'd be free to move around, cry his name out without anyone around. You're curious how sex with Chris would be in a more relaxed setting. If this orgasm was intense you can't imagine how it would feel when he isn't holding back.

He slowly pulls out of you, fixing himself as best as he can and then fixes your skirt back in place. He places a sweet kiss to the back of your head, chest still rapidly rising and falling. When you blush he chuckles.

“You're a cutie y/n. After all that, you blush from a kiss. So adorable.” He murmurs and you shift your feet. “If we don't get off soon I'll end up going for another round if you keep that up.”

You giggle and look back at him, “Sorry, I'll behave.” You sweetly say.

“What if I don't want you to?” He says instantly.

You blink at him, your face reflecting shock in the glass, and he chuckles. “To be honest with you y/n, I'd love to see you again if you'd let me.”

“Me? Seriously?” You whisper in disbelief.

“Of course. Preferably somewhere less crowded. I think after today I'll be just a little claustrophobic.”

You laugh and even after what just happened you can't believe how incredible of a guy he is. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you while you laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful laugh y/n?” He whispers and you shake your head. “Why does something as simple as hearing you laugh make me so hard? What have you done to me?”

A shiver of pleasure runs through your body and he exhales quietly.

“I'd fuck you again right now if we weren't about to stop.” He tells you followed by the robotic female voice informing everyone to wait until the train comes to a complete stop and the doors open.

As the subway doors slide open, Chris grabs your hand and pulls you through them, dodging the rush of commuters that are eager to go home. With ease he leads you away from the hooded creep that's desperate to find you, vanishing into the shadows behind a massive pillar. You peek out from behind Chris who scans the area cautiously. When the man doesn't see you he hops back on the train, disappointment evident on his face but relief floods over you. Glad that's over.

"Thank you Chris." you say, sending a quick text to your best friend for a ride. “For saving me I mean.”

"It was my pleasure, y/n." he replies smoothly, grinning at you, his gaze lingering on your lips. His thumb brushes your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. "Anytime you need saving, or anything really just give me a shout, yeah?" He hands you a sleek black business card with fancy gold letters.

Maybe you will call him, because you really can't imagine that you'll get the memory of how he felt inside of you out of your mind. Besides, he made it very clear he wanted to see you again and how could you turn a man like Chris down?

After saying goodbye when your bestie arrives, you watch Chris walk away in the side mirror as the car eases into traffic. Glancing at the card in your hand, you see it reads "Chris Bang, CEO and Co-owner of CBO," and you feel a wave of shock and mortification wash over you.

“Who was that hottie?” Your friend asks bobbing her head along to the radio when she stops at a red light.

“My new boss…” You say, still feeling his warm cum still inside of you.

“Also... what the hell happened to your neck?”

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oliviajdjarin · 5 months

Text

Din Djarin: Come and Get Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After a job leaves you trapped, you realize how much you have come to trust the legendary Mandalorian.

Excerpt: “Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

Warnings: claustrophobia, panicking, panic attack, crying, so much banter, dinny boy gets *stern, * but only because he is in love hehe.

A/N: happy dincember my people :)

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

(gif credit to pinterest)

“Why are droids always so angry?”

A deep sigh arose through your comlink.

“Because everyone is always pushing their buttons.”

Silence.

“You’re holding back your laughter.”

“That is absolutely not what is happening,” Din responded, voiced husked with his ever-present exhaustion.

“I can feel it,” you countered. “You are actively killing braincells trying to hold it back.”

“That is not what is killing my braincells,” Din responded, and you gave a dry chuckle back.

“Just get the credits and get out,” Din said, “we have other jobs to do.”

“Yes sir,” you responded sarcastically, pulling down your mask. It was a soft obsidian fabric that covered everything but your eyes.

“Need I remind you it is your fault we are here in the first place?” Din asked, knowing it would push your own button.

Greef had known you since you were a kid, your parents always calling him a “close family friend.” In actuality, your parents were his most profitable bounty hunters, and they had worked with him until they physically couldn’t anymore.

Without hesitation, choosing you take their place.

They had trained you from birth, ingraining into you the strength, cleverness, patience, persistence, and of course the wit needed to be an adequate replacement.

In Greef’s own words, you were “more than adequate.”

You worked for him for over a decade before finally meeting the infamous Mandalorian. His name had been circling for a while before you met him, allowing him to climb the ladder of Greef’s good graces (a particularly slippery ladder, in your opinion), as well as the ladder of wealth. You didn’t mind at first, sticking to the lot of bounties Greef would assign you every month, and minding your business.

That was until this Mandalorian started getting your pick of the lot.

“He’s just as good as you are,” Greef had said to you. “Your skill sets are incredibly complimentary. It is best for me financially to have you both going at once.”

You scoffed into your drink. “Give me a break, smartass. Next thing I know it will ‘best for you financially’ to have us working together.”

“It was a joke, asshole,” you responded to Din. “I’ll admit, not one of my best.”

Din sighed and remained silent. After two dozen jobs together, he had learned how old that jab was becoming.

“Going in now,” you said quietly, pulling out your gun and – as quietly as you could – shooting through the lock on the front door of what had to have been the biggest house you had ever seen. The outside was made with some rare limestone that glimmered in the moonlight which, in your opinion, literally shouted “rob me.” The owners of this house had tricked Greef, running off with the sum of money he had owed you and Din for a previous job (quite convenient, if you said so yourself). Greef agreed to pay you and Din triple your original salary if you got it back for him.

And here you were.

The door squeaked on its hinges as you opened it, revealing a pitch-black living area. You took one step inside, and as you did, a generator must have kicked on, because the room was instantly lit up. You gasped, stepping back in fear of a possible alarm, but as you waited a few seconds, there was no such thing.

“You okay?” Din asked quietly. If you weren’t shitting your pants, you might have teased him for seeming like he actually cared.

“Yeah,” you responded, winded. “Yeah. Fine.”

You looked around the room, jaw falling open slowly as you did. It might as well have been a museum. Paintings, vases, chandeliers, stones, and jewels. You could tell one thing and one thing only.

Whoever these people were, they were fucking loaded.

“Hey, Din,” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“Did Greef say anything about being allowed to steal anything else?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Got it,” you said, and moved further into the house.

“Greef paid some gungan to have dinner with them, so there shouldn’t be anyone in the house.”

“I was at the meeting for this job, Din.”

“I know,” he said, “Just checking.”

His voice was laced with an undertone of…hurt. You didn’t have time to think about that.

“I’m headed to the master bedroom,” you said, weaving your way through objects worth more than you would ever see in ten lifetimes. “I’ll let you know when I find the box.”

“Alright,” Din responded, and you carried on.

You circled the first floor of the house, hemming and hawing at what seemed to be an endless supply of riches.

“Are we focused, Y/N?”

“Lazer,” you responded after almost touching the shiniest blue stone you had ever seen. “Nothing on the first floor.”

“Okay,” Din responded. “How-how you holding up?”

Your eyebrows wrinkled together. “Fine. How about you?”

“I’m good,” he said softly. “Just now realizing we have never done a job like this before. Me only hearing you through the comlink. I’m used to being next to you.”

“Oh, the poor Mandalorian, all alone in the desert, cursed with the job of keeping watch. You missing me big guy?”

“Just missing being faster than you,” he jabbed. “It’s good for my ego.”

“Har har,” you responded, opening the first door you found at the top of the stairs. “You can’t deny I give you a run for your money though.”

“You sure do,” he said, once again laced with emotion. What the fuck was with him?

And why did you keep noticing?

You opened the door and were welcomed by what had to have been the biggest bed you had ever seen in your life. It took up half the room, with the rest of it being looted with more treasures, including plants, shelves of books, and…

…a music box.

“Bingo,” you said.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a game you play for fun,” you responded. “You wouldn’t be familiar with the concept.”

“Very original.”

“I’ll be here all night,” you said with a smirk, and walked to the box. You pulled it off the shelf delicately, feeling the weight of credits in the bottom. You laughed happily, unable to hold it in.

Din laughed too. He understood immediately.

You felt for the seal on the front and began to pull it open carefully. You got it about halfway open before it immediately shut, snapping your fingers into it.

“Mother –” you said, pulling your fingers out and holding them to your chest.

“You okay?” Din asked quickly, almost as soon as the word left your mouth.

“Yeah,” you said, flexing your fingers. You laughed lightly. “I think this house may be out to get me.”

As if you spoke it into existence, all the lights in the house suddenly shut down, soaking you in darkness. Strobe lights of red began to pulse on the ceiling, the door to the bedroom shut automatically, and an ear-piercing alarm permeated the room.

You were suddenly unmoving.

“Y/N?” Din asked, his voice a whisper above the alarms. “Y/N, what is that?”

The box fell from your grip.

“Din…” you said, chest constricting, muscles locking, brain failing. “Din…”

“What’s going on?”

You started shaking your head, making your way to the door slowly. You jiggled the doorknob, then pulled on it, then yanked on it, then threw your body into it.

It was no use. You were locked in from the outside.

“Din, I –” your voice cracked with a sob. “Din, I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded like he was walking.

“I’m-I’m trapped,” you said, sobs now fully escaping from your mouth. “Din I’m trapped. They know I’m here. They’re gonna…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, hand cupping your mouth as you began to hyperventilate, because suddenly, you were a child again. Put up against one of your parents’ countless tests. Locked in a basement, or a ship, or your own room, forced to find a way out, told that in the real world, if you couldn’t find a way out, you would likely be killed.

You could never pasts their tests. Never.

“Din, they’re gonna kill me.”

“Shut up,” he said firmly. It sounded like he was moving faster. “You’re not gonna die.”

His tone was unconvincing.

“Din,” you cried, tears staining the fabric covering your face, snot soaking through it. Panic was seeping itself into your bones. “Din, what do I do? What do I do?”

“You’ve gotta find a way out.”

“I can’t,” you wheezed, body sliding down the door and onto the floor, the alarms and the red overstimulating your every nerve. “I can’t Din. It’s so loud,”

“Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

You nodded, now plugging your ears, and closing your eyes, rocking yourself back and forth subconsciously.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” he said, his voice suddenly nasally. “I swear to the maker I’m going to get you out of there. I just need your help, okay?”

You tried your best to gather breath. “Okay. Okay.”

“Okay,” he said. “I need you to see if there are any windows in the room. Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed, standing on shaking legs, ears still plugged. You squinted as you walked slowly, finally reaching a wall. You then felt the wall with one hand and walked forward until you felt something that resembled glass.

“I-I found one.”

“Good,” he said, sounding peculiarly winded. “Now, I’m going to need you to break it.”

You sobbed once more. “How?”

“Anything. Shoot at it, throw things at it, the fucking music box for all I care. Anything.”

You swallowed again, breathing in as deep of a breath as you could, before pulling out your gun. You felt the glass once again, and slowly backed away from it. You continued to release faint cries as you did, holding up your gun with quivering fingers, before letting blasts fly.

You heard some cracks as they landed against the glass. Once you halted your firing, you made your way back over to it, and realized they weren’t nearly enough.

“I’m going to have to kick it,” you said, some semblance of power returning into your voice.

Din didn’t respond.

You backed away again, breaths still rapid and voice still raw. But you gave that piece of fucking glass your all.

Your foot went right through it, cutting shards into your calf and ankle.

You grunted, falling back into the room.

“You get it?” Din asked, panting.

“Yeah,” you said, clutching your leg. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Good. Now stand up.”

You did.

“Walk to the window.”

You did.

“And jump.”

“What?”

“Jump now.”

It was in that moment that you realized that you truly, unequivocally, deeply trusted the Mandalorian. Because you jumped into the dark, cold night, and he caught you, mid-air.

You gasped as you landed in his arms, watching as the ground beneath you whizzed by, eyelids pealed back in awe.

A smooth, gloved hand framed your cheek and pulled your vision upwards, locking it into his visor.

You stared at him, the remnants of tears against the cold wind freezing your face, and yet his hand was the true culprit of your goosebumps.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. The flames from his jet pack illuminating his armor in golds and reds.

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

He nodded, diverting his gaze to stare forward into the night, but keeping his hand pressed against your face.

You would say it was the shock, or the trauma, or the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In reality, all you wanted was comfort – his comfort. You couldn’t stop yourself.

You rested your forehead against the side of his visor and closed your eyes, scooting your body as close to his as possible as the two of you shot through the sky.

“Thank you, Din,” you said, tears escaping you once more. “Thank you.”

Din audibly swallowed, then removed his hand from your cheek and used it to remove your mask, before sliding his hand into the hair at the back of your neck.

“I swore to you I’d get you out of there,” he said, his voice crackly and weak. “I don’t break promises.”

You nodded against his visor, clutching desperately onto the fabric around his neck. He smelled of sweat, metal, and home.

“I’ve got you now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Tag list: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

burned-dorito, @tiredbuthappyppy @em---r @just-a-sewer-goblinlin @punkiwiki @lovesbiggerthanprideerthanpride @darth-voder @samanthacookieone @torchbearerkylee @stardust-galaxies @c4psicle @joelsflannell @mysun-n-stars@tateelii @darth-voder @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgothh @thesmutslut @alastorhazbinbin @grincheveryday @reader8679 @cockscombkingdom

@lexloon @pauphs @enjoyyourlatttebitch

@miss-goldenweek

@darling-murdockk @1deadpool266 @queen-nothing-blogg @burnt-dorito @untitledareaa @julialoopeezz @daphne-turner @jediknightjanaa @sasakipspoststs

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foxy-eva · 6 months

Text

The Perfect Seat

Summary: You never liked full trains until a very handsome stranger fell right into your lap

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: forced proximity, awkwardness, a sexual implication, describes a crowded train (which could be triggering for people with claustrophobia)

Author’s Note: This is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute Challenge!

Word count: 800

Masterlist

If it wasn’t for the environment and terrible traffic in the city, you probably wouldn’t choose to use public transport, especially on days like these. Because of an issue with another train, yours was running late and a lot more people entered than usual. At least you were lucky enough to have gotten one of the last seats available.

As the crowd moved with even more people entering, you noticed a tall man in a suit finding his spot right beside your seat, his hand grabbing the pole above you. You turned your head to look at the reflection in the window and realized that he was doing the same, your eyes meeting his for a brief moment before he looked away.

You decided to keep your sight fixated on the seat in front of you to avoid staring at the handsome stranger standing beside you. When the train halted at the next stop, there was a lot more movement than before with a bunch of people trying to make their way to the doors. You turned your head and witnessed someone pushing the man beside you over to make their way through the crowd.

In a matter of seconds the stranger lost his balance and fell right into your lap.

Before either of you realized what was happening, the now empty space beside you was filled by someone else, making it impossible for him to quickly get up again.

“Sorry, I’m sorry!!” He mumbled as he attempted to escape the forced proximity only to tumble down once more as the train began moving again.

Your thighs cushioned his fall and you couldn’t hold back your giggles any longer.

“Well, hello there!” You laughed when your eyes met his.

“I am so sorry!” He squeaked as he tried to get up once more. There was just not enough space which led to him awkwardly hovering over you for a moment.

“That looks uncomfortable,” you commented on his weird position. “I bet my lap was better than that.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, only to apologize a second later. “Sorry, this is– I’m just–”

“It’s okay, I know you’re not trying to be a creep,” you reassured him as he shifted his body to get into an almost upright position.

Before the stranger had a chance to grab the pole for balance though, someone leaned against him, causing him to tumble forward. This time he was fast enough to catch his own fall with his palms against the window beside you, only to bring his hips dangerously close to your face for a moment.

“Usually guys buy me dinner first,” you laughed to downplay the awkwardness.

“Oh god, ah!” He almost yelled as he wanted to escape the compromising position he was in. “I swear, I’m not doing that on purpose!”

When he tried and failed again to stand up straight, you began to pity the poor man and decided to offer him a seat, at last. With one swift motion you grabbed his arm and pulled him down until he was seated in your lap once more.

“I think you should just accept your fate,” you snickered when you noticed his shocked expression. “What’s your name, stranger?”

His face had taken on a crimson shade and it was obvious that he had trouble grasping what was happening. He found your eyes for a moment, only to quickly avert his sight again.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m really sorry.”

“What a weird name.”

“No, no, that’s not my– I’m just.. sorry.” He took a deep breath before finally answering your question. “Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

“So, Spencer, do you have any plans for tonight? You know, except for sitting in a woman’s lap on the train.”

“I didn’t plan that, you know,” he stated with the slightest smile visible on his face.

“So it was just the force of attraction?” You joked, well aware of the ambiguity of your words.

Spencer’s eyes roamed over your face for a moment, almost as if he hadn’t had the chance to really look at you until now.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You could call it that.”

