#there is no way I could ever ignore the angst potential of this man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fallingdownhell · 11 months

Note

Genshin men when you bring them home to meet the parents and they find out that your sister is the favored child of the family and she now has her eyes set on them.

Uhhh, I really like that idea.. It has so much angst potential... but am I gonna do it...?

Characters Included: Heizou; Thoma; Alhaitham

Content: gender neutral reader; reader has a sister; slight cursing; some jealousy themes; nothing else besides that

Word count: 2k words

Have fun reading!<3

Heizou

He is so fucking nervous!

He is good at hiding it, but you know him by now, you know how he gets and how he acts when he doesn't want others to know his true feelings, so you know and are aware of it

Heizou knows about your strained relationship with your family. Your parents having favoured your sister over you, no matter the circumstances

you did have contact with your family, but it was on a very low, unregular basis. Not that he minded that, though. It was your life, your decision. He's sure you wouldn't do that without having a good reason for it.

You had agreed on a nice, easy dinner at your parents house where they would get the chance to meet your boyfriend for the first time

upon arriving at the house where you spent your childhood, Heizou got more and more nervous. Somewhere along the way, he grabbed one of your hands, holding it tightly in his own.

you tried reassuring him, giving him a small smile as you held his hand, and it did help him a bit

soon, your mother answered the front door, followed by your father and introductions were made

Heizou held your hand throughout the entire thing, not daring to let go of you, but he seemed to relax more and more as the seconds went by

your parents noticed this as well, looking briefly at your joined hands, but chose not to say anything about it

you sat down on the table and a few minutes later, your sister arrived

she was acting entirely over the top with you, throwing herself at you and acting far too friendly. It made you somewhat uncomfortable, but you didn't say anything, not wanting to ruin the good mood that everyone has

for the first few minutes of dinner, everything seemed fine. Conversations were held, your parents asked Heizou some questions, nothing too bad

but then, your mom made some comment about you again, and it all went downhill from there for you

"You know, you're exactly the type of man we always wanted for our daughter. Are you sure you want to settle with (name)?"

then, your mother proceeded on to tell him every little thing about your sister. How she was working a much better job than you with better hours and more pay. How she was more beautiful than you. How she was just in general the better choice between the two of you

Heizou was dumbfounded by this behaviour and he now understood entirely why you had almost no contact with your family. This has been your entire life? Archons, he wanted to rip them a new one, for your own sake..

your mother was still rambling on, your sister just sitting there, smiling at Heizou, thinking that he was considering his options

everyone, including you, was surprised when he suddenly slammed his hands on the table, making all eyes fall on him

"With all due respect, Ma'am. I would rather die than do something so horrible to (Name). They are a wonderful partner, the best I could ever wish for. So, pardon us, but we are going to take our leave now."

with that, he grabbed your hand and you both walked out of the house, ignoring the calls of your family for you to come back and that they didn't mean it like that

secretly though, you were so glad and relieved. When your mother started saying stuff like that again, you just mentally accepted that this was it, yet again.

But Heizou surprised you and stood up for you against your own family. It made you feel so incredibly loved and cared for

that night, he hugged you closer to him than ever before, now reassuring you that you were his number one, that he loved you only and would do everything in this world, just to see you smile again...

Thoma

He's such a sweet partner, always caring about you and making sure that you're comfortable with him

Thoma likes to be a provider in a relationship. In the sense that he likes to cook for you, help you clean up, doing little things for you around the house. It's his way of saying "I love you"

Thoma will never push you into doing anything you don't want to, or making you open up to him

he's more than happy to take things slowly, earning your trust

and when you finally open up to him about whatever things you want to talk about, he's there for you, listening to everything you have to say without interrupting you

he also knows about the strained relationship with your family. He might not know all the details, but he knows enough to trust you in your decisions regarding the matter

he would never comment on it or make you do anything since it's not his place to judge or intrude on

with that being said, it just so happened that one day, while out shopping for ingredients, he ran into a certain someone

well, more like, a certain someone that ran into him. She profusely apologized for running into him and somehow got him tangled up into conversation

Thoma, being the nice person that he is, tried finding a way out of the conversation without coming across as rude. But, honestly, he just wanted to get home to you as soon as possible

Somehow, the conversation shifted and the topic of partners came up. Thoma said that he was happily taken right now, but she just kept pressing with her questions until your name slipped out his mouth

Thoma could clearly see how her eyes lit up at the mention of your name and he had a feeling that she would just bombard him with thousands more questions

so, he quickly made up an excuse and got out of there, walking home at a fast pace

once he arrived, he told you about the encounter he just had, which made you think. It all sounded strangely familiar to you, even his description of the person rang a bell somewhere in your mind

however, you didn't have much more time to dwell on those thoughts as a knock could be heard from the front door

exchainging glances, you went to answer the door, only to find your sister standing in front of you

eyes wide, you wondered how she found you here, but that question was quickly answered

"Oh, so you ARE his lover! God, now I'm so glad I followed him all the way back here!"

She threw herself in your arms, then quickly abandoned you and went inside your home. You were still so shocked and didn't realize this but when you came back to your senses, you quickly went inside again to the kitchen were you heard her voice from

Thoma was looking at you confused as well, but she just continued talking to him like nothing had happened and they were still out in the city where she ran into him

"...I mean, I'm so glad it was you! You're so handsome, and strong apparently for carrying all those bags back here! Say, why are you with (Name) anyway? Like, they have no redeeming qualities. You should look for more suitable partners, like me! I could give you so much more!"

She smiled at him like her little speech would be all it takes for Thoma to change his mind. The sad part was, you were expecting it to work as well, having dealt with exactly that your entire life, she always got what she wanted

"...Out.", Thoma said. It was the only thing he said, but his tone was so unusal from his normal self. It was cold and demanding, making your sister shiver in her place.

She quickly grabbed her stuff and left your home again, not saying another word

You looked after her for a second, but then in the next you felt two strong arms wrap around you from behind, his face burrying itself in the crock of your neck

for a long time, he remained silent, before he spoke again. "Sorry. I'm so sorry you had to deal with that for so long."

you were perplexed at his words, but quickly hugged him back, silently thanking him for staying by your side

Alhaitham

To most people, Alhaitham comes off as a cold and calculated person without any emotions

most people will be surprised when they find out that he was indeed in a committed relationship

and they were even more surprised when they find out how sweet, loving and expressive you are

most would think that he would want a partner similar to him, closed off and not all that social. But you are the exact opposite to that

Not that Alhaitham was paying any mind to the opinions of others about him and his love life in the first place

To you, Alhaitham was the most ideal partner you could have hoped for

he was caring, attentive towards you, listened to you even if he didn't give that impression

his attention was always on you, you were in his thoughts when not with him. Just completely head over heels for you

However, he would not know about the strained relationship with your parents. He knew you weren't in much contact with them, and that's all he really needed or wanted to know. He never bothered you about it

But then, one day, you asked him if he wanted to meet your parents. You seemed unsure about the proposal, but in the end, he agreed to it nevertheless

the days before the event, you became a nervous mess. Alhaitham had no idea what was going on, but he tried to be there for you and support you

he did ask if you wanted to talk to him about anything, but you declined and he didn't push you anymore after that

then, the evening finally arrived where you were meeting up with your family at a local restaurant

when you arrived, your partents and sister were already there, waiting on the two of you. your mother spotted you first, waving to grab your attention

you then went over to sit with them

Introductions were a bit awkward at first, but after a few minutes, things seemed to settle down a bit as your parents engaged in conversation with you, trying to catch up on things

However, it quickly became clear to Alhaitham that your sister was always trying to upstage you with absolutely anything. You got a good job? Well, she got an even better one. You got paid so and so much? Well, wouldn't you look at that, her numbers were even higher than yours

at first, you tried to ignore it, but as always, your parents quickly began ignoring you again, instead congratulating your sister on how good she was doing for herself. It dampened your mood quite a bit, but you still wanted to give this a chance

that was, until your sister said something very specific. "Yeah. The only thing missing to top it all of would be an amazing boyfriend now. Say, Alhaitham. Why don't you dump my sibling and get with me instead?" She even winked at him after saying this

Immediately, your parents agreed to her proposal, looking expectantly at Alhaitham

said man only took a quick glance at everyone at the table, before throwing some money on the table, grabbing your hand and standing up, heading for the exit

"I listened to you disrespecting my partner for long enough. And you wonder why they hold no contact with you anymore. Really, I'm glad they got out of your grasp."

With that, you both left the restaurant. None of you spoke a word until you got to Alhaitham's house again, where he immediately pulled you into his arms as soon as you were inside

so for a while, you just stood there in his embrace while he silently reassured you that you had nothing to worry about

you were the only one to him and he would spend his entire life proving this to you if necessary..

5K notes · View notes

wholoveseggs · 2 months

Note

Hey :) How about an idea like this: Elijah and Reader have been close friends. Almost like a couple minus the sex. Elijah opens up about his fear of being physically intimate with anyone because of his past history with women and his fear of falling in love and losing control. Reader shows him that there's nothing to be afraid of. Sweet, smutty, potentially biting ;)

Touch

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

After a dinner party with the Mikaelson family, you try to get Elijah to open up his heart to you.

♡♡ Thanks for the request darling @originals23, I love soft and sweet Elijah ♡♡

5.8k words - Warnings: angst, smut, oral sex, blowjob, biting, romantic as fuck, Elijah being so self-loathing...

Your friend Elijah was the whole package. Smart, witty, handsome, well-read, well-educated, and he dressed in clothes that could pay your rent. He was always so composed and dignified. You had no trouble understanding why a woman would fall for him; he was the quintessential tall, dark, and handsome.

But there was a deep sadness to him lurking underneath, accompanied by guilt and shame. You suspected that Elijah had been through something traumatic in his past, something that he couldn't bring himself to discuss. The most you ever got from him was that he had betrayed someone he had loved.

The two of you spent a lot of time together, taking walks through the city or going to plays. You loved hearing him talk about art, literature, philosophy. His deep, soothing voice made even the dullest subject come alive. You could spend hours with him, listening to him speak.

You wanted to be more than friends and you were putting out very clear signals for a while. He certainly wasn't a stupid man, so you didn't know what was holding him back. You figured he was either not interested in sex or he was scared to take things further.

He was always the perfect gentleman, even though you were pretty sure he was attracted to you. You had caught him glancing at you a few times, particularly when you were wearing something a bit revealing, and you saw his pupils dilate when he looked at your lips. There was always a tension between the two of you, which he was always careful to maintain at a friendly level.

It was getting a bit frustrating. He clearly liked you, so why didn't he just act on it?

Elijah couldn't stop thinking about you. He had completely fallen for you, it was a rare and overwhelming feeling for him, and he was terrified of screwing things up. He had spent most of his life avoiding emotional attachment. He had his family, but no one outside of them. Until you came along.

You had managed to penetrate the cold walls that he had built around himself, and now he was in too deep. He couldn't stand the thought of losing you, so he tried to keep things at a platonic level. He was always careful not to let his hands linger on you, or his eyes stray. But sometimes it was so difficult to keep his desire in check.

But there you were, at a quiet dinner party with his family, wearing a red silk dress that clung to every curve of your body, looking like an angel, or a seductress, depending on your perspective. The neckline was low, showing off the top of your cleavage, and the hem was short, revealing the length of your legs. And it was tied in the back by these little strings, making it tight across your breasts. He couldn't stop thinking about undoing the strings and letting your breasts fall free.

The whole night he struggled to keep his eyes from wandering to you, his imagination from running wild. He couldn't stop thinking about how the silk would feel beneath his fingertips, the way your skin would feel, warm and soft against his hands, the sounds you would make as he took you apart, bit by bit.

But he had to ignore it all, you were a beautiful butterfly, and he didn't want to pluck your wings. He was determined to remain your friend and nothing more.

"Elijah darling, will you hand me that bottle of margaux?" Rebekah asked, nodding towards the wine rack.

Her words snapped him out of his daydream, and he reached for the bottle in question. He was pouring the wine into a glass for his sister when you spoke up.

"Can I have a glass too?" You asked, smiling at him.

He had been avoiding even looking at you all night and it hurt your feelings. You dressed up just for him, hoping that he would finally take the hint and realize that you were interested in him. He was always so composed, so restrained, but you had caught him looking at you several times and his gaze had been so intense, so heated, that it left you breathless. You were determined to take any opportunity to interact with him.

"Of course." He murmured, pouring the wine into a glass and handing it to you.

His fingers brushed against yours as he handed you the glass, sending a spark through your body. Your eyes locked for a moment and the air between you was charged with tension. His lips parted slightly and his eyes darted to your mouth, a flash of heat passing over his face. You felt your pulse quicken and your breathing become shallow. It all happened so fast, but it made you hopeful that he might actually reciprocate your feelings.

"Thank you," you whispered, bringing the glass to your lips and taking a sip.

The wine was rich and sweet, and the liquid slipped down your throat easily. You closed your eyes, savoring the taste, before opening them again and meeting Elijah's gaze.

"How have you been? We haven't talked in a while." You asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

"I've been fine, just busy with work," he replied, his eyes drifting over to where his brother Klaus was seated next to Rebekah.

You felt a little bold from the wine and you placed your hand on his knee. "You seem a little tense. Are you sure everything is okay?"

He froze, his eyes darting down to your hand and back up to your face. You smiled reassuringly and squeezed his knee. Elijah hated when you did this, he didn't like to feel afraid, and the sensation of fear, of his body tensing up and his heart racing, it all brought back memories that he had spent years burying.

He cleared his throat, "Yes, I'm fine, I just have a lot on my mind."

You nodded, sensing his discomfort. You were used to his aloofness, but it had never bothered you before. You knew he was a reserved man and that he had a lot going on in his head. But now, with you, it felt different. Like he was pushing you away, keeping you at a distance.

You turned to talk to Freya, trying not to let your disappointment show. You knew it was ridiculous to think that he would want you like you wanted him. He was your best friend and he probably didn't even think of you like that.

You looked around the table at everyone, you were the only one there that wasn't a Mikaelson or their partner. You were always welcomed like you were a part of the family, but tonight, it felt different. Everyone else was so happy, so in love, and you were alone.

After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room, the lights were dim and there was a roaring fire going in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room.

You sat on the sofa, next to Klaus, who was engrossed in a conversation with his brother Kol. You took another sip of wine and glanced around the room, watching as couples cuddled and kissed, enjoying the atmosphere.

Elijah walked in with some wood to add to the fire, he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, showing off his strong, muscular arms. You could see the outline of his biceps through his shirt and you bit your lip, trying not to imagine how they would feel wrapped around you.

He leaned down to place a log on the fire, there was something so primally attractive about watching a man build a fire, and you found yourself imagining Elijah naked, his body covered in sweat, his muscles rippling as he worked.

Your heart began to race and your breathing quickened. You shifted on the couch, pressing your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that was building there.

Klaus got up and put a record on, the soft sultry tones of Nina Simone filed the room. You watched Klaus take Cami's hand and lead her to the middle of the room. He placed his hand on her hip, pulling her close to him, and they began to sway together, their bodies moving in perfect harmony.

The other couples followed suit, and soon the room was filled with music and laughter and the soft murmur of whispered words.

Your eyes wandered to Elijah, the only other one not dancing, and he was looking back at you. The firelight reflected in his eyes, making them look like pools of molten chocolate. You stood and crossed the room, offering your hand to him.

He hesitated, glancing at his siblings, all so lost in their own lovers, then back at you. "Will you dance with me, Elijah?"

He looked nervous and uncomfortable, but he nodded and took your hand. You led him to the middle of the room and placed your hand on his shoulder, interlacing the fingers of your other hand with his.

Elijah's heart was in his throat, the feeling of your body so close to his was overwhelming, and his mind was racing, trying to figure out what he should do next. You started swaying slowly, following the rhythm of the music. He felt stiff and awkward, not sure where to put his hands.

"You can touch me 'lijah," you whispered, placing his hand on the small of your back.

Your words sent a jolt of desire through him, his skin tingling where it made contact with yours. He swallowed hard, his mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions. You were looking at him with your beautiful eyes, filled with trust and affection.

The air between you was heavy with tension, and he knew if he didn't put some distance between the two of you, he would do something he would regret. But he couldn't tear himself away from you, the magnetic pull between you was too strong.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, and you leaned in closer, your lips almost touching his. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his body firm and warm beneath your touch.

"Tell me what's wrong," you asked softly, looking into his eyes.

He shook his head, his voice barely a whisper, "I can't."

"Yes, you can," you reassured him, stroking his cheek, "Just tell me, I won't judge."

He let out a long sigh and looked around at the others, each lost in their own little world. He couldn't do it, not here, not now.

Your heart broke at his unwillingness to open up to you and you could no longer stand to have him so close. You pulled away from him, and a flash of pain and confusion crossed his face.

"I need some air," you said, turning and walking out of the room.

Elijah watched you go, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He was frustrated and confused and he didn't know what to do. He knew he should follow you, talk to you, try to explain himself. But he was frozen in place, paralyzed by his own fear and indecision. In that moment he realized he had no choice, he could either wallow in his own misery and lose you or he could face his fears and hope you still wanted him.

He went outside, finding you standing under the stars, your arms wrapped around yourself, staring out into the night.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "I didn't mean to upset you."

You turned to him, your eyes shining with tears, "I just want you to be honest with me, Elijah."

He stepped closer to you, reaching out and gently brushing a tear from your cheek. "I am afraid, Y/N."

"Of what?"

"I'm afraid that if we take our relationship further, I'll lose control. That I'll hurt you," he admitted.

You chuckled softly and shook your head, "You could never hurt me, Elijah."

He gave you a sad smile, his voice barely above a whisper, "I wish that were true."

You could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he was struggling to find the words. You took his hand and looked up into his dark brown eyes.

"Talk to me," you said softly.

He let out a long breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say.

"Before I was turned, I met this woman, he name was Tatia," he began, his voice shaky, "she was my first love, and I would have made her my wife,"

"But you were turned vampire," you said softly, touching his arm.

"Yes," he sighed, his expression pained, "only a few days after I was reborn did I take her life,"

"Oh my god," you breathed, not able to imagine such a tragedy, "it wasn't your fault, Elijah, you had no control,"

"It is not so simple," he replied, looking away from you, "I..."

"It is that simple, I know your heart Elijah, and I know you would never intentionally hurt anyone you love," You interjected, placing your hand over his heart, feeling it beat steadily, and he covered your hand with his.

"I'm not a good man," he whispered, "I've done horrible things, hurt people, killed people."

You placed your other hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes. You could see the pain, the shame, the guilt, the weight of his sins drowning him.

"If you weren't a good man you wouldn't feel any shame," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "You're not a monster."

"I am," he insisted, his eyes welling up with tears, "I have snuffed out precious life, I've picked the wings off every beautiful butterfly that has landed on my hand," his voice cracked, and he turned his face away, unable to look at you.

You took his chin in your hand, turning his head back to face you. You could see the anguish in his eyes, the pain that he had carried with him for so long. He let you pull him close, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"There is light in you, Elijah," you said softly, "I can see it."

He pulled back and looked at you, his eyes searching yours.

"I'm a monster," he repeated, shaking his head, "I'm not worthy of your friendship, much less your love."

"That's not your choice to make," you said firmly, "only I get to decide who's worthy of my heart," you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his stubble tickling your lips, "and I choose you."

He turned his head slightly, his lips grazing yours, and your breath caught in your throat. Your heart was racing, and your body was humming with anticipation.

He cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, and he leaned in, closing the gap between you. His lips were soft and warm, and you could feel the electricity flowing between you. You melted into his touch, his kiss igniting a fire within you.

Your hands traveled up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer, and he groaned against your mouth.

"My sweet Elijah," you murmured, tangling your fingers in his hair, "I've got you."

You felt his arms wrap around you, his fingers digging into your hips, and a thrill ran through you.

Elijah couldn't believe how good it felt to hold you like this, his body pressed against yours, your scent surrounding him, your lips against his. He was lost in the sensation, the pleasure of being so close to you, the way you made him feel, he had to have all of you.

"Come," he said softly, taking your hand and guiding you inside.

You followed him, your heart racing, the heat from his hand searing your skin. You didn't know what was going to happen, but you knew it was something special.

You climbed the stairs, your breathing ragged, anticipation coursing through your veins. He led you down the hallway and into his room.

The air was thick with tension, the energy between you palpable. You could see his shoulders were tense, his muscles coiled.

You could tell he was still conflicted, the war raging inside him. You wanted him to know that he was safe with you, that you could give him the love and affection he needed.

You undid the strings on your dress, letting the silk slip from your body, pooling at your feet. All you were left in was your panties, your breasts exposed to him.

He stared at you, his gaze roaming over your body, drinking in the sight of you. You reached out a hand to him, inviting him to touch you.

He slowly crossed the room, his eyes never leaving yours. He was drawn to you like a magnet, unable to resist the pull.

You placed your hands on his chest and slowly began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest. Your fingers traced his skin, reveling in the feeling of him. You tugged his shirt from his shoulders, tossing it to the floor, your fingers exploring the planes of his stomach and chest.

"You are so handsome," you murmured, looking into his eyes.

He kissed you again, his lips parting as your tongue met his, and the passion between you ignited. Your hands went to his belt buckle, and you undid his trousers, sliding them down his hips and letting them fall to the floor.

He smiled softly, his hands going to the small of your back and pulling you in closer. You moaned at the feeling of his hardness pressed against you, and you rubbed your body against his, reveling in the sensation.

Elijah broke the kiss, backing you up towards the bed. Your legs hit the mattress, and you fell onto it, your hair spilling out around you. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with lust. You bit your lip, the heat between your legs growing as you saw how much he wanted you.

He hummed in approval and bent over you, his lips traveling over the column of your throat. Your breath was coming in shallow pants as he nibbled and licked his way down your chest. He paused at your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth, and you gasped, arching your back.

You threaded your fingers through his hair as he worshiped your body with his mouth and hands. He worked his way lower, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles across your stomach. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties, slowly peeling them down your legs and discarding them on the floor.

You spread your legs for him, your pussy on display, he kissed his way up your thigh, nibbling and licking the skin. His lips found your clit, and sucked on it gently, drawing small circles with the tip of his tongue.

Elijah had dreamed of being with you like this, of being the one to bring you pleasure. He was lost in the taste and feel of you, the tiny moans you were making spurring him on.

He eased two fingers inside of you, and you let out a gasp of pleasure. He slowly moved his fingers in and out, the pleasure building inside of you, the sensation making your toes curl.

You had assumed he would be good in bed, but this was a whole other level. He was clearly an expert with his hands and mouth, and he was intent on making you come undone.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body humming with pleasure, your heart pounding in your chest. When he let out a groan of pleasure you came apart, your pussy clenching around his fingers, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

You fell back onto the bed, panting, your body limp and boneless. Elijah sat back, watching you as you recovered from your orgasm, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

You grinned at him, "You've been holding out on me."

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint," he said with a chuckle.

He lay down on the bed next to you and you got on your knees. He was looking up at you like he'd just won the lottery. You bent over him and began to trail kisses across his chest, your tongue tracing the lines of his muscles.

You took his cock in your hand, stroking his hard length slowly, and you looked up at him. He looked so beautiful and vulnerable like this, his face relaxed, his lips parted, his eyes full of trust and affection.

You slowly slid your lips around his head and began to gently suck and lick, you saw his hips jerk, a moan escaping his lips. His fingers found their way into your hair, lightly caressing you as you took him further into your mouth.