A few moments passed of the two of you just smiling at one another. You noticed the warmth his golden irises radiated, making you feel like nothing could harm you as long as you had him close to you.

When the next train stop was announced, you cooed, “So, about that dinner you owe me…”

Spencer (successfully) got up from your lap, took your hand and suggested, “How about right now?”

The both of you were already moving towards the door when you laughed, “Lead the way, stranger!”

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @cncoxlifeline @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @luredwithpretzels @castiels-majestic-wings @purpledsky @super-nerd22 @velvetthunder93

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction

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reiding-writing · 4 months

Note

may i request getting stuck in an elevator with early season Spence after hours at the BAU and the lights go out and obviously him being terrified of the dark he starts panicking and reader has to comfort him until he eventually explains his fear of the dark in relation to something happening in his childhood. just some angst and hurt/comfort ig? I live and breathe your content <3

malfunction [ s.r ]

Summary:

You and Spencer end up staying late to finish some paperwork after a case, when you finally vacate into the elevator to leave it breaks down, revealing some secrets harboured by both of you and strengthening your relationship in the process.

WARNINGS: claustrophobia, nyctophobia, arachnophobia, mentions of spencer’s bullying

pairing: s1!spencer x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 3.2k

masterlist!!

a/n: glad i’ve curated an audience of angst and hurt/comfort enjoyers <33

It was late.

12:06AM to be exact.

Silence riddled the bullpen, making the usually bustling office stand completely still.

You might’ve found it a little disturbing if not for Spencer sat a few desks down from you, his mere presence stopping your mind from running rampant with irrational fears of ghosts or demons that might lurk in the dark corners of the room.

It was a little stupid sure, your lanky book-genius of a coworker held no chance of being able to physically protect you from whatever your brain could conjure up, but the mind works in wonderous ways, and he offered you an unintentional blanket of security nonetheless.

You could hear the loose papers of his files rustle as he closed the manilla folder, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses with a sigh.

Looks like Spencer was done for the night. And by that logic, so were you.

You mirror Spencer as you shut your file, packing it away in your messenger bag and tucking your chair under your desk as you stand, the two of you silently acknowledging each other’s presence as you reach the elevator.

You could practically feel the fatigue surrounding the both of you as you stepped inside, your tiredness bouncing off each other and making you more desperate to crawl into bed and knock out for the night.

It didn’t last for very long.

A loud clunking sound echoed through the metal walls of the elevator, followed by it jolting to a stop, and you had to grip onto the metal bar lining the wall so you didn’t lose your balance.

Your eyes turn first to the small screen above the door, flickering between the numbers 2 and 3 as if it can’t decide what floor you’re currently on.

Then they turn to Spencer.

Spencer's breathing is uneven and his body tense, eyes darting around the tiny enclosed space with a distinct air of panic.

“Reid? Are you alright?” You raise an eyebrow at him, your expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

"N-No, no! I am not alright! This is my worst nightmare come to life." Spencer presses himself against the far wall, as if plastering himself to it will make him part of the elevator and therefore unable to be injured if something goes wrong.

“You do know how unlikely it is to actually get any sort of injury from an elevator accident right?”

"One out of ten point five million. I know that. But this isn't about logic this is about fear." He turns away as he speaks, taking a few breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. "I'm-I'm claustrophobic. And this is not helping."

“Okay- okay- let’s just calm down for a second,” You hold up a hand in Spencer’s direction. You never took him as somebody to have irrational fears like this. You always figured that he’d just use his knowledge to rationalise what was happening and move on. Apparently not.

Spencer looks back at you and nods, taking in another deep breath.

“I'm trying. It's just-“ The elevator makes a rumbling sound that elicits what you can only classify as a whimper to leave his throat. “I can't do this. I can't be stuck in this tiny space for an unknown amount of time. I can't. I just can't. Please. Please, someone. Someone has to know we're in here. They have to.”

“Reid- Calm down.”

You let go of the bar you were holding onto to walk over to Spencer, placing your hands cautiously on his shoulders.

"I-I'm trying. I'm trying."

But he doesn't actually seem to be any better than he was before. His body is shaking, his breaths shaking and uneven.

He's getting very close to having a full blown panic attack.

“Sit down,” You push gently against his shoulders to encourage him to sit, following after him yourself to sit in front of him with your legs crossed underneath you.

Spencer lets out a trembling breath. "What if we die in here? What if no one comes? What if something goes wrong?"

“We’re going to be fine,”

You hold out a hand palm up in your lap as open invitation for him to take it if he needs to.“just take slow breaths Reid,”

"I-I'm trying." He looks down at your hand and almost reaches out for you, but hesitates before yanking his hand back.

He looks away and forces his breath to slow down again. "What if we're in here for hours?"

“Elevators have failsafes Reid, it’ll sort itself out don’t worry,”

Spencer takes a shuddered breath in through his nose, closing his eyes as he repeats your words in his head.

It’ll sort itself out. He doesn’t need to worry.

He meets your eyes with a small nod and you sigh, giving him a sympathetic smile that reassures him he’s going to be fine.

Unfortunately, all of your efforts to calm him down are quickly reversed as the lights cut out, sending the elevator into complete darkness.

His sudden blindness brings a startled cry from Spencer, his body instinctively trying to protect himself and in that split second of shock he grabs your hand.

He clutches at it tightly, eyes squeezed shut.

“Everything’s fine-“ You return his startled grip with a light squeeze of your own.

The grip around your hand feels firm and shaky but the contact helps to ground him, bringing some of his panic down a notch or two.

“It's not f-fine. It's dark. I don’t like the dark . I hate it.”

“You’re scared of the dark?” You sound more surprised than you mean to, and although you can’t pinpoint all of his features in the shadows, you’re sure you can see his eyebrows knit together.

“11% of the US adult population is afraid of the dark.” His tone carries an air of defensiveness through his fear, although he doesn’t seem offended enough at your comment to sacrifice the physical comfort that your hand is offering in his.

“Oh- no- I didn’t mean it as a bad thing-“ You shake your head despite the fact that he can’t see you, tightening your hold on his hand as an offer of reassurance. “I just- didn’t see you as somebody to have a fear of the dark is all-“

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You can hear the slight waver in his voice as he speaks, clearly trying to distract himself in your questions so he doesn’t have to think about his current situation.

You’d also wager he has his eyes shut, as ironic as it is.

“I just meant- you know- your brain rationalises everything so quickly that I figured you just wouldn’t have fears like this?”

He chuckles nervously, the sound echoing in the darkness. "Well, even the most rational minds have their quirks, I suppose. Fear doesn't always follow logic." The tension in his voice begins to ease, and he opens up a bit more.

“Is there a reason you have a fear of the dark?” You could understand his claustrophobia to a certain level, but nyctophobia wasn’t something very common in adults, especially ones who work as field agents for the FBI.

“I uh- it was just something that happened when I was younger, it’s stupid really-” Spencer skirts your question with a half-truth, not divulging any details of his seemingly irrational fear of the dark.

He shifts slightly, adjusting to find a more comfortable position on the floor, his hand tugging yours and in the process forcing you to change your seating position as well.

You squeeze his hand gently. "Do you wanna talk about it? People usually find it easier to rationalise their fears if they voice them to another person,” You use Spencer’s own intelligence against him in the hope that it’ll get him to open up.

As much as you had learned about him in the past two years, you still knew surprisingly little about Dr. Spencer Reid and his life outside of the office.

You knew all about his academics, how he liked his coffee with as much sugar as humanely possible, how under normal circumstances he would rather lick a toilet seat than shake someone’s hand.

But you didn’t really know him; And you figured this might be a good place to start.

“I… It’s not something I like to dwell on,” He tries to shut down your questioning once more, clearing his throat to try and rid of the lump that forms when he thinks back to the origins of his fears. “It’s not exactly a nice thing to remember,”

“I get that, some of my childhood memories aren’t the best either,” You let out a breath that could almost constitute as a laugh of exasperation. “But it might help, and i’m sure that just getting it off your chest will give you piece of mind nonetheless,”

You can hear Spencer take in a breath through his nose, and through the small adaptation your eyes had made to the darkness you could just barely see his lips purse into a line, debating whether or not to divulge his childhood to you.

It’s not like he didn’t trust you with it. Quite the opposite. He’d come to enjoy your presence over the time you’d spent working together.

You didn’t judge his intelligence, nor did you reduce him to it. You just saw him as another person and it was something that he was incredibly grateful for.

He knew you wouldn’t make fun of him if he told you, but he wasn’t worried about that. He was worried that you’d pity him.

That you’d treat him like some fragile object that would break if you spoke too loudly in its presence.

That’s something that he’d never want.

“I- don’t want you to think of me differently…” His voice was still laced with fear as he spoke, but this time it wasn’t a fear of the dark metal box he was trapped in; It was a fear of how your view of him would change.

“Reid…”

“I don’t want to be pitied or have people walk on eggshells for the sake of hurting my feelings…” You can practically feel his apprehension through the way his hand tenses in yours.

“Reid-“

“I’ve just managed to get people to treat me normally and I don’t want all of that to go down the drain-“

“Spencer.”

You can see his eyes snap upwards towards yours as you raise your voice, and you pull his left hand into your own to hold both of them in your lap, eyes chasing his in the darkness to maintain eye contact. “You’re human. Humans have fears and they have bad memories, and it’s not going to change anything about how I treat you.”

“Tell you what,” You give his hands a squeeze, leaning forwards slightly towards him to try and get a better look at his face. “I’ll tell you one of my childhood tragedies if you tell me yours, deal?”

He goes silent as he ponders your offer, ending with a small nod that you can only half see. “Okay…”

“Okay,” You return his nod with your own, running your thumbs over the backs of his hands. “So, i’ll go first,”

“When I was eight, my cousin thought it’d be a good idea to let his pet tarantula crawl all over my face whilst I was sleeping, and I woke up with it half in my mouth,” You practically shudder at the memory. “Needless to say I developed arachnophobia after that,”

You laugh breathily, shaking your head slightly. “It was not very fun,”

“Why would he do that?”

You shrug slightly, arms moving enough that he can feel it where your fingers connect. “He was a bit of a bully if i’m honest, but he’s matured since then thank god,”

“Are you- still afraid of spiders?” Spencer’s eyes practically shine in the darkness, big, round and glistening with curiosity as they scan your face from beneath his glasses.

“Promise not to make fun of me?” Your question is answer enough, but he still nods softly nonetheless. “I think they’re terrifying,”

“Almost 20% of the US population has arachnophobia, it’s a very common fear to have,”

“So is a fear of the dark,” You bring the conversation back to Spencer’s fear once more. “Willing to tell me its origin story yet?”

Spencer sighs, his shoulders slumping and his head leaning back against the wall of the elevator. “It’s-“ He exhales through his nose, his eyes diverting from yours to stare at your interconnected hands.

“When I was in school I was bullied a lot…” He purses his lips and you nod. As sad as it is you’re not exactly surprised.

Someone as insanely intelligent as him was unfortunately bound to be tormented by those who were academically inferior to him, it’s a by-product of jealousy.

“They uh… stripped me down and tied me to a goal post, and- then they just left me there-“ Spencer’s throat catches as he speaks, and you can see through the way his eyes flicker around that he’s replaying the memory in his head.

“I- managed to untie myself after a while, but I spent over an hour searching for all of my clothes and ended up walking home in the dark half dressed…” Spencer’s lip quivers as he reaches the end of his explanation.

“I don’t think i’ve ever been more scared in my life…”

“I’m so sorry they did that to you…” Your eyebrows furrow with sympathy, and you shift your hold on his hands to intertwine your fingers with his. “Nobody should have to experience that…”

Spencer exhales, and you can hear the shake in his breath. “I thought if I just buried it that i’d forget, but I still remember it like it happened yesterday…”

The curse of an eidetic memory you suppose. Destined to remember every detail of the worst experiences you’d ever had.

Although you’re sure that Spencer wouldn’t need an eidetic memory to have what happened to him burned into his brain.

“Spencer…”

“I’m sorry-“ Spencer shakes his head, attempting to pull his hands out of yours. “I told you it was stupid-“

“Hey. No.” You close your hands around his to stop him from pulling away. “That is in no way stupid at all.”

“You went through something awful and developed a fear because of it. That is the furthest thing from stupid Reid,”

“I just-”

You cut off Spencer’s attempt at a rebuttal with a pull of your hands in his, separating them only to wrap your arms around him in a hug. “No excuses.”

Spencer is stiff in your embrace, unsure of what exactly he should be doing. Should he hug you back? Should he pull away to regain his personal space?

He wasn’t exactly sure. He did however, feel like he was going to cry.

He could feel the tears welling up behind his eyelids, squeezing his eyes shut to stop them from falling down his face and hiding his face against the curve of your shoulder so that you wouldn’t be able to see the shadow of his expression.

God he was pathetic.

Sat in his coworkers embrace because he was scared of the goddamn dark.

On the verge of tears because of something that happened twelve years ago.

A twenty four year old man. A fully grown adult.

His shoulders begin to tremble as he thinks about it, and you can feel the way his breath catches in his throat as you bring your hand to the back of his head to hold him closer to you.

“This is pathetic i’m sorry…” He shakes his head against your shoulder, hindered slightly by the way his glasses sit on the bridge of his nose.

“Shhh,” You shake your head in tandem with his, leaning your cheek against the side of his head as you rub your hand over his back. “Don’t be silly,”

"You're not pathetic, Spencer," You reassure him, your voice gentle. "Everyone has their own fears and struggles. It takes strength to open up about them."

He takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to compose himself. "I just never thought I'd be so affected by it for this long."

"Trauma doesn't have a set expiration date," you say softly. "It's okay to still be working through things. And you don't have to face it alone."

Spencer finally relaxes a bit in your embrace, allowing himself to accept the comfort you're offering. "Thank you," he mumbles, his voice barely audible against the fabric of your shirt.

“No problem-“ You don’t finish your sentence before the lights come back on, causing you to squint from the sudden brightness.

The sudden light flooding the elevator exposes the position the two of you had found yourself in, your legs tangled together as Spencer sits in your embrace with your arms around his torso and his hands resting limply by your waist.

“See?” You pull his face away from your shoulder gently, leaning back to finally get a fully clear view of his face. “Nothing to worry about,”

“Yeah…” He nods softly, eyes still a little red from holding back his tears, and he sniffles as he pulls away from you properly when the elevator starts moving downwards again.

“Do you want a ride home?” Your invitation is obvious as you two of you pick yourselves up from the floor, your eyes silently encouraging him to accept your proposal.

“I-“ The elevator came to another halt, this time thankfully opening its doors on the ground for the two of you to leave.

He had his train ticket in his pocket, but he was willing to forget it for now.

“That would be great, thank you…”

“No problem Spencer, let’s get outta here,”

He tries to brush aside the way he feels when you call him by his first name, nodding softly with pursed lips.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here…”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #mgg #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #asks 🫶

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chocsra · 4 months

Text

"Held like Glass, Kissed Alike"

chuuya x fem! reader - how he holds you 🙇‍♀️

a/n: to all my physical touch bbgs 🫶

content: how chuuya holds you, kissing, holding hands, fluff, drabble/small oneshot, smug! chuuya, soft! chuuya, not proofread, prolly grammar errors

"chuuya! hold my bag while you're at it!"

'cocky demands from a cocky person', chuuya thinks. "tsk," he tuts--the downpour of rain at the moment was horrific, especially in a city, a populated, developed, city drowned in sad puddles of slushy water. you and your trusted friend, chuuya nakahara, had came to go shopping, and unbeknownst to the subsequent downfall, you both stupidly didn't bring an umbrella.

so when the rain fell, he swiftly grabbed the closest umbrella in one of the restaurant's stands, successfully covering the both of you. chuuya is one of your close friends, and even though he's slightly annoyed most of the time and yaps a whole lot, he's also decently reliable.

you on the other hand, felt like you needed to make his life worse, a living hell. wanting to feel like those clingy girlfriends in romcoms, you pulled down your purse and dramatically handed it to him. watching as his eyebrows furrow in confusion, "might as well hold my bag while you're at it!" and yes, even with a baffled scoff, the redhead still held your bag for the rest of the day.

"i just realised, why do you always wear gloves?"

a romantic tune of jazz sung in the air, fancy clinks and clanks of cutlery swang past as you and your now fellow date, chuuya nakahara, sat in one of the finest restaurants in yokohama.

the ginger chews on his food intently, elbow planted on the table as he takes two gloved fingers, and motions you to come closer. you cock a brow, leaning forward, ear facing him.

"got a nasty case of athletes foot, but on my fingers." that's one way to swoon you, great work chuuya. the mafioso wiggles his eyebrows sarcastically watching as you sink away back into your seat. "thank you s'much," you reply, now picking at your food, "think I just lost my appetite."

the redhead snickers and pinches the tip of his gloves in between his teeth, removing it. "I'm joking, here." he smirks, a large hand urging you to place yours atop of his. you follow, feeling the warmth of his palms spread to yours, his hands were pretty damn big, bigger than a lot of men despite of his height.

"you like holding hands, hm?" the mafiosos smirks playfully as you try to hide the big smile creeping on your lips. he rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, gently looking as the moonlight illuminates your eyes focused on your hands. chuuya felt damn lucky he could ever get someone to look at him like that. the redhead darts his eyes back to you and your interlocked hands, whispering, "i do too, it's okay." even though chuuya was a terrifying mafia executive, he couldn't help but hide the boyish smile as he held your hand in between his fingers, feeling as your soft skin smooths over his rarely bare, lithe hands.

"this is rush hour in public transit, would ya look at that?"

you beam a light-hearted smile at the redhead beside you, in one of the most crowded subways. sweat and humid air pierced through, and so did the amount of space you could breathe in. chuuya nakahara, your newly and beloved boyfriend, hasn't taken public transportation in years. so he wasn't used to the crushing claustrophobia of other people at all, you, on the other hand seemed rather desensitized to it. smiling and rambling about how 'it's not that bad'. the redhead could only scoff in return, his right hand tightening on the bar for support.

"actually," you continue, clutching your purse in your left hand, "you haven't been here in a while, have you?" you smirk teasingly, causing chuuya to groan in annoyance at your words. the subway doors opening yet again, "well, consider this your fir--"

a new line of bustling people rammed into the compartment, as they filled the station, you stepped back in oblivion, almost seperating you and your fellow company. but with a calculated pull, chuuya hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, thumb rubbing at your side.

the mafioso lets out a dramatic sigh, "yeah, well? continue?" you look at him in a surprised gaze, eyes darting to the hand still tugged around your waist, even as the sea of other people weren't in threat of a stampede anymore. you felt a knot twist in your stomach as chuuya cocks a brow at you, waiting for you to finish your sentence. "shit, well, now i forgot."

"opinion on people who sleep with socks on?"

you weren't so used to grand gestures in general, but every month your boyfriend, chuuya nakahara, surprised you with something new just because you could deal with his shit. this month, he took you stargazing, with a small theme park next to your designated spot. neon arcade lights reflected off your face and eyes as he took a gloved hand and brushed away some strands with an ever soft graze of his fingers.

you, feeling foreign to the affectionate brush of his fingers, smile tugging at his lips, eyes rested on yours, asked the most random and stupid question that popped in your head. "what's your opinion on people who sleep with socks on?" the ginger chuckles softly at your question, still cupping your cheek, watching as your eyes drag away to anything but him. "shut up already." chuuya smiles boyishly, which reminds you of his raw humanity every once in a while. you hum in a quipped agreement before stiffling a laugh.

"happy not-so-ani-aniversary, pretty girl." chuuya's pillowy lips come down on your left cheek, leaving a soft peck as his thumbs grazes against the side of your face. his lips then connect to your right cheek, making your pinch one of your eyes shut as the redhead pecks your nose. uncontrollably smiling as you giggle, pushing your hair to the side as he presses his soft lips against your forehead, bringing yourselves down.

the mafioso brings you in closer, "i love you." he mutters, as he connects your lips to his. a soft fluttering in his stomach occurs as he feels you smile against his lips, taking his fingers in between your hair as he smooths through it. he was truly enamoured, enchanted, beyond bewitched. chuuya took in how good it feels to have you, a girlfriend, an asshole, a companion.

from every place he held, it was always just you. chuuya knew, that if his fingers fit so perfect in the interlocking of yours, curled around your waist, or cupping your cheek, he was meant to hold you. to be yours, as they say.

a/n: sorry for my vanishing bbgs, ill upload more at christmas break😔😔

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #chocsra #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #chuya x reader #chuya x you #Spotify

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linos-luna · 3 days

Note

Can you write yandere hyunjin who has enough of reader's back talking that he uses her fear (it may be of dark/closed spaces/water) to suppress her?

Pretty please

————————————�� (not proofread)

Dark Spaces 🔪

Yandere!Hyunjin x Reader

Warning: Yandere!, 18+, claustrophobia, fear, panic attacks, manipulation.

—————————————————

Oh you’ve done it now. Hyunjin’s controlling obsessive behavior has always been a point of contention but he’ll back off once you talk back or reason with him. It annoyed him but he didn’t wanna hurt you. You’re the love of his life. His beloved. His soulmate. There’s no way you do it out of malice, right? Well perhaps you miscalculated… and he’s pissed.

“I’ve spoiled you so much and this is the thanks I get?!” He yelled while dragging you in by the arm. “Why don’t you understand?!”

“Hyunjin, I can’t stand it! Why can’t you leave me alone for five minutes?!” You yelled back.

“I-I just want to love you!” He replied, his voice breaking.

“Well you’re awful at showing it!”

Hyunjin was stunned for a moment. He always did his best to love and spoil you. This bothered him. No, actually, this angered him. Your ungratefulness and lack of empathy for his feelings right now was like stabbing him in the heart and twisting the knife. Now he’s gonna make you understand his pain.

Before saying anything else, Hyunjin grabbed you by the wrist, so tight that it’ll be bruised. He roughly pulled you by the wrist, harder than earlier, almost enough to dislocate something.

“Hyunjin stop!” You yelled at the pain as he practically dragged you to the hallway.

“You just don’t understand!” He yelled back. You swear you could see a tear forming. “I love you! And all you do is be a brat about it!”

“I’m not—!” Before you could finish your sentence, he swings the small closet door open and practically throws you inside before quickly shutting the door, leaving you in this tight dark space.

“Hyunjin! Let me out!!” You begged while knocking on the door as he locked. “J-Jinnie! You know I don’t like it in here!”

“I know.” Hyunjin replied calmly while wiping his tears. “Now you get to feel the hurt and fear you give to me when I’ve been nothing but loving.”

“No! Jinnie stop! Let me out! J-Jinnie!!” You started panicking while slamming the fists on the door and shaking.

“I’ll be back once you learned your lesson.” Hyunjin replied, smiling slightly with his arms crossed. “You need time to reflect.” He added before walking away towards the kitchen.

“Hyunjin!! Hyunjin!!” You were practically screaming as you banged on the door. Not even the hallway light reflected into the closet so you were practically confined to a tight space with no light. Your worst of fears. The absolute worst.

You could feel your heart racing as seconds passed. Your breathing quickened as the realization set in that he was no longer there. Panic set in as you were practically hyperventilating. Your banging on the door got weaker as your body now focused on breathing. It was the worst feeling of fear as your nails scraped against the wooden door. You felt at any moment that you could pass out. That is, until you saw light.

Standing there with his arms open was Hyunjin. With the dim light, he was practically a prince, saving you from the dark hell. With no hesitation, you crawled to him and hugged him tight.

Hyunjin hugged you back, his warmth enveloping you like a blanket and you felt more at ease.

“My sweet y/n…” he whispered softly while stroking your hair as you cried and buried your face in this shoulder. “I think you’ve learned your lesson…”

M-mhm…” you whimpered as your body still shook slightly. “I-I’m sorry Jinnie…” you stuttered.

“I know you are, baby.” He said with a smile.

For the rest of the day, you practically clung onto him like a sloth, just as he liked. He’s the only one who can save you from that horrendous dark closet. You need him just as much as he needs you…

—————————————————

Sorry it took forever! I’ve been so busy with work and treatments! Love yall that have been sticking around for so long. I appreciate it! 💕💕💕💕💕

#kpop #kpop x reader #fanfic #kpop imagines #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x poc reader #stray kids yandere #yandere stray kids #yandere skz #yandere hyunjin x reader #yandere hyunjin #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin x poc reader #kpop yandere #yandere kpop

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skzstannie · 24 days

Text

"Just Breathe"

SKZ -> Minho x GN!reader

genre: exes to ??, hurt/comfort, angsty wc: ~1,200 cw: brief descriptions of a panic attack, reader has claustrophobia but it's not directly mentioned

summary: After a nasty breakup, you're hoping to never see Minho again. However, when your stuck in an uncomfortable situation, Minho is right by your side yet again.

A/N: Well hello again! It's been forever, so I thank you for being so patient. School has been stressful as ever (I'm actually procrastinating as I write this), but I wanted to get something out to you guys even if it's short and kinda shitty (but oh well). I have a few requests, and once school eases up, I'll get right on them! Just want to make sure they're good quality.

Not proofread (oops)

Happy Scrolling! | Masterlist

"What I wouldn't give to live in a different apartment complex right now," you sigh, standing as you wait for the elevator.

The elevators have had a vendetta against you all week, and you've been trying to not let it get to you, but after waiting for the fifth minute with no luck, your patience starts to run a little thin.

Taking the stairs is always an option, however, you live on the 15th floor, and 30 flights of stairs is certainly not for the weak. You would know, as yesterday you took the alternative route. It left you a sweaty mess with sore limbs and blisters on the back of your heels, something you're not looking to experience on the daily.

Finally, the elevator dings, signaling it's arrival, and you pick your bag up from the floor. A load of people step out the elevator, explaining why it took so long to arrive. You step in, turning to press your floor. The doors begin to close, but a hand sticks itself in to the gap before they close all the way. Your eyes narrow at the person before they're even in your view, upset that you're once again behind held up.

All you want is to go upstairs and lay on your couch to take a nap.

What sliver of patience you had left in you quickly diminishes once you see who has stopped the elevator.

Lee freaking Minho, your ex. Things didn't exactly end well between the two of you. There were multiple accusations of cheating going around about the both of you, and neither of you were putting enough trust in the other person. He thought he was the one to end it, and you thought you were the one to end it- so things didn't end on a very concise note. Not that you were complaining; after the blowout fight you two had, you were hoping to never see him again. This was unlikely though, as he lived in the same apartment complex as you.

His eyes widen upon seeing your agitated stance, and he scoffs when you roll your eyes. You hope for a moment he'll just turn around and walk out upon seeing you, but your heat drops when he doesn't. In fact, he has the audacity to even ask you to press his floor.

"17, please," he smirks at you, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

"What, you can't reach over there yourself?"

"No can do sweetheart, you know I'm not one for unnecessary movements," he snaps back, leaning back against the cool elevator wall.

You scowl at him before relenting, reaching over to press his floor for him.

It's silent for a moment, and you relish in the peace of not having to hear him run his mouth. All good things must come to an end, unfortunately.

"You know, if you keep scowling like that it might stick forever," he comments, crossing his arms over his chest. You once might've fawned at the way his shirt tightens around his chest and arms, but the only emotion you feel now is annoyance.

"I'm sure you know from experience, right?" you shoot back, keeping your head facing forward as to not give him any satisfaction.

Just try to ignore him.

You can see out of your periphery how he rolls his eyes, pulling his phone out of his back pocket to busy himself.

You breath a little easier upon seeing he's going to leave you alone now, and you bring yourself to watch the different floors pass as the elevator goes up.

You watch as you hit floor 10, then suddenly the elevator jerks to a stop. You stumble a bit, not expecting the jolt. The number disappears, and the elevator, once lit with the overhead light, turns pitch black.

Your breathing immediately picks up, and you crouch on the floor to try and ground yourself.

"Y/N?" Minho says, his voice shaky and apprehensive.

"Shut up," you tell him, focusing on trying not to hyperventilate.

"It'll be fine," he says, trying to reassure both you and him, "I'll just press the emergency button, and hopefully they'll have it up and running again soon."

You don't respond. You bring your hands up into your hair, subconsciously tugging at the strands roughly. You squeeze your eyes tightly, anything to distract from the panic bubbling up through your chest.

You feel a hand rest gently on your back, but you immediately push it away. as if it's burned you. Minho's brought out his flashlight from his phone, illuminating the elevator in a soft glow.

"Don't touch me," you rasp out, falling back onto your bottom. You bring your knees up to your chest, burying your head between them.

"You need to calm down, you're going to give yourself a panic attack."

While you'd love to scream at him, tell him that he's not allowed to comfort you anymore. That he's not allowed to tell you what to anymore. That he had his chance to be a good boyfriend, but he threw it away.

You wish you could tell him all those things. Scream in his face, tell him how badly he'd hurt you. He'd hurt you bot only by accusing you of cheating on him, but also with hanging out with your ex-best friend, someone he knew had hurt you very badly in the past, enough for you to cut all ties with her.

While this is what you wanted to do, you know your body needed something different.

Throughout your relationship, Minho was your rock. Through thick and thin, he'd always been there for you. Every accomplishment, every set back. Every celebration, and, in turn, every panic attack. Unfortunately, the latter happened more frequently than you'd like to admit, and he'd gotten quite good over the years at comforting you through them.

So, deciding to listen to what you knew your body needed, you gave in.

"Please just hold me," it came out as a whisper, but Minho had no problem hearing you over the silence encompassing the elevator.

While you were having your own internal battle, Minho was also contemplating his options.

He knew if he held you, if he comforted you, all those emotions he'd suppressed for the last few months would resurface. He'd worked so hard to get his life back on track, all for you to inadvertently ask him to throw it all away.

In his heart, he knew what he needed to do. It was the just the two of you in this elevator, and he'd be a monster to tell you no, especially since he knew what would happen if he did.

So, with that, he quickly dropped down onto the floor. He wrapped his strong arms around you, and immediately you felt the panic begin to subside. It was amazing what this presence could do to your fragile mind in times like these; it never failed to amaze you.

You leaned your head against his chest, taking slow and deliberate breaths to try and slow your heartrate down.

"That's it. You're ok, we'll get out of here. Just breathe." He let his arms tighten around you, and he realizes just how much he missed having you in his arms. How natural it felt for him to comfort you in this way.

"I'll get you out of here."

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee know #skz oneshots #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshots #skz imagines #lee know x reader #lee minho #skz angst #skz hurt/comfort #exes to ???

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aurasplanet · 7 days

Text

STUPID GRIMES carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings — both are 18+, e2l, reader has claustrophobia, reader is maggie and glenn’s adopted daughter, i literally can’t write e2l this sucks so bad i’m so sorry

your arms are crossed over your chest as you look out the window. you and carl had to go on a run, alone, without ripping each others throats out. seriously, daryl left you a note that read ‘don’t rip each others throats out’.

carl had his music blasting through the radio, fingers drumming against the steering wheel completely ignoring your presence. you hated it. he always acted so unbothered as if you didn’t get under his skin. he always acted like such an asshole, criticizing your aim and telling you his is better. “even though i lost an eye!”

always wearing that fucking hat and those fucking flannels and fucking jeans that made him look too good for a total dickhead. it’s like the petty preteen feud started getting fueled by sexual frustration and made you both mad at each other for being hot.

carl hands you the list, “follow it, nothing else. we need to get in and get out.” was he ever going to let the time you saw a cute top on, in your defense what looked like a dead walker, and almost got bit?

“i’m just a girl, grimes.” he rolls his eyes, turning his music up. “plus i can defend myself, you can’t silence me!” with a smirk he turns it all the way up.

you see what looks like a run down store in the distance, pointing at it. in return you get carl yelling, “i know what im doing!” you hop out of the car when he parks, looking over the list quickly.

“you take the walkers on that side, i’ll take this side.” you point from left to right, causing carl to scoff.

“and if i want the right side?”

you huff, “okay smartass, take right. where you don’t have someone in your blind spot to cover you.” carl simply rolls his eyes, and without another word goes to the left side of the store. just as you thought, a few walkers to carl’s right were headed right for him.

you run over and stab every one of them in the head before they could get close, abandoning your side of the store. with the walkers all around you growling in your ear, you didn’t notice the noise growing.

“do i seriously always have to save your ass?” carl looks back at you with a glare before his face widens with shock. he grabs your arm and makes a beeline for the back. he saw the back room when you both walked in, and he hoped there were no dead waiting for you both.

he opens the door and practically throws you in, barricading it behind you two with the metal cart against the wall. you hear a growl behind you and whip around, there’s a walker in a mop bucket reaching out to you. you jam your knife through it’s eye, turning around to look at carl breathless.

carl chuckles and leans against the wall, “who saved who’s life now?”

you grab the mop in the bucket and place it on the walker’s head, masking it’s gross face. “what the hell? i was handling it.”

carl gives you an incredulous look, “handling it? the herd of walkers coming up behind you?” as of right on cue you hear their desperate hands clawing at the door. you sigh and walk around the tiny custodian closet, looking around for something, anything to help you out of this mess.

carl’s never seen you so antsy, he pushes himself off the wall and walks to you. his hand comes up to your shoulder awkwardly, rubbing it a little. “we’ll be fine, we still have our bag, our radios.” you nod, hating this side of you coming out. especially around carl of all people.

you swat his hand away, “i don’t need your pity.”

carl scoffs and goes back to his spot against the wall. “this is why i don’t help you.” you glare at him, leaning down to put your hands on your knees and breathe slowly. focusing on everything but the small room with walls that seemed to close in on you.