You let your saliva gather, coating your mouth, the sweet tang of precum coating your tongue as you lapped at his slit. You slid your tongue down the underside of his shaft, your tongue fluttering against the soft, sensitive skin there.

He felt so good, the weight and warmth of him in your mouth, his hands in your hair. You could tell he was getting close, his breathing heavy, his muscles tight. You could taste the salty pre cum spilling out of him, his hips starting to rock. Always so sweet and restrained, always so careful with you.

You moaned around him, the vibrations sending him over the edge. He let out a low groan of pleasure as he came in your mouth, his body tense as his release took him.

You gave little swallows, pulling all you could from him as he softened in your mouth. You looked up at him, your lips still toying with the head of his cock and he smiled softly, his hand coming up and wiping away a dribble of his cum.

Elijah could hardly believe you were in his bed, that he was with you like this, your mouth on his cock. You made him feel things he had never felt before, made him want to lose himself in you.

You placed a kiss on his lower abdomen and slowly moved up, straddling his hips. He sat up and kissed you, his tongue parting your lips as he explored your mouth. His hand trailed up your thigh to the curve of your ass and you pressed closer to him, your body flush against his.

Elijah was overjoyed that he was about to make love to you, his friend, the person he loved and trusted the most. You had been the only person he had ever opened up to about his past. The only one who had ever seen him so vulnerable. He never expected it would lead to this but he was glad it had.

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your nose brushing his skin. His hands explored the smooth curves of your body, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your hips. You kissed along the curve of his jaw, his stubble tickling your lips.

"This feels nice, I like touching you," you murmured, smiling up at him, your heart full of affection for him.

"It do too," he replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

His hand moved down the outside of your thigh to your knee, drawing circles on the soft skin there. He moved your legs slightly, letting him take control, your heart raced with anticipation. He spread your legs a little more, his fingers trailing up the inside of your thigh, teasing you, leaving you wanting.

You bit your lip as you watched his hand move further up your thigh. You could feel the heat of him as his hand got closer to where you wanted him the most. He kissed you as his fingers gently grazed over your clit, and you moaned softly.

Your fingers trailed over his chest, teasing him in turn, as he continued to stroke you. The softness of his touch combined with his strength was a heady combination.

"Elijah," you gasped, his fingers slipping into you.

He hummed in response, a deep, pleased rumble as he moved his fingers in and out of you slowly. His cock was hard, throbbing as he pleasured you. The air around you was thick with desire as the two of you gave in to your desire.

"Please," you breathed, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes.

He smiled and removed his fingers from your dripping cunt, wrapping your legs around him, pulling you in closer. You took his cock in your hand and guided him into you, his length filling you slowly.

Your eyes met as he sank into you, his eyes full of adoration, the intimacy between you intense. His hands went to your hips and he slowly rocked you against him, your breasts pressing into his chest.

Soft, wet sounds filled the air as you began to move together, his hips pressing up into yours as you rolled your hips against him. You kissed his chest, licking and nibbling, making your way up to his throat, his stubble tickling your cheek as you left small love bites.

Your clit was rubbing against the base of his cock and you were starting to feel that sweet ache deep inside you as your pleasure started to build. He felt so good, his hands gripping you tightly, pulling you close as you both rocked and grinded together.

His eyes were turning black, veins snaking under his skin and his fangs descended. Your blood was pounding through your veins and you were both breathing heavy. He was trying to fight it, not wanting you to see that side of him, he wanted to be gentle with you. He'd never let his guard down with anyone.

You were fascinated by it, the way he was starting to let go. The way you were getting to see him like this, so raw and vulnerable. You felt closer to him than you'd ever felt to anyone and it filled your heart with so much joy. You brought a hand up to trace the moving veins, feeling them throb under your fingers, the way the skin tightened around his eyes.

"It's okay, you don't have to hide," you said softly, cupping his face.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing. You felt his muscles relax and you felt a thrill go through you knowing that he was letting you in. You began to bounce slightly on his lap, taking his cock deep inside you.

He groaned as you tightened around him, the heat inside you growing. He held you close, his breathing ragged, your skin hot and slick as your bodies moved together. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he kissed and licked your throat.

Your head lolled back, baring your neck to him, the trust you felt for him made him feel a wave of affection for you. You could feel his fangs grazing your skin and you knew what he needed. You could feel the hunger coming from him.

You brought a hand to his head, holding him close, and you tilted your head further. You were offering yourself to him, offering to share in your most intimate moment with him, to feed him.

"It's okay baby, you can taste me," you murmured, stroking his hair.

He let out a growl as he sank his fangs into you, your sweet, coppery blood flooding his mouth. His grip on your hips tightened as he held you against him, your bodies flush against one another, as he drank.

He felt a rush go through him, your blood invigorating him like a drug, filling his body with warmth and pleasure. The sweetness of you, the softness of your skin, the scent of your arousal filling his nose was making him lose all control.

In one swift movement he flipped you over, his weight on top of you, his hips never leaving yours as he pinned you beneath him. He was taking control, taking what he wanted, the look of pure bliss on your face making him fall further.

You spread your legs wider, your hands digging into the muscles of his back, and you ground yourself against him, the new position letting you take him in deeper. You felt his tongue trace the wound in your neck, the pleasure of him drinking from you making you moan.

Elijah pulled away, looking down at you. Your skin was flushed, your hair fanning out around your head, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. He'd never seen anything more beautiful in his long, long life. He wanted to share everything with you, the dark and light, the pleasure and the pain. You were the person he loved the most and he wanted you to feel just how much he adored you, needed you.

He kissed you with an intense passion, pouring all of his love into you. He was done holding back, done denying himself of you. He'd loved you from afar, his desire for you growing. You had shown him a new kind of affection, a different way to see the world.

He gently bit down on his lip, sharing his blood with you. You were eager as you licked it away, savoring his taste. You felt him deep in your soul, your blood singing with pleasure. The intimacy of it, of sharing something so deeply personal, had your heart full to bursting.

The room was filled with the sound of your panting and moans, the wet sounds of your bodies coming together, and your hearts were beating in sync. He moved in a deep, steady rhythm, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze full of tenderness.

His hands traced up the sides of your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps, before finding your wrists, he pinned them to the bed above your head, his weight pressing you into the mattress. You could feel how close he was, the muscles of his arms tight, his back tense as he tried to hold back his release.

He could feel it, the warmth deep in his core, the need to release building. He wanted you to come with him, to share in the pleasure with him. You wrapped your legs around him, drawing him in closer, your hands gripping his as he pinned you to the bed.

"Let go baby," you gasped, the words falling from your lips, the heat between your legs building to a peak.

His pace quickened and you were right there with him, the pressure inside you building to a peak as you teetered on the edge, and you let out a low moan as your pleasure crested and crashed through you, the orgasm rolling over you like a wave. You were both coming together, the sensation of being inside you as you clenched and trembled around his cock pushing him over the edge.

You rode it out, clinging to one another, lost in the sensation as the wave of pleasure ebbed and flowed through your bodies, his warmth spreading deep inside you, your blood pounding in your ears.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck and he bit down again, sharing in your ecstasy, the sweetness of you flowing over his tongue, the way your body felt clenching and fluttering around his cock as he emptied himself inside of you, it was bliss.

He drank slowly, your hands tangled in his hair, your body pressed close to his, the warmth of your release coating his cock. You were limp, exhausted in the most satisfying way, his cock softening inside of you, his breathing coming in shallow pants.

He pulled away and kissed the wound tenderly, sealing it up with the warmth of his tongue as he slowly lapped away the blood. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, the feel of his skin on yours so intimate and right.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice soft.

You turned his face to yours and you smiled. You leaned in and kissed him, softly at first, but you found yourself deepening the kiss. Your body responded to him immediately, desire beginning to simmer once more.

"I love you," you said softly against his lips, your eyes searching his.

You had always been afraid to tell him how you felt. You knew it might ruin what you had but you couldn't hold back. Not after this. Not after what had just happened. You knew the feeling was mutual, he loved you, he always had, and it made you so happy you could cry.

"I love you," he breathed, his eyes full of affection, and it made you melt.

"Can we stay just like this?" You asked, feeling a blush creep up your face, and he smiled and nodded.

He gathered you into his arms and laid back on the bed, pulling the comforter over you as you curled up against him, your head on his chest, his arms holding you tight. You were content to lay there, the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath your head as you lay wrapped in one another's arms.

Elijah could feel you dozing off as the night grew later. You were exhausted but content, and you wanted to stay with him, just like this, for as long as you could.

He had made many mistakes in his long life, he had hurt people, he had done terrible things. He never thought he would be able to have anything good like this in his life, he didn't feel like he deserved it.

But as you slept peacefully in his arms, he couldn't help but think that he must be doing something right.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ complicatedandconfusing-25 @hamiltimes ♡ @akala6670229

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

321 notes · View notes

renardiererin · 8 months

Text

THE GREAT WAR a social media au starring rockstar!rintarou suna, and musician!reader

synopsis -> you used to know rintarou. you knew him back before the world did. you used to know him better than you knew yourself. but nothing perfect ever lasts, does it? after awhile he just stopped responding. you tried to block out every headline you saw featuring his name, and focus on your own music career rather than his own. but when one of his bandmates reaches out to you and asks you to open for their upcoming tour, you find yourself stuck traveling all around the world with the man whose inflicted pain inspired most of your first album.

warnings -> potentially some suggestive content (but no explicit smut), probably some flashback moments, probably alcohol content, swearing, etc.

tags -> smau, social media au, rintarou suna, rintarou suna smau, celebrity smau, rockstar suna, exes to ?, little bits of humor i hope, angst, band au

ongoing! [8/22/23] playlist

profiles

akaashi fanclub / dicks with instruments

table of contents / masterlist *titles may be subject to change along the way !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act i - the act of acceptance 1. my knuckles were bruised like violets

2. i can't say hello to you and risk another goodbye

3. i know we cut all the ties but you never really listen

4. yes i got your letter, yes i'm doing better

5. seeing you tonight... it's a bad idea, right?

6. love is never logical

7. when facing the things we turn away from

8. i wanna get him back (i want sweet revenge; i want him again)

9. we had matching wounds

10. did you see me on tv?

11. put my name at the top of your list

12. i’ve gotten what i wanted, it’s just not what i imagined

13. none of it matters and none of it ends, you just feel like shit over and over again

14. stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act ii - the act of love and loss 1. still all over me like a white stained dress i can't wear anymore

2. the small things that you do are what remind me why i fell for you

3. don't just sit in front of me and wait for me to talk

4. flashback: i was only 17 when she first made me feel like a man

5. i don't wanna face the music but i still wanna dance with you

6. i can see you saying: "meet me tonight"

7. you, oh you, it's always been you

8. i'm captivated by you baby like a firework show

9. imma make a move, if you know what i mean

10. jump then fall into you

11. your faithless love's the only hoax i believe in

12. you told me you love me, so why did you go away?

13. i lived in your chess game

14. when i'm nothing new

15. i hate that because of you i can't love you

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙 act iii - the act of isolation and irritability 1. i know that i should hate you

2. when did it end? all the enjoyment?

3. falling feels like flying til the bone crush

4. flashback: for awhile you were all mine

5. i hope you're not happy without me

6. i love you but i need another year alone

7. i didn't have it in myself to go with grace

8. flashback: when i'd fight, you used to tell me i was brave

9. come back to me like you could if you'd just say you're sorry

10. i try to ignore it everytime you phone... but i never come close

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act iv - the act of reconciliation 1. you used a fork once

2. you will love me until you resent me

3. i wish you knew that i'll never forget you as long as i live

4. i miss you too much to be mad anymore

5. can't turn back now i'm haunted

6. if you're out there if you're somewhere if you're moving on

7. you can hear it on the way home

8. this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

9. don't want no other shade of blue but you

10. until the poets run out of rhymes

11. i want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck

12. this love came back to me

13. what if i told you i'm a mastermind?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

act v - the act of the epilogue 1. outside they're push and shoving / you're in the kitchen humming

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🌙

a/n: hii okay i haven't written an smau in literal years so im just hoping this doesn't suck and that you can enjoy it :) mwah i love each and every one of you who is reading this note & this smau rn <3 thank you all my loves !

taglist

@kiyoily @akumakitsune21 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @dani-shitting-around @alienvarmint @reverie-starlight @honeythebarbie @bootlegroach @tsukiran @xbl00dy-r0s3x @universal-s1ut @koushisbabie @breakmyheartlater @phoenix-eclipses @ris-krispie @coyloves @2baddies-1porsche @girlkissersco @ilovejujitsukaisen @dontmindtheevie

taglist is open <33 comment here to be added !

558 notes · View notes

xcherricutie · 2 months

Text

🥀 other friends 🥀

[Lucifer Morningstar x Reader]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four]

[Word Count - 2.5k]

[Tags: Angst, songfic, canon typical violence]

[Notes: This was a bit more difficult to write than drift away, action scenes aren't really my forte. Also, there are mentions of Adam becoming a demon, its a bit of setup for a potential one shot relating to this series soon. I think it'd be fun to do a little series of Steven Universe song one shots within the canon these one shots have set up. Not promising anything, but it would be fun to try]

“The Hazbin Hotel is now officially open! Come stay with us for a chance to have your soul redeemed, and earn your place in Heaven!”

The video flickered ever so slightly, the television displaying the image of Charlie Morningstar, princess of Hell, for both angels and demons alike to see. As the video played, Charlie giving more details about her hotel, a trio of angels looked on, the seraphims keeping their eyes glued on the ancient angel before them. You.

Upon finding your near lifeless body standing in the abandoned Garden of Eden, Sera and Emily quickly took you into their care. You could hardly pay them any mind since Sera had told you of Lucifer’s fate, of the curse he had put on himself. He had become the Devil, the sin of pride. He had cheated on you and left you for Lilith, who he soon had a child with. The girl on the screen before you happened to be said child. The very personification of Lucifer’s betrayal.

Your blood boiled at the sight. You had demanded information from Sera, someone you had once considered a friend. You knew she was innocent in all of this, but you could not help your anger at the fact that not only had she let Charlie into Heaven, but was working with her to redeem the sinners that Lucifer had been the cause of in the first place. He was the reason sin and chaos existed in humanity in the first place. You were mad that things had spiraled to this point, you were mad that this was apparently how the story ended.

No. You wouldn’t have it this way. If you had known just how good Lucifer was having it now after what he did to you, you would have rather stayed ignorant of everything. Perhaps even rather let the garden claim your body, than be here, in this horrible reality. But you were here, and now, you were going to change the ending of this story. You intended to have your happy ending, at any price.

A soft hum filled the long, glowing halls of the Hazbin Hotel, the sounds of shoes tapping with each step accompanying the hum. With a twirl of his staff, and an adjustment of his top hat, the man entered the grand entrance hall of the lobby, where everyone, including his daughter, waited. His heels clicking as he came to a stop, Lucifer stood atop the steps, looking down at everyone with a smile, his daughter catching his attention right away.

“Dad! There you are!” Charlie exclaimed, running up the steps. Lucifer raised a brow in confusion, meeting her halfway as he walked down the steps.

“Charlie? What’s the matter?” Lucifer asked, curious. Surely, their newest resident hadn’t already started causing trouble, right? Lucifer knew the man would be uncomfortable here, but surely Adam wasn’t jumping straight into causing chaos, hopefully.

Charlie grabbed her father by the wrist, dragging him down the stairs, towards the small crowd of people standing in the doorway. Lucifer immediately noted the uncomfortable, even downright fearful look in their faces, even Adam seemingly upset, or at the very least, startled. His attention was whipped to whatever had caused their discomfort, his eyes widening at the sight.

“Tears in the sky are appearing all over, and they’re clearly from Heaven,” Charlie spoke, pointing up at the rip that had begun to appear over the hotel, the golden outline of the tear drawing attention. More rips and tears dotted the skies of Hell, all across the pride ring. A soft, white light shone from inside, though nothing else seemed to come through.

“I thought Heaven agreed to back off, I-I don’t understand,” Charlie grabbed her hair by the roots, pulling tightly. She felt the calming hand of her girlfriend, Vaggie, on her shoulder, but it did little to soothe her anxiety.

Vaggie huffed, glaring up at the sky, clenching her angelic spear tightly in her other hand. “Well, you know how Heaven can be. They might’ve decided they’re too good for us.”

But that didn’t seem right. Not to Lucifer at least. He knew Sera. Even if she had intended to betray them, she would’ve gone about it in a more subtle way. This seemed far more... personal. Almost as if they wanted to be seen, to catch the attention of something. Lucifer tried to piece together just what was going on, and just what he should do about it.

His eyes widened as he noticed the rip just above the hotel widen, and something, someone, coming through. The hair on his neck suddenly stood on end, the light masking the angel, hiding their face and casting a large silhouette over the hotel.

“Hey!” A loud, booming voice suddenly yelled, Lucifer nearly jumping in his skin. He could clearly see the ethereal glow of their eyes, and the snarl that pulled on their lips. “Are you Charlotte Morningstar?”

“Um...” Charlie sweat nervously, putting on her best friendly smile, silently begging that maybe they were a friendly angel. But she knew that wasn’t the case, not if this was their entrance. “Yes?”

Their lips curled upward into a smirk, grinning down at her. “Perfect.”

Their wings curled into their back, disappearing in a burst of golden magic. Dropping to the ground, they landed just before the hotel with a loud thud, bright blue eyes turning up to look at them, crinkling at the edges as they grinned maniacally. You finally made it into Hell.

Letting out a sinister chuckle, you stood up straight, nearly bursting at the seams with excitement. “Well, well, well, well, well! Let me get a look at the menagerie!”

Your eyes, glowing almost ominously, roved over the group before you. Each and every person, you studied meticulously, you knew exactly which ones were of no concern, which one would stand up for the hotel, which ones you would kill.

“You must Vaggie,” Your eyes landed on the fallen angel, watching as she visibly flinched at the sound of her name coming from your mouth. You moved onto the next one, smirking. “You must be Alastor,”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed at you, curiosity and even a hint of worry eating at him. Something didn’t seem right about any of this. This wasn’t like the other angelic attacks, no, this seemed far more malicious. He didn’t fail to notice the horror written plainly across the Demon King’s face either, especially as your eyes finally landed on him. Lucifer.

“And Lucifer, the King of Hell, wow! She keeps you here, isn’t that just swell?” You rolled your eyes in annoyance, your grin ever present as you tensed. You knew Lucifer was in and out of the hotel, but you had hoped to catch Charlie in a moment of vulnerability. Not that it mattered in the end, they were all going to suffer the same fate. You’d already decided how this would end.

“I-It can’t be...” Lucifer stuttered, nearly stumbling backward, his heart thudding in his chest, drumming loudly in his ears. You let out a string of laughter, your eyes watering at the sight of his trembling frame. This was all so perfect.

“Oh, but it can be. And it is!” You ran your fingers through your hair, watching as Lucifer’s fearful gaze was drawn to the charcoal color of your hands, as if you had been burnt, the off coloration seeping down your arms, into your skin. Purple lines streaked through your arms, your fingers more resembling claws than hands now. “I got a new style, and a few new toys that are gonna put an end to your happily ever after, once and for all!”

“Woah, woah!” Charlie jumped to the front, holding her hands out defensively. “This has gotta be a misunderstanding! In case you haven’t heard, I’ve established peace with the Heavens—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard,” You snapped, glaring at Charlie, who flinched. You clenched your fist, raising it as you glanced at it, before smirking at Charlie. “I’ve had your little message to the Heavens, on loop!”

A ball of light formed in your hand, your grin stretching across your face as you threw it Charlie. The demon’s eyes widened, letting out a startled cry as it hit her square in the chest, skidding across the grass, tripping on the steps of the hotel entrance. Lucifer was immediately at her side, checking her for injuries, shooting you a dark glare. You giggled, however, your grin leaning on maniacal as your eyes glowed.

“I just love that part, where Lucifer spends the rest of his days in this nowhere realm, with a bunch of nobodies!”

Something in you finally snapped, rushing at Charlie. She let out a startled scream as you grabbed her by her ankles, yanking her out of Lucifer’s caring hold, standing her up straight as you danced around with her, flinging her left and right.

“That’s right, I heard the story over and over again,” You sung cheerfully, spinning Charlie out of your grip, turning your anger on Vaggie as she flew at you, spear pointed to your heart.

Grabbing the spear handle, the tip just barely pressing into your chest, you flung Vaggie, giggling all the while. “Gee, it’s swell to finally meet his other friends!”

You watched as the cat demon, Husk, tried to attack, a pitiful attempt in your opinion. You grabbed him by his wings, pulling him up and pulling his feet out from under him, dropping him on the ground. “That’s right, I heard the story, don’t really like how it ends!”

A tall, spider-like demon, Angel Dust, rushed to Husk’s rescue, yelling as he barreled towards you. You grinned as you sidestepped him, watching as he tripped over Husk. “Gee, it’s swell to finally meet his other friends!”

Your attention zoned back in on Charlie, who was still trying to gather her wits. Grabbing her by her wrists, your pair of wings flapped behind you as you flew into the air. Charlie cried out in alarm as you tossed her upward, grabbing her by her ankles and dangling her around. “What did he say about me, what did he say?”

Dropping Charlie, she landed with a thud as you whipped over to Vaggie, grabbing her by her waist and spinning round and round. “What did you do without me, what did you do~?”

Throwing Vaggie, you turned your attention to the demon who had been narrowly managing to avoid you, Alastor. You grabbed him just before he could melt into the shadows, pulling him up off the ground as you held him by his waist, looking up at him with big, deceivingly innocent eyes. “Did you play games without me? What did you play?”

Releasing him just before he could retaliate, your wings flapped as you dodged each oncoming attack with ease, gliding towards your true victim. “Did you think all this time that I wouldn’t find out about you!?”

Your wings spread out, your blue eyes glowing as you floated just before the Devil himself, grinning madly, as if excited. Lucifer flinched under your cold gaze, completely frozen in place. However, he found himself being ripped from his place as silky golden ribbons poured from your hands, wrapping around Lucifer, around each and every sinner and demon. With a flap of your wings, you yanked the ribbons, pulling them together as they smashed into one another.

“Oh, that’s right I heard the story over and over again, gee it’s swell to finally meet his other friends...” You landed on the roof of the hotel entrance, giggling at the sight of the demons before you scrambling to get their bearings.

“She’s running circles around us!” Husk hissed, clawed hand running through the fur on his head. Angel scoffed, sitting up as he rubbed his pained arms.

“I’m rusty, give me a break!” He grumbled, pushing himself up.

As everyone stood up, one demon remained, stuck on the ground. It felt as though the whole world was spinning, threatening to uproot everything good in his life. Karma certainly was a bitch. “I-It really is her. But she can’t be serious...”

“You know her, dad!? Can you tell us who she is?” Charlie asked, looking to her father with worry. She had never seen him look so utterly terrified.

Charlie’s words made the thin thread of patience within you snap. You grit your teeth, blood boiling, your skin burning, your hands aching, aching to squeeze the life out of them. “Who am I!? Who am I? What are you even saying!?”

You stomped down toward the edge, your shadow casting over them in the glowing lights of the hotel. “I’m the loser of the game you didn’t know you were playing!”

But this was different. This time, you wouldn’t lose. Your lips twitched, curling into a shaky smirk, nerves fried and emotions haywire. “Let’s play another game! This time, I’ve got to win!”

A burst of light from your palm startled Lucifer, the light turning into a long staff, almost electrifying. A blade formed at the top in the shape of a scythe, the glow of your angelic power combined with the ominous glow of your eyes offputting.

“Lives on the line, winner takes all, ready or not, let’s begin!”

With a flap of your wings, you flew at the demons, watching as they jumped to dodge you. You let out a burst of laughter, slamming your foot into the gut of one of the demons, flinging them across the hotel yard. Another demon jumped at you, the handle of your scythe smashing into them, knocking them into the others.

“Oh, that’s right, I heard the story over and over again, gee it’s swell to finally beat his other friends!” You sang happily, grabbing the arm of Vaggie and throwing her just before she could attempt an attack. Vaggie cried out as she crashed into the ground, battered and bruised.

“Oh, that’s right, I heard the story, don’t really like how it ends!”

You shoved demons aside, throwing them around, all the while Lucifer could only watch. He could only watch as you terrorized his friends, and you were reveling in it. The tables had finally turned, and now, he was playing your game.

“Gee, it’s swell to finally beat his other,” You flew around, dodging demons, zoning in on one demon in particular. This was it. “Other...”

“Other friends!”

Your scythe sliced clean through Charlie’s waist, the angelic weapon leaving a trail of gold through her body. Charlie’s eyes widened, a silent scream stuck in her throat, her vision blotting and clouding. The last thing she saw was the horror in her father’s eyes as he stood before her, completely frozen, unable to move.

Charlie collapsed to the ground, the golden trail healing like a scar, almost as if it hadn’t cut through her at all. You giggled as Vaggie rushed to Charlie’s side, the other demons shortly behind her as they checked to make sure she was still alive. Your eyes remained on Lucifer, his body deathly still, as if he weren’t even breathing. He wasn’t. Because he knew exactly what you’d done.

“Don’t worry, Luci,” You called out, a wicked grin spread across your face, as if knowing exactly what was going through his mind. “I didn’t kill her. I simply hit her with my divine light. I do wonder what would happen to a half demon being filled with angelic light...”

You had already won.

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin x reader #lucifer x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer #charlie morningstar #Spotify

299 notes · View notes

causeilikelix · 5 months

Text

Rose Garden - Part One - Lee Know Smut

↳Pairing: Prince!Lee Know x Maid!afab reader

↳Words: 7,800

↳Warnings: SMUT 18+ only!!!!! Minors DNI!!!!!, Lee Know has a dirty mouth, unprotected sex (we all know the drill), inexperienced virgin!reader, Lee Know also might be a virgin but idk, pretty vanilla stuff, power dynamics, creampie, multiple orgasms, multiple (2) positions, semi-public sex, they almost get caught but aren't, angst, a mention of throwing up but no one does

↳Summery: You are a maid for one of the ladies eligible for a chance to see if they are the prince's soulmate. You join your lady and attend the tea party but you grow bored and wander off. After a while, you stumble across a beautiful rose garden and an even more beautiful man- though he's not very nice.

TAGLIST: @ohmy-moonlightx , @junebug032 , @giyusatorou , @skzfelixlove , @kittkat44 , @nap-of-a-starr, @ventitto , @blankdyean , @lethallyprotected , @poisonivy21 , @nobody3210 , @chuuswifereal , @hisokasimp1

(Strikethrough means unable to tag)

↳Notes: Long story short, I work a lot and I'm tired but I'm trying to get these written!!!

↳Ready on my AO3: Here

Part One

“MOTHER!” JOY COMPLAINED loudly, “Do I really have to go to this ridiculous ball?”

“Yes, darling,” Joy’s mother, Mrs. Park, flitted around the room and checked each of the offerings of the maids, “Tonight is vital. You must catch the eye of the Prince!”

“What if he's not my soulmate, though?” Joy pouted, which you caught through her vanity mirror as you carefully curled her hair.

“Darling, when you’re this high up in society you can’t be concerned about all of that soulmate dribble! You are a lady! You are out in society and your position matters!” Mrs Park insisted. She made her way over to the vanity and gestured for you to move aside.

Wordlessly and obediently, you stepped aside to let Joy’s mother take over your task of doing Joy’s hair. You backed away to stand with the other maids who were holding various jewelry options for this afternoon’s tea party.

Joy looked absolutely stunning, which was truly no surprise. As one of the higher ladies of the court, she had to be. Whenever she went to these tea parties or balls, it was part of your job to make sure she looked her best. You did her hair, helped her into whichever gown was chosen for the event, and applied the perfect amount of rouge to her cheeks. As her dedicated ladies maid, you also had to cater to her every whim.

Technically, you weren’t allowed to be friends with the lady you served but you and Joy had gotten rid of that ages ago. As her mother rambled on about the importance of holding the family’s position in society, Joy locked eyes with you through the vanity mirror and rolled her eyes. You had to stifle your giggle into your hand and pretend it was a sneeze in order for the other maids to ignore you.

“Mother, the prince does absolutely nothing for me. We would be an awful match!” Joy whined.

“Joy, I won’t keep telling you why you have to attend this event. This is your last chance to catch the Queen’s eye. If you don’t then they will choose a bride for him this evening at the ball.”

“But every eligible girl in society will also be peacocking around! There’s no way I could ever stand out.”

“Joy!” Mrs Park scolded with a light smack to her shoulder. She moved away and gestured for you to continue your task. “Ms. Y/N, please do your best work. You are serving the potential future princess of our fine country!”

“Mother!” Joy screeched, but Mrs Park made her way out of the room before Joy could whine much more. “Y/N, you’d better make me look like a monster!”

“Ma’am, I’ve heard that the Prince is a fine young man!” You chimed in as you went back to putting small crystals into Joy’s dramatic updo.

“Oh, come on, please don’t call me that when mother isn’t around. It makes me feel like an old maid.” Joy pouted.

“Of course. Which jewelry set do you want to go with your dress?” You waved over the other maids, who hurried over to present their offerings. Joy perused them for a moment before pointing at a silver and blue set to complement the rich navy she had on.

“I don’t know why mother insists on jewel tones.” Joy sighed, “She knows I prefer pastels. All the other girls will be wearing pastels to tea!”

“Or maybe they won’t! This is the last chance to impress the Queen before she makes the decision for him.”

“I hope she’s decided already. I think I’d hate being married to a prince. What if he’s dull?” Joy sighed.

“Honestly, they probably chose his intended ages ago and they’re doing all this for the sake of some social events and entertainment,” You suggested innocently.

Joy gasped in horror and turned to look at you.

“How dare you insult the royal family!” She exclaimed. Her eyebrows furrowed and your heart dropped into your stomach. You hadn’t meant to-

Joy cracked a smile. She giggled openly, which helped your muscles relax. She was just joking.

“Don’t frighten me so!”

“I will never reprimand you for voicing your opinions, even about the royal family. I believe we are well past that, don’t you?” Joy turned back to the mirror and you got back to work on her hair.

You were able to breathe a little better.

Once Joy had her hair done and her jewels put on, she got up and started towards the door. You bowed as she left and mentally ran through the list of duties you had to attend to once she left. Tidy the closet, dust the shelves, make her bed, wash her pillow cases and-

“Oh,” Joy sighed, her hand on the doorknob, “I do wish you could come with me. You make much better company than any of the other ladies.”

“I wish I could go too, Miss.” The formality slipped out, but she allowed it.

“Maybe you could go.” Joy mused, “I could demand you accompany me in case I have a fainting spell or something. I suddenly feel one coming on.”

She shot you a mischievous grin.

“You just want to paint all afternoon."

For almost ten years she’d been faking fainting spells in order to either get out of an event or get you to go with her. You were surprised that she hadn’t faked one today. Despite the dramatic navy gown and the sparkly jewelry, Joy preferred to spend her days with you in the greenhouse painting away. Each year for your birthday she gifted you a blank sketchbook and some pencils and often invited you to paint with her. You weren’t nearly as good as her, but it allowed for you to have something to do together. An even playing field. No titles.

“You caught me. What can I say? I prefer painting with my best and only friend in the ton over mingling and pretending to hope for the Queen’s approval.” Joy mused for a few long moments. Then, terrifyingly, her eyes lit up. She opened the door and called out into the house. “Mother! Y/N is joining us to the ball today! I shall require her assistance changing into my other gown for the ball.”

“What?” You gawked.

Joy closed the door and turned to you triumphantly.

“Crystal,” Joy turned to one of the other maids, “Please prepare my pink and blue gown with the flowers and sapphires on the bodice for the palace with the fullest underskirt you can find. Oh, and the pink set of jewelry that Papa gave me for Christmas! Y/N, go prepare your best dress! You’re going to the royal ball!”

~!~!~!~!~!~

Joy’s scheming got you right where she wanted you. If you had the chance, you definitely would have stayed home but you were in no position to refuse her. Joy’s mother wasn’t thrilled that you were there but at this point she knew that there were some battles you just don’t win.

It wasn’t as if there was much for you to do at this party anyway. Joy made you change into your event uniform, which was really just a cleaner black-and-white version of what you normally wore. Today you wore a long black dress with a white lace apron layered over the skirt, with a white collar and cuffs.

All well and good if the tea party wasn’t outdoors.

By all means, the temperature outside was quite pleasant unless you had to stand off to the side with the other ladies maids in direct sunlight. All of you had delicate sheens of sweat along the backs of your necks as you waited to be summoned by your respective ladies. Some of the maids you’d seen before and had decent friendships with. The great part about being a maid is that almost all of them were into gossip, as if they were reading a dramatic-real life romance novel.

“Ryujin, you’ll never believe it!” Yuna exclaimed, “Mr Lee proposed to Lady Shim last week! They had a few moments together in the garden and he got down on one knee and he had a ring prepared and everything!”

“How romantic!” Ryujin squealed, “Did she accept?”

“Honestly, I’m in disbelief! She didn’t refuse him but she said she needed time to think. It’s possible that she’s hoping to be chosen by the Queen but she can’t be selected if she’s betrothed.”

“Have any of you actually seen Prince Minho?” Ryujin sighed, “I mean, Mr Lee is a catch. Why would she turn him down?”

“I saw the prince once!” Lia, another maid into all the gossip, chimed in eagerly, “He is unbelievably handsome.”

“Oh, shove it. You only saw the back of his head once.” Yuna rolled her eyes, “I saw him once a few weeks ago. He is, without a doubt, one of the most handsome men I’ve ever set my eyes on!”

“What about you, Y/N, have you seen the prince?” Ryujin turned the attention onto you.

“No, I’ve only heard about him from Lady Joy. She has no interest in him.”

“Well, I think he actually plans on attending this event alongside the Queen, so hopefully we should get a glimpse of him soon!”

“Why aren’t they searching for his soulmate? I heard that a soulmate match makes for more successful breeding.” You asked.

“That was the purpose of these parties all month! They’ve been bringing in all the ladies and the princesses of neighboring countries to each try their hand at being his soulmate but no one suitable has been found,” Ryujin explained, “If he doesn’t find his soulmate tonight then the Queen will choose one of the offers submitted by various other royal or noble families.”

“This is all so dull,” you sighed, “Who cares about soulmates and politics. All we can do is watch! At this rate I’ll die an old maid.”

“If you find your soulmate I’m sure your lady will let you marry!”

“Only if he’s someone of my rank.” You rolled your eyes, “It looks like Lady Joy is enjoying herself so I think I might go for a walk, care to join me?”

“Goodness, no. I would get in trouble if I ever left my lady’s sight!”

“Well, tell her I had to find the servant’s quarters if she asks about me.”

You didn’t know why Joy wanted you along so badly if she was only going to get caught up in the other ladies she was friends with. You figured a turn around the gardens wouldn’t be such a bad thing, especially since no one was paying any attention to you. Also, this might be the only chance you ever got to see the royal garden.

Quietly, you slipped away from the other maids and turned to venture deeper in the gardens. The party was relatively localized so there were acres of untouched flora to explore. Maybe, if you were lucky, there would be a pond or a fountain to sit by and watch. Something about water always fascinated you.

The sun warmed your skin as you walked through the hedges and trees. The cobblestone paths crunched delicately beneath your shoes. Flowers and shrubs lined the path, allowing for a delicate floral scent to fill the air. You sighed happily when a light breeze helped the aroma into your nose.

By all means, this was the perfect day for a tea party. The only thing missing was the tea. The more you thought about it the more a cup of tea sounded wonderful, but you would have to wait for a cup until you got back to the house and put Joy to bed.

As you walked you occasionally passed by other maids or servants of the palace but they paid you no mind. Your finer uniform gave the impression that you belonged within the palace walls, but you knew you did not. Your family was intimately entwined with the Park family. From birth you were predestined to be Joy’s lady's maid. You feared that you would never do anything else.

When you were a little girl you used to dream of entering the palace. As a child, it was as a woman of nobility who got to wear all of the pretty dresses that Lady Joy got to wear and dance at all the balls. However, as you got older you figured that the more realistic track would be for you to enter the kitchen and work as a servant. There was little to no chance of changing rank and now that you were a proper soulmate-seeking adult, you had to accept your reality. Nothing would ever change for you.

Then the gardens began to change.

The standard hedges turned into lofty lattice structures. The wood was painted white and the structures created square arches over the path. Lattice fences lined the walkway as well. Vines snaked up the structures and overhead, creating lovely shadows that helped to soothe the sweat pearling at the back of your neck. The white gravel turned to cobblestones under your feet.

Soon, however, flowers began to appear on the vines. As you ventured deeper into the garden, roses of every color began to decorate the lattice and the arches. There were several stripes of color. Several feet of white roses, then orange, then red, then purple. The soft aroma of the roses wafted into your nose and you sighed happily. The occasional iron bench lined the path and you had half a mind to sit down and take a rest for a while.

“Goddamn it!” A voice carried from a crevice in the hedges and you jumped. The exclamation was soon followed by a loud thump and a groan of pain.

On instinct, you gasped and went to find the source of the noise. The second groan of pain helped you navigate the maze of lattice fences with roses on them. The path curved into a generous arch before an opening into the center of the garden appeared. You dipped through a circular hedge gate until you emerged into probably the most beautiful place you’d ever seen in your life.

In the center of a generous opening was a stone gazebo with lattice fences lining it. Those, of course, had large rose bushes wound throughout making the gazebo feel like a proper enclosed building. A delicate trickling stone fountain of a woman pouring water into a basin sat in front. A plethora of garden trimming tools like shears and a basket of weeds sat at the stone woman’s feet. Along the back wall were more fences lined with roses so you supposed you shouldn’t have been surprised to see the man on the ground near them.

The man wore a pair of brown trousers and a white flowy top that hung off his shoulders and showed off his milky collarbones. He wore a pair of black boots that went up just below his knees. You couldn’t see his full face but you knew only from his profile that he would be beautiful. He groaned and wiped his hands on his pants before standing back up. He sighed and fixed his cuffs before turning and seeing you at the entrance to the small garden. Instantly, his face morphed into one of horror and he backed away from you slowly.

“Leave immediately!” The man commanded in a sweet and melodic voice that was a strong contrast to his barked orders, “And tell no one what you saw!”

“I… I’m sorry!” You dipped down into a low curtsey, even though you couldn’t tell who he was. Judging from the dirt on his pants and the trimming shears on the ground by your feet, you had something of an idea.

“Didn’t I tell you to go?” He asked again after you hesitated to move.

“I do apologize but… I appear to have lost my way and-”

“You lost your way? Isn’t it required of the help to know their way around this oppressive castle?” The man rolled his handsome cat-like eyes and he tossed a hand through his rich brown locks.

“I… Well, I am just visiting.” Your throat closed as you spoke. He glared at you, making you feel small under his intense gaze.

“Ah, you’re just visiting then? For the party? Well, that makes you forgiven for your presence here. You shouldn’t be away from your post.” The man scoffed, making you doubt that he was serious about his words.

“Sir, I’m truly sorry. I got lost. If you could tell me the way out then I will-”

“I will tell you.” The man sighed in defeat, “but only if you tell no one where you were or what you saw.”

“Sir, no one would believe me anyway. If you wish to escape then it’s none of my business.”

“You are just a ladies maid, I suppose. Fine, if you go back through the arch and turn left then-” the man paused.

He finally looked up at you and straight into your eyes. You were shocked by how strangely warm his eyes were, despite the neverending glare. The sunlight was hitting them just right and making his eyes a swirling exhibit of chestnut and gold. The crease between his eyebrows softened after a moment before his entire face relaxed and he sighed.

“Sir?”

“Look, I’m…” he winced before he forced out the next words, “I’m sorry. I am under a lot of stress right now and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

“What kind of stress?” You blurted out your question before you could stop yourself. You knew you had to get back to your duties but something about this man kept your feet glued to the ground.

“Have you ever had a huge obligation? Like, something that has been planned practically since your birth that you can’t get out of?” He paused to gauge your reaction. You shook your head. “I suppose not. Anyway, it’s like there’s all this theater to pretend like my life is up to me but I know that it’s not. I will be the subject of command my entire life and I can’t take it anymore. I need to get out of here before it’s too late.”

“And you’re trying to climb the rose bushes?”

“Not successfully, I might add. Those bristles are sharp. But it’s the only place in the garden that has any sort of structure that can get me out.”

“Do you need some assistance, sir?” You took a bold step deeper into the garden and towards the beautiful man.

“Assistance?” he chuckled, “You mean you would help me try to get over this fence?”

“Well, if you truly don’t want the life that’s been planned for you, why go through with it? I believe that everyone should have a chance to live the life they want. Granted, that’s not completely realistic in this society…”

“It’s not?” The man blinked at you in surprise, as if he was genuinely learning of hierarchy for the first time.

“Well, no. Everybody has their master. There’s no room for dreaming. So, I think that if you have the opportunity to escape and follow your dream then you should. What is your dream, if not this?” You gestured vaguely to the flowers.

“I want to live a simple life. I want to be in control of myself and who I love. I don’t want anyone to decide for me who I’m supposed to be with. I don’t want anyone looking over my shoulder all the time.”

“Then go! I’m certainly not stopping you. It looks like there’s a place to grip the fence up there, if you want me to give you a lift?” You moved a little closer, tearing your eyes off of the beautiful stranger and up at the lattice fence.

“You? Want to give me a lift? Are you sure you wouldn’t be crushed under my weight?”

“I am a ladies maid, sir, I would sooner be crushed under the laundry I must do after the ball this evening.”

The man smiled at you. The first warm gesture since you’d met. For a moment, the smile almost seemed… endearing.

You couldn’t deny that being under his gaze made you weak in the knees. Whoever this escapist gardener was, he was handsome. You enjoyed the sound of his voice as it wafted through the air. It sounded sweeter than the scent of the bold blooms surrounding you. Sunbeams that were cast through the flowers landed on his golden skin, making him practically glow. Your time together was fleeting… and you wanted more of him.

“Come,” he gestured with his hand for you to move closer. You appreciated the contrast from only a few moments ago.

You followed his command and floated closer to him. Your feet practically moved on their own, as if you were being drawn to him like a magnet.

“You’re so obedient when you want to be.” He complimented. He turned towards the wall and put his hands on his hips. He scanned it until he found the patch of white wood that wasn’t covered in the thorny flowers or their leaves. “I think that will work, like you said. Why don’t you come stand right here and-”

He turned and suddenly put his hands on your shoulders. You gasped at the contact but let him move you into position by the wall. As he dropped his hands from your shoulders, the tips of his fingers grazed against the back of your hand. The man stopped speaking at the skin-on-skin contact, but he also didn’t stop touching you. His fingers lingered there for a few seconds before he pulled away entirely.

“I’m sorry, do forgive me. I know that was careless but-” He began but he was cut short by a gasp.

You both gasped at the same time when the tell-tale arousal ripped up your spine. It was practically instantaneous how you went from completely normal to, in a matter of seconds, dripping and empty. You watched as his trousers grew tighter as an erection swelled under the fabric. Both of you stared at each other for a few horrible seconds. Of all places to meet your soulmate, why here? Why now?

Your gaze flickered from his eyes to his mouth and you almost audibly groaned. His pretty pink lips were parted slightly and they looked shiny with spit. All you wanted to do was taste him. From the way his eyes flicked down to your lips, you could only assume he wanted the same.

“You?” He breathed out.

“I could go,” you offered, though you could barely recognize the sound of your own voice. He stared at you for a few long seconds.

“Don’t you dare.”

Then his mouth was on yours. No ceremony, no build-up, just pure urgency. His hands circled your waist as he waited for you to respond to his kiss. Your eyes were open for a second as you contemplated the new situation, but before you knew it your eyes closed and you kissed him back. He wasted no time in twisting his head and deepening the kiss. Your inexperience didn’t seem to bother him as he worked his mouth with yours.

He kissed you as if his life was on the line, as if this was the last time you would ever see each other. For a moment, you wondered if that was true.

The thought left your mind the moment his tongue swiped at your lower lip, requesting entrance. You wasted no time in parting your lips and pushing your tongue against his. You wondered if he really did taste like honey or if that was the soulmate hormone talking. Your hands curled into his hair and he moaned at the contact. Gratefully, you swallowed every noise that came from him.

“I need to have you now,” he mumbled against your lips, “Please, let me have you.”

“I’m yours for the taking.”

He wasted no time at all.

In an instant, he was pushing you into a corner of the rose garden that was just out of sight of the entrance. There wasn’t a bench or anything to sit on and he didn’t have anything to cushion the ground, but it didn’t really matter to either of you. The emptiness between your legs was probably going to kill you if you didn’t have him immediately, so you pulled him to the ground and straddled his lithe hips.

He gasped in surprise when his back hit the ground, but he grinned at your enthusiasm. The kiss broken, you worked together to get your skirts out of the way and he tugged at your undergarments. He glared at them like they were offensive to him personally. He shot you a quick smirk before the sound of tearing fabric met your ears.

“Hey! I kind of need those.” You protested.

“I want to see what’s mine.”

He lifted his head off the ground to gaze at your dripping sex. You wonder if he could tell how wet you were just by a little kissing. He moved one of his hands towards your center, shooting you a quick glance as if to ask permission. The moment you nodded, the tips of his fingers grazed your outer sex and you gasped at the touch. The mere touch alone tasted sweet.

His fingers explored further, slipping beneath your lips to prod at your drenched hole. He sucked in a sharp breath when he pushed his index finger into the first knuckle.

“Damn, angel, you’re so wet. This is all for me, hm?” He pulled his fingers away and you groaned at the lack of contact. Your eyes widened when he slipped his pointer finger into his mouth and lapped at your essence. His eyes rolled into the back of his head at your taste before he looked up at you with eyes clouded with lust. “Angel, I wish we had time for you to sit on my face so I can drink you up but right now I think I’ll die if I’m not inside you soon.”

Honestly, you shared the sentiment. You reached for the laces on his britches and tugged at them. He leaned back and watched you wrestle with his pants for a few minutes. However, it didn’t take him long to get needy himself and soon his fingers were joining yours.

Together, you freed the laces and pushed his pants down just enough for his cock to pop out and slap onto his lower belly. You were thankful that his shirt had ridden up a little in your efforts. His dick, while being the only real one you’d ever seen, looked perfect. It was thick and long and the head was a gorgeous shape of pink that matched his kiss swollen lips. Since turning twenty one and being told about some of what to do, you had an idea of what was about to happen.