“you’re just an asshole, that’s why i don’t want your help.” carl looks at you with a monotone expression. you’ve known him since you met at the farm. daryl found you looking for sophia, and ever since maggie and glenn adored you like you’re their own. but with carl, it’s like he grew out of his menace phase with everyone else but it stuck with you.

“and when i give you the treatment you deserve, you go back to being one.” he doesn’t say a word, he just watches you pace.

“did you never grow up?” you can’t help but word vomit, it’s the only thing keeping you from spiraling. getting all of your thoughts out. “i mean, you clearly did. you’re so nice to everyone. why are you so different with me?”

that’s when carl remembers it, your claustrophobia. he remembered that one time in the prison, getting caught with him, maggie, and lori. even that room made you feel weak and petrified. it’s one of the only instances you remember him treating you kindly.

he gets close to you again, face inches from yours. he went to speak but nothing came out. your glassy eyes look at him in a way they haven’t before. you feel so close, the attraction he’d formed towards you was becoming overwhelming and he began to step back.

you grab him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close again. “don’t…” you look into his eye before hugging him tightly. “don’t. the fear goes away when it feels like it’s just us.” carl let’s out a ragged breath, bringing his arms up around your back. “we can pretend this didn’t happen later.”

“we don’t have to,” he whispers and you pull away, looking at him wide eyed.

“but we will. i’m not weak.”

carl shakes his head and grabs your hand, “this doesn’t make you weak. it makes you human, and that’s not common feature for people to still have nowadays.”

you scoff out a laugh, “when did you get all wise?” carl laughs back, his gaze is soft, foreign to you. you let a few moments go by, standing there hand in hand. it should be awkward, but for some reason it wasn’t.

you bite your lip before speaking up again, “answer my question.”

carl laughs confusedly, “i think i get it from my dad?” you give him a playful glare and slap his arm,

“not that, stupid.” you go silent again, scared to ruin the fact he’s finally acting normal around you. “why do you act so different with me?” it’s like the air got thicker, in the way it did before when you would bicker, but not with the negative undertones. just tension, a lot. tension you don’t want to name out of embarrassment.

carl licks his lips and glances at yours. “as ridiculous as it sounds…” his face gets closer, “i feel like i can be free with you. let the parts of me that had to be buried out.” his voice turns into a whisper against your lips. “i guess i don’t remember how to do that without acting like such a little shit.”

you both laugh but it doesn’t last long, his hand comes up to your waist causing your breath to hitch. “it got worse when you just,” carl sighs and closes his eye. “became too hard to resist. i was so mad that we were stuck in this frenemy limbo, i made it worse.”

“damn,” you sigh, causing carl to furrow his brow. “you’re very stupid grimes.”

“shut up,” he snaps, pressing his lips against yours. you hum in surprise, but bring your hands up to cup his face. your thumb runs soothingly over his scarred cheek causing him to pull away. “it’s gross, i’m sorry.”

“it’s pretty,” you mumble, pulling him in to kiss him again. he disconnects your lips and shakes his head.

“pretty?”

you roll your eyes, “carl, you’re pretty. your scar is pretty. you’re supposed to be shutting me up right now.” carl blinks and your lips are back on his. you’re more eager this time, impatient. you part your mouth urging him to deepen the kiss. you sigh into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck.

his other hand comes to the other side of your waist, pressing you against the wall. your back thuds against it, eliciting a whimper out of you. “sorry…” he mumbled against your lips. he pulls back a little, eye hooded and gaze trained on your swollen lips. “i like the sounds you make, though.”

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #carl grimes #carl grimes smut #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #twd oneshot #twd fluff #twd imagine #twd smut #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes x fem!reader

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everythingelseisextra · 10 months

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Those Nights

Request: No. Description: On clear nights, you choose to leave your bed with Tommy and watch the stars. A miscommunication is made, and a new routine is born from it. Warnings: Language, sexual implications Word Count: 1356 Author's Note: Loosely inspired by @dearshelby's post on historical characters not being particularly Therapized(tm). I wanted to write a quiet fic about how Tommy might react to a small conflict. Of course, I made the reader character the world's best communicator, which I hope isn't too irritating.

You don’t sleep anymore. Not on clear nights like this.

The balcony opens onto ink, speckled with light, a midnight city pulled into the obscure blush of gray and black and faint yellows and oranges. Smog clears and suddenly you’re drowning in the ocean of a blackened world overgrown with pinpricks of light. You lean your head back and stare up, and you melt into the endless. Souls echo the world around them, and yours, on nights like these, feels like the day you fell in love. Clear and bright and hopeful, like anything is possible.

You wonder about the tunnels. About cave ins and claustrophobia, about the constant stench of stagnant water and the rot of feet stepping through it. About the ache of his back as he crouches to slowly kick clay, trying desperately to make it out alive, to survive another night. You wonder if it was overwhelming to finally breathe fresh air, to look up at an open world and know that, soon, he'll have to go back under. You wonder if the dead fear the sky.

As if on cue, the door to the bedroom behind you opens. You sense him before you see him. Exhaustion radiates off of him, so tired it feels as though he’s eating himself trying to rest, cannibalistic desperation. You close your eyes and feel his presence move next to you. He’s warm. Hot, even, as though he’d been sweating.

Silence hovers between you, perfect, cool and untouchable. It’s a quiet you have had to learn how to break over time, because he never will. So brave, and yet too timid to reach out, to seek some form of comfort or help, that you’re always the one to ask.

“Another nightmare?”

“Yep.” A pause. Still with your eyes closed, you feel him shift away from you, step aside on the balcony. The precipice of vulnerability. The space between you looms. “You were out here.”

“Enjoying the night,” you confirm, and open your eyes to look at him. Your heart sinks. He’s pale, even more so than usual, and the shadows under his eyes sink deep into his skin. Though he’s steady, face set in a neutral expression, you know better. There’s a slight puffiness to his eyes that tell you he’s been crying. More than a nightmare.

He nods. His jaw tightens, then relaxes. When he looks up, the stars reflect in his eyes, like sparks through the ice, burning despite the cold.

You decide to ask, to try to coax something like an explanation from him, to at least show him that you know him. “What else happened?”

“Nothing,” he answers immediately.

“No, not nothing. There’s something. I can see it.” You hesitate, then place a hand on the balcony railing between you, an offer. “I can feel it.”

“Always the empath, aren’t you?” His voice hardens, his eyes flick down to the city around you. Defending himself from your prying, shutting you down, tightening the hatches. You know this game, after years of being with him. And, although it’s a strange way of thinking, you know how to win it.

“I just know you.” You leave your hand there, holding onto the wood of the railing, fingers gently tracing the grain. “Not an empath. Just your partner.”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Tom, you sound like a child.” You hide a smile. It’s a good thing his pettiness and asshole tendencies make you laugh. Your relationship would have ended years ago if they didn’t. “It is my business if you’re going to sulk for days because I didn’t read your mind.”

He scoffs, then sobers. Quiet for a moment, staring down at his crossed arms, the fluff of his hair falling over his eyes. “I wake up from a tunnel and you aren’t there.”

Oh. You take a deep breath and stare out at the city lights, the little glints of heat in the Birmingham cold. You are fluent in his language, and it’s your job to translate him, put into words what he likely never will be able to.

“You felt abandoned by me because you were alone when you woke up.”

“Sounds fucking pathetic.”

“Sounds human. You’re human, remember?” You nudge his shoulder, trying to coax a smile from him and failing.

Again, his jaw tightens. There’s still something he’s holding onto.

“And… It scares you. Being alone in the dark again.” You shrug. “It makes sense. I’m sorry. I get wrapped up in the world.”

“I’m not scared of the dark.”

“I know you’re not. I think you are scared of being left alone again. After Grace.”

That was the last straw, apparently. He turns and starts back towards the bedroom, arms still crossed, walking with that hunter’s walk he’s developed over the years. You follow him and grab his arm, stopping him.

“Look, you need to talk to me. It doesn’t need to be much.” You pull his arm so he turns to face you. Blue eyes stare defiantly into yours, almost childlike in their anger. “Haven’t I earned that much from you?”

“You’re right. You’re always bloody right.” He almost spits the words, then calms, taking a huffing breath. “We made a promise. We said we’d be there.”

Defensiveness spikes in you, makes you open your mouth to retort, but you hesitate, think it through. When you do speak, the words land softly. You can’t engage with him, can’t fall to his level of accusations and insults. “I know. Sometimes I won’t be able to be there. I can learn, though. I can listen to you. I won’t leave you alone at night, then. I’ll just open the windows so I can feel the air. Is that an okay compromise?”

His eyes flick around you, taking in the nocturnal grandeur around you, the natural and unnatural starlight, the faint gray haze of the coming dawn. Finally, they land back on you, and he gives a slight shake of his head. “Wake me.”

“What?”

“On nights like this. Wake me. No need for a compromise.”

You smile a little. “You’d sacrifice your precious sleep for me?”

His expression turns sly, the closest he gets to flirty these days. His head tilts and he looks at you sideways, matching your smile. “Haven’t I already?”

You take him by the wrist and pull him towards you. “Yes. Would you consider wasting some more time with me tonight?”

His eyes drift, slowly moving their way down your body, drinking you in, and the cool night air flows around you, chilling your bones and contrasting to the faint heat on your cheeks. He pulls you in and gently, so gently, kisses you. You smile against him, one hand reaching up to hold him, the other resting on his hip. You sway there, then, when you can’t stand the earnestness of the moment, you gently push him back towards the bedroom.

“We can have some fun.” You smile at him, toying with the hem of your shirt, then the waistline of your pants. “Be good and go lie down for me, won’t you?”

Falling into the usual routine of him, for once in his life, letting go of some control, he steps back, eyes stuck on yours. “Yes, love.”

From then on, when the nights clear out and the moon shines through the cracks in the shutters, you roll onto your side and stare over at him. Eyelashes long, eyes moving beneath pale eyelids, dreaming, breathing slow and steady. The old tattoo on his shoulder that you consider the mark of a tragedy. Sometimes, you choose to let him sleep, curling into his side and drifting back off. But, mostly, you crawl on top of him, straddling him and slowly letting your weight grind down on him until he wakes. It’s gentle, and his sleep is deep, but when his eyes blink open, he looks up at you, and you watch his pupils slowly expand.

“One of those nights?” He murmurs, resting his hands on your hips, slipping his thumbs beneath your shirt.

“One of those nights,” you confirm, and lean down to kiss him.

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon

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prentissluvr · 7 months

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closer, and closer still — luke alvez

pairing : luke alvez x bau!gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : fluff ➖⟢ cw : situation that could cause claustrophobia (very crowded elevator), kissing ➖⟢ wc : 2K

it's natural to get in the elevator with luke. you've done it a million times, just the two of you or with other members of the team. tonight it's because you both stayed late to finish your reports; everyone else left before you besides emily, who's, as she often is, still in her office. there's not much conversation between the two of you tonight, both tired after a long day and an even longer case. but still, it's comfortable—once again, natural.

what's not natural is the amount of workers who pile into the small space the floor below yours. you do your best to ignore the way heat begins to rise into your cheeks when he immediately steps in front of you, trying to casually block you off from anyone else because he knows that you’d hate being squished against any strangers in such a cramped space. he's quite close, only inches away, and he sends you that crooked smile he has when he's trying to make an annoying situation seem at least a little humorous. and that's just fine, even though it sends your heart into a fluttering mess. until one more stubborn person decides that there's got to be room for them, and luke gets pushed right into you.

one of his hands braces himself on the wall beside you, the other right on your shoulder. normally, you'd laugh at his surprised expression, but his body flush against yours seems to have you malfunctioning.

"jeez," he mutters under his breath, the scoff only audible to you over the noise of the man who thinks it's a great idea to have a loud conversation over the phone right now. the look he gives you is apologetic as he goes to remove his hand from your shoulder, but he's caught in such an awkward position that he can't move it more than a few inches away from you. and he's so worried about making you uncomfortable with too much physical contact that he just lets his hand hover there.

that's when you let out a quiet laugh, one that only he can hear.

you just can’t help it, with the cautious look on his face and the well-meaning, but awkward action of trying not to touch you, as if the rest of his body weren’t pressed against yours.

he raises his eyebrows, confused by your laughter.

“what’s that about?” the fact that so many people are around to hear compels him to speak in a hushed tone.

“i don’t mind,” you say, doing your best to look him in the eye as you tell him. he just cocks his head to the side a bit, telling you he doesn’t want to assume what you mean by that. so, you plunder on. “you don’t have to keep your hand like that. i don’t mind when you touch me.” when those words escape your mouth, you have to admit, that’s not how you meant to say it, but the way that a smile tugs at his lips makes it feel worth it.

“right,” he nods. he still seems careful when he lets his hand rest against your shoulder again, and the weight of it causes your eyes to dart away from his face.

neither of you can find anything else to say for the remainder of the elevator ride, but it’s not the end of the world considering that it only lasts for another thirty seconds. though, admittedly, it feels a bit more like an eternity to you.

when the doors open to the garage level, and people file out of the cramped area, there’s finally space for him to step away from you. but your heart flutters at the fact that there’s no rush on his part. his hand slips away from you, and he takes a step backwards before turning his body around. he lingers at the doors to keep them open, motioning for you to go first.

“after you,” he smiles, ever the gentleman despite his habit of constant teasing. you hope he catches the quick smile you send him as you whisk past him and into the parking garage. he’s back at your side in a second, walking with you in the direction of your car.

“hey, uh,” he stops you when you’re only halfway there, saying your name in a way that feels too nice. “can i take you home?”

you resist a grin. “if you’ll pick me up in the morning. there’s no way in hell i’m taking public transport if you’re making me leave my car here.”

he doesn’t bother hiding his own grin, “deal.” there’s a pause before he realizes that, of course, you’re standing in the middle of a parking lot, and you don’t know where his car is. “my car’s this way,” he clarifies, pointing with his thumb to the opposite side of the garage.

“making me work for it, huh?” you tease. he chuckles, resisting the sudden urge he has to slip his arm around your shoulders and pull you into his side. he wants you close, and closer still, he realizes.

“don’t forget i’m the one who’s gotta do all the driving.”

“oh, poor, poor luke. the guy’s offered to drive me and now he’s complaining about it!” making fun of him is just too easy. you love the way it always makes him smile.

“couldn’t complain about spending more time with you.”

now that throws you off. it stops you in your tracks for just a moment as you finally reach the passenger’s side of his car and he loops around to get in the driver’s seat.

“you getting in or not?” he calls. trying to pretend he hasn’t flustered you at all, you pop the door open and climb inside.

once you’re in and buckled, you peek at him subtly as he starts the car. “thank you for driving me home, luke.”

“of course. it’s my pleasure,” he smiles genuinely before backing his car out of the parking lot. it’s confirmed; he looks very hot doing that. once you’re out of the parking lot, you both immediately notice the rain falling from the sky.

“i didn’t know it was supposed to rain tonight,” you comment, “though that’s not too much of a surprise here, of course.”

he lets out a light laugh, “yeah, i didn’t know either. i’m just glad it’s not rush hour any more.”

“god, tell me about it. the only good thing to come out of staying late to do paperwork is avoiding the traffic.”

his response isn’t quite what you expect, not just a generic phrase signalling he finds your statement relatable. “i can think of something else good to come out of that.” his tone is full of implications. you don’t want to assume what he means by that, but you can certainly hope he’s talking about this.

“really? like what?” it’s always more fun to play along.

“well,” he begins. you adore that he never tries to hide the smile in his expressions from you, even if that means he’s kind of giving himself away. it just feels like you’re the one making him smile like that, and that’s one hell of a compliment purely because of how pretty his smile is. “staying late doing paperwork meant that i could take the elevator with you, walk with you, and drive you home. bonus, i get to pick you up in the morning too. that’s some pretty good stuff, if you ask me.”

at that, your face is far more flushed with heat than just five minutes ago when he was stuck right against you in the elevator. and that’s saying a whole lot, considering the fact that you were afraid he’d be able to tell just how flustered you were from your body heat alone. he says it all in a way that no coworker, not even friend, would, and you want to run with it until he’s kissing you goodnight at your doorstep, then beyond. issue is, you can’t think of something good enough to say to let him know that’s what you want. you hope it’s not too bold, but all you can think of to do is tell him just that.