“Have you ever seen one before?” He grasped his cock with one hand and stroked it a few times. His other hand gripped your waist and maneuvered you into place above him.

“No, I’ve only heard about them, sir.” You gasped when something hot and wet glided through your lower lips.

“They really don’t teach you girls anything, do they?” He tsked and pressed the head against your dripping hole. With how wet you were, it could have slipped right in with no resistance. “I’m going to put it inside you now. There might very well be some discomfort, but you’re so wet I think you’ll drown my cock, so I think you’ll be fine.”

“Please, put it in.” You practically begged, lowering your hips and accepting him into you.

You let out an embarrassingly loud moan when the head breached your entrance and began pushing inside you. Your swollen walls stretched to accommodate him readily. Like he said, there was a little discomfort from the initial stretch but there was no pain. He moved the hand that was on his dick to your waist and used both hands to help you descend onto him. You squeezed your eyes shut and let it happen.

When your hips were flush with one another, your thighs were shaking with effort. You dropped your hands to his chest and held on for stability. You kept your weight off him as much as you could, aside from how your pussy was finally wrapped around his delicious cock.

“Are you alright?” His soft voice made your eyes snap open to look at him. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern and his grip on you tightened. “You need not hold yourself up.”

“I am quite heavy, sir. I don't want to crush you.”

“Nonsense.” He growled, pushing down on your hips hard enough for your legs to give out. Your full weight descended onto his hips, shoving his cock deeper into you and causing you both to let out groans of satisfaction. The pressure of him being fully sheathed inside you made you want to cry. It was as if he’d split you open.

Instantly, he lifted a hand to press it over your mouth. Effortlessly, he pushed his hips up, held you in the circle of his arms and rolled you so you were on your back. He shifted his hips a little bit just to be sure he wouldn’t slip out of you while he changed your position. Once he was over you, dick still lodged within your warm and wet walls, he leaned down to whisper against your ear.

“We don’t want to get caught, do we? Stay quiet while I ruin you, yeah?”

He kept his hand across your mouth as he ground his hips into you. You groaned against his skin as the friction sent sparks of pleasure up your spine. All of the discomfort of being filled melted away until all you could feel was absolute pleasure. His cock massaged your insides perfectly with every single thrust. He was so deep you could practically feel him in the back of your throat.

You gazed up at him through your eyelashes, watching his face as he fucked you. Every time he pushed in, his face contorted into a beautiful picture of pleasure. Droplets of sweat trickled down his face, giving his skin a glowing sheen. He gazed right back down at you, locking your eyes together with every grind of his hips. From this angle, his shirt dipped down and you could see the expanse of his collarbones and chest. You wished you had a better angle without all these pesky clothes in the way so you could see his cock as it entered you.

You mumbled against his sweaty hand, tasting the addicting salt of him.

“Can you stay quiet if I take my hand away, my angel?” He moaned lowly as a particularly deep thrust made you clench around him. You nodded rapidly and he slowly pulled his hand away. “What is it?”

“Faster,” you begged. You slightly pulled your knees up and your skirts away to give him more room. “Please, sir, want to feel you.”

“Do you think you can handle it, precious angel?” He threw two quick, hard thrusts into your heat and you bit back a pitiful moan. You nodded quickly at his question.

“Please, I want more.” You parted your knees a little more and it was his turn to moan. He buried his head in your neck so that he could not be heard outside of your bubble.

“Since you asked so nicely,” He groaned and he began to pick up the pace. Each thrust made an audible noise as your skin collided. The burn between your legs grew and you reveled in the feeling.

“S-so good,” you reached for him to tangle your fingers in his hair, desperate for something to hold onto, “Don’t stop, sir.”

“Never, Angel. Never. You feel so fucking good. So wet and tight for me. Just wanna be inside you all the time, never wanna pull out. You’re mine, yeah? All mine, just mine.”

His hands were everywhere. He grabbed at your neck, your chest, reached below your skirts to grab your thighs before circling up towards a distinct target. You weren’t sure what he was doing until his fingertips were collecting your slick and circling up your slit. You didn’t think it could get much better until he circled a spot that had you biting his shoulder to keep from moaning loudly. He grinned and kept his efforts focused on that spot.

The pleasure began to mount. Something pulled taut in your stomach and your legs began to shake. A string in your belly tensed. Your pussy ached from his constant rough thrusting but it sent sparks of pleasure all the way down to your toes.

“Sir, please… please it feels-” You weren’t sure what you were begging for but your soulmate seemed to double his efforts. He thrust harder and pressed a little more on the swollen bundle of nerves at your center.

“It’s okay, angel. Just lay back and feel. Don’t think of anything else. Cum for me,” He peppered kisses on your sweaty neck and collarbones.

You focused on the pleasure building within you. The peak approached you quicker than you would have liked, but before you knew it something wondrous washed over you. Your thighs clenched around him and a choked moan caught in your throat. You grabbed onto his shoulders and dug your nails into his skin, desperate for something to hold onto as a powerful orgasm washed over you.

Your soulmate kept pushing his thick cock into you, but he slowed down to help you ride out your orgasm without overwhelming you. Something sticky slipped out of you and he was sure that you’d left a gorgeous white ring of cum at the base of his cock.

His angel had given him a halo.

He moved his hand away from your clit and anchored his elbows by your head. He landed several soft kisses on your cheeks and lips but you were too far gone to respond. Your ears were ringing and all you could think about was the avalanche of pleasure between your legs. Waves of your orgasm made your thighs quiver a little. You stared at the leaves above you and the golden streaks of light that stole in from the gaps. The world slowly formed around you. When you met his eyes, he smiled warmly.

“There you are.” He whispered.

“That was… amazing.” You sighed, but it turned into a gasp as your soulmate rocked his hips into yours a few times.

“Angel, I still need to cum, too. We can stop if you want but I need to-”

“Yes! Please, keep going.” You begged suddenly. Your walls ached from the exertion but you also craved the feeling of him inside you even more.

“Yeah?” He groaned lowly as he pushed into you again. He moaned into your neck as his pace began to increase more and more. “Good. Fuck, angel, I can’t wait to cum inside you. Please can I cum inside you?”

“Yes, please!” You begged.

You knew what could happen if he came in you and you didn’t really want that right now, but the desire and the need to feel his release inside of you overpowered every other thing in the world. You probably wouldn’t have cared if the prince walked in on you at this point.

Your soulmate’s thrusts began to pick up speed. The overstimulation in your pussy stung but you gritted your teeth through it. His moans got higher in pitch and he panted wetly against your neck.

“I’m getting close, angel.” He grunted above you.

His thick cock speared into you over and over again. His heavy balls slapped against your ass and you just knew that he would have a lot of cum to give you.

Your assumption was proven right only moments later. He groaned loudly, shoved himself as deep into you as he could go, and his milky release coated your insides. The pressure and the warmth against your cervix made your skin tingle at the base of your spine and you figured you could probably cum again. You reached down between your legs and gasped to find your center slick and messy. You rubbed your fingertips around until you hit your clit.

It only took a few short rubs before your cunt clamped onto him. He moaned at the feeling.

He thrusted shallowly into you a few times to ride out his high and every push resulted in another generous spurt of cum inside you. It was as if your orgasm triggered his to last longer.

Finally, he slumped against you. He did his best to keep his full weight off you but at this angle it couldn’t be helped. You didn’t mind. Despite the warmth of the day and the fact that your skin was sweat slicked, you needed him close.

Together, you laid on the ground in each other’s arms for a few seconds. The afterglow began to set in. You craved his body close. It must have only been seconds because a loud voice boomed through the garden, startling you both back into the real world.

“Where is he! He is going to be late to his own party! I don’t care what he wants! He’ll be an embarrassment to the royal family if he doesn’t make an appearance! Search the grounds, go! Now!” A stern voice barked.

“Oh, shit.” Your soulmate muttered.

In an instant, he slid out of you, stood up and worked on redoing the laces on his pants. His nimble fingers got the job done in almost no time. It left you to quickly gather yourself. Your undergarments were ripped but you could tie the scraps a little to keep yourself somewhat decent. You fixed your skirts and started to get up, but your soulmate spoke again.

“Let me.” His soft voice sounded sweet, like the roses.

He offered you his hand and he helped you rise to your feet and brush off the leaves and petals from your skirt. When you met his eyes, you were shocked by the grief swimming in them.

“Are you okay?” You reached out to cup his cheek in your hand but he flinched away from your touch.

“I’m sorry, I must go.” He turned on his heel and started out of the garden.

“Wait… what?” You gasped out and followed him a few steps.

“I must go. I’m sorry, I wish I could stay but… I’ve waited too long and duty calls.”

“But… wait, shouldn’t we talk about this?” You followed him to the archway that led into the garden. He stopped abruptly, his back to you for a few seconds. His breath heaved. When he turned to face you, his eyebrows were hardset.

“No. I’m sorry, this shouldn’t have happened. You can’t be my soulmate. They would never allow it. Let’s try to forget this ever happened, okay? It’s for the best.” His hard voice sent a shock down your spine.

You stared at him in surprise. He didn’t give you the time to retort before he was stalking away and disappearing into the green. You hurried after him but quickly found that you had no idea where you were going. The turns and the bushes all looked identical.

Tears welled in your eyes. The more you searched for him, the more lost you became. You ran blindly through the garden, your dress swirling at your ankles. The sun beat down on you and a bead of sweat dripped down your temple. Was it sweat on your face, or tears? Was it sweat dripping down your legs, or cum?

You ran until you bumped into a palace maid. Both of you cried out in surprise and fell back. You were unable to stop yourself from crying. The other maid scolded you for making her drop her washing, but she stopped after a moment when she noticed your hysterical state.

“Are you alright?” She asked tentatively.

“I don’t know… I… my soulmate… the party! I’m lost! What if… my mistress… she needs me.” You wailed, dropping your head into your hands.

“Are you a ladies maid for one of the ladies at the party?”

“Yes. I only stepped away for a moment but I got lost!”

“It’s okay! It’ll be okay, I promise.” The maid soothingly rubbed your arm. “Let’s get you back to the party, okay? You’re not far.”

The maid led you through the garden. You followed blindly, not really paying any attention to where you were going. The garden didn’t hold as much beauty as it did a few minutes ago. You kept your eyes peeled for the gardener. Your soulmate.

Like she said, it wasn’t long before soft music filled the air. A harp, by the light, airy sound of it. Then the murmur the guests followed. Before anyone could come into sight, the maid turned around and stopped you.

“You look a mess, my dear. Let’s clean you up first. You don’t want your lady to see you in this state, do we?” The palace maid gently wiped away your tears and smoothed your hair. She pulled a few leaves out of the tangled strands.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You sniffled. The maid smiled sadly.

“My soulmate is above my standing, too, love.”

“What? No, it’s the gardener… he just ran off and-”

“There.” The maid smoothed your hair one last time. “Go on! You don’t want to keep your lady waiting.”

Before you could think to ask what she meant, the maid hurried back into the garden, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Only moments ago, you were with the person you were meant to be with but now you were alone. Your body ached and your eyes burned from crying. You needed a drink.

Instead, you held your head high and ventured back into the garden where the party was in full swing. So to speak. A few women danced in a clearing next to the pavilion where the musicians played. Mostly, people milled about, sipped on drinks, and snacked on hors d'Oeuvres. The girls wore various lightly colored pastel dresses that glittered and shimmered in the sunlight. If you were sweating in your dress, you were certain that the girls in attendance would be feeling faint. Luckily, there were several open-air tents pitched around the garden where the girls who weren’t partaking in the festivities could rest.

It came to no surprise to you that Joy had set up underneath one of the tents. You made your way over to her and she waved at you the second she saw you weaving through the crowd. You hurried to her side and you curtsied deeply in apology.

“Miss, I apologize for slipping away without saying anything first, I-”

“You what?” Joy blinked at you in surprise. “You know what, it’s okay. It’s no matter. I called you over because the prince is about to make his entrance! I wanted you to get a good look at him. There’s a tiny chance he’ll be my soulmate, afterall.”

“It might be nice to live at the palace.” You cleared your throat, hoping that she wouldn’t catch on to the fact that tears still brimmed in your eyes.

“It is quite pretty, isn’t it? I’m not sure if I could stomach all of the royal duties. Waving at crowds, kissing babies, the politics within the court. How exhausting! Maybe if he’s handsome then this wouldn’t be so bad.” Joy sighed, “Y/N, how I wish you were a lady. I would rather sit with you, gossip, and share this food with you. Maybe I should have dressed you up in one of my gowns and pretended you were my cousin from out of town.”

“I’m afraid I’d be useless at one of these parties.”

“Nonsense! Didn’t I teach you to dance when we were teenagers? You know all the steps.” Something clicked in Joy’s head and she jumped. “A-ha! Y/N! I had Crystal pack an extra gown and corset in case I spilled tea on this one. After the party, let’s dress you in that! You can attend the ball with me! Not as a maid, but as a friend.”

“Miss! I don’t think that would be proper. I am only a maid and-”

“No one will recognize you! Once you put on a gown, no one will be the wiser. What do you say?”

“I’m not sure if that’s wise-”

“ALL RISE.” A voice boomed over the party.

The music and the murmur of the crowd lulled and faded out. A butler stood up a few stairs on a path towards the palace. He stood tall and held a cone in his hand in order to amplify his voice. Those who were seated scrambled to their feet, Joy included.

“I am here to announce the entrance of the Royal Prince Lee Minho! All bow!” The butler screamed into the cone. A few birds squawked and flew out of their nest that was in a tree along the back wall of the garden.

The musicians played a fanfare. You joined in bowing with all of the guests and maids at the party. The music swelled and you peeked up to see if you could catch a glimpse of the prince.

His footsteps echoed on the stone path. His pants were blindingly white but it was offset by a blood red officer's coat, adorned with a sash and multiple medals of honor. A golden circlet crown sat atop his head. His stoic face- wait.

That face.

That gait.

His cat-like eyes surveyed the crowd, taking in his subjects. Prince Minho’s shoulders were set and broad. There was no happiness in his face and, in fact, his eyes looked a little puffy as if he’d just woken up or if… he’d been crying.

His face was one you knew well. You’d know him anywhere. It would be impossible to forget the man whose cum was currently dripping down your legs.

Your stomach lurched and you could have sworn that you were going to throw up.

“Lady Joy?” You whispered.

“Hm?”

“I’ll take you up on it. I want to go to the ball.”

You looked back up at the Prince to find him staring right back at you. He showed no surprise on his face, only melancholy.

Horror settled inside you when the realization washed over your senses. Everything and nothing made sense all at once.

Prince Minho was your soulmate.

259 notes · View notes

mangekyuou · 1 year

Note

May I request separately for luffy and/or shanks where they are fighting strong opponent with a teleportation ability and when they were about to land the final hit they teleport the reader(female) and take the full hit whether they survive or not ill leave it to you.Feel free to ignore this and love your writing ❤❤

✸ headcanons % when they accidentally hurt you.

✸ characters! . . . luffy & shanks.

✸ cw(s)! . . . mentions of violence, blood, wounds, death(?). no pronouns used. not proofread.

✸ notes! . . . i wanted to try to keep the endings ambiguous...don’t think i did a good job on that though. i don’t write angst that much anymore, so this itched a spot in my brain, thank you for that <3333 thank you so much for requesting !!

the fight was finally drawing to its close. his opponent was out of breath, stumbling back and forth, struggling to stay on their feet. luffy cocked his fist back, coating it with haki

this was the final hit, he was going to give it his all. he charged, but he failed to see the devilish grin written on his opponent’s features

as he threw the punch, a brief flash of colors appeared before him. emerging from the colors was you

he’d never ever forget that look of horror on your face, as the both of you realized what was happening

he couldn’t stop himself. his fist just barely collided with your abdomen, sending you meters away, hitting the hard ground with a loud thud

guilt immediately consumes him

he’s shaking, unable to even move from the spot he was in. the world around him goes silent. he only sees you on the ground on your side, not moving

he fears the worst. he didn’t...he couldn’t have...could he?

after what feels like forever, he takes one step...then another...then another. his vision blurring with tears

he had dropped to his knees, flipping you on your back when he finally sees the blood trickling from the corner of your mouth

he presses his ear against your chest, looking for the sound of your beating heart. it was fleeting

if he wasn’t panicked already, he was genuinely panicked now. he picks you up and shakes you, screaming your name

you have to get up. you NEED to get up

he can’t lose you too. he’s screaming to chopper. he HAS to save you. you can’t die on him, not like this

through his tears he’s reminding you of the promises that you made to him

most importantly, the assurance that you would be by his side until the very end

your eyes flutter open. the first thing you see is him over you, tears flooding his cheeks, he is absolutely devastated

through your pain you try to give him a small smile. if this was truly the end, there was something you wanted him to know. but it was so painful to speak

“i...love...” you could only mutter the two words, using the last bit of your strength to pick up your shaky hand, pressing the tip of your pointer finger to his chest, where his heart rested

“i love you too” he whispered holding onto your hand, closing his eyes tightly

shanks is a dangerous man whose full potential is still unknown to most people. including his current opponent, he had just had enough of

it wasn’t often shanks had gotten so mad to the point of starting a fight. but they had involved you. he didn’t care if they bothered him, but you were another story

and they were definitely learning this from the beatdown they were receiving from him

“shanks, that’s enough. i’m fine” you grabbed his arm, trying to stop him. this was going way further than you wanted it to. you didn’t wish for shanks to get himself into any more trouble behind you

but he wasn’t hearing any of it. he wasn’t finished, shrugging you off and looking back to his opponent, who had finally climbed to their feet. something about the sly grin on their face alarmed shanks

they had something up their sleeve, but he wasn’t sure what it was. that is what worried him

he couldn’t allow whatever it was they had planned to happen. he was going to end this now. with his sword, he charged. but they had not moved, instead welcoming his attack

as the sharp tip of the sword had nearly touched them, a sudden flash of colors passed him by. now in front of him was you, pierced by his sword

shock overtook you, looking down at your abdomen and seeing your lover’s sword through you, all the way through your back

the rest of the red hair pirates screams of your name had not reached your ears. you could not hear them, focused on the blade that you were sure had punctured something on the inside

you don’t know what happened. shanks didn’t know what happened

he was trying his best not to panic on the outside, knowing everyone is awaiting his orders. on the inside, he’s terrified, he’s blaming himself

he wished he had listened to you. then this would have never happened

you weren’t thinking rationally, it was hard to after being stabbed. you had pulled yourself off of the blade, holding the open wound still in shock

shanks had dropped his sword, allowing you to fall into his embrace. he finally finds the voice to bark out orders, telling the others to grab the teleporting bastard and yelling for hongo to go grab his equipment to help you

he slowly settles on the ground with you. he fumbles around, trying to apply pressure to the wound to try to stop the bleeding. the blood that is seeping through your shirt is becoming harder and harder to ignore

you had begun to take long blinks

“hey, stay with me, okay? keep your eyes open...please. you’re going to be okay” though his words were for you, they were also for him.

he needed to give himself hope, to convince himself that everything was going to be okay, that you would be okay. even if he could feel you fading away underneath him

#WOW THESE ARE KINDA LONG #i see angst i must give it my all #one piece #monkey d. luffy #luffy #luffy x reader #shanks #shanks x reader #one piece oneshots #one piece scenarios #one piece imagines #one piece headcanons #one piece angst #night rather than day ── 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘰. 𓂃 ★☆

1K notes · View notes

purelyfiction · 3 months

Text

Barely Even Over. - Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x F!Reader

Word Count: I don’t know, I’ll update this when I’m off mobile

Summary: You’ve never been good with complacency. You’ve nearly broken it off four times with Bradley before, feeling trapped and needing to run. You don’t know why it happens, or why you feel so compelled to escape. This time, you can’t get past it. What had always been passing conversation has been a full production. You’re nearly to the curtain close when the entire thing is derailed by a very agitated pilot on your front porch.

Content Warning: lots of cursing, lots of angst, potential trigger for anxiety

Author’s Note: I’ve been obsessed with this song by Drake Milligan and I couldn’t get this out of my brain. Also!! Rooster content? In 2024? Wow. - unedited, unbeta’ed we die like idiots.

God, you couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here. The fact that it was almost eleven o’clock at night and someone was pounding at your door was one of the countless reasons you’d put in a transfer request.

The main reason you were leaving stood on the other side of your open door.

Bradley stands, dripping wet from the monsoon that’s raging outside (you’d heard it from the wind and the pelting rain on your window), the most vicious look on his face. You spot the equally soggy piece of paper you’d shoved in his mailbox this morning in his hand.

“You really thought you could just drop this off and bolt out of town without a word?” He shakes the wet mangled letter around, a drop of water flinging to the tip of your nose. When he starts into it, you’re pushing the door shut, regretting not checking the peephole before you tugged the door open. Rooster’s hand grabs the edge of the wood before you can get too far, pushing his body weight into it to keep it ajar.

“Or that I had to hear from Hangman of all people that he saw a moving truck taking your shit?” You turn and enter into the empty apartment, trying to avoid this conversation. That was the point of the letter, the point of no contact the last few hours. You were about five hours from departing San Jose and never coming back. Bradley slams the door shut as he follows you inside.

“Jesus, wake all the neighbors while you’re at it Bradshaw.” You groan, stepping into your bathroom to do a mindless check that everything had been packed. That you weren’t forgetting anything.

“Fuck the neighbors, Gemstone! You were going to just fucking ghost me? Ditch me without a goddamn word?” You can hear the pain singe his voice. A normally smooth and entertained gruff is resentful and burned instead when he speaks to you. He follows you as you move to the kitchen to do one last once over, averting this onslaught as much as you could. “Drop a shitty letter in my mailbox to dump my ass, ignore my texts, decline my calls - not a single word from you! What the fuck??”

“I’m being restationed, Rooster, it’s not-“

“Oh bullshit!! Mav told me the truth! You fucking requested the transfer! You thought you could sneak away without witnessing the storm you’re fucking making! Just dropping all your ties and escaping -“ he huffs and the paper in his hand is crumbled into a wet lump, then slammed at a nearby wall. So much for your security deposit. “You are always looking for an out. For a reason to leave California- the navy- me. As if the last three years were so fuckin’ miserable that you needed to just vanish. Like nothing ever happened.” Bradley is seething with each curse and vent that exists his lungs.

You’ve run out of cabinets to check. Out of options to avoid looking at him. So when you finally do, you see the mustached man shaking slightly from the temperature of the cold water clinging to him via a damp Hawaiian shirt. The way his eyes locked to you with seething hurt, a brokenness you couldn’t comprehend.

He wasn’t supposed to get home from his training in Atlanta until tomorrow. You were supposed to disappear. Jake and his big fucking mouth. Before you can say anything, Bradley turns to face you fully, brows pushing downward as if it would expel the anger out.

“Three years. Fucking three years and you think you can step out like this. Without a word, without giving a rhyme or a reason - leaving in the middle of the night - without a clue you were even considering this?? Buying fucking plane tickets behind my back?? Packing your entire god damn life up without a notion of the feelings of people around you - of your fucking boyfriend? You didn’t think to have the decency to break up with me to my face??” His hand points to the slop against the wall that had been your letter. His notice of termination so to speak. “The fact you couldn’t say it out loud- couldn’t face any of this at the face value means you don’t actually want to do it. You don’t want to do it, you’re just scared. You’re scared of the same surroundings, the same job, the same city, the same house, the same person, Gem. That’s what you are. Always leaving so you don’t get hurt when you get freaked out.” The register of his words is loud, but not nearly as loud as the next round of spitfire.

“If we’re gonna break up you’re gonna do it now! You’re gonna say what you put on that god damn piece of paper to my fucking face! That you never loved me, that you’ve been hanging on to a lie! That you can’t stand to stay in this god forsaken city a single second more! You don’t get to just leave and not see this!!” He points to his expression. “The mad! The angry, the rejection and betrayal! If you’re gonna do it you’re gonna do it to my face!” Finally, finally, Bradley takes a shaking breath, turning away to try to collect himself.

“Bradley, I didn’t want to do this like this for a reason-“ he spins. There are tears rolling down his face.

“Fuck, I love you.” The stinging sensation starts. The familiarly ominous feeling that sinks in and starts to eat at you every time you’ve had this conversation. “You loved me. I know you did. At some point you did, I know you did and you can’t lie to me and say you didn’t.” The hot tears are barely breaking surface tension along your lash line. “Don’t leave me like this, Gems. Don’t- cause I won’t-“ he hovers in his words, “I think I deserve at least a bad goodbye. Not some letter full of lies hit you don’t mean. Some pathetic attempt at closure is better than whatever the fuck this is. This, this, sorry excuse for a break up.” His feet come sinking toward you as he reaches out. You don’t back away.

His hand takes your hand, squeezing it tightly, his other hand coming to wipe your own tears in the hollow room. “I can take hellfire. I can take screaming, shouting, shit, you can hate me if you have to, honey.” It’s so fractured, his voice. Strained from shouting, tainted with emotions he clearly hasn’t come to understand yet, “just… don’t leave me like this. Still so in love with you. Still wanting to see your face when I wake up every day, to curl into you and avoid the world a little longer- still wanting to fix that damn car with you,” you stifle a laugh, despite the gravity of everything, “still completely and utterly adoring you. Don’t leave me loving you. Please, Gems, don’t.”

The two of you grow quiet, Rooster’s hand still clutching to yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck. He pulls you in, lips pressing to your forehead. He stays there as a soft cry that moves through his chest, tears dampening your hair as the two of you stand there in the cruelty of your wake.

#rooster x f!reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley x reader smut #rooster bradshaw x f!reader #rooster x reader smut #rooster x you #bradley rooster x reader #Spotify

73 notes · View notes

sapphire-weapon · 5 months

Note

I don't know if this is just my perception, but I've noticed that Krauser uses Ashley several times as a way to provoke Leon (especially during their final fight).

In their first encounter, immediately after Leon realizes it was Krauser who kidnapped Ashley, the camera focuses on his angry face and then on his hand about to grab his gun. As if the knowledge that it was Krauser who was to blame for Ashley's kidnapping was Leon's motivation to start fighting back.

Then there's that cinematic where Leon arrives just in time to see Krauser take Ashley away with nothing he can do to stop him. Krauser even walks slower and without bothering to turn to look at Leon, not even when he shouts Ashley's name. In Separate Ways, we see Krauser start running with Ashley in tow as soon as Leon can no longer see them.

After killing Salazar and using the elevator, if we use the rifle to get a closer look at the speedboat, Krauser turns to look at Leon, while Ashley is unconscious in the back seat, almost as if he is challenging him.

During their final fight, Krauser mocks Leon's concern for Ashley, and then tells him that he won't be able to save her, and that's when Leon explodes again.

Krauser taunts again when he tells Leon to hurry up or who knows what could happen to Ashley.

And near the end of the fight, Krauser tells Leon that if he needs motivation, he should think about Ashley.

I think Capcom's intention was to show how deeply Leon cares about Ashley through Krauser. That's why I can't take seriously people who say Leon only cares about Ashley because 'it's his job', it just doesn't fucking make sense, it's like they haven't played the damn game, or just decided to ignore all that.

there's a lot going on here, actually, and it goes deeper than just Ashley herself. Krauser absolutely dangles Ashley over Leon's head, don't get me wrong, because he knows that it's a source of angst and insecurity for him -- but it goes far deeper than just this one woman.

Krauser says at one point that he knows Leon's potential better than anyone -- he knows Leon better than anyone. and he may just be right.

in OG, Krauser asks Leon: "what is it that you fight for, comrade?" to which Leon responds: "my past, I suppose."

now, take that little snippet of a conversation and stretch it out over the course of four years of military training. it's likely that Krauser had to dig deep into Leon's psyche in order to motivate him to perform at his absolute best -- and what's at the center of everything for Leon is what happened in Raccoon City. Krauser likely knows every detail of what happened that night.

and what happened that night was that Leon failed to save the life of a single person.

so, since LeonA is canon in the Remake-verse, let's take a look at the list of people Leon failed to save in Raccoon City:

the cop in the gas station

Officer Elliott

Marvin Branaugh

Ben Bertolucci

Annette Birkin

Ada Wong

I don't know if you're keeping score, but that's... just about every person that Leon meets. the only exceptions to this are Kendo and his daughter (who Leon never attempted to save), Claire (who never needed saving), and...

Sherry, whom Leon then gets kidnapped and held hostage almost as soon as he volunteers to take sole custody of her.

so, when Krauser says to him: "you can't save anyone" he means anyone. the US government sent a man who's never been able to save anyone but himself on a mission alone to rescue the president's daughter. if anyone knew his history and his track record, he likely wouldn't have been the agent assigned to do this.

but the only person who knew it was Krauser, because Krauser's the only one who ever got close enough for Leon to tell. and since Krauser's now a traitor and a terrorist, he uses that knowledge as a cudgel to beat Leon with.

so -- yes, Krauser is purposefully using Ashley as a knife to twist in Leon's heart, and yes, saving her is more than "just doing my job" for him. it's extremely personal for him for many reasons. and as he starts to feel more and more affection for her, this need to save her becomes more and more intense, and it becomes easier and easier for Krauser to weaponize that against him.

and this is just storytelling 101. as the story goes on, the stakes have to rise higher and higher until they reach an absolute crescendo at the climax. and since Leon is so physically capable and very little in RE4make comes off as an actual threat to him, his stakes are mental and emotional in nature. as his feelings for Ashley intensify, so too does his anxiety about being able to save her.

the climax of RE4make's story is the walk to Luis's lab, and by then, Leon's feelings for Ashley have gotten so strong, and his need to save her has become so intense, that he sees her life alone as comparable to all of the people who died in front of him in Raccoon City.

if he can just save her, that would absolve him of his other failures.

that's why the script was written so that Ashley says the actual words to him in the ending.

this is the culmination of Leon's several character arcs in the series so far; it's the payoff for his character development; it's the catharsis for the angst he brings into RE4make with him.

Leon was a man who couldn't save anyone, but he ends RE4make as a hero.

his 21-year-old self would be so proud.

#resident evil 4 #resident evil 2 #leon kennedy #ashley graham #jack krauser #meta analysis

86 notes · View notes

bri-sonat · 1 year

Text

Life Eternal

Follow up to Enjoy the Silence

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x fem!knight!reader

Warnings: NSFW!!! heavy smut, semi-public sex, spit kink, scratching, praise kink, lil bit of degradation, corruption kink if you squint, sub!brienne, thigh grinding, angst.

A/N: i apologize for this. it was meant to be smutty but the song made me do it. i am already working on the very smutty (for real this time) ending, just so i don’t leave you all in the pit of despair. once again, english is not my first language so ignore grammar mistakes and such. once again, very sorry.

thank you to my dear bestie aron @queerofalltrades for proof-reading this for me. they’re doing the fandom a favor.

The first thing you noticed as you roused from sleep was the warm body next to you, her form pressed against yours, skin against skin.

The feeling of her naked flesh against yours was something you wanted to savor. Something to lock away in your memory vault to pull out in case of emergencies.

The taller woman had her arm slung over your waist, your legs gracefully tangled together. Deep, hot breaths against your cheek made you open your eyes, taking in your surroundings.

Brienne was still asleep, soft snores leaving her slightly opened mouth. Taking advantage of the situation, you locked away the sight of her, face so peaceful and unforced. Her hair messy from sleep, blonde locks falling freely.

It was only you who would ever get the chance to see her like this, with her guard down and utterly defenseless. Knowing the amount of hurt she had suffered in her past made you even more proud of her for trusting you in this way.

Brienne had trust issues, that much was obvious for those who knew her. Eyes hiding so much sorrow only seen by those she trusted enough, people like you. She wanted you to see everything about her, therefore she allowed you to look inside the deepest and darkest corners of her soul.

However, that also permitted you to see the most lit up ones, shining so brightly it was blinding. Like the glint that would appear in her eyes when she smiled, or the way they would light up as she ranted about her various travels. The secret enjoyment her deep ceruleans would harbor when she spoke about putting men who had underestimated her in their ‘rightful place’. All of this could be seen, if she let you see it.

So there was not only misery behind her beautiful eyes, because along with the deep sorrow that was written on her soul, was also joy. Joy and glee that was a sight to behold, a privilege extended to those she held dearest. Her laugh, reserved for you only, was the most wonderfully composed aria you had ever heard. It was deep, and unapologetically free, coming naturally after she had met you.

Then there was the laughter that wasn’t as true, the laugh she would let out in the middle of a heartbreaking story in an attempt to lighten the mood. It was silly really, and unbelievably sad that she felt the need to pretend that her heart didn’t cry when reliving her most miserable tales. Almost like she felt that her feelings didn’t matter enough to be taken seriously, like she didn’t matter.

One of these anecdotes had been about the ball her father held. She had told you how he had hosted it to find a potential suitor for her, inviting lots of young lords to Tarth. They had been showering her with attention and had even danced with her. She explained that she wasn’t entirely happy with the arrangement, knowing that she had no interest in marrying a man; but decided to attend for her fathers sake. Allowing herself to be joyful at the regard she was receiving, even if she wished that it was from a lady.

Despite the undesired recognition from the young lords, she couldn’t help the grief she had felt when she realized she was being mocked. Woefully vocalizing her disappointment when she had seen the boys snickering amongst themselves. Apparently this was when the nickname ‘Brienne The Beauty’ had been invented and it reminded you once again how cruel the world could be towards those who were different, if it was by choice or not wasn’t of importance.

“Brienne The Beauty they called me. Great joke. And I realized I was the ugliest girl alive,” she had said it with such spite, giving your hand a squeeze before she uttered five words that made your heart swell, “but then I met you.”

She had told you this under one of your late night meetings in your room. During it you had held her hand, softly stroking it as she spoke, as an act of comfort and to let her know that you were listening. You had seen tears threaten to spill out, but she had laughed instead, an empty laugh, cold and false. Fooling her body in to thinking that it wasn’t a big deal, and was successful in keeping the tears at bay.

She was a person, a human-being with emotions, but people seemed to have forgotten that. Using her as a target for their bitterness and loathing, because she didn’t fit in to the expected role as a ‘Lady’ or a woman. As much as you hated to admit it, not everyone saw her the way you did, didn’t see the appeal of her rugged and masculine appearance, did not see the woman she was underneath the steely exterior. The wall she had built up over the years was fortified, insults bouncing off like arrows on stone. The rough façade turned people away from getting the chance to see her, the actual her. The vulnerable, lovable, honest, and beautiful Brienne.

It saddened you, that so many individuals would lose out on someone as amazing as her, all because of the way she looked. But maybe that was for the best, Brienne deserved people who didn’t judge her from first glance, people who loved her unconditionally and true.

Tucking one of the loose strands of hair behind her ear, you observed as she stirred at the sudden contact but she remained asleep. Resting your hand on her cheek, you filed away this memory, the gentle and tender nature. The memory of waking up next to your love for the very first time. You traced the small scars on her face with your fingertips, making sure you appreciated every single inch of her, even if she wasn’t awake to be aware of you doing it.

Shifting your eyes from her unrestrained face, you took a glance around the room. Jumping from the clothes on the floor to the hearth. The fire from last night had burnt out during your slumber, but judging from the faint glow of the firewood, you drew the assumption that it couldn’t have been out for more than an hour.

You remained in Brienne’s warm embrace, relishing in the fact that you could feel her everywhere. Her breath against your skin, body pressed against yours, your hand on her cheek, her fingertips resting on your back. It was intoxicating and you had to hold back the excitement when you realized that this would be your life from now on, it was almost too good to be true. She was too good to be true.

Basking in her touch, you were quickly reminded of the persistent throb between your legs, not having gone back to your chambers to relieve yourself like you usually did. You had expected it to die down during the night, but Brienne’s naked body against your own had reignited the flame, it now burning stronger and brighter than ever.

Not knowing what time it was but having matters to attend to before sunrise. You gave her a quick kiss on her forehead before reluctantly maneuvering your way out of Brienne’s arms, careful to not wake the sleeping beauty. Grabbing your clothes off the floor you deftly put them on, taking one last look at your lover before exiting her chambers.

It was still dark outside, you guessed it would be another hour until sunrise. An hour before the castle and village woke up, leaving you with sixty minutes of uninterrupted time to wash yourself and polish your armor.

You always took a bath in the mornings to wash off the day before and to start the day clean before meeting Brienne for breakfast. Now it was needed more than ever. The aching between your legs was relentless, never letting up as you took large strides, almost running to the bathhouse.

You knew it would be empty, no one else was awake this time of day. Only exception being the few times you would cross paths with Brienne as she exited when you entered, or the other way around. Her skin wet, hair clinging to her forehead from the steam of the water. If you were lucky she had washed her hair and had it slicked back. It took your breath away every single time.

The times you would see her come out the first six months of your arrival were pure torture, wanting to just reach out and touch her but settling for discreetly and respectfully admiring. However, after you had begun your midnight conferences you would take the liberty to grab her, placing a fast but searing kiss to her lips whenever you would see her in the early mornings. The surprised hum she would release was priceless, her face turning red as you walked away, leaving her frozen in place. Seeing her at breakfast after those morning meetings always played out the same. She had her usual stern and intimidating expression on her face, but you saw the slight blush that would form on her cheeks when you sat down across from her.

Entering the baths you quickly stripped yourself of your clothes, folding them up and placing them close by before stepping in to the steaming hot water. You let out a sigh of relief as you felt the comforting liquid envelop you. Allowing your muscles to loosen, you leaned up against the half-wall of the bath, tilting your head back, legs extended in front of you. Arms stretching out on either side as you placed them on the edge behind you, eyes half-lidded.

Small moments like this, being alone in complete silence, nothing to be heard but your deep breaths and the soft sounds of rippling water, had become your favorites. The time spent with the much taller knight was also dear to you, but they competed not, for they were two sides of the same coin. Important to you in their own way.

When you were with her she made your heart flutter in the most beautiful way, raising your heartbeat significantly, just from a simple smile. The feelings you had when around her were overwhelming, taking over all other senses.

Permitting yourself time to unwind in the bath gave your mind and body the time to restore those senses. Like a reset. You knew that having someone affect you in this way was dangerous as a knight, always needing to be on guard, ready to unsheathe your sword and fight at any given moment. Brienne was dangerous in the most addicting way.

Removing one of your arms from the resting place on the edge, you brought it under the surface, spiking your ears to listen for even the smallest sound that would indicate people. Your fingers making contact with your neglected clit made your body jerk, a quiet whimper forcing its way out of your closed lips as you drew gentle circles with your hand. Making sure to stay silent and make as little movement as possible, so if someone were to walk in, they wouldn’t know what you were doing. You had to maintain an image as a knight of the Seven Kingdoms, and if someone were to walk in on you touching yourself, the entire town had. Gossip spread like wildfire, and you knew that it would be frowned upon.

This was restricted to the privacy of your chambers, but right now you couldn’t care less, you needed to be rid of the uncomfortable pressure between your legs. It was an emergency, simple as that. You knew you wouldn’t be able to focus all day if you didn’t alleviate the tension, especially having to be around Brienne during the majority of it. So this was a hail Mary, all dependent on the peoples sleeping habits, and how quick you could bring yourself to orgasm.

The steam from the water had clung to your skin, your hair slightly dampened and slicked back, face in an expression of silent pleasure as you added more pressure. Fingers picking up the pace, small waves created in the water by your somewhat moving arm.

The familiar feeling of release was building in your stomach, screaming to be let out. You held back a moan that threatened to leave, capturing it at the very last second. It came out as a strangled whine instead, you were so close. Images of Brienne from last night entered your mind. Her blissed out face as she came, her screams and moans. The intense eye-contact you held as you ate her out and fucked her senseless. Her beautiful breasts, and the beautiful noises she had made when you sucked and nibbled on them. All of this played through your mind as your fingers worked harder than ever. Just a little bit more and-

A noise stopped you in your tracks, quickly removing your hand and placing it back on the edge behind you. Irritated and frustrated at the interruption of mind numbing pleasure, you realized you would have to wait until night fall to get your much needed orgasm; this was going to be a long day. Your face was flushed and you were panting but it was subtle enough to not be noticed.

You kept your eyes trained on the ceiling as you heard someone enter the room. Shuffling footsteps stopped before speaking.

“Morning.” You’d recognize that voice anywhere. You hummed, a small smile making its way on to your lips.

“Brienne.” It was spoken softly, almost like an affirmation to yourself, or a confirmation to her that you recognized her presence. Tilting your head down you met her eyes, her blue ones staring straight back at you. Her eyes wide as they wandered over your naked body, the opacity of the water not leaving much to the imagination. “Morning.”

Your words brought her eyes back to yours and you shot a tired smile her way, the annoyance of disrupted release forgotten, just being in her vicinity calmed you. In your diminished state you didn’t notice her wandering eyes, but you were definitely paying attention when she started stripping in front of you, never breaking eye-contact. Her mouth marginally open and eyes as dark as the sky outside.

She hadn’t done this before, always having been quite self-conscious of her physique. It took some time for her to be comfortable with you touching her body, even if it was over clothes. You had showered her with compliments and affirmations, until she allowed herself to melt under your touch.

Even after she let you put your hands on her, you continued with your barrage of compliments, hoping that she would eventually see herself the way you did, and judging from the show in front of you, it had worked. She had grown emboldened and self-assured with the help of your sweet words, and for the first time in her life she felt hot, sexy, and attractive; and based on her facial expression she knew you thought so too. It was such a good look on her, the brazenness, it was maddening.

You watched as she unlaced her tunic, your eyes wide as they followed the path of her hands. She opened it and your eyes landed on her breasts. The marks you had left last night were a hue of purple, a strong contrast against her pale skin. Your throat was dry as you watched her take off her tunic, folding it up and placing it next to your clothes.

Her torso exposed to you, she moved her hands to her trousers, starting to unbuckle them. “You weren’t there when I woke up this morning.” Her sudden words ripped you away from your trance, practically having to force your eyes to meet hers. There was a coy smile on her pretty lips.

“No. I, uh.” You cleared your throat, trying to gain your voice back. The effect this woman had on you was staggering, “I had some things to do before breakfast. Sorry.” She watched you with unsullied eyes as she let her pants drop to the floor. The metal buckles on her trousers hit the tiles with a clink. She stepped out of the bunched up material at her feet and bent down to pick it up. You watched her intently as she neatly folded her pants up and placed them on her tunic.

“No need to apologize. I just missed you.” She cocked her head to the side the tiniest bit as she watched you. Your mind fighting tooth and nail to keep your self-control, you desperately wanted to let your eyes wander all over her now almost naked body, but you needed to be respectful.

She looked down at her body and pouted, an innocent action with malicious intent you were sure, “Oh, look what you’ve done!” Her voice was angelic, so pure, purposely used to rile you up, knowing you got a kick out of the thought that you were corrupting her sweet, virginal soul.

You looked to her hips and saw small bruises of where your fingers had dug in to her skin the night before. Seeing what you had left behind sent an almost haughty feeling throughout your body. “How did you know I would be here?” She looked down at you, fingers hooking in to her undergarments.

“You forgot your dagger in my room, I went to yours to return it. You weren’t there, so I drew the conclusion that you could only be here based on your morning habits.” She slowly, teasingly, dragged the piece of fabric down her long legs, your eyes landing on the mound between her legs.

“I’ve had enough of our near misses, therefore I decided to take matters in to my own hands. And after last night, I could use the soothing warmth. I woke up aching this morning.” She said the last sentence with faux confusion, as if she had no clue as to why. You didn’t think you were that rough to the extent that she would be in pain. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she had been a maiden, your fingers stretching her out could surely be reason for soreness.

You closed your eyes, the familiar pounding feeling between your legs returning. This woman would be the death of you.

“I hope it’s not an excruciating ache. I apologize if I was too rough last night. I didn’t injure you, did I?” It came out more composed than you thought it would, voice more flat than desired. Despite your current predicament, Brienne naked in front of you, you had to make sure she was okay.

Brienne furrowed her brows, your voice not matching the tenderness of your words. “No, you didn’t injure me. It is quite a pleasant ache. It reminds me of last night, you being, you know,” she trailed off, her tone was seductive fading in to shyness, stopping before she could utter the words inside of me. She just put on one hell of a show, but was bashful talking about you fucking her last night. Even with her new-found confidence, she was still shy to talk about the actual act of intimacy but had no problems referencing it.

“Good.” You let out a shaky breath at her answer. She assured that you hadn’t wounded her and that she was fine. Brienne kept watching you, still quite confused of your flat tone but decided not to dawdle on it, you had your reasons. She didn’t fold up her discarded underwear, instead she just kicked it in the direction of her clothes on the floor, she was impatient; wanting to be in there with you as soon as possible.

She had dreamt of this moment since you first passed each other, it was mostly because you looked at her with such admiration but also because of her mishap. She had accidentally walked in on you getting dressed after your bath, her high honor conditioning her reflexes causing her to look away the second she saw your bare back, but for a split second she had seen your naked silhouette, and that fraction of a second was enough to have her a blushing mess.

That one millisecond was enough to keep her mind distracted during the late nights as she laid in her quarters. Throughout the day however, she would keep her thoughts busy with her knightly tasks. Even though she had done them hundreds of times to the point where they had become muscle memory, she just kept going over the process and the order over and over again. Every single day, until night fall when she let her mind run rampant in the privacy her own four walls but even Brienne had her moments of weakness.

There were times, always over the course of your suppers, that you would smile at her in that very special way, causing the taller woman’s mantra to falter, if only for a second. This allowed the image of your wet bare back to intrude the blondes thoughts, a flash of skin flooding her mind. It was a short interference but it was enough for Brienne to chide herself for invading your privacy. She felt perverted, depraved, and immoral for seeing you undressed, even if it wasn’t on purpose.

Even after your late night rendezvous’, she kept her thoughts strictly professional in public, still having a reputation to uphold. She did allow her imagination to have more leeway, the image of your naked form on repeat as she ran her hands all over your back during your heated make-out sessions.

She was done with the crossing of paths, the morning pecks always leaving something more to be desired. She had even begun waking up earlier to increase the chance of you still being in the bath when she arrived but on those days you polished your armor before bathing, meaning you entered as she left. Finally, you were both here at the same time, no one was getting ready to leave. Brienne’s wish was about to come true, after a year of misses she had finally hit the bullseye.

Small waves hit your submerged form as Brienne entered the pool, taking a seat next to you. She leaned her head against your shoulder, and you wrapped your arm around hers, pulling her close to you. Enjoying the rare moment of public intimacy along side each other, it other wise being confined to the privacy of your quarters. It was a change of pace compared to your usual meetings, almost domestic.