“would it maybe… be a good thing too… if i, um, if i asked you to kiss me goodnight when you, like the gentleman i know you are, walk me to my door?” when those words come out of your mouth and his eyes dart back and forth from you and the road, you realize that’s probably not the best thing to ask while he’s in the middle of driving. but like always, the grin on his face makes it completely worth it.

“that would be amazing,” he says unabashedly, timing his words perfectly with a pause at a stop sign so he can look you in the eyes while he says it. he has just enough time to catch the grin on your face to match his. it seems you’re both too giddy to say anything else for the next few seconds, but he breaks quickly, turning on his turn signal to pull off to the side of the road. “dammit, i don’t think i can wait,” he explains as he pulls the car completely out of traffic’s way, “can i please kiss you now?” he turns to you with every pure intent in his eyes and words. you almost giggle at his desperation, but it makes you feel far too excited, nervous, and wanted even for you to do anything but nod in approval.

“please,” you want him to know you need it just as badly as him. so, in an instant, you’re both leaning in over the middle console to feel the other’s lips on yours. his hand’s on the side of your face and you can’t help but hold onto his arm as if you’ll melt away without his strong frame to ground you there. and there’s his lips, his goddamn perfect lips that jj caught you staring at the other day, the ones that now mold against yours, all soft and needy at the same time. he savors you like there’s nothing quite as divine as your, like he’s been waiting and waiting to have you. to be fair, he has for months at this point. all that he cares about now, though, is that you want him too.

when he finally pulls away, he only does so enough to rest his forehead against yours and look you in the eyes with the most endeared gaze he can muster. he doesn’t let his hand fall away from your face, happily recalling the way you told him that you don’t mind when he touches you. seems like maybe you even like it, were he to flatter himself. of course, you’re thinking about how you absolutely adore his touch, how it already feels like you could never get enough.

“i don’t know how i’m gonna get you all the way home like this,” he half-jokes through a smile before fully moving away to resume the drive. but first, he takes your hand in his and gives it a squeeze, then a heart-fluttering kiss to the knuckles.

the smile you return to him is a bit sly, though he can’t see it as he pulls back into the lanes of traffic. “well, your place is closer, is it not?" you begin carefully, "you won’t even have to pick me up in the morning that way.” you're a bit scared to intrude by inviting yourself over, but the expression on his face makes it clear that you are more than welcome.

“gosh,” he laughs in surprise, clearly pleased by your proposition, “you are very right. roxy will be excited to see you.” and he's very, very excited to keep kissing you.

#luke alvez #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez requests #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #criminal minds requests #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds scenarios #criminal minds luke alvez #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez fic #luke alvez criminal minds #luke alvez fluff #criminal minds fluff #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez x reader fic

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live-tweeting-hotg · 4 months

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You Don't Think, Do You [Daemon x Reader]

summary: the princess of Dorne struggles to see eye to eye with the Rogue Prince.

warnings & content: heavy smut 18+ (minors dni), porn with little plot, non/dubcon, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, mean!dom!daemon, rough sex, fingering (fem receiving), p in v, creampie, titty slapping, he puts a sword to her neck, power imbalance, size kink, light breeding kink, degradation, dumbification, mentions of arranged marriage, rhaenyra? who's that (this is so nasty I'm not sure why I wrote this)

words: 2.5k

You let the heavy door shut swing behind you, feeling your annoyance threatening to bubble over. The crown princess of Dorne, regal, powerful, tremendously able… shipped off to this miserable rock to sign a perfunctory piece of paper. You wanted to scream, thought better of it, and let out a tight breath of air somewhere between a hiss and a sigh.

It was almost like you were being punished for something, yet the entirely civil pretence of it meant you didn’t quite dare ask.

You stand in the room rigidly, exhausted, yet restless with a twitchy sort of tension. To your side, on the large sprawling table, you spot a set of ornate wine cups, fighting off the urge to smash one onto the ground. You were a guest, you reminded yourself, and the renewal of the treaty was necessary nonetheless. A pointless feat, but the prince seemed satisfied enough with the content, despite his bored demeanour at the meeting.

The thought of him almost set you off again. He had spent the entire evening listening to you present the treaty with a raised brow, insisting that you explain every line to him in detail even though there wasn’t a single difference between this and the one preceding it. He smirked when you talked, scoffed when you paused, and spent the remaining time staring at the low cut of your dress.

If this was in Dorne, you think you may have had his eyes cut out.

The knock at your door was a welcome distraction to your agitation. You blink, realising you had spent a good few minutes standing in the middle of the empty room like an idiot, turning to answer the door.

“Princess, I’ve just been made aware of the most interesting thing,” Daemon declares at you when you open the door, before you can even greet him. His frame almost obscures the entire doorway, the scabbard of his sword colliding loudly with the doorframe, leaving you with a strange sense of claustrophobia. He was disorientating, you decided.

“What,” you say back dumbly, after a brief pause, not entirely certain what else you could reply given the strange situation.

His frame slides forward without warning, and you move back instinctively as he lets himself into your— his— room. “I hear of unfavourable things in Sunspear,” he says, fixing you under his gaze. “I hear of treason, plots against the King…”

“Spies,” he finishes softly, face impassive, watching you intensely to gauge a reaction.

You are entirely lost.

“I am unaware—” You begin, before he cuts you off again.

“Are you a spy, princess?” The words are soft, almost chiding, and you think you spot the hint of a smirk at his lips.

You were so dizzy you almost felt nauseous. The context of this was absurd. He was in your room, alone and late, interrogating you whether you were spying— for who?! you wanted to scream. Your rising unease made it more and more difficult to be civil.

“Who would I be spying for?” you say, slowly, tone incredulous. “This is… most strange, and unfounded—” you find your voice rising steadily as your confusion gives way to indignation, and more annoyance.

He hums, crosses his arms casually, and you could swear you saw his eyes twinkling.

“—and insane!” you finish, throwing the word at him like a pointed rock. He cocks his head lazily and dodges it.

“You’re getting very worked up over something unfounded, princess,” he remarks, uncrossing his arms, voice suddenly quieter as he stalks towards you. You don’t move back, because you want to slap him when he comes close enough.

“If this is a jest, I fail to see the amusement,” you tell him sharply, the regal certainty seeping back into your stance, even as he towers over you.

Up close, you notice the fine lines of his sharp, angular face, the eyes set deep into them and the coldness behind his haughty demeanour. When he takes another step towards you, you step back, suddenly uncertain.

“I think I just need to check, princess,” he says softly, almost apologetic. “if you’re carrying… anything untoward. It’ll be a formality.”

your anger flares. “I will not be subject to your ridiculous whims.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes darken. “It’s a simple search, princess. Hardly ridiculous.”

“I don’t think—” your voice rises hotly, then falls flat as you’re interrupted by the sharp grate of his sword as he bares his blade, cocking his head almost thoughtfully, raising it to rest at the side of your neck. It is almost wider than your shoulder.

“No,” he coos, smirking down at you. “you don’t think, do you.” He tilts his blade so it digs into the soft skin under your jawline. “I need to search you, princess. And I won’t ask again.”

He is clearly fucking insane, you realise.

“…Alright,” you breathe out slowly, agreeably, the heat draining from your voice, and he hums appreciatively before sheathing his sword.

“Turn around, princess. Arms out.”

You stand rigidly as he moves behind you, feeling his large hands rest on your shoulders, practically breathing down your neck. A pool of dread settles in your stomach. You knew of his reputation, as did everyone else in the Seven Kingdoms, but with you…?

He moves slowly, deliberately, down the length of your arms, his hand wide enough to almost circle it entirely. He returns to your waist, feeling the curve of your hips through your gown, tutting when you shift uncomfortably. “Behave,” he chides at you as he moves higher, practically palming your tits through your dress. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to deal out a harsh squeeze, huffing out a laugh as you flinch.

“I fear the princess is hiding too much,” he breathes into your ear, arm snaking around your waist as you stiffen uncomfortably, pressing you back against his firm chest. His free hand pushes down the neckline of your dress insistently. “I think she’ll need to bare some more loyalty to her prince.”

Your face flushes as you swallow thickly. “This is improper,” you say weakly.

He shoves you hard from behind as you squeak in surprise, turning to face him with wide eyes. “Strip,” he said simply, face cold. His sword swings at his side.

You swallow again, staring at him, but he meets your gaze cooly with his strange violet eyes, watching you as you slowly unlace your dress, letting it fall to your feet with a soft thump.

“The rest too,” he states softly, and you comply tensely, your face burning. You stare at the floor, completely bare before him as he crosses his arms again, drinking in your humiliation like a fine vintage.

“A fine sight,” he hums appreciatively at last. You grit your teeth, sensing some vague end to his game, before he sighs again. “Forgive me for being thorough, princess.”

Your eyes widen as you hear his smirk. “Bend over the table.”

“You can’t,” you blurt out without thinking, the colour draining from your cheeks. “Please, no—”

“You will bend over the table, or I will do it for you.” His voice is smooth and casual, as if he had been commenting on the weather. “And I promise it’ll hurt you a lot more.”

Your legs feel like lead. Your entire body feels like lead as you somehow walk yourself over, bending awkwardly over it. Like a slab of meat, you thought viciously. It is almost too high for you, and you’re left on your tiptoes, gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles as your face burned. He comes up behind you, tutting. “You know what to do, princess. Legs apart.”

You feel your spine tingle viscerally as you comply, spreading yourself completely before him. The first strike catches you completely off guard as his hand comes down firmly on your bare cunt, forcing a choked scream out of you as your hips buck unconsciously from the contact. It burned your pride more than the stinging shock on your sex. Daemon only laughs as his hand finds the small of your back, shoving your hips back onto the edge of the table as you gasp in pain.

“Such a sensitive little thing,” he mocks. “I think you need to be reminded how to behave, hm?” You yelp as he slaps you again, then another time for good measure, as you writhe and whimper under him, tears brimming your eyes. “All talk, aren’t you? Just won’t shut up in that hall, think you’re so fucking smart…” A slap landed directly on your bud, the pain making you scream out.

The way he treated you, the painful stimulation, and the fact that he had you naked bent over a desk whilst he was fully dressed…

He slid a finger along your folds, laughing quietly to himself. “My little princess liked that, hm? My, you’ve made quite the mess.” You feel it as he spreads your growing wetness down your thigh, hips twitching at the sensitivity. You are suddenly somewhat grateful that he has your face pressed into the desk.

“What?” he mocks again. “Nothing to say?”

You open your mouth, ready with a retort before he shoves two thick fingers into your wet heat, ripping a pained moan from you. You were certainly wet enough, but the stretch still stung, especially with his uncaring force.

“That’s more like it,” he snorted as he scissored his fingers, stretching you out, feeling inside you casually. “Nothing here, princess,” he hummed innocently as he curled his fingers into a particularly sensitive spot inside you, smirking as you tightened around him involuntarily, sobbing. “It’s a shame… I could have had you put in the dungeons for treason, hm? Then I’d take you on your knees, yeah? Maybe I still can… Just needs my cock in your throat to shut you up, my little whore…”

Your mind swims uncomfortably. His voice in your ear, the cold wood grating against your abused breasts, his fingers, filling you up in the way yours never could, the wet sounds of him fucking into you… His free hand comes down to rub furious circles around your pearl, and you sob out his name.

“Yeah, princess?” he groans into the soft shell of your ear. “You’re close, I feel you getting tighter. Come on then, fuck, my royal whore, come on my fingers…”

You come apart with a silent cry, arching your back into him, tears streaming down your face as he tears your peak from you. He fucks you through it lazily, his fingers pumping into you, slowing only when you whimper from the overstimulation. He wipes his hand on your thigh, not giving you a second to recover before he drags you back up by your hair.

“I apologise for not believing you, princess,” he breathes into your ear, as your eyelids flutter. Distantly, you register the sound of him undoing his breeches, lowering them just enough to take out his thick, weeping cock, giving it a few impatient jerks. “You’ve proven yourself to be… quite innocent, on this matter. But it’s improper for a host to let his guest leave him feeling so empty, isn’t it?”

You barely register his words, whimpering helplessly as he pulls your legs either side of him, your face coming to rest awkwardly on his chin. “You’re not even fucking listening, are you,” he huffs, rubbing soothing circles on your back, dipping his head closer to speak to you. “I was just telling how I’m going to fuck your dripping hole so fucking hard,” he groans, sheathing himself entirely into you with one rough thrust, “that you’ll feel it in your fucking throat.”

You scream out at the pain as he holds you, shushing you as you cling to him, clawing at his back. You feel him through the haze, deep and firm, too big inside you, splitting you open. When the initial sharpness of the pain fades, you’re left with a strange ache deep inside you, contracting desperately around him. Daemon tests shallow thrusts into you, grunting into your ear as he lowers you onto his cock, slapping your breasts to watch them bounce. “I knew you fucking liked it, slut,” he groans, squeezing experimentally at your throat. You whimper incoherently, feeling him thrust inside with more force.

“Too… big,” you complain hazily, through a hiccup of smaller moans that he forced out of your mouth. The angle was cruel. He had lifted you up, then thrusted up into you from below, trapping you between your weight downwards and his cock upwards. His arms trapped you in, holding you to his much larger chest as he nuzzled into the crook of shoulder, laughing.

“Yeah, too big for you?” he mocks. “Hurts, does it?” Daemon bites into your shoulder, groaning into you as you squeeze around him. “We’ll just have to fuck you open until you learn to take your husband’s cock, hm?”

You register his words dimly, unable to really do much about it as you stare up at him through dazed eyes, mouth hanging slightly open.

He reaches down, cupping your cheek as he continues breaking you apart. “Heard that, princess? Why do you think they sent you here instead of anyone else, hm?” He laughs again when he hears you sob. “You’re crying? Fuck, I love that.”

“I won’t…” you grit out, voice almost breaking.

“You will,” he insists sadistically, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek, licking at your tears. “see, they said you might not come willingly, but I suppose you won’t have a choice when I fuck a babe into you, yeah?”

you whimper as he fucks into you with renewed vigour, your walls clenching involuntarily at his words. “So you can listen,” he groans into you, hand tightening in your hair to yank your head back. “keep doing that, yeah, good girl…”

His free hand dips lower. With you impaled wide open on his cock, your bud is left vulnerably exposed, and he flicks at it mindlessly, drinking in your whines. “Gonna fuck my seed into you, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna fuck it so deep you’ll drip for days, my pretty little wife, such a good little wife for me…”

He slaps your tits once, twice, and then you’re spasming uncontrollably around his cock as your peak rips through you, feeling his warmth flood into you and drip down your thighs. You crumple into him, sobbing against his chest as he strokes your hair, shushing you. You feel his cock slip out of you as he picks you up gently, carrying you to the bed, stepping over your discarded clothes.

You’re laid down onto the cushions softly, half-conscious, and Daemon wraps his arms around you from behind. “You might as well learn to like it, princess,” he hums into your ear as you’re flipped over into the bed, his hands on you again. “I don’t think I’ll be finished with you for a long time.”

#hotg #house of the dragon #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader

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azrielhours · 2 years

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Dreams and Deliverance

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Synopsis: Azriel has a nightmare that the reader sees through the bond. She goes to wake him up and comfort him. They talk through the night. The bond snaps for him in the morning.

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

You’re being suffocated in a darkness that has no beginning or end. The darkness closes in on you, detonating claustrophobia inside your own body. You scream, the voice desperate, far away, and not entirely yours. A cold sense of abandonment sparks deep in your gut. They left me in here. Worse than the claustrophobia and the darkness is the gradually growing heat in your hands, like holding slowly igniting coals in your palms—

Fire.

They’re on fire.

The screaming becomes raw, haggard, pleading. The heat insufferable—this is hell. You must be in hell—

You wake with a jolt. A nightmare. You rub your clammy palms on your bed sheets, ridding them of the lingering phantom sensation. Your rapid breathing is shallow, prompting you to force deep inhales into your stomach to settle your racing heart. A nightmare like that… the familiar narrative behind it, that… borrowed abandonment you tasted, it had to be—the bond.

Not a nightmare, you think. A memory.

Azriel. Oh, Azriel.

You jump out of your bed before you could convince yourself not to, taking your faelight in hand to light the way.

The walk to his room cleared your head gradually, preparing you for the task ahead. Azriel was your mate, though he didn’t know that yet. The bond had snapped for you months ago, but not for him, so you’ve been keeping your love for him buried deep inside, waiting—dreaming—for the fateful day you hoped to witness the same wonder in his eyes when he looked at you that you held for him.

Reaching the door to his bedroom, you hesitated for a second. Knocking was probably not a wise call, with it potentially startling him in an already reactive state. You gently turned the doorknob with your free hand. There you found Azriel tossing in his bed, breathing ragged, his shadows churning in abrupt motions around him. You closed the door behind you and gently padded over to where he lay.