“I was very sad waking up to an empty bed this morning,” Brienne spoke up, her head vibrating against your shoulder, “I was hoping to return the favor you gave me last night.” Your eyes shot open as you felt a hand on your thigh. Slowly moving up to where you had touched yourself mere minutes ago.

Your demeanor completely changed once you realized what Brienne was initiating, she wanted to touch you, and you let her. “Is that so? Well then, allow me.” You grabbed a hold of the hand on your thigh and guided it to your cunt, releasing a sigh when you felt her strong fingers on your clit. God, she was so good with her hands.

She hadn’t expected you to be so direct, shocked at how fast you had switched. She noticed that your daily attitude completely differed when it came to sexual intimacy. It was almost like you traded personalities, you becoming dominant, her taking the role of submissive.

As a female knight she needed to appear dominant in her appearance, otherwise men would walk all over her. If she didn’t, they might undermine her, not listen to her, or respect her even less than they already did. Her height unquestionably helped intimidate people into submission. You didn’t have that luxury, so you had to rely on your other qualities. You were more careful, using your intelligence and wit to get people to respect you, the title helped.

That completely shifted once it got heated, Brienne became the careful one, watching and learning. She absolutely loved being dominated by you, especially after doing so herself all day long. It was a welcome change in your usual dynamic.

You, knowing what you were doing having spent a lot of time studying and practicing in Dorne, would take the role as the dominant one. Showing Brienne ways to make you tick, neck kisses being a thing she excelled at once shown.

Brienne’s fingers carefully worked against your clit, intrigued by the way you writhed and pulsed under her touch. She had shifted her head so that her mouth was on your pulse point, kissing and licking. Her hand was so agonizingly slow in its movements, you didn’t know if it was on purpose or not but you needed release, and you needed it fast.

“Spread your legs,” you breathed out, voice tip-toeing on the verge of a moan. Brienne removed her head from your shoulder at your request, and spread her legs. Drawing her hand away, she watched with curious eyes as you climbed on to her. Settling one of your legs in between hers and one on the side, straddling her thigh.

She watched you with an intense look, enthralling eyes following your every move. Sinking down on to her leg you began rolling your hips on her broad, strong, muscular thigh. Brienne’s hands were sitting at her sides, she didn’t know what to do with them; so you assisted. Grabbing her hands, you placed them on your hips so she could help guide your movements.

Your hands held on to her shoulders, nails digging in to her skin as you fruitfully held your moans back, knowing that the acoustics would give away your current activity if someone were to walk by. The knight beneath you just stared, completely mesmerized, mouth slightly open as she released quiet whimpers at the feeling of your heat against her wet leg.

Looking down at her through half-lidded eyes, you saw the moment she noticed your chest was eye-level with her. Your breasts were wet and the way they moved as you continued your actions had Brienne bewitched. She was as in a trance, her mouth watered and she licked her lips. Smiling sensually, you brought a hand up to her head, stroking the now damp hair. “Is there something you want? You only need to ask.” Your voice was husky, dripping in sex, and sickly sweet.

Brienne looked up at you and gulped. Her voice low, filled with wonder. “May I?” Strong hands slowly started to move from your hips, up your waist, before stopping under the curve of your breasts.

“You’re such a good little thing, asking for permission. Of course you may.” At your confirmation she moved fast, her hands cupping your breasts, fondling them, loving how easily they fit in her big hands. She took one of your nipples in her mouth, the other one being worshipped by her calloused fingers.

A strained moan escaped your lips at the feeling of her talented tongue and fingers on your sensitive skin. Your restraint wavered for a millisecond before you dug your nails even harder in to Brienne’s skin, continuously stroking her hair, careful not to hurt her pretty little head. You were almost painfully drawing your lips together, but she had already heard the inviting sound that you made.

She grew confident, flexing her thigh muscles to harden your grinding surface. It was an entirely new sensation and you couldn’t hold it back anymore. A dark and sensual moan exited your mouth as your hips sped up their movements, riding her thigh for dear life. Your actions caused waves to form in the water, hitting the sides of the bath with a splash.

The blondes large hands snaked around your back and you felt her nails push in to your skin, dragging her fingers down from your shoulders to your lower back; groaning at the new sensation of pain working in tandem with pleasure. The amount of pressure Brienne had applied as she scratched your back was intentional, she wanted to leave marks, just as you had done on her.

The hand that had been mindlessly stroking her hair grabbed hold of the blonde locks, pulling her head away from your chest. She was startled at the sudden interruption, her eyes moving to meet your gaze. Your pupils were dilated, darkened by the over-whelming desire, watching her with a smirk on your lips.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? Open your mouth, slut. I have something for you.” Your voice was strained, breathy moans mixed with disgustingly sweet fake ridicule.

Brienne hesitantly opened her mouth unsure about your reasoning. Releasing a whimper as she watched you spit in her mouth and at the same time as your saliva landed on her tongue, you pushed the knee that was between her legs forward; making contact with her center.

You mocked her whimper as she released a growling moan, not expecting the sudden pressure. She was closer to orgasm than she thought, having watched your performance had her extremely riled up and she could already feel the same coil from last night tightening in her stomach. You loved the look of corrupted purity on her face as your leg moved with your hips, pressing and rubbing against her clit.

The strange feeling of having someone else’s saliva in her mouth as she was being pleasured made her brain short-circuit for a second as she sat there with her mouth still open, small whiny groans coming out; unsure what to do.

“Swallow it.” The hand that had been holding on to Brienne’s shoulder was brought to her chin, encouraging her to close her mouth. You watched with heavy eyes as she swallowed, her fiery blue eyes staring right back at you. The knee between her thighs kept working her and she knew she was on the edge, orgasm threatening to spill over. By your heavy breaths she knew you were almost there too, so she held out, wanting to reach climax together.

The sight of her completely under your command, mouth open in pleasure, breathy moans coming out drove you over the edge, the coil in your stomach tightening and snapping at the same time as Brienne’s. You threw your head back as you felt the orgasm rip through your entire body, muscles tensing.

The woman beneath you screamed your name as she came, your moans mingling as you reached your zenith in unison. It was passion and intimacy on a whole different level, used as a way to convey your love; wanting the other to feel as good as you did.

What started as a hot and dirty sexual interaction had ended with you and your knight making love. It was beautiful, affectionate, and romantic.

Brienne’s hands flew to hold on to your waist to keep you steady and herself grounded, her mouth coming to your shoulder to muffle her groans as pleasure tore apart her body from the inside out. You felt as she gently sunk her teeth in to your skin and you yelped, releasing a loud moan as you stopped the movement of your hips.

Realizing you still had your armor to polish before meeting the blonde woman for breakfast, you climbed off of her, Brienne releasing a whimper at the removal of your knee, already missing the sensation of your wet skin against hers. Taking a deep breath you collected yourself before clearing your throat.

“I’ll see you at breakfast.” Switching personalities, Brienne smirked as she watched you climb out of the water. Humming in delight when she saw your back, red nail marks running down the length of it.

Feeling her eyes on you as you quickly dried yourself and put your clothes on, covering up the red bite mark on your shoulder and your scratched-up back.

“See you later!” You could hear the cocky smile on her lips as she called out after you. Speedily marching out of the bathhouse, leaving a smug Brienne behind.

———

Half an hour later your armor was polished and strapped on to your figure. Your mind wandered to the session that had occurred just thirty minutes ago and you blushed at the memory. You and Brienne had been bold displaying such physical intimacy outside of your quarters, but the possibility of getting caught had made it so much more filthy and erotic.

It being Brienne who had initiated it made it even more exhilarating in a way. You were impressed and intrigued, she had never displayed such riskiness before. She had wanted you so bad that she didn’t care where you were, the need to hear you moan and to watch you unravel in front of her was stronger than the need to keep it in the bedroom.

You secured your scabbard to your hip before taking a quick look-over to make sure you were presentable. The shine of your armor was blinding and you grimaced, wondering if you had gone a little overboard. The edges of your sword were sharpened and shiny, the grip decorated with various carvings; the symbol of your house sitting on the pommel. It had been a gift from your father given to you when you were knighted, specially requested and custom made for you. It was quite similar to Brienne’s hilt in a way.

Deeming yourself fit to be seen, you straightened your back, opening your door and stepping out in to the hall. Closing the door behind you, you turned to walk towards the mess hall but almost ran into an armor clad Brienne, stopping yourself at the very last second, as she stood outside, waiting. Her chin held high and hands ceremoniously clutched behind her back. The messy and damp hair from earlier had been dried and neatly combed back, she looked so elegant and noble. Her dark armor had been polished, the tiny nicks from hits scattered all over the steel plates were accented by the shiny surface.

“By the Gods Ser Brienne, I almost walked in to you! That could’ve ended in injury had I not halted myself. Announce your presence next time, please.” Looking up at the taller woman you smiled, her usual unemotional expression on her face cracking for a second to give you a one back before falling back to a impartial one.

“Apologies, Ser. I was hoping to accompany you to breakfast. After last night and this morning, I thought we might as well.” Her face and voice was empty of any tells, keeping up formalities in public. You could see her lips twitch, a smirk threatening to break through at the mention of your escapades.

“I’d be honored.” With a quick step you were standing next to the taller knight, and you made your way to the mess hall together, large authoritative strides sounding, your footsteps synced. You formally greeted those you passed on your path with ‘morning’, a nod or a bow. Keeping Brienne at arms length was torture, having to hold back the urge to grab her hand, to pull her closer to you.

You hadn’t really discussed the manner of your relationship. There was a silent agreement stating it was probably best to keep it a secret, mostly for appearances, but also for safety. If someone caught wind of your non-traditional relationship it could be used against you. If someone wanted to hurt you or Brienne they could easily take advantage of your relationship, a weakness used as a bargaining chip. Both you and her were strong, but if stripped from your weapon there was only so much either of you could do.

There was also the issue of respect, your duties were dependent on peoples trust and opinions of you. Barely having enough respect as it was, unwillingly harbored by the men because of your higher rank and title, you couldn’t afford to lose any of it. If you did and your trainees started to defy you, it could have fatal consequences. The safety of the people and your obligations came first, both you and Brienne knew this, which meant neither of you could afford to be self-absorbed and display your love.

So you both understood that it was best to keep it under wraps, but sometimes, like now, you wished you could scream about how much you loved her. You wanted to show her off to the world, talk about how proud you were of her. She deserved to be bragged about, deserved to be talked about with such care and such love, you yearned to extend such a basic act of courtesy.

However, you kept your mouth shut, walking along side her as if you didn’t fuck her last night, as if you hadn’t made love in the bath that same morning, as if you didn’t love her with your entire being to the extent that you felt like your heart could explode.

You could detect the faint smell of her, soap from the bath mingled with the strong aroma of the polish and the fragrance of fresh grass that was undoubtedly Brienne’s. It was a weird combination of scents but it was comforting nonetheless.

Turning one last corner, the taller knight pushed the doors open, entering the large gathering hall with you on her tail. You followed Brienne through the crowds of people, her tall form serving as a beacon so you never lost track of where she was.

You removed your sheath and leaned it against the edge of the table before you took your normal seat across from her at your usual table. She sat down shortly after doing the same thing, her hands placed flat on the surface. Looking at her with eyes full of yearning and adoration as your hand longed to reach out and grab hers.

She stared back, face impersonal but her magnificent blue eyes betray her. There was an almost remorseful look in her eyes, there was no need for her to feel guilt, yet she did. It wasn’t her fault that you couldn’t show any form of affection in public, somehow she felt like it was. Both of you knew that giving in to the urge to grab the others hand would end poorly, it wasn’t exactly an act that could pass as platonic comfort now was it.

It could have if you and Brienne had shown any form of physical closeness in public but you hadn’t, meaning such an act would stick out in the outwardly professional friendship you had tried so hard to maintain for public relations. It had come back to bite you in the arse, knowing not even a quick graze of fingers would be overlooked.

You were the one to break eye-contact, tearing your eyes away from her magnetic gaze. Brienne’s face remained disinterested, eyes looking down at her food and then back to you. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it shortly after. Words just wouldn’t come out. She tried again, words failing her once again.

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s fine,” Brienne barely heard your mumble over the bustling crowd. You had started eating and had noticed the knights inability to speak. She had wanted to apologize, say sorry for a situation she had no command over, an act you couldn’t allow her to perform.

It was ridiculous how she wanted to take the blame for something she couldn’t influence, something she had no way of controlling. You offered her a small smile as you continued eating, gesturing to her untouched breakfast before speaking, more clearer this time. “You should start eating. We have training soon and we can’t be late.” The tall blonde didn’t utter a single word, she just looked down at her food and started eating.

———

Training went on as usual, assisting Brienne, sparring, trying your very best to not stare at her as she barked orders; you failing miserably. The ‘conversation’ from your earlier meal was still fresh in your mind and you wondered if you had been too harsh towards her by not allowing her to apologize; but hastily realized just how ridiculous the mere thought of it was and that the actual uttering of said words would be preposterous. You couldn’t permit her to ask for forgiveness, not for this.

Glances were exchanged during the session as they usually were, but these were different. There was a stronger sense of longing, a more lustful one derived from finally knowing what the other sounded and looked like at the height of ecstasy. Whether she wanted them to or not, Brienne’s gorgeous blues showed more than her stern face did, eyes filled with desire and regret.

The urge to drag you away and let you devour her fought with the urge to ask for pardon. Indecisiveness spread in her body like a bad rumor and she wondered how long she would be able to keep herself away from you in public.

You took one last yearning gaze at each other before parting ways to continue your daily assignments.

It was during your last errand that a raven carrying a message arrived for you. It landed on a fence post nearby, cawing to get your attention. Approaching the bird as it watched you with its dark eyes. You rolled out the small paper and immediately identified your family’s stationary, ghosting a hand over the familiar stamp of your house.

Reading through the message made your heart drop. This could not be happening, surely it wasn’t real, surely your mind playing tricks. You had only been here a year, had only just felt the incinerating touch of your Brienne. She had placed all of her trust in you, trusting that you would not leave her, that you wouldn’t break her heart. You had promised her that much with your oath. Fuck, your oath. She held honor, righteousness and honesty above everything else, she was going to despise you for this.

You read through the message over and over again, tears welling in your eyes as you willed the words on the parchment to transform; but they never did. The words stayed the same and the fact that you had to leave never changed.

You had to leave tonight, and by doing so it meant leaving her behind as well. You couldn’t tell her, how were you supposed to tell her? It would break her heart, but you couldn’t just leave without saying goodbye, she deserved more. Either way, her heart would be crushed, there was no easy way; you just hoped she would understand and not abhor you.

You quickly marched to the throne room, needing to notify your sudden departure; you had sworn an oath after all. You explained to Brienne’s Grace the emergency of the situation and they understood, stating that your services were no longer needed. You gave a quick nod and strode to your chambers to pack up your things and to leave your love a message.

———

When you didn’t show up for dinner in the evening Brienne grew worried, you were never late. Abandoning her seat at your usual table she set out to find you. Frantically searching, letting her composure slip, distress taking over once she reached your chamber, finding it empty.

Panic settled in when she saw all of your belongings gone, you were leaving her as well, weren’t you. All the time you had spent together was a lie, all the sweet nothings you had whispered to her, all of the embraces, everything was a lie. All a part of the forever on-going ruse to ridicule her.

She had given you everything: her heart, mind, soul and flesh, and you took it. She felt naked, exposed, humiliated. Embarrassed of how rapid she had been to trust you with your compliments, your lingering glances and touches. Nausea settled in when she realized how you had sworn yourself to her, she had high integrity and valued other people with the same honorable qualities as her. Apparently, that wasn’t you.

Taking a step in to your room, she looked around, trying to find some sort of idea of where you had gone. Her eyes landed on a note, it was neatly folded, placed upon the empty desk in your chambers. Large steps carried her over to the wooden surface and she gracefully picked up the piece of paper. Unfolding it, tears welled up in her eyes as she read your beautiful handwriting.

My Dear Brienne,

I wished to tell you this in person, but I could not bring myself to do so, I would not be able to bear the look on your face, it would break my heart.

It is with a heavy soul that I must tell you this, though I wish I did not have to. If I could, I would stay in your arms and by your side forever as your knight and partner. Sadly, I am unable to for the near future because I must leave Winterfell.

A raven arrived for me this afternoon from my family’s maester in Dorne. My father has fallen ill and I must return to be by his side. As his only child, and as a knight, it is my duty to honor my family.

Know this, my darling. I meant every single word I have spoken, every kiss, every touch. Every breath I take will be for you, and until I return to your side and into your arms, you will always be in my thoughts.

For I will long for you forever, I will touch your soul forever, and I will say your name forever. This is unfortunately the moment where we must let go, until our souls are reunited once again.

My dear sweet Brienne, you are the embodiment of beauty, grace and handsomeness. The way you carry yourself is so robust, yet your soul is one of the most gentle ones I have met.

From the moment I saw you I was captivated by you, you intrigued me and I only fell more and more in love with you for every second that passed.

If you are reading this during our usual dinner time then I am still here. I wish to see you one last time before I depart.

I am by the stables until sunset. Come find me, please.

I am eternally yours, my love, Ser Brienne of Tarth.

Brienne couldn’t hold her tears back anymore, droplets falling, staining the paper. She sobbed as she read your carefully crafted words. Eyes lingering over your signature before she ran to the stables, hoping she wasn’t too late.

———

You anxiously watched as the sun sunk further and further down the evening sky. Hoping that Brienne would see your letter in time was a foolish idea, but you knew her. You knew that the second you were a no-show at supper she would come looking for you. She would find the letter, read it and come here. But as the sun hit the horizon, the hope disappeared.

Maybe she had read it but was so upset with you that she didn’t want to see you, or maybe she was still reading it, or maybe she was sitting at your dinner table waiting for you. All of the circumstances in which Brienne could miss seeing you off ran through your mind at rapid pace.

You had given yourself over to despair as you fastened your sleeping sack to your saddle, she really wasn’t coming. A sigh left your mouth, materializing as fog as your hot breath reacted to the cold winter air. You should’ve just have told her, because then you would have at least been able to see her, one last time.

You heard the commotion before you saw it, heavy footsteps running towards you. A familiar sight came around the corner, your heart shattering at the tear stained face. Brienne was distraught, her usual calm and collected demeanor nowhere to be seen.

Her eyes immediately locked on to you where you stood, securing the last strap on the saddle. She called out for you, her voice breaking as she sprinted towards you.

“Brienne.” Breathing out her name in relief, you turned towards her so she could take you in to her embrace. She had read your letter. You felt the familiar burning sensation behind your eyes as the tears welled up; allowing them to fall freely. You nearly threw yourself in to Brienne’s arms when she was close enough to you.

You held each other as it were the last time, not knowing when the next opportunity might come. “When I saw your room empty I thought you had abandoned me, I thought it was all a lie, but then I read your letter. I’m so sorry for doubting you,” she started rambling, words stumbling over each other in a desperate attempt to say whatever she needed to say.

Her voice was weak, arms holding on to you for dear life, “I am selfish for suggesting this but stay here. Stay with me. Please.” The please was gut wrenching, her voice broke, burdened by all of her pain, all her love, all the ache.

You felt your heart break at her plea, you didn’t want to leave her, you would stay by her side your entire life if she asked you to. However, you didn’t have a choice this time. “Stay.” It was so quiet, weak, almost like a squeak, but you heard it.

You had to force yourself to let go of Brienne, looking up at her with tearful eyes. No one had never seen her like this before, eyes red, tears glistening on her face in the setting sun. Her emotions and heart out on display for anyone to see.

“You know I can’t do that. It’s a matter of honor, I know you understand,” you placed a hand on her chest, “deep down, I know you do. For your heart is the most honorable and righteous one I have ever had the pleasure of loving.” You smiled up at her, bringing your hands up to wipe away her tears, before settling them her cheeks.

“Then let me come with you, I will request to be removed from my services and accompany you to Dorne,” you knew her words to be true, it was heard in her voice. She would drop everything in the fragment of a second had you asked her to, that was just the kind of person she had become. The person currently standing before you was not the coherent and composed Ser Brienne of Tarth anymore, it was just Brienne who had let her heart take over her knightly persona, for the first time ever.

You smiled up lovingly at her, you desperately wanted to say yes, to have her join you, “You are needed here, my darling,” but you couldn’t.

“There are plenty of other knights who would kill for my position, they’ll find someone to fill my spot,” her words were clawing at you, hands fidgeting on your back trying to find something to hold on to, only finding the cloth of your fur cloak.

“You know that’s not true. They’d never be able to find someone else that would live up to the example you’ve set here,” the standards and discipline she harbored had raised expectations, meaning if she were to leave, her absence would leave a massive void, and it would be noticeable if some inferior man tried to fill it.

“So this is it? I’m just supposed to let you leave?” She stared down at you in bewilderment, voice so small and defeated.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to. I will never stop thinking of you, and we will return to each other’s arms, for I am meant for you, and you are meant for me,” you withdrew your hands, taking a step back, “I will send ravens for you, and my oath stands the same, I am yours forever. Forever devoted to you, I shall not break this promise. This I swear.” You bowed, a gesture of knightly promise, a formality you knew Brienne would appreciate. It was not only empty words, for honor gave them the weight she needed to soothe her aching heart.

She could only watch as you mounted your horse. Taking one last look at her before riding away, leaving a weeping and wailing Brienne behind, your name falling from her lips, pleading you to stay. It fell on all too aware ears as you rode further and further, her screams fading away in to the evening sky, until the only thing heard were your own sobs.

———

Follow-up: Kisses of Fire

tags for the gang:

@na-shoba

@pastanest

@the-fuck-do-i-know

@mayfair-fleur

#Spotify #gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth #gwendoline christie x reader #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader

827 notes · View notes

seven-stars-in-his-palm · 5 months

Text

okay so a couple of days ago i saw this ask on @fellshish's blog about a need for a full 1941 discorporated aziraphale angst fic, realized i had an entire outline already in the hull, and... this happened:

a "what if crowley didn't miss in 1941" fic, including but not exclusive to the moment itself, the hours leading up to it, and the aftermath; a fanfiction (chapter 3/4)

summary:

It's Fell the Marvelous' awaited debut performance on the West End. He has his marksman, his turnips, and things appear to be going as planned—that is, until said marksman does the one thing he was supposed to avoid. Not missing. (or: the bullet catch goes wrong, and due to a tiny technicality, crowley's afraid aziraphale is gone for good. and crowley himself—for the first time in quite a while—is well and truly alone.)

warnings: full of blood, sweat, kissing while crying, blown up heads, prayers, nostalgic churches, polaroids, alcohol, and aziraphale being a discorporated bastard and bitching his way back to earth while a plot we should probably be focusing occurs as we ignore it entirely. and written extremely slowly. oxymoron but i couldnt get this out of my head fast enough and now you must endure it (should you choose to accept). i think i'm gonna be pretty proud of this though. excited!

(also thank @tforthetea for the inspiration because a conversation with them helped spark this the first time. all hail)

ao3 link for those who didn't check the title, and fic under the cut! :)

chapter 1: number thirteen

One of the things Crowley liked gloating about on occasion was that he was older than Death Itself.

He wasn’t technically wrong, per se. The humans think him mad, and the demons think him stupid, but he was still right. Human concepts, despite their hold on the population and overall importance, were non-existent before or even during the Beginning. The Four Horsemen and other ideas evolved right alongside the humans, so technically, Crowley was older than all of them. He rather liked having something to lord over War (in his head), during the few unfortunate meetings he would have with her. Famine was a non-issue, and Death could not touch him regardless of how much he didn’t like him. There were failsafes.

Now, however, actually being in the room that Aziraphale could potentially walk into and never come out of, Crowley would gladly take all of it back and pretend he never even thought about it at all.

The damned magician. Crowley never caught his name, but if he had, he would wrought him with the most annoyingly small curses that no one would ever believe to be true after today. Tonight wasn’t just about impressing the audience or even repaying that wine-filled debt, it was about them. Tonight, Crowley was to play the trusted stooge, and…shoot the angel. Point blank. In the face. And make it look real. And not discorporate him. And not get them fired. And—

There were a lot of things to consider, alright? To contrary belief, Crowley did, in fact, not think Death was silly or stupid. He’d also been there when It was born, you know. Crowley liked Abel. Watching It happen was, plainly, fucking terrifying. It brought up something new, and change was just as scary as Death. Ask anyone, and they’d tell you.

Crowley has been running that unfortunate meeting involuntarily through his head for the first ten or so minutes of waiting for the actual show to begin, while also listing out the terrible things he would do to the magician man had he ever held the opportunity again. He’d been sort of gunning (no pun intended) to stay backstage and avoid the riffraff, but been ushered out the dressing room the second he’d given his (admittingly harsh) two cents on the situation. Aziraphale said he wanted privacy before the big show, but Crowley knew he was just ticked. Aziraphale was an angel who thrived with a supportive devil over his shoulder.

So, Crowley is just milling around in the crowd as the Allied soldiers and their companions filter in. They come and go—a Lady even comes to check on him at point, mentioning odd vacant gazes and looking over shoulders paranoid-like, but he waves them off before they can pry. He really shouldn’t be so worried—even if Aziraphale…‘didn’t make it through the night’, he’d eventually be fine. As long as he discorporated a certain way, nothing too lethal—some deaths were harder to come back from others.

They’ve been discorporated before, of course. That was how Crowley knew this. Six millennia offered many opportunities for the event. But never, and it was never, at each other's hand. On paper, yeah, they killed each other on occasion, but truly…

Crowley shifts nervously, sending a glare at anyone who got a bit too close, but the brief discomforts aren’t enough to lift his spirits. There was one entity faffing about who refused to bugger off even with direct acknowledgements, though that might be because Crowley was imagining It. Or It really was here, and interested in the affairs of potential angel discorporation. Or a bomb was going to fall here and It was just beating the rush. The theories were far from endless.

Death appeared back there as soon as Crowley had been kicked out. He’s simply been dealing with it since then, and It probably wasn’t helping to lift his spirits. He shouldn’t be so antsy—both logic and mechanics deemed it so.

They’d be fine, Crowley repeats to himself near constantly, finding a proper seat in direct line of sight where Aziraphale will be standing. He readjusts his tie as the humans sit around him, creating a perfectly isolated bubble of red velvet seats. What did it matter that twelve humans died doing this before? They weren’t human. Death had no claim on them. It couldn’t take them even if It so desired.

Crowley scowls at the hooded figure standing near the entrance of the theater, cold scythe gleaming under the warm bulbs of the West End. Its just…standing there. Making no move to come closer, either. Odd.

Crowley sinks lower into his plush seat, as if trying to avoid Death’s gaze. But being one of two immovable objects on this Earth, It’s always on him. If Death had a goal, there would be no point in warding It away.

Seeing Death is a famous bad omen, and would send a chill down his spine had it been anywhere else. At this moment, however, Crowley is simply irritated. If It was looking for another soul in this theater, that was fine by him, let It take them, but It would not be ruining whatever this was. Humans were ever plentiful—there was only one angel deserving of Earth.

Before Crowley can decide whether or not he should be stupid and confront the omen in the room, the lights go dim. The crowd’s murmurs die down, and Crowley has no choice but to stay seated and watch the show. Aziraphale wouldn’t be coming on until the Ladies of Camelot had their first number, but Crowley could easily endure it. The gaze aimed straight at his head could be ignored.

World be damned if It took the angel’s enthusiasm. They’d be fine. Crowley just has to remember that.

-----

Things are, indeed, not going fine.

Crowley is meant to go up on stage any second now. Aziraphale has no inkwell in his gloved hand. No amount of snapping is removing said turnip from line of sight. He reads the pamphlet—then again, then again, then again, but there is no second option for apparently miracleless individuals.

Fucking. Hell.

Whatever false bravado Aziraphale is spewing is null and void compared to the should-be-non-existent nerves running through frantic hands and finding absolutely nothing useful. Crowley flips through the same two pages—give the stooge the bullet, poise, and shoot. The miracle would’ve ensure that the bullet would never leave the barrel. But now—now, well, he really regrets not considering a Plan B. Did they ever consider a Plan B? Apparently not.

Getting there is a blur. Aziraphale is essentially shoving the rifle into Crowley’s care, which is honestly becoming a worse idea by the second. He’s switching between the demon and the audience so quickly that Crowley can’t tell who he’s addressing. They’re deathly quiet, and Crowley would feel embarrassed if his heart that shouldn’t be there wasn’t pounding with too much blood in too little time. His mind is a soup. Muddled, feverish, and incredibly foul tasting. You wouldn’t want to drink it even if you were starving.

“I would ask you,” Aziraphale says loudly, cutting through the fog of utter mental mush, “to take this bullet, and load it into the rifle. Very carefully.”

Crowley nods belatedly, squeezing and turning parts of the gun to get the non-existent warmth running back through his fingers. He takes the bullet, and turns it round a few times while Aziraphale stares at him with excruciating anxiety. Is he stalling? Honestly, even Crowley wouldn’t be able to tell you.

“It's perfectly simple,” Aziraphale mutters softly, pushing the gun a bit closer. “Aim for my mouth, but shoot past my ear.”

Crowley can’t find himself to agree here. He’s staring at him, and that would usually get him to listen regardless of shades, but Death is boring into them like the harshest of theater critics. His skin is slick, almost clammy, threatening to let the gun slip and fire a stray bullet anywhere but its intended target. His back is sore, oddly enough. Irritating.

Crowley has questions, like he always does, but the time has long passed. What he wants to ask is ‘do I just squeeze that little bit there?’ pointing at (what looks like) to be the trigger—but then that would just make Crowley look incompetent, so he swallows it back and nodly lightly. He’s never fired a gun like Aziraphale seems to believe whole-heartedly, but he’s certainly watched it happen. He’s picked up enough of the motions to figure it out on his own.

That thought still doesn’t help when he’s being told to insert the bullet, though. Crowley fumbles through it, opening a mislaid hatch or two, but manages before Aziraphale could raise any alarms. He’s already stood back in position (when did that happen?) when Crowley raises the loaded rifle for all to see, proclaiming as such. He bites back the tremor threatening to appear—he wasn’t nervous. Excited, more like it. Excited to finally get an excuse to make a throw at the angel non-suspicious like.

That was all it was. Really.

Crowley turns the rifle one last time as Aziraphale spins more useless pageantry for the audience to woo at. They’re both grinning, but tightly and annoyingly false. It wasn’t the eyes that were the problem—what, do you think that demons ever got stage fright? Absurd!

It was just...well, there weren’t just humans in this audience. Crowley couldn’t forget the shadow looming at the end of the theater no matter how tight he grips the side of the weapon. But, just like Someone had laid out all that Time ago—Death could only perceive them.

It could not touch them.

It would not touch them.

It would not touch him, if he could help it.

The drums begin their incessant titter as Aziraphale finally turns to Crowley properly, blue cloak glimmering under the warm light of the stage before them. “A-are you ready, sir?”

Crowley would scoff at this if he could. Sir. Only humans ever addressed him that way; angels look down on him, demons sneer at him. Though he supposes this angel would be different—always throwing the curveballs, him.

“When you hear my signal,” the angel says, voice growing quieter, “shoot.”

Aziraphale removes his tophat, revealing preciously white curls. This pings something, the remaining traces of damned sense he’s got buried inside. Crowley isn’t sure what has possessed him—but he shakes his head. It’s all he can do. Don’t make me do it, he nearly warns out loud. Not if you know what’s good for you.

Aziraphale stills, but not before mouthing words that would be akin to an ashamed mumble if he were close enough. Trust me.

Trust me.

Satan, he got him there. That’s why Crowley was here, after all. Stooge. 100% Reliable Marksman.

Right.

Aziraphale isn’t nearly as good as Crowley at hiding his anxious gaze. “Ready?”

Oh, Heavens no. He never would be, but no better time than the present. Or something like that. He can’t recall where it came from.

“Aim…”

Crowley can’t ignore it anymore—he’s shaking. Extremely so, at that. It’s knocking around the air in his lungs very unkindly. It’s quite difficult to aim. His head is bobbing around in the scope.

Just about…

There it is.

Crowley waits—just like he’s done for the last…however long. A long time. His arms are starting to hurt, frankly. He rests his finger over the trigger to ease the trembling a tad.

And the magician remains silent.

Crowley ignores the sweat crawling down his neck. (Wasn’t it supposed to be freezing?) He waits some more—it’s not like one can forget where you are. Benefit of the doubt and such.

Nothing still. Nary a nod.

He’s been staring at him for a minute. The crowd hasn’t uttered a peep. Is Crowley just supposed to…do it? Did they talk about this? They must have. They talked about this. They talked about it, right? Yeah. Yeah, they must have—

"Fire!"

He startled him.

The reason why he listens is easy to explain. Aziraphale made Crowley flinch. A bit of a spook, really, not that bad of a fright. A sudden jolt—a tap on the shoulder, one that said ‘oh, look, you’ve got perfect aim already! Shoot!’

And he did.

What’s the first rule of approaching someone with a weapon again?

Right. Don’t fucking scare them.

The handle is warm. Slick, heavy, shaky. The scope aims with guilty target missing at the helm. A puff of smoke is spewing from the barrel. A thump, a sickening thump, deafening in the cricket silence of a post-trick world.

And Aziraphale…is on the floor.

(Where else would he be, really?)

There, obviously. On the floor. With a blown-up head. Bleeding like blessed Heaven. Bleeding like bloody Heaven, while Crowley has to take in the sight and smell the blessed thing.

It fits. They fit. Like a perfect crown on a decapitated head.

God, his head’s just gone, isn’t it?

A noise cuts through the thick silence like a stubbornly determined knife. Far away, above it all, there it rings. It’s muffled, soft, and almost awkward in the way it cuts through the air. A camera click. A reluctant, malicious camera click.

And that was just the perfect way to say it, no? He blew his brains out. Crowley blew his angel’s fucking brains out with a fucking gun that he’s never fucking held before.

Trust me.

Well. That, no doubt, was Aziraphale’s fault—it’d be a funny old world if angels and demons went around trusting one another.

-----

hgh. hope that was decent. chapter two coming as soon as it can because im invested now :))

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #good omens 1941 #cw blood #cw guns #cw death #maniac writing #in a west-end town

77 notes · View notes

random-thot-generator · 9 months

Text

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 7

(Frenemies/Tenderness AU)

SEVEN: Can't Let Go

SIMON GHOST RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

Summary: A week has passed since the argument in the alley, and Reader's hurt has been replaced with a seething anger that leads her to make a spur-of-the-moment decision out of spite. However, her poor choices lead to a potentially dangerous situation.

(PLEASE MIND THE TAGS. This chapter could be triggering for some readers.)

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Bad Coping Mechanisms, Allusions to sex, Threat of dub/non-con sexual situation, Brief Violence - Reader's a scrapper, Threat of violence though not acted upon... yet, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Ngl, this was a bitch to write. I had no less than three other alternative versions of this chapter, before choosing this one, but thankfully had some help along the way. Massive props to @glitterypirateduck for the much-needed advice and input. I ended up leaving the badger out, babe, but I hope you like the chapter, regardless. 😉👍)

[Image via TENOR]

Word Count: 5020

Chapter 7

...I ain't tryna find fate, it's too late to save face I can't get away, maybe there's no mistakes

You break me, then I break my rules Last time was the last time too It's fucked up, I know, but I'm still

Outside of the party, smokin' in the car with you Seven Nation Army, fightin' at the bar with you Tell you that I'm sorry, tell me what I gotta do 'Cause I can't let go...

—Post Malone, 'Chemical'

The walk to work is nice.

Blue skies and tattered clouds arch overhead, the remnants of puddles from an early morning shower reflecting the first sun you've seen in days. The world smells fresh and green and new, the signs of spring brightening your mood. It makes you feel light, the first time in a week you've felt like lifting your head to look around.

The first time since your fight with Riley.

You push the thought away. You're not going there today. Not again. You worked through the worst of the hurt and disappointment, and now you've settled into a comfortable, quiet fury that you keep wrapped around you like a warm blanket when the chill of loneliness creeps into your bed at night. You don't miss him, you don't want him, and you sure as hell don't need him. He's just one more bitter lesson you've had to learn the hard way. You won't make the same mistake, again.

Well... not again, anyway.

A car beeps its horn behind you, and you glance back to see Jerry Finch, the lorry driver who delivers the kegs to the pub, waving at you from a black sports car. You give a half-hearted smile and wave back, your steps slowing when he steers his car to the curb.

His window rolls down, rap music thumping before he turns it down. Leaning on his arm in the open window, Jerry tips his chin down to look over his aviator sunglasses at you, a smooth half-smile on his lips. "How ya doin', Dee? Headin' to work?"

You nod, stepping closer to his car, trying to ignore the way he looks you up and down before meeting your gaze. He gives you an appreciative smile and ticks his eyebrows up, ever the flirt. You sniff in amusement and squint against the sun to see him better. "Morning, Jer." You nod at his car. "No lorry today. This your day off?"

He gives you a charming, almost boyish smile and nods. "Yeah. Had some business here in the village, though." He glances down towards the pub, then slants his gaze back to you, thumbing at his bottom lip. "I can give ya a lift, if ya like. Goin' that way, anyhow."

You hesitate but then nod in acceptance. It's just an acquaintance from work offering you a ride, nothing wrong with that. He smiles and motions for you to get in, once more letting his eyes wander over your figure while you settle yourself into the passenger seat and put on your seatbelt.

"Thank you," you murmur, glancing up at him, then away. Jerry's never been one to hide his interest, taking every opportunity to flirt with you when given half a chance. Of course, it makes you feel good to have a handsome man flirt with you, but it also makes you a little leery, too. You try to be nice, but you don't want to encourage him, something that Fiona fusses about every chance she gets.

"Bloody hell, Dee, give the bloke a chance. He's got a good job, he's good lookin', fit as fuck, an' he's gaggin' t'get with ya. What can it hurt?"

Rationally, you know Fi is right, but you can't help yourself. There's just something about him. You can't put your finger on it but being near him just feels... off. You clear your throat and look out the window, your eyes catching on a dark gray Gladiator parked in front of the Tea Room.

Riley.

You can see him standing inside through the tall Georgian windows, chatting with Margie, the owner. She's handing him a bag and a to-go cup that you know will be filled with English breakfast tea brewed strong, with a splash of milk and two sugars, the way he likes. Your heart squeezes in your chest as you watch him exit the building and get in his truck.

Riley's been avoiding the pub when you're on shift. Fiona says he's been showing up in the evening, sitting in his usual spot while nursing his Dewar's. She also doesn't fail to mention Tessa Harker has been chatting him up quite a bit lately, too. It hurts to hear it, but you only give a tight smile and mutter, "Good for him," much to your friend's irritation.

Fiona and Ollie have both noticed the way you and Riley have been avoiding each other, but apparently Riley has kept mum about the argument, as have you. You had wondered if he would spread word about your other job at the Grind out of spite, but no one has mentioned it so far, and for that you're relieved, but you're still wary of what he might do with the information.

"So, what time ya gettin' off work?"

The question draws your attention back to the big man sitting beside you. Did he notice you staring, you wonder. "Um, I get off work at five."

"Then what?" he persists, and you know where this is going.

You shrug, keeping your eyes focused straight ahead. "Then back home, I suppose."

"Come out with me, instead," he suggests, shooting another one of his charming smiles your way. "There's a nice Italian bistro in Blackheath. I deliver to 'em. Nice place, good food."

"Oh, um, well..."

He chuckles and reaches over to pat your knee. "No rush, sweetheart. Got all day t'think it over, yeah?"

Again, the feeling that something is off with him comes to the fore of your brain, but you smile, regardless. "Yeah, sure. I'll... think about it," you reply, knowing your mind is already made up. You just have to think of a nice way to let him down. Again.

Jerry gives your knee another pat, which turns into a sly caress that has you flinching away. He huffs a laugh at your reaction, giving you a playful 'just-kidding' grin, before he lifts his hand and places it back on the wheel. He has big, beefy hands, thick fingers with blunt tips, a working man's hands. You usually find that attractive, have often admired Riley's large hands and long, supple fingers, but for some reason, the sight of Jerry's ham fists curled around the steering wheel makes you feel uncomfortable.

The car comes to a stop in front of the pub, and you're quick to unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door. "Thanks for the ride, Jer," you say, one foot already resting on the pavement.

"Think nothin' of it, love. Glad t'give you a ride anytime," he murmurs, suggestion heavy in his tone. He flashes another smile at you, winking again. He does that a lot, and you find it annoying. "I'll stop by later, see if ya want to go out for dinner, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah, sure. Okay."

You get out of his car and sketch a little wave as he pulls away, then turn to head inside the pub, only to come up short. Riley's standing right in front of the entrance, arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes fixed on Jerry's car, which is now rounding the green.

"Friend o' yers?"

It's the first words he's said to you since last Sunday in the alley, and the way he says it instantly gets your hackles up. You square off with him, casting a disparaging look over him. The proper thing would have been to offer you an apology, but you know better than to expect anything like that from him. Instead, he leads with a question that sounds both accusatory and insulting, all at the same time.

Typical.

"Shouldn't you already know? That's what you're good at, isn't it? Keeping tabs on me?" you snap, glaring at him.

You make a point to bump his shoulder as you pass by him and enter the pub. He's on your heels in an instant, following you through the door, obviously irritated by your response. You ignore him as you round the bar, pulling the strap of your bag over your head before placing it on top of the bar to take out your phone and a paperback.

"Wot? Ya got nothin' else t'say, doll? Tha's not like ya."

Your eyes snap up to glare at him. "Thought we said all that needed to be said last Sunday," you hissed at him, trying to keep your voice down, knowing Ollie would be back in his office.

Simon plants both hands on the bar and leans in, his dark eyes scathing as they pin you to the spot. "I wasn't finished talkin'. It was you that fuckin' ran off," he growls in return, but manages to keep his voice to a low rumble.

Your brows shoot up in mock surprise. "Oh! How terribly rude of me. I suppose I should have stood there until you were finished insulting me." Your eyes narrowed as you sneered at him. "Fuck you for that, by the way."

He's wearing his black surgical mask today, so his angry scowl is more evident than usual. He shoves off the bar in a fit of temper, hand coming up to jab a finger at you. "Like I told ya last Sunday, me an' you need t'talk, an' this time yer goin' t'bloody listen to wha—"

Your snort cuts him off. "We have nothing left to discuss. You made your opinion of me quite clear. But hey! At least I know where I stand with you now. Don't worry, though. I'll keep my distance. Wouldn't want to embarrass you by being seen associating with a slag, right?"

"Dammit t'hell, Dee! I never fuckin' called ya that. I never thought that. Would ya just bloody lis—"

"Riley, lad!"

You both turn to see Ollie heading your way, a pleased smile on his face. Shooting Riley one last venomous glare, you turn your back on him and make for the swinging door leading into the kitchen, his frustrated growl giving you a sense of grim satisfaction as you slip through the door. Fuck him. You hope he stays pissed off for the rest of the day.

You can hear the two men talking as you go back to hang up your jacket, eyes wandering over the unused kitchen as you pass through. What you wouldn't give for a kitchen this size, and here this one sits, unused and abandoned. You had mentioned a time or two that adding a small menu would bring in more business, but since the last cook quit, Ollie hasn't been too keen to fire up the kitchen again. It's a pity, really.

"Dee, love."

You glance over your shoulder to see Ollie standing at the service window. "What'cha need, Ol?"

Mind makin' me an' Riley a cuppa an' bringin' 'em to the office?"

You frown, wondering what happened to the tea you had seen Riley with before. You shrug it off and nod. "Sure thing, Ol. Be right out with 'em."

"Thanks, love," he says, rapping his knuckles before disappearing from sight.

You rinse out the electric kettle and fill it with water, then plug it in and switch it on before grabbing three mugs and the tea tin. You consider making Riley's tea wrong, just for spite, but that would be petty, even for you, or as Riley would call it, bratty. You sniff. He's a fuckin' brat. A bratty arsehole.

You scoop instant coffee into your own mug then add the tea bags to the other two cups, before going to the fridge to take out the milk. It's become routine for you to make both men's tea, your hands going through the motions while your thoughts wander back to Jerry and his dinner invitation.

Your first instinct is to turn him down, as you have all his other invitations, but the memory of how pissed Riley looked as he watched the other man drive away gives you pause. He always did eye Jerry with open suspicion, his instant dislike of the other man never something he tried to hide. He's never said why he doesn't like Jerry, but it didn't change the fact that it would probably piss Riley off to learn you were going out to dinner with him.

Maybe you are petty after all, because now your mind has changed. You are going on a dinner date this evening after work.

Setting your mug of coffee in the window to retrieve later, you take the other two mugs with you out of the kitchen. Rounding the bar, you head towards the narrow hallway that leads to the bathrooms and Ollie's office, walking slower to not spill any of their tea. You can hear their voices through the door as you stop to announce your presence. It's Riley who opens the door for you, not bothering to move out of your way as you slide past him with an irritated expression.

"Move, ya big lump," you grumble lowly, which gets a soft sniff of amusement from him. Arsehole.

"Ah, thanks, love," Ollie says, reaching out to take his mug. You set Riley's on the edge of his desk near the old club chair where he always sits. "Mind closin' the door on yer way out?" Ollie asks.

You give a nod, turning around to see that Riley is still standing in your way. You go to step around him, and he steps in your way again. You blow out an aggravated breath and raise your eyes to his, the urge to shove him again making your hands twitch. When he quirks a brow up at you, you grit your teeth and glare at him. Then an idea sparks in your brain. You look back over your shoulder at your boss.

"Say, Ol. Ya mind if I cut out a little early this evening? I've got a dinner date with Jerry the lorry driver."

Ollie nearly chokes on his tea before he manages to get his cup set down on his desk. His sharp eyes dart between you and Riley, an odd expression on his face as he tries to make sense of what's going on. He finally clears his throat and gives a curt nod. "Yeah. Sure, love. No problem."

You give him a sweet smile that turns spiteful when you turn your head back to the man in front of you. "Thanks, Ol," you reply, meeting Riley's furious glare. "Excuse me. Need to get back to work."

You can see his hands balling into fists, and it sends a thrill of sadistic glee through you. You'd rather die than look away from him right now, a smirk appearing when he has to hold his tongue and step aside for you. By the time you reach the hallway and close the door behind you, you're damn near giddy. The smirk on your face grows to a full-on wicked grin by the time you reach the bar again.

Satisfied with the good, hard poke you've just given the proverbial bear, you begin your prep work, humming a catchy pop song under your breath.