Your heart ached at the sight of him distressed in his sleep. He was covered in a sweaty sheen that reflected in the faelight, eyebrows furrowed together. His head turned from side to side on his pillow as he fought the memories in his slumber. His bed was huge to support his wings, prompting you to sit on the edge of it to reach him. You raised your hand, willing away the nerves, and placed it on his shoulder. “Azriel,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer, still moving in distress. You shifted closer to him, bringing one leg to fully bend beneath you. “Azriel,” you said a little louder, shaking his shoulder.

Azriel woke with a start, gasping at the abrupt awakening. His eyes snapped to yours, wide in his unguarded state. He continued to look at you in confusion, taking shaky breaths in and out. You withdrew your hand from his shoulder as he gathered himself.

“I… sorry, did I wake you?” His voice was gruff with sleep, even deeper than the usual baritone timbre.

“No, you didn’t, don’t worry,” you said quickly, shaking your head.

He hauled himself upright into a sitting position, leaning against his headboard. The sheets fell as he did, pooling on his naked lower stomach. You didn’t dare avert your gaze from his eyes. He leaned his head back, bringing a hand up and dragging it down his face, still visibly shaken from his nightmare. “Sorry,” he said again. Your heart broke.

“Don’t be sorry, darling—” you cringed at the term of endearment slipping out before you could stop it. You shook your head again in emphasis. “You didn’t wake me.”

He lowered his hands, turning to face you. His beautiful face still held pain from his nightmare—his memory —and you wanted nothing more than to relieve his anguish. If there was anything you could do to ease that pain, you’d give anything, sell anything, lose everything—

You had to swallow down the thought, shivering at the territorial instinct that came with the bond. Azriel’s breathing finally returned to normal, and the lost look in his eyes calmed. You wanted so badly to reach for him, you couldn’t help it. You gingerly traced your index finger across the back of his left hand where it rested between the two of you on the bed. He looked down to watch you touch him, and thankfully didn’t appear uneasy about it. You allowed yourself to grasp his hand at that permission, your right palm caressing the back of his left hand. He still watched. Then he turned his hand around so you could properly hold it, his hand swallowing yours up entirely with the sheer size of it. Your heart soared at the gesture, a feeling of deep belonging filling your stomach. If only he knew.

“You okay, Az?” your voice was small. He met your gaze looking restless, haunted.

“I’m… yeah, I’m okay now.” His shoulders sagged a bit. “Thank you for pulling me out.”

“Of course.”

His brows furrowed slightly once more, the crease still between them from his nightmare. “How’d you know I was having a nightmare?”

Your cheeks heated. “I… I don’t know.” He continued to watch you, and you suddenly grew conscious of your current state. Hair down, nightgown exposing your thighs where you sat on his bed. You swallowed. “I actually, um, had a nightmare too. I came here because… I was afraid, and I wanted…” you trailed off, averting your gaze. Technically not a lie.

Azriel’s eyes softened, still taking you in. He squeezed your hand tenderly, prompting you to look at him once more. The amount of emotion he was displaying was a testament to how much his nightmare caught him off guard, how vulnerable it left him. “What was it that you wanted?” he urged you on gently.

Perhaps you could reciprocate the vulnerability he was showcasing given all that transpired to bring the two of you to this moment. “Nothing, I just—I needed…” I needed to make sure you were safe. “I needed—”

“It’s okay,” he spoke gently, the gruffness in his voice subduing. He moved over on his bed, making room for you. He gave you a soft smile, though still not quite relaxed. You moved to sit fully on the bed, though you didn’t go under the covers. There was unfinished business at hand.

You sat adjacent to him over the covers, hand still in his. You brought your joined hands into your lap and took a deep breath. “Would you… do you want to talk about yours?”

He blinked. “Wanna talk about yours?” he countered.

You squeezed his hand in warning. He squeezed back. “Tell me if you need. If you want.” You let the honest love you felt for him show on your face, knowing he needed to see it more than you needed to hide it.

While you hated the circumstances that prompted it, you also cherished the vulnerability he let show in his eyes at your presence, at your offer. His smile faded as he considered the opening. To your surprise, he took a deep breath. “My nightmare—it was a memory; I was back in my cell. My hands... they were on fire again.” He swallowed, studying your reaction. You just nodded in encouragement. “I was trapped, I couldn’t stop it, and the pain…” his eyes closed briefly at the thought of it, and he shuddered. You shifted closer to him, brought your free hand up to his face, and gently ran your thumb down the crease between his brows. His eyes remained closed, though he took a deep breath at the sensation, grounding himself.

When he opened his eyes once more, he found yours brimmed with tears. “Oh, no (Y/N), please don’t cry. I’m sorry,” he said. You pulled your hands from him to wipe your eyes with the back of your hands.

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry,” you said, sniffling away the tears. He gently grasped both your wrists and pulled them away from your eyes.

“Why are you crying, Angel?” his eyes were filled with concern.

“Because.” You gathered yourself. “I hate that you felt that pain.”

His eyes softened again. “It’s okay, I’m good now. You pulled me out, remember?” he gently nudged your chin up with his bent index. You took a deep breath, quelling the tears. You met his gaze and nodded with a soft smile. “Now you tell me about yours.”

Shit. “Well,” you started. He waited with that steady patience of his. “I actually had a nightmare that, um, that you were hurt.”

Azriel blinked, dumbfounded. “Me?”

You nodded shyly. Perhaps presenting the truth this way made it a white lie. “I just wanted to come make sure you were okay.” Your cheeks burned at the admission, but you couldn’t help it, wanting to let your affection reach out to him like a blanket.

“And what’s the verdict?”

You gave him a shrug. “You’ve seen better days.”

Azriel let out a genuine, rich laugh, head falling back onto the headboard. You felt your shoulders sag in relief at the sound, making you smile.

When he raised his head once more to look at you, you felt contentment fall upon the two of you. His eyes were bright, a beautiful smile gracing his face, smoothing out the previous tension.

His shadows began gently coiling themselves around your wrists, snaking their way up your arms. They had a habit of doing this since the bond snapped in place for you, making you smile at the thought, like a secret you shared with the shadows beyond Azriel’s awareness.

When you looked up once more, Azriel was watching you, something like fondness in his eyes as he took in the sight. “They like you.”

“I like them,” you supplemented.

He opened his mouth but closed it before he said what he wanted to say.

“What?” you asked.

“You—you’re a good friend, (Y/N). I appreciate—” he gestured vaguely between the two of you. “I appreciate your… thank you for everything.” His cheeks were tinted pink in the dim faelight, his eyes averted from your gaze. He ducked his head at his admission, making you smile deeper at the rare sight of flustered Azriel.

You took his hand in yours once more and brought it up to kiss it, conveying what you couldn’t possibly say to him with words. He watched as you did, that warm look still in his hazel eyes.

“Have you always been so touchy?” he teased. You gave a pointed look to where he was tracing circles into the back of your hand. He chuckled.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked more seriously.

He squeezed your hand. “No.”

“Aw,” you cooed, despite the heat in your cheeks. “Who knew the big bad spymaster could be such a softie.”

Azriel groaned, but his smile didn’t falter. “If you tell anyone about this—”

“Not even Cassian?”

“Especially not Cassian.”

You laughed again, aware that he watched as you did.

“Don’t worry, Az. I won’t tell the others. Maybe I like having you like this all to myself.”

Mischief glinted in his eyes. “Of course you do. What with you dreaming about me and whatnot.”

You laughed again, blushing like mad. “Azriel.”

“Hmm…” he said in pretend concern. “Whatever happened to ‘darling?’”

Your eyes widened in shock, and you ducked your head sheepishly to hide your fluster. “It… just slipped out.”

When you looked back up, his mischief was replaced with that affectionate look that you’d crawl for. “I’m just teasing, Angel,” he said. You continued to look at him from beneath your lashes, out of words to say. He swallowed and continued. “Are you just going to stare at me all night, or are we going to try to get some rest?”

You rolled your eyes but took the invitation. You got off the bed and he lifted the covers for you. As you made your way under them, you didn’t miss his eyes roaming across your exposed legs. He lowered himself into the bed as well. You both faced each other, the faelight dimming as it floated in the room. “Where’d your touchy tendencies go?” he said, making you smile again.

“Az, if you need me to spoon you, just say so.”

He chuckled but opened his arms. You shifted slightly up on the bed to let yourself envelope him, arms wrapping around his neck tightly, holding his head to your chest. His arms wrapped around your waist. You felt such tangible happiness that you had to swallow to keep yourself from getting emotional. I love him I love him I love him. You twisted your body to lay more flatly on the bed, prompting him to turn on his stomach. He kept his hips and legs off yours to mind his weight on your frame. His head still rested on your chest, arms still wrapped around your waist beneath you, and your arms held him steadfastly around his neck. His wings settled on either side of him around the two of you.

You could get drunk off the emotion you felt, and it would be the warmest, most breathtaking intoxication you’ll ever feel. You felt yourself getting lulled to sleep, the weight of him on your chest overwhelming you with love. His shadows gently caressed your hair, making it harder to stay awake. “Az,” you mumbled, half asleep.

“Yes, Angel.”

“You’re my best friend.”

You felt him smile on your chest, felt his eyes crinkle and his cheek shift upwards. “You’re mine, too.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, stroking it back in a gentle, repeated motion. You felt him shiver. He shifted slightly to place a kiss on your shoulder. And with that, you fell into the deepest slumber, lulled by the beat of his heart against your stomach, pulsing in time with the bond buried in your chest where his head rested.

Sunlight filtered through the window, rousing Azriel from his sleep. It was the deepest, most restful sleep he’s had in years. How you knew he was having a nightmare, he still didn’t know, though the fact that you had one too, the fact that you came to him for comfort and safety—that made his chest ache with pride, and something else. Little did you know how safe you made him feel.

Azriel sat up, gently pulling your arms off his shoulders. You spent the entire night holding him to your chest, squeezing the broken bits of his soul back together. It had felt like he was anchored right to your heart. How you took his weight on your smaller frame, he also didn’t understand, but he let himself be selfish. He shifted his wings up to block your face from the sun, admiring the softness in your face as you rested. Just like the night before, his shadows gently wove themselves around your hands, your hair. You’re my best friend, you’d said to him. He closed his eyes and replayed that sound over and over in his mind.

If only you knew how much more he felt. He’d fallen asleep to the rhythmic beat of your heart against his ear. He could still hear it, even now. Pulsing. He put his hand over his own chest and found his heartbeat matching that phantom pulse he heard. Felt. Suddenly, his shadows began weaving their way up from your hair, up an invisible string. Azriel furrowed his brows at the sight, confused. He felt that pulsing grow stronger, still watching his shadows move up. From your chest to his. That pulsing… it wasn’t just the memory he heard, it also wasn’t your current heartbeat, it was—

His shadows finally reached his chest, made their way up around his neck, and whispered.

Mate

Azriel’s eyes widened in shock. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt a snap, deep in his ribs. His heartbeat started racing, only heightening the pulsing he felt in… in the bond.

He could hardly breathe.

She’s my mate.

You woke then, bringing your hand to your chest, rubbing at the same spot he felt on his end of the bond. Your brows furrowed slightly in worry. “Azriel? What’s the matter?”

He realized you sensed his shock down the bond. Sensed it, and… wasn’t surprised to be receiving it. She knows.

He continued to gape at you, prompting your eyes to widen and to haul yourself up to assess the situation.

“Az, what is it?”

Your eyes trailed to his hand on his chest, and you gasped lightly.

He feels it, you thought. Oh my god.

“You’re… are you… you’re my mate,” he breathed. You nodded tentatively, unsure if he was happy to hear that confirmation or not. “Is that how you knew?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Knew what?”

“About the nightmare,” he said.

You bit your lip nervously, watching him as he studied you. You nodded in confirmation. “I… your dreams, sometimes they… seep into mine. Through the bond.”

He looked at your hands then, concern replacing the confusion. “Did—did I hurt you?”

“What?”

“In the dream. Were you hurt?” his worry was also seeping through the bond, though you didn’t tell him that.

“No,” you lied, not wanting him to feel guilty. He gently took your hands and inspected them, as if he would find evidence of pain there. You allowed him to see, turning them over, and when he was sure there were no signs of hurt, he met your gaze again.

“I guess this makes you my dream girl, huh?” he teased. You felt relief at the humour easing the tension, though you rolled your eyes as you huffed a laugh.

“Punny,” was all you could say.

His stare turned serious again. “You knew,” he said. You nodded once again. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. You felt a kernel of hurt down the bond, giving you the courage to speak up.

“I wanted to wait for you, Az.”

You felt relief replacing the hurt, making you briefly close your eyes at the comfortable feeling. He still watched you. “Are you… okay with this?” he asked tentatively.

“Okay with what?”

“With being mated… to me.”

“Are you okay with it?” you countered.

“Yes,” he breathed. That word you’ve been waiting months to hear. You closed your eyes once more and opened up the dam deep inside that you kept tightly sealed, and let the love absolutely pour out of you, and into him.

Azriel gasped at the feeling, his own eyes fluttering shut. When they opened again, there was silver lining them. The love you sent down the bond was making its way back into you, like two waves crashing into each other. You shuddered at the overwhelming love, feeling like you might explode if you didn’t release the emotion.

You got up on your knees to get closer to him. He watched as you did, wonder in his eyes as he took you in, completely letting his guard down. You held his face in your hands, and he closed his eyes at the sensation. You moved closer to him and threw your arms around his neck. He immediately wrapped his arms around you once more. Like how the two of you held each other through the night; the same but different. Once again, you felt the love for him inside you like a sentient creature. I love him I love him I love him.

To your eternal relief and delight, to the actualization of your very dreams, you felt the mantra being sung back to you.

I love you too.

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @cityofidek

#Azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel/reader #azriel angst #azriel fluff

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cinnamongorll · 3 months

Text

a fragile line - chapter 28

read on ao3! (125k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Series tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 7.5k

Chapter 28:

Juliet's POV:

3 weeks later...

Juliet’s bathroom mirror had a crack in it.

The edges were jagged, creating a black slash across her face whenever she peered into it. Juliet ran her finger along the gap, allowing the razor edges to glide across her skin, as she examined the way her features split in half.

The steam from the shower had begun to dull the mirror’s clarity, surrounding Juliet’s body in a strange fog. One thing the mirror had yet to dilute, however, was the burning red outline of her father’s possession.

E.M. reflected back at her with precise clarity.

Juliet didn’t flinch anymore when she saw it in the mirror; the reminder of her father and his burning hot poker had faded to a constant screaming in the back of her mind.

The scar appeared to her now like a stain to be removed, one which she itched to run her hand over and erase.

A sense of hollowness began to invade her bones as the shower’s steam gradually coated the glass, turning it opaque. Her father’s brand began to fade into a dull red glow and Juliet released a slow breath.

She turned and stepped under the stream of blazing water, which instantly scorched her skin and another sigh of relief eased from her parted lips. Recently, the burning of the water was the only thing Juliet truly allowed herself to feel.

She tipped her head back under the water and ran her fingers through the soaked strands of her hair, tugging gently as she loosened some knots. For a moment, her own hands were replaced by rough fingers and a tight grip and she let go immediately.

He lingered everywhere: in her hair, on her cheek, her lips, her thighs…

Joel was a stain she could never wash off, no matter how hard she tried.

It had been three weeks of hiding her tears behind closed doors and gasping awake in the middle of the night reaching desperately for him and finding nothing but an empty mattress.

On the darkest of those nights, Juliet imagined herself leaving her house, walking to Joel’s door and taking up the offer of his meaningless touch. Juliet imagined that just the feeling of his hands on her might ease the ache a little… but she knew it wouldn’t fix the fractures he’d left.

Joel had split her open and all that was left was a scarred girl with no one to pull her back together.

She turned the shower off and stepped onto the bathmat. Juliet’s body began to shiver as the warmth of the water left her, and she quickly changed into her clothes and braided her wet hair down her back.

Juliet hesitated when she pulled her shirt down over the brand. Today was her final check up before she could be cleared for Jackson’s patrol and Juliet prayed that Charlotte deemed her whole enough.

When Juliet first arrived in Jackson, she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to step foot outside the fence again… but claustrophobia sets in fast when you’re trapped in a town with a man who has seen the entire rotten mess of your soul and wants absolutely nothing to do with it.

Above all, Juliet wanted to earn her keep. She’d been on medical rest since she came to the town and the weight of her debt to the townspeople was crushing her. Juliet knew how to shoot, she knew how to ride a horse, and she knew how to fight. Patrol was the best fit for her.

She just had to prove that she wasn’t completely falling apart.