You manage to avoid any more close interactions with Riley, though he hangs around the bar your entire shift, giving you a baleful glare every time you draw near. You make it a point to ignore him, chatting with the other customers, talking and laughing like you weren't bothered at all by his brooding presence. You see him visibly stiffen when Jerry comes swaggering in, his signature charming smile already in place.

Before he can speak, you step to the bar and offer him a sweet smile. "Hi, Jer. Ollie said I can leave early, so we can go whenever you like."

Jerry can't hide the surprise on his face, but he swiftly recovers as he leans an elbow on the bar to bring his eyes level with yours. "Good. Been thinkin' 'bout it all day," he murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

You stiffen, discomfited by the look in his eye, but try to hide it by ducking to grab your bag from beneath the bar. When you raise up again, a pleasant smile is plastered on your face. "I just need to grab my jacket and tell Ollie I'm leaving, then we can go."

"'Course, sweetheart," Jer replies, watching you as you round the bar and head for the hallway. He catches Riley staring at him and lifts his brows, giving him a smug little smirk, which you honestly think is stupid of him. Despite Jerry's size, you have no doubt Riley would mop the fucking floor with him. You roll your eyes. Men and their stupid bloody posturing.

The sooner you get this over with, the better. This game is quickly losing its appeal.

Jerry offers to take you home to change if you want, but you decline, honestly not comfortable with the idea of bringing him up to your flat. He seems a little perturbed when you turn down his offer but then shrugs and drives to Blackheath, instead.

As he said, the little bistro is nice, the food delicious. The conversation is lackluster, though, but you weren't really expecting much. Beyond talking about himself, Jerry doesn't seem to hold much interest in other topics. Big surprise.

Once you're back in the car, he drapes his arm over your seat and leans in, a sexy smirk on his face. "So, where to next, sweetheart? Your place or mine?"

Your brows shoot up in mild surprise. "I thought this was just dinner," you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. "Moving a little fast, don't you think?"

He tips his chin down, giving you a knowing look. "C'mon, Dee. We're both adults here. I've seen how you an' that other barmaid check me out. Not that I'm complainin'." He gives you one of his smarmy winks, and you fight the urge to wrinkle your nose in disdain.

You sniff and give your head a small shake. The audacity of this bloke. Did he honestly think you were just going to drop your knickers because he bought you dinner? "Yeah, I think I'd rather go home by myself. I have work in the morning."

Jerry draws back, blinking. "Are you serious?" When you roll your eyes, he scoffs and tilts his nose up, as if he can't believe you are turning him down. "Whatever. Your loss, sweetheart," he mutters with a slight sneer and starts the car.

The drive back to Banfield is tense and awkward, but you honestly prefer the silence. When Jer finally speaks up, you startle out of your thoughts. "Mind if I take a shortcut?" he asks, his tone off-hand.

You shrug. "Fine with me." If it gets you home quicker, you're all for it.

Yet when he veers off the main road onto a country lane, you frown. You aren't familiar with this particular backroad, but from the direction you're going it doesn't look like you're heading towards home.

"Are you sure this goes to Banfield?"

Jer slants a condescending look at you, a shitty little smirk pulling up a corner of his mouth. "I drive for a livin', sweetheart. Ya really think I'm goin' t'get lost on the way to bloody Banfield?"

Your eyes roll up, but you hold your tongue, yet after another five minutes with nothing even closely resembling civilization in sight, you can't keep quiet. "We should be in Banfield by now. It's just a ten-minute drive from Blackheath. Are you sure you took the right road?" You glance around at the dark, unfamiliar landscape. "I don't even know where the hell we are right now."

"I took the scenic route," Jer drawls, waving a hand. He then drops it on your knee and gives it a squeeze. "Chill out, sweetheart. We'll get there. Eventually."

Apprehension creeps up your spine like the drag of an icy finger. You don't like this. This man, who you really know nothing about, you now realize, is driving you out to the middle of nowhere. "Maybe you should turn around."

Jerry glances over at you again, and this time the look in his eye makes the small hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. "Maybe you should try to relax." His hand slides up your leg to grip your thigh. "I'd be happy t'pull over an' help ya with that, sweetheart."

And there it is. The reason for getting you out here alone. You aren't even really surprised, always knowing in the back of your mind that there was something off with him, though you chose to ignore it this time, just to spite Riley.

Hindsight really is a bitch sometimes.

"Jer, I told you I wanted to go home," you murmur, trying to keep your voice low and even.

He huffs, a smug expression on his face. "C'mon, Dee. Stop playin' hard t'get. It's jus' me an' you now. Your boyfriend doesn't have t'know. I can keep my mouth shut. It'll be our little secret, yeah?"

"My boyfriend?" you blurt out, confused.

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, right. Sorry. Your friend," he sneers and then scoffs. "Don't act like ya don't know who I'm talkin' 'bout. That scarred up freak with the mask who's always up yer arse."

"What the fuck did you just say?" you choke out, fury strangling your voice. You're ready to claw out his eyes for what he said about Riley.

Jerry waves a dismissive hand at you. "Enough with the games, Dee. I know ya only went out with me t'make him jealous, an' I'm fine with that, really, but don't ya think I deserve some sort of... ya know, compensation for playin' along?"

Rage consumes you, hot and prickling beneath your skin. "Take me home. Now!"

The cold, flat look in his eye chills you to the bone. "Not 'til I get what ya owe me, sweetheart. Don't look so offended. I doubt this is the first time you've paid up for somethin' by lyin' on your back."

The hard slap you deliver to his smug face has him swerving across the narrow road before he slams on the brakes, sluing the car around in the loose gravel. You only manage to free your seatbelt before he grabs you.

"Are ya fuckin' crazy, ya bitch?" he yells in your face, shaking you hard as he shoves you back against your door. "Ya could'a killed us!"

You jab your thumb in his eye for his trouble. He bellows in pain, releasing you to clutch at his face, freeing you to reach behind your back to paw at the latch. The door flies open under your weight and dumps you out backwards onto the gravel. When his hand seizes your ankle in a crushing grip, you frantically kick out with your other foot. Though you're unable to see from your position on the ground, you revel in a brief moment of satisfaction when you feel it make solid contact with his head, and he yells in pain again. Yanking your legs free of the car, you scramble to your feet, snatching your bag from the ground as you sprint for the woods.

Too terrified to look back, you run headlong into the tree line. You stumble through the undergrowth, feeling the spindly branches and thorns tear at your clothes and snag in your hair as it rakes bloody scratches into your exposed skin. You trip over tree roots and stub your toes on stones hidden beneath the moldering ground cover of dead leaves. All the while, Jerry is bellowing like an enraged bull as he thrashes through the foliage somewhere behind you, shouting threats and curses at you the whole time.

When you inevitably fall flat on your face, you skid across the forest floor to hitch up at the base of a huge oak. You have just enough time to crawl behind its massive trunk before Jerry comes crashing through. When you hear him approach, you clap your hand over your nose and mouth to muffle the sound of your gasping breaths, terrified he will hear you. Your eyes go wide when you see him pass by your hiding spot close enough that you could reach out and touch him, if you wanted. Scared beyond reason, you press your back against the rough bark of the oak and pray he doesn't see you when he pans the flashlight on his cell phone around.

A strangled noise issues from his throat before he growls out a frustrated, "Fuuuck!" You can see him pacing back and forth as he rakes his hands through his hair. If you didn't know any better, you would think he was panicking. "Crazy fuckin' bitch," you hear him seethe under his heaving breath, growling again. "Fine, ya stupid cunt!" he shouts at the dark woods, throwing his arms up in the air. "Find yer own way home, then!" He then turns around and stomps back the way he came, still uttering curses.

You don't dare move, not even when the sound of his heavy footfalls fades away. You don't dare move, not even when the only thing you can hear is the wind rattling the tree branches overhead. You don't dare move, not until you at last hear the distant sound of a car motor rev to life, the sound gradually diminishing until you can't hear it any longer. It is only then that you are brave enough to slowly stand up on your shaking legs, only to lean once more on the trunk for support as a sob finally tears free from your chest.

You remain that way for several minutes, trying desperately to regain your composure, even as your brain keeps circling around the notion that Jerry's departure is some sort of ruse to lure you back out into the open. It's the idea of spending a cold night alone in the woods that finally has you lifting your head to take in your surroundings and evaluate your situation.

At first glance, it seems pretty dire. You have no idea where you are, you're too scared to venture back onto road for fear of Jerry lying in wait somewhere, and it's pitch dark out tonight, not even the wan light of the moon visible in the overcast sky to help guide you through the woods.

Your only real option is to call for help.

Reaching into your bag, you take out your phone, cursing under your breath when you drop it due to your trembling hands. The glow of the screen is a small comfort as you unlock your phone and open your contacts list. You stare at the emergency number, finger hovering.

If you call the police, there will have to be a report filed, and then there will be an inquiry to investigate your claims. You already know it will be your word against Jerry's. His solicitors will no doubt drag your name through the mud to discredit you, and he will probably still get off with nothing more than a light slap on the wrist, if he even gets that, because he actually didn't do anything to you, at least not physically. Hell, you had done more damage to him than he had to you. He could claim you attacked him, and he wouldn't even be lying.

You look back down at your phone, one name standing out like a beacon in the dark. When you see that name, you think of home, of safety, the two things you want most right now. You select it and hit the call button, holding the phone up to your ear and praying there will be an answer. Your breath catches in your throat when you hear the line connect.

"Whad'ya want, Dee?" a gravelly, annoyed voice growls into your ear, and a sob escapes your throat, you are so relieved to hear him.

"Ruh... Riley? P-Please, Ri... please. I n-need you..."

No one in the White Dog knew what to think when the usually quiet giant that sat at the end of the bar suddenly erupted out of his seat, the bar chair toppling over. "Doll! What's wrong? Where are ya?" he barks into his phone.

He apparently doesn't like what he hears.

"He fuckin' did what?! " he growls, a look of pure murderous rage igniting in his dark eyes. As he listens to you, however, his rage is tempered by his troubled concern. "Are ya hurt, love? I swear t'God if he―" His hand clenches into a trembling fist, even though his voice is now a low rumble. "Please don't cry, love. I know, I know, but I'll find ya. Ya know I will. I'm on my way right now. Just... keep yer phone on for me, yeah?"

He's already making for the entrance as he says this, the murderous look returning as he mutters, "I'll kill that bastard," before he barges through the door. He hits it with such force, it slams into the outside wall hard enough to shatter the frosted safety glass. He doesn't even acknowledge it as he runs to his truck and tears off down the street with a bark of tires the next instant, leaving a silent pub full of stunned onlookers in his wake.

Prev. >> Next

Taglist: @stillinracooncity @cumikering @cutiecusp @deadbranch @ghostlythots @thetiredtoad0-0 @glitterypirateduck @gothgirl6-6-6 @sofasoap @cathnoneofyourbusiness @shuttlelauncher81 @luminousbeings-crudematter @crunchlite @delilah-grimes @bobochacha

#simon ghost riley x fem reader #simon riley x fem reader #cod ghost x fem reader #ghost x fem reader #simon ghost riley x frenemy fem reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #ghost x reader #Frenemies/Tenderness AU #Love Thy Frenemy

165 notes · View notes

aliorsboxostuff · 10 months

Note

Idk if u will do this request but! Miguel’s time is like futuristic set right? ( trans people would just transition and be more accepted in this timeline sí right? 😭) so Miguel He went to college at a high prestige science university and so did reader for he is too an smart as him with his own creations in robotics and chemistry. Miguel had tried to get alone room accommodation but failed and got partnered up with transftm!reader and they became roommates. Reader fell in love with Miguel but he didn’t notice cuz he was too focused on his work and whatever. Years go by aka spider verse but suddenly miguel needs help from his old college roommate. Angst fluff maybe…smut??? Sorry English isn’t my first language 😭😭

Hey anon! I appreciate the idea and i love how much you fleshed it out! Dont worry, i completely understand your vision, and i get it english is hard for me too lol i hope i got your ideas right tho, sorry this turned into angst more than what i was aiming lmao enjoy all!

History

Tags: Miguel O’hara x FTM!Reader, Villain!Reader, Lyla, Past Relationship, Angst, Falling Out, Fighting, Arguments, Dirty Thoughts, Meet-Cute, Pining, Secret Crushes, Miguel is as dense as ever, poor reader on this one HAHA

They had a history. Of living together, spending time with each other, but despite all of that it all went downhill. Who knew your ex-roommate turns out to be Doc Oct

(Takes place before Post Credit Scene in into the Spiderverse)

—

"Miguel, I hate to tell you this but we can't-"

"There has to be another way, you designed this Lyla!"

"Hey! Don't blame the AI, blame the maker! I only followed what you said!"

Lyla huffs and glitches to another part of the console. Miguel is currently hunched over a table in the corner of his lair, the only light illuminating his project is the light rod over his workbench and the monitors around him.

The girl busies herself with schematics, working out equations and trying to find where they went wrong.

Miguel's latest work on the multiverse brace is to eliminate the glitches that it makes whenever someone uses it. It could potentially lead to wounds from the cells traveling to a different world, and even the healing factor won't fix it. Worst-case scenario, it would lead to a fatal wound, possibly death, and Miguel can't risk that if he's gonna start interdimensional travel.

His eyes scan over the chip connected to his computer, adding and removing codings that might've gone wrong. He's wearing the headband Lyla gifted him, or mailed to him when it was his birthday months ago, to be exact.

"I swear the shell is all good, Miguel. It should all contain the molecules needed for the portal bracelet,"

"Can you please stop calling it that?"

"What? 'Portal'?"

"Yes. It's not a portal, we already have that," Miguel rolls his eyes, gluing them back to the screen.

"Then what are we calling it?" Lyla pouts, adjusting her heart glasses.

"Transdimensional Pathfinding Wristlet."

Lyla pauses her work, and turns to Miguel, her brows raised, the blinks once, twice. "Wh- seriously?"

"Y'know what, I'm not even gonna try," He shakes her head before glitching to another monitor. "Leave it to the crazy scientist to name his things,"

Miguel ignores what his AI had said, instead focusing back on the chip. If this succeeds, it’ll be the first dimensional trip the prototype could make, and he’d prefer not to be a piece of burnt toast once he comes out of it. He coded another line, before he ran a diagnostic. The screen glares red, the annoyingly big letters of ‘ERROR’ pops up.

Miguel blinks, before he feels his claws coming out, promptly making him stand and throw his chair across the room. It shatters, the metal pieces clinking to the concrete floor. He heaves, sharp fangs bared, barely causing anger at his fingertips.

Lyla fixes him with a look. “That your fifth chair Miguel,”

The man takes a steady breath, wiping his hand across his face, working at his jaw. He tilts his head sharply and something pops. He faintly hears Lyla clicking her tongue.

"There's a guy I know,"

—

"What do you mean there isn't any- I booked a single room last week,"

"I'm sorry but there must've been a mishap in the system. I'm going to have to put you with an available roommate,"

"I don't want-" Miguel sighs, tapping his foot insistently. "Look, is there any way I can register for another single room?"

"You can wait a couple of weeks for a vacant room, but you'd need to consult with the head of the faculty." She nodded to him, a regretful look behind those blonde bangs. Miguel huffs, hands on his hips, thinking out a decision.

"Fine," He groans. "Who's still available for a roommate then?"

The girl's brows raise before she quickly types something into the computer, reading out what looks like a list with numbers and names. "Oh!" She smiles. "Room 304, on the third floor is still awaiting a roommate,"

"Great, thank you," Miguel grumbles, already picking up his boxes where he left them on the floor.

"If you'd like-" The girl calls for him again. "I can talk to the faculty member, see if I can help you with the room situation,"

"Sure, I'd appreciate it," Miguel's back is already turned to her as he makes his way to the building's elevator. With his gym bag slung over his shoulder, and the boxes of his unfinished work, traversing the hallway takes a bit of an effort. Students were not mingling around because most of them were already in their rooms, with the time turning just after 5 PM.

Finally, he reaches the elevator doors. Miguel shuffles the boxes into one hand, struggling to press the button before he is beaten to it by another hand reaching for the ascend button too.

"Here man, let me help you," The person says, already picking up the two boxes that cover Miguel's vision even before he said anything.

"Hey don't-" He begins, before he finally gets a good look at the person that dared to touch his scraps. The man in front of him, standing just inches taller than him, hair with an unintelligible style, captivating eyes and the faintest smirk on his lips.

Miguel's brain stutters a bit. "I'm- nevermind, thanks,"

"Of course dude," And Miguel's interest plummets. "What floor?"

"Third please," He nods, pressing the button once he and Miguel get in. The door closes and leaves the two in silence, only the faint whirr of the elevator's machine.

"So, late to dorm assignments?"

"Nah, they messed up my request,"

"Shit, really?" He turns to Miguel, his brows furrowed.

"Yeah, now I'm stuck with a damn roomie,"

"Oh yeah? What room?"

"304, apparently," Miguel huffs, looking down into the box he's carrying, the tape on it peeling slightly. The guy halts, now his brows are raised.

Miguel's turn to look confused, before the guy chuckles lightly. "Funny you say that 'cuz,"

"I'm room 304," He smirks, readjusting the boxes.

There's a pause, before he feels the red of embarrassment gathers on his cheeks. "You're-"

"That damn roomie? Yeah,"

"Fuck, sorry I didn't-"

"No no, it's fine! Really," The guy laughs, shaking his head while Miguel tries to formulate a coherent sentence. "I don't mind man, I get wanting your own space though,"

"Hey, I hope I'll be a good roomie," He bumps Miguel's shoulder lightly, his smile not fading. Miguel finds himself mimicking it slightly. After that, he introduced himself to Miguel, his major and such.

The elevator opens just after that, the two make their way down the hallway. He asks about Miguel's major too, just as they reach the door.

"I seriously didn't think I'd get a roomie," He chuckles, turning the key with a million other key chains. It jingles, before he pushes the door open and into the room. "I'll go check with the front desk-"

"Oh!" He turns after putting down the two boxes he was carrying. "Just got the text, said they'll give you the key tomorrow,"

"Great," Miguel rolls his eyes, putting down his box on the vacant desk and his duffle on the chair. He turns, inspecting the room that he's been sent to stay in. One side is already cluttered with his roommate's stuff, plants and books and papers strewn about. He tilts his head when he spots a flag on his desk.

"You're trans?" Miguel asks, turning to him where he was still standing with his phone out. He hums and lifts his head, meeting Miguel's browns.

"Oh that old thing? Yeah," He scratches the back of his neck. "I know, I get it. No one really cares nowadays, the worlds moved on, whatever,"

He glances at the little flag, pink and white and blue adding color to the messy desk. He smiles. "It's a reminder, I guess,"

Miguel stares at the flag, just once, before he nods and shrugs, turning to open his boxes. "Sure, that's cool,"

He can practically feel the sunshine radiating from his roommate behind him. He crosses his arms, turning again to face him, and he's right because his roommate has a really bright smile. "I hope we'll be good friends, Miguel,"

—

"Miguel there's so many people in Nueva York how am I supposed to-'' Lyla stops, before she grins. "Nevermind, found him!"

Miguel finishes his spider shot, cracking his neck again as he sets the syringe down. He turns towards Lyla, the AI already projecting the location. "Looks like our guy lives in… the slums? I thought you said he was a prodigy,"

"Yeah well not everyone gets a decent job even if they are a genius," Miguel huffs, running his hand through his hair as he looks at the mirror.

"Who's you said the guy was again?" Lyla begins to scroll through the data.

Miguel sighs. "Old roommate, back in college,"

"Ooh, interesting," She giggles.

"Lyla don't-"

"I'm not looking through his history! Just a peek, though,"

Miguel lets out another sigh, walking towards the large opened window. "Uh, hey Miguel, are you sure about this?"

"Why what's wrong?"

Lyla displays her screen as it glitches in front of Miguel. According to her research, the old roomie has been caught by the police stealing items from hardware stores and electronic stores, a handful of accounts of disruption of peace according to the other tenants in his old apartment. And he's currently deemed missing.

"Where did you say his location was?" Miguel reads through the file, his brows knitted.

"Just here, some abandoned warehouse in the slums,"

—

“Miguel, man, you’ve got to eat,” A tray for warm food was suddenly placed between Miguel's paperwork. He huffs, pushing the plate away and to the edge of his already small table. He hears a sigh, before the plate is moved out of his peripherals, and Miguel is back into his work.

“Dude, you only ate like, one energy bar after going to the gym,”

“I’m fine,”

Another exasperated sigh, before his roommate goes back to whatever robotics he was working on. Miguel has been perfecting his latest assignment the whole week, going back and forth on his computer, writing down research papers and consulting with his professors. Meanwhile, the man that he shares his room with is tinkering with a recent robotic piece he’s been pouring his heart into.

It’s correct that they share most of their schedule together. Miguel would wake up before dawn, and so would he. They’d run a couple of laps around campus before hitting the gym just before it gets too crowded. He’d spot for Miguel while Miguel would comment on his form if it needs any improvement. Sometimes they’d share breakfast together, before they head for their different classes, though ever since Miguel has been engrossed in his recent paperwork, their time spent together has been blessed. It'd be a lie to say Miguel doesn't miss their shared time, but he supposes seeing him back in their room after a long day is enough. Though, it doesn't seem enough for his friend.

Unbeknownst to Miguel, his roommates have been supporting a devastating crush on him. Stolen glances, longing eyes whenever Miguel's back is turned towards him. Times when he’d stare a bit too long whenever Miguel was doing his bench presses, times when he’d stand close just to feel the comforting warmth beside him. He’d fuss over Miguel, bringing food or drinks, bringing things Miguel might've forgotten with his busy schedule. Sometimes, when Miguel worked too late and too much, he’d fall asleep on his desk, at which he’d bring his blanket to cover Miguel’s back. In the morning, he rolls his eyes and says something about Miguel getting a bad back, which Miguel would promptly ignore.

It’s currently Friday night. The man that's sitting on the opposite side of the room has seemingly lost interest in his robotics and decided to peer out of their bedroom window. Suddenly, Miguel is bombarded by a loud shout coming from outside of their room, and snaps quickly to the source. He sees his roommate has opened the bedroom window and is looking out into the campus’ courtyard.

“Yeah, I'll join you! Be right down!” He hollers, before he shuts and locks the window. Miguel turns, blinking away the slight dizziness he got.

“Who was that?”

“A friend, they're having a party at one of the frat houses, you wanna join?” He grins, pulling on his leather jacket and pocketing his belongings. Miguel has never been to a party and he's not about to start going, especially when he has a deadline to push. He shakes his head, always swiveling back his chair.

“No thanks,”

He hears his friend scoff. “Come on Miguel! You’ve been working on that thing for ages now, you deserve a break, and the deadline isn't for another month!”

“I’m not interested,” Miguel bites back, barely glancing at his pleas.

“Just this once, I promise it’ll be fun! I’ll be there and I can take care of-”

“I said I'm not interested.” He spits out, already hunching into the part he’s soldiering. He doesn't hear anything, not an answer or another push for him to join. The air has changed, something heavy hangs between them. The tension is palpable, but despite it all Miguel only hears the shuffling of his friend's boots.

“Sure, whatever,” His roommate fixes a stare at the back of Miguel's head, before he unlocks their door. “Y’know, one of these days that work of yours is going to destroy you if you're not careful,”

And with that, he leaves Miguel alone for the night.

—

“What the fuck!” Miguel jumps and manages to hold on to the side of the building. “Lyla searches for his weakness points!”

“Hah! You think this has a weakness, Miguel?!” The