Her footsteps were heavy on the stairs as rushed down them, desperate to avoid being late for her appointment.

“You ready?” Ethan called from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Juliet shouted back as she pulled on her boots.

She’d invited Ethan to come with her and get to know the clinic a bit more. He’d been the medical prodigy of her father’s town and Juliet knew that he was itching to get back to practising medicine, he just needed a push.

Juliet straightened as Ethan rounded the corner into the hall. She only had a second to plaster a somewhat convincing smile on her face before he was in front of her, scanning her up and down.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a frown.

Ethan asked that a lot in the past couple weeks.

“I’m fine,” she assured him as she tilted her chin up, “just want to get this over with.”

Ethan nodded with a weak smile, and his eyes lingered on her face for another moment before he turned to grab his jacket from the hooks beside the front door.

As Ethan shrugged his jacket on, Juliet squeezed past and reached for the khaki coloured canvas jacket.

It still smelled like him.

The reminder of Joel was imprinted in the material and Juliet was forced to breathe in the memory of his presence every time she pushed her arms through the sleeves.

She could have found a new jacket, if she’d tried. Juliet could have traded something and added to her ever-growing debt, it wouldn’t have been too difficult. But how could she? When this was all she had left of him.

Juliet should be angry, she should be furious and disgusted, but she wasn’t. Juliet just felt hollow, like all the emotions she should feel towards Joel had been gutted out and all that was left was an empty pit where her heart used to be.

She pulled the jacket off the hook a little too forcefully and the entire structure shook. Ethan’s head swung towards her but Juliet kept her eyes to the ground and held her breath as Joel’s jacket engulfed her body.

………………………..

The walk to the clinic started out rough, as it always did.

Juliet tried not to look towards his house.

She’d gone through multiple methods to stop her eyes from straying towards it: First, Juliet attempted to cut through the back garden of another house, but she got stuck between a very large tree and a very high fence. Next, on a particularly rough day, she walked past with her eyes squeezed shut, but didn’t get very far before she tripped. Juliet had quickly dusted herself off and darted away, praying no one had seen her. She didn’t even turn back when she thought she’d heard the sound of his door open and footsteps rushing out onto the porch…

Juliet had decided it was just the wind.

This time, Juliet threw herself into a conversation with Ethan as they strolled past. She watched his eyes brighten as he talked about the meal they shared the night before. Juliet smiled back, but it wasn’t real.

She would pretend, though, for Ethan.

For Ethan, Juliet would fake a smile and pretend that she wasn’t entirely numb to the kindness of life in Jackson.

Joel had stripped her of that luxury… but how could she truly blame him?

His only crime was not loving her, and the more she thought about it the more she understood why he could not: she’d bribed him, lied to him, and forced him into a situation where he had to save her life.

Juliet had thought there was something there, glimmering beneath his furrowed brow, clenched jaw and rough commands. Juliet had thought he felt something for her.

She blinked away the threat of tears and tuned back into Ethan’s chatter. Things had been better between them; Juliet remembered how comfortable it had been, with him by her side. He was still the same man after all this time and, as the trauma of the last few weeks started to chip away, Juliet remembered why she had fought so hard to save him.

They walked down Jackson’s mainstreet at a quick pace, smiling at the residents who passed by.

“No one ever smiled back home, did you ever notice that?” Ethan observed in a wistfully sad voice.

“Yeah,” she answered as her head turned towards him, “there wasn’t much to smile about.”

Ethan let out a cold laugh as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Guess that’s true,” he replied, “people here have something to live for, I suppose.”

Juliet caught herself before she flinched, but her skin still pebbled beneath her thick jacket as Ethan unknowingly repeated the words Joel had whispered to her in that dark forest.

“You just gotta find somethin’ to live for,” he’d said in a voice so low and lips so close that his breath had brushed over her forehead.

How could she? Juliet wanted to scream at him now… how could she, when he’d left her standing alone in the cold?

……………………….

“Charlotte!” Juliet called when she opened the door to the clinic. The heat from the fireplace hit her immediately and a flush began to build on her cheeks. She stripped her jacket off immediately and hung it on one of the hooks by the door. Behind her, Ethan did the same as his eyes roamed the room.

“In the back!” Charlotte called back.

Juliet turned to Ethan and raised her eyebrows before they followed the sound of Charlotte’s muffled voice into one of the back rooms.

“Hey,” Juliet said carefully as she stood in the doorway. She was conscious of frightening her new friend as she sat hunched over precariously balanced bottles of some strange liquid.

Charlotte’s head swung towards them and her face lit up. “Hey! Give me two seconds, I’m just finishing up,” she said in her permanently cheerful tone. Juliet nodded and turned to Ethan, ready to gesture that they would go wait in the hall … but Ethan’s eyes were glued on Charlotte.

Juliet watched as Ethan followed the movement of Charlotte’s hands. She must have noticed too, because she called over her shoulder: “Are you interested in medicine?”

Ethan straightened in surprise. “Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat, “used to practise but it’s been… a while.”

Juliet didn’t miss the way his voice quietened at the reminder of the last few years.

“I take it you were the one to dress Juliet’s wound before y’all arrived?” Charlotte asked over her shoulder as she continued to fiddle with her equipment.

Ethan looked to Juliet before responding, his eyes had taken on a haunted look as they dipped to her stomach then back over to where Charlotte sat at her desk. “Uh, yeah, that was me,” he confirmed in a rough voice.

Charlotte finally looked away from her work and stripped off the gloves in her hands, then carefully dropped them into the bin on the floor. Her eyes lifted to Ethan’s as she reached up to tighten her long blonde ponytail.

“You did a good job,” she said earnestly, then paused and tilted her head slightly to the side, “we’re always looking for help around here, if you’re interested…”

Charlotte trailed off as Ethan began to nod enthusiastically, then she smiled and clapped her hands together. “Fantastic! We’ll talk,” she answered with a wink.

Juliet watched with a hidden smirk as a flush rose on Ethan’s neck.

“But first, Juliet, shall we?” Charlotte said, nodding towards the examination table in the corner of the room.

It was metal with a thin mattress over it, and Juliet had found herself lying on it more times than she could count over the last couple weeks. It turned out that her injuries were more severe than she had realised. Having grown up with bruises as a permanent feature on her skin, Juliet never took her pain seriously. Even in the QZ, her hands were littered with burns that went untreated.

When her father told her every day that the marks he left on her didn’t actually exist, Juliet began to adopt her pain as second nature and question if her tears were worth anything at all.

Charlotte had treated the bullet wound on her shoulder, the bruises and burns on her wrists and ankles, the slash from her father’s bible on the side of her face, and his white hot initials on her stomach… along with various other aches and pains from untreated wounds over the years.

After Charlotte sent Ethan into the hall, she read out the list of treatments Juliet had accumulated over the past few weeks… and it wasn’t surprising she was banned from patrol.

“Okay, so, let’s see if you’re ready to get on a horse,” Charlotte said softly as she rolled up Juliet’s top.

Charlotte’s fingers were icy and goosebumps travelled across Juliet’s skin. She bit her lip and kept her gaze levelled on the ceiling as Charlotte peeled off her bandage. It was terrifying, the thought that she might still be too weak to step outside the town and do something with the abundance of time now on her hands.

In the QZ, the days were long and brutal, and Juliet would stumble back to her dingy apartment with smoke covered hands and blackened lungs before passing out on her moth-eaten couch, preparing for another gruelling shift the following day.

In Jackson, life was much slower. Everyone worked and contributed to the community and there were no enforcers, no men with guns and bats tasked with keeping people in line. People worked in Jackson because they wanted to; the residents were fueled by their gratitude to the town and their willingness to work together.

Juliet wanted, so desperately, to be a part of that. She wanted to find something to get her up in the morning after long nights spent haunted by the memory of rough hands and cold eyes.

“You’re healing nicely, I’m going to recommend to Tommy that you’re cleared for patrol,” Charlotte declared as her hands left Juliet’s torso.

“What?” Juliet coughed out and she used her elbows to lift herself up on the table, just enough to see Charlotte look down at her with her eyebrows raised.

“I said you’re good,” she repeated slowly, “I mean, you’re still healing but I don’t see any risks of infection.” Charlotte clasped her hands together and tilted her head to the side as her eyes softened.

“I know you’ve had a rough time of it the last few weeks… with Joel” Charlotte said in a quiet voice.

She was frighteningly perceptive.

Juliet’s eyes left Charlotte’s as she sat up and swung her legs off the table, cringing slightly at the pull on her stomach.

When she turned to her again, Juliet shook her head and feigned confusion. “It wasn’t like that,” she assured Charlotte with as much conviction as she could muster.

Charlotte scanned her face for a moment, then stepped backwards with a knowing smile. “Just don’t do anything reckless, it won’t make you feel any better,” she warned as her chin tilted downwards. “I’ve spent weeks trying to patch you up, don’t spoil my good work,” she continued, her voice friendly and teasing but with a soft undercurrent of concern.

Juliet feigned an exacerbated eye-roll and let out a long breath. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied and Charlotte shot her another quiet smile.

Juliet thanked Charlotte and left the room. Her heart raced and her body had stiffened slightly as Charlotte’s words sunk in…

Was patrol just another one of her distractions?

Self-destructive behaviour was not new to Juliet, but patrol had nothing to do with Joel, surely. She just wanted to prove herself, right?

Her mind felt clouded as she walked into the waiting room, ready to join Ethan by the fire for a moment, but her steps halted when she entered the room.

The front door swung open and Tommy entered, rubbing his hands together as the heat hit him. “There you are,” he said warmly as his eyes focused on her, standing stiffly next to Ethan’s chair.

Juliet blinked. “Hey”

“How’d it go?” Tommy asked as he walked closer, running a hand through his long wavy hair, “you cleared for patrol?”

Juliet straightened and a sudden feeling of dread began to burn in her gut. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “Charlotte said I’m good to go.”

A relieved smile took over Tommy’s mouth. “Thank god, a couple guys had to leave patrol when their wives had their kids, so we’re needin’ some fresh recruits,” he explained enthusiastically.

Juliet didn’t reply, she just nodded awkwardly and crossed her arms over her chest.

Tommy’s stare cut suddenly to Ethan, who sat quietly in the armchair by the fire watching their conversation with his usual curious look.

“What bout you?” Tommy directed towards Ethan. “Heard you can shoot too, you interested in patrol?”

Ethan’s eyebrows shot up and he shifted in his seat.

“Tommy Miller, are you tryin to steal my new trainee?” Charlotte exclaimed in mock surprise as she squeezed into the room behind Juliet with a gentle touch on her shoulder.

Juliet’s mouth twitched as Tommy’s eyes shot to the ceiling.

“New trainee?” he asked, looking between Charlotte and Ethan.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “with doc doin’ so many house visits, I need all the help around here I can get.”

Tommy looked contemplative as Charlotte’s head turned to Ethan. “Plus, I think he’s already had some medical training. Is that right?” she asked, tilting her chin down at Ethan, sitting in his armchair.

Ethan stiffened as all the eyes in the room swung on him at once. “That’s right,” he confirmed roughly as his gaze found Charlotte’s.

Tommy raised his hands. “Fine,” he said, admitting defeat, then he caught Juliet’s eye and nodded. “Let’s head over to the stables, I’ll introduce you to your patrol partner.”

Juliet didn’t say anything for a moment. The weight of her decision grew heavy on her shoulders, but there was also a glimmer of excitement within her. She imagined herself getting on a horse, armed with every weapon she needed to protect the town.

It would be good to protect a place like this, a place that actually deserved it.

Her eyes caught Charlotte’s and the weight eased as Juliet returned her warm, encouraging smile.

She turned back to Tommy, who watched her with a curious look. Juliet might have thought there was guilt swimming in his gaze if she didn’t know any better.

Eventually, Juliet nodded sharp and quick. “Let’s go.”

………………………..

Juliet hadn’t stepped foot in the stables since that first day, when burning relief was her most prominent emotion.

Now, Juliet wasn’t sure what to feel.

Tommy showed her around, pointing out all the things he hadn’t needed to on that first day. Juliet listened intently, wishing she had brought a notebook with her. It was the first job she’d ever cared about and she didn’t want to fuck it up.

Juliet was very conscious of the fact that she had no ties to Jackson or Tommy, and that she and Ethan were allowed to stay purely because of the kindness of the residents.

Once the tour had ended, Tommy and Juliet circled back to the entrance of the stables, where they waited for her new patrol partner to arrive. Tommy assured her that she wouldn’t start until the following day, but he wanted to make sure that she met her partner before then.

They chatted quietly about Jackson’s weather, and the snow which was very possibly arriving the following week, when the barn doors opened with a long sharp whine of the hinges.

Juliet’s head swung in the direction and her stomach dropped to her feet.

She would have prepared herself if she thought it would have been him. She would have donned some armour, strengthening her defences and at least attempted to plug the gaping hole in her chest.

But Juliet hadn’t expected to see him, so the sight of Joel Miller struck her like the most painful blow.

When her eyes finally focused, the first thing she noticed was his new jacket.

It shouldn’t have caused her stomach to drop even further, but it did.

It was a dark brown leather, with the collar slightly turned up over his throat and Joel tugged against it as he entered the chilled barn.

Juliet swallowed rough and shifted on her feet as she forced her eyes to focus on Tommy, but she knew the exact moment Joel’s stare found her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his stride suddenly stop and his body physically stiffen.

“Joel,” Tommy said, greeting his brother with a tight smile.

Juliet kept her stare pointed on Tommy’s face but goosebumps grew across her skin as she felt Joel move closer.

“Ready to head out?” Joel asked his brother, his voice low and stilted.

Tommy nodded and crossed his arms over his chest as his eyes darted to Juliet.

“Yeah, soon, just waiting to introduce Juliet to Matt,” Tommy explained, as he tilted his head down to check his watch.

“Why?” Joel demanded in a voice so devastatingly dark. She felt his hot gaze find the side of her head and Juliet knew she had to turn around and face him, but his uncaring stare still stained the inside of her eyelids when she tried to sleep at night and Juliet worried that she might see that coldness in his eyes again.

Tommy looked taken aback as his head turned between them both. “Juliet want -”

“I’m starting patrol,” Juliet said, cutting Tommy off as she finally faced Joel.

Joel’s eyes were like the heaviest anchor, dragging her down into the depths of her sadness. Juliet had once thought he was the weight that kept her afloat, but she was wrong; she was merely a passenger in his life before he pushed her off the edge, back into the dark murky waters.

“You’re what?” he growled. Joel looked down at her with a face like cracked stone, where his rage simmered out of each jagged edge.

Inside, Juliet’s heart was hammering against her chest, but on the outside, she forced her spine to straighten and she wiped her face clean of any shock or surprise.

“I’m starting patrol,” she repeated, slower this time with a harsher edge to her voice.

“No, you’re not,” Joel argued gruffly, but his voice didn’t invite a response, it was a command.

Juliet blinked and looked to Tommy for assistance. “Charlotte just cleared me?” she replied, confusion evident in the crease between her eyebrows.

“Joel, you said it yourself, Juliet is highly skilled and we need that on patrol,” Tommy interjected, shifting on his feet.

Joel said that?

Juliet reached up to rub the back of her neck as her irritation grew. Joel was cruel that day outside her house, she hadn’t imagined that… but was she now imagining the way his eyes shone with concern?

“You’re not ready, it’s too dangerous, you’ll hurt yourself,” Joel challenged. His words spilled from his mouth in a distressed ramble which made the confusion in Juliet’s chest twist painfully.

Juliet shook her head and tilted her chin up to meet his flared pupils.

Her mind flashed back to the Joel she knew three weeks ago, who had looked so guarded and frigid, and then she focused on the Joel standing in front of her with a turbulent combination of fear and anger darkening his eyes.

Juliet should be outraged at his insistence that she couldn’t take care of herself, but she couldn’t help the part of her who clung to him on dark nights, and looked up at him like her protector, from viewing Joel’s words with optimism, with some sick hope that maybe he really did care after all.

He must have seen it in her eyes; Joel must have watched her gaze shift into something softer, something kinder. And so, just as he had three weeks ago, Joel crushed any hope still living within her.

Joel’s eyes narrowed as he turned to Tommy, ignoring Juliet altogether. “She’s not ready, she can’t protect the town.”

It was like her heart was shattering all over again.

Juliet’s eyes turned glossy despite her best efforts to push down the ache in her chest. Joel just had this keen way of finding the part of her which hurt the most and driving the knife in deeper.

Tommy stepped back from his brother, rage now rippling across his face.

“Go sort the horses Joel, we’ll leave once I’m done here,” Tommy seethed, and Joel’s eyes widened.

“You can’t be serious,” Joel ground out when he turned on Juliet, “after everythin’ we went through to get here, you’re just gonna go back out there?”

Juliet winced. “You’re on patrol, why can’t I?” she bit back, standing her ground.

Joel’s jaw clenched with teeth cracking intensity as his dark eyes roamed her face. What he was searching for in her expression, Juliet didn’t know, but she wasn’t planning on relenting anytime soon. In fact, Joel’s presence just made her more determined to find time beyond the fence.

Everything about being around him hurt. It hurt to look in his eyes, knowing the way he used to look at her. It hurt watching his mouth curl into a cruel snarl, knowing the way he used to reluctantly laugh when she least expected it. But most of all, it hurt to hear the bitter words from his mouth as she remembered how warm they had once sounded against her skin.

“That’s different,” he argued as he sharply turned his head back to Tommy in a desperate attempt to find some agreement in his eyes. But his brother said nothing, he was the one to approach Juliet with the offer of patrol and he wasn’t budging.

“Joel, just go,” Tommy interrupted with a hand on Joel’s chest, holding him back from god knows what. Juliet hadn’t realised until Tommy broke the spell that Joel had moved closer, towering over her as he almost growled his words.

He took one last look at Juliet, scanning her face with such intensity before he pushed past his brother and headed further into the stables with his shoulders tight and his fists clenched by his side.

Juliet blinked and felt her race redden.

“I’m sorry bout him,” Tommy sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s fine,” she replied quickly. It wasn’t though. She just couldn’t understand it. Joel and Juliet fought their way across the country together; he knew she could shoot, and protect herself, so why would he be so against her joining the patrol?

Maybe what her father had done to her changed the way Joel saw her… maybe he saw her as weak, maybe that’s why he wanted nothing to do with her…

Juliet swallowed roughly and coughed away the lump in her throat. She couldn’t afford to think like that. If she started to imagine why Joel had backed away, Juliet would spend the entire day ripping herself apart.

“Hey!” a new voice called from the entrance to the barn.

A smile approached Tommy’s mouth as a man Juliet hadn’t seen before stepped into the stables and headed over towards them.

“Matt, I’d like you to meet Juliet - your new patrol partner,” Tommy said, gesturing towards Juliet.

Juliet’s eyes finally focused on him and she stood up a bit straighter. He was handsome, with messy brown hair and a friendly smile which prevented any tendrils of fear from growing in her chest.

But it was his eyes which helped ease Juliet the most. They were kind eyes, the sort of eyes which echoed every smile on his face.

“Juliet,” he echoed, now staring down at her, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Juliet wasn’t sure how to reply. Her mind was still caught up in the mystery of Joel, so she opted for a quiet smile and raised eyebrows.

“Heard you’re a good shot, will be good havin’ someone like you watchin’ my back out there,” Matt said with a friendly wink.

How did everyone know so much about her? Only Joel truly knew the extent of her survival skills but she couldn’t imagine him singing her praises around town, he could barely look her in the eye without scowling.

“When do we start?” she asked, pointedly ignoring Matt’s comment out of mild embarrassment.

Matt crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Tommy. “We’re on the schedule for tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, bright and early,” Tommy confirmed.

Juliet nodded and looked between the two men. “Perfect.”

…………………………

Two days later, Juliet had regrets. Not enough that she would swear off patrol forever, but she definitely had her doubts.

She walked into the stables for her second shift just before dawn with her hood up and her sleeves pulled down over her fingers. The barn was empty and she could hear the soft thuds of her footsteps hit the straw covered ground as she made her way over to her horse.

With everything in her, Juliet tried not to think about the day before or the fresh, thick ring of bruises around her wrist… if she did, she might start to think that maybe Joel was right, maybe patrol wasn’t for her.

But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Matt went first through Jackson’s gates, leading his horse with an air of confidence about him while Juliet tugged on the reins of her own horse and followed behind with sweaty palms and a racing heart.

The first hour or so was fine, boring even, as Juliet and Matt travelled towards a nearby abandoned town they’d been asked to clear. Juliet had her gun loaded and her knife ready. She wasn’t frightened of the infected, it was always the people to look out for.

She eyed Matt on the horse next to her. He seemed nice, making an effort to keep the conversation up even if Juliet only responded with vague answers and quiet pauses. His smile never faltered, it was inspiring actually. But Juliet hadn't seen him fight yet and she worried that his skills might not match his confidence.

When they reached the array of houses, they stopped and slid off their horses in silence; only communicating through hand signals and exaggerated looks. Within minutes, Juliet and Matt had their guns positioned in front of them as they approached the first house.

Their backs were pressed against the rotted wood, listening for any infected groans or hushed whispers. Juliet breathed a sigh of relief when they heard nothing, but the rigidness of her shoulders didn’t ease; they still had to clear the houses, which meant actually going in them.

Juliet swallowed and closed her eyes, she allowed the weight of her task to fall down on her tense shoulders and then waited for herself to get used to the feeling. Juliet was beyond the fence and she had neither Joel nor Blake standing by her side to protect her. Despite Matt’s gentle presence, Juliet felt like she was facing this alone, and with that thought came a feeling of pride. She could do this, she was doing this. Juliet pushed Joel’s harsh words to the back of her mind and strengthened her grip on her gun.

When she opened her eyes, Matt turned her way and he signalled to split up and enter the house through different doors. Juliet’s eyebrows furrowed a little at the mention of splitting up, but, despite hardly knowing him, she trusted that Matt knew the ways of patrol and decided to follow his lead. She nodded back fast and sharp.

The thud of hard footsteps startled Juliet from her memory and her head darted towards the source of the sound.

As soon as her eyes brushed over the muddy leather jacket she froze and squeezed her eyes shut. Shit.

That was not Matt.

Juliet swallowed down her panic and shrunk behind the wall near the back of the stables, where the shelving was kept. Maybe if she stayed here, Joel would get what he needed and leave. He wasn’t scheduled for patrol this morning.

She heard him head over to his horse and Juliet allowed her head to fall back against the wall in relief.

The front door made no sound as she turned the handle, not even the signature shriek of over twenty year old hinges. The initial stabbing of fear in her chest lessened as a small bit of relief flowed through her.

Juliet walked into the house with the softest footsteps she could manage, barely even putting weight on the wooden floor as she made her way through the hall and into the living room.

The house was a massive, practically a mansion, it was bigger than any house Joel and Juliet had come across on the road and there was a lot of ground to cover. Matt had entered from the back door and Juliet watched as he silently headed up the stairs before she rounded the corner into the living area.

The room was a time capsule. With the layers and layers of dust on everything Juliet assumed that nothing had been touched since the world changed. It was strange to come across a house that hadn’t been pillaged but Juliet assumed being positioned deep in Wyoming would deter any visitors.

The realisation allowed Juliet’s muscles to ease even further but she continued to hold her gun tight in her hand with her finger hovering over the trigger, just like Ethan had taught her. It was her first time on patrol and she wasn’t taking any chances.

There was a door across the room so Juliet headed there next, still making sure to keep her steps light and fast. She kept listening for anything amiss upstairs but heard nothing, Matt must have been fine, just silently sweeping the untouched rooms.

Juliet was struck by how cold the handle was as her hand curved around it. She should have taken it as an omen, but the thought hadn’t even entered her head as she angled her wrist and turned the handle.

“The hell you doin’ back here?” a gruff, startled voice demanded.

Juliet’s eyes shot open and her head turned to Joel, now standing beside the wall she leaned against. She straightened instantly as her heart started to speed in her chest. Juliet could tell herself that he had startled her, but her body reacted this way every time she met his dark brown eyes.

“Just waiting for Matt,” Juliet answered as she continued to shake herself from her memories.

“Behind a wall?” Joel asked, amused.

His mouth didn’t have the same sharp edges to it, but Juliet knew not to be fooled.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, her face reddening slightly, “was just uh resting my eyes for a second.”

“Sure,” Joel replied slowly, with raised eyebrows.

Juliet shifted, suddenly feeling unsteady. She hadn’t spoken to Joel since the day before last, when he had very publicly questioned her survival abilities.

She wrapped her arms around her middle, making sure her hurt didn’t spill out from the hole he left in her chest.

“Why are you here?” Juliet snapped, “you’re not on the schedule.”

Joel blinked and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked down at her with eyes that didn’t match the memory of his apathy that day outside her house and Juliet struggled to keep her defences secured.

He cleared his throat and his jaw shifted. “Just grabbin’ some ammo,” he answered, nodding at the shelving behind her.

“Oh,” Juliet breathed. She realised that she was standing in his way and a horribly enticing image of him brushing against her as he squeezed past flashed into her mind. Juliet swallowed and decided to avoid any more close proximity, lest her defences fail entirely and she fall for the hint of decency he was showing her in that moment.

“I’ll grab it for you,” she said quietly and turned. The shelf of ammo was quite high up so she had to stand on her tiptoes and stretch her right arm up to grip the small box.

Behind her, Juliet heard Joel’s sharp intake of breath as her sleeve fell.

The handle turned with ease, it wasn’t even stiff. Somehow, Juliet had been fooled by the silence of the house and its lack of immediate threats. That’s why, when the door inched open and the infected’s peeling face filled her view, Juliet froze as her shock choked her. Her hand paused on the handle, she didn’t dare make a single movement.

It was strange, looking back on it, that the infected hadn’t made a single sound to announce its presence. Not a click or a grunt or a screech.

Peering into the windowless room, Juliet hadn’t known it was lurking in the dark until its decayed fingers were wrapped around her wrist, as her hand continued to grip the freezing cold handle.

With the first touch of its wet, torn flesh on her skin, terror struck Juliet, wrapping around her throat with the same vice-like grip of the infected on her wrist. She might have screamed, she wasn’t sure, because the infected had finally decided to make its presence known, shrieking violently into Juliet’s ear.

The infected gripped her wrist so forcefully that she couldn’t pull herself from the door handle, so she did the next best thing: Juliet tightened her hold on the door and pulled with all her strength to slam it closed on the infected.

It worked. Kind of.

The infected was jammed in between the door and its frame, with its hand still squeezing down harder and harder against Juliet’s wrist and its head pushing through the gap.

Juliet was definitely screaming as the infected’s teeth snapped against her arm. Joel’s jacket wouldn’t protect her from the force of the infected’s bite. Panic flooded her bloodstream. Juliet couldn’t think, she couldn’t strategise, because what if the infected’s teeth had already pierced her skin?

What if this was it?

If she was bit, Matt would shoot her in the head and Juliet would never see Joel again.

Even in what might have been her final moments, as she struggled against the infected, Juliet still thought of him.

She would die, and never get to tell him how she really felt.

Juliet knew he wouldn’t care, that some confession from her would only be met by emotionless eyes and cutting words, but she couldn’t let go… she couldn’t forget how she felt, and how he had once made her feel.

Thankfully, her sanity returned as the milliseconds ticked by and Juliet started shooting the infected’s arm, desperately attempting to force it to release her wrist.

She heard Matt rush up behind her, shouting her name, but she just kept shooting until a bullet finally landed itself in the infected’s head.

Matt caught her as she fell backwards, still kicking her feet and continuing to scream even as she watched the infected fall to the floor, mostly behind the door with only its arm and leaking head in sight.

“It’s okay,” Matt repeated over and over as Juliet struggled against him.

“No, get away” she gasped as terror poured from her, “I might be infected.”

Matt didn’t let go, even as Juliet began to punch his arms. It had to have hurt but he didn’t budge.

“Calm down, we’ll check, okay?” he said breathlessly as Juliet’s punches grew weaker. “Please, just let me have a look.”

Juliet slumped against him, breathing heavy. She couldn’t bring herself to glance at her wrist.

Matt held tight against her until for another moment before he cautiously reached towards her arm. Juliet could feel the rapid beating of his heart against her back.

Her eyes were squeezed shut when she felt his fingertips on her wrist, her skin was almost numb from the force of the infected’s grip, but she still felt Matt slowly trace her skin, searching for her death sentence.

Tears leaked from the corner of her scrunched eyelids when he pulled her sleeve down further and Juliet wondered how long the infection would take to set in. Was she starting to feel it now? Or was the shaking of her body just the remnants from her adrenaline rush?

The seconds stretched beyond all understanding of space and time as Juliet waited for Matt to confirm her fate.

“You’re clean,” he whispered softly as his fingers left her aching skin.

“Juliet,” he said, raising his voice a little to grab her attention. “You’re clean, it didn’t get you, I swear.”

Juliet felt his voice rumble against her back as she continued to slump against him and she waited for his words to register. When they did, she sat up and, with a spinning head, examined every inch of her skin.

“I’m clean,” she confirmed under her breath as her wide eyes trained on the rapidly developing bruise on her skin.

The following day, the bruise had only grown worse. It was almost black and wrapped around the entirety of her wrist in the shape of the infected’s rotten fingers.

Juliet’s entire body stiffened as she felt the sleeve of her jacket brush her raw skin and reveal the evidence of her stupidity, her inability to protect the town.

She’d got herself caught by an infected, she could have got Matt killed.

Quickly she gripped the worn cardboard of the ammo box and dropped her arms, swallowing rough before she turned around.

She knew how Joel would react. He would tell her that he was right, that she wasn’t ready to go on patrol -

“Who did this to you?” Joel seethed in a voice so viciously menacing that Juliet couldn't help but flinch. He stalked towards her and grabbed the ammo from her hand, throwing it on the low shelf behind her, before he lifted her wrist with surprising gentleness as his fingers slowly pushed back the sleeve of her jacket, revealing the extent of the bruising.

His eyes left her arm momentarily to meet her wide eyed stare.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded again, slower this time, like every word choked him.

Juliet’s lips parted as her eyes darted between Joel’s intense stare and his fingers softly brushing over her wrist.

His mouth was bloodthirsty but his eyes were pained, like the sight of the dark ring of purple around her wrist bruised him too.

“Nobody, It was -”

“Don’t lie to me,” he nearly growled. “Was it Matt?”

Juliet’s stomach dropped. Joel said Matt’s name as though her were some mass murderer.

“No!” Juliet said nervously, “It was -”

“If he fuckin’ touched you,” Joel raged, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“It wasn’t him!” Juliet breathlessly revealed. “It was an infected.”

Juliet expected Joel’s rage to burn out when he realised Matt had no part in her injury, but for some reason it looked as though the muscles in his body grew even tighter.

“An infected did this?” he breathed, hovering his thumb over the dark purple.

Juliet nodded slowly, not trusting her words.

Joel was touching her and she could think of nothing else other than the calloused edge of his fingertips brushing so delicately against her injured skin.

“You weren’t bit?” Joel asked softly, already knowing the answer or Juliet wouldn’t have been standing in front of him.

“No,” she whispered hoarsely.

“You could’ve been killed,” he ground out as a muscle jumped in his very tight jaw. Joel was so close to her now, his breath touched her forehead as she looked up at him.

She was pressed against the shelving, with nowhere to escape him.

His other hand reached up and cradled her cheek as his eyes scanned over her face, watching as her lip trembled.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked in a hushed voice.

Juliet had been drawn in, caught in the spell of Joel’s close proximity; exposed to the intoxication of his smell and the magnetism of his eyes.

But his words struck her in that deep, dark hole in her chest, and she was thrown from his orbit.

Why didn’t she tell him?

Her eyes darkened.

“Why the hell would I tell you?” Juliet almost snarled.

Joel drew back as if he’d been slapped.

For a brief moment, Juliet imagined she saw hurt blazing in his eyes, before they hardened.

“We haven’t spoken in weeks, and you all but told me you couldn’t care less about me,” she bit out, pouring every bit of her anger, shock and sadness into each word.

“Why would I tell you anything?” she continued, her voice cracking.

A million emotions flashed across Joel’s face, and Juliet couldn’t seem to grasp at any.

She was breathing heavy.

His hands released her slowly as though he had to force himself to pull away.

Joel took a deep breath and Juliet held her’s as she waited for him to take back every cruel word he threw at her and rescind the way he made her feel.

But his eyes scanned her face and the breath slowly left his mouth, with nothing to ease the ache in Juliet’s chest.

“It’s a miracle you’re alive,” he said quietly after a moment, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

Juliet said nothing, all the fight in her was gone.

She’d expected Joel to argue back, to fight her accusation of his indifference towards her.

But, instead, she watched as all the shutters in his mind slammed closed once again.

With one last lingering look, Joel turned and stormed around the corner without his ammo.

Juliet closed her eyes and felt tears leak down her cheeks, cleansing her skin of the memory of Joel’s heated touch as she heard his hard footsteps march out of the barn.

_________________________________________

@amyispxnk @http-paprika @shotgun-shelby @weeping-werewolf

(I'll proofread this properly tomorrow, sorry if there's any random formatting or grammatical errors lol)

thanks for reading ❤️

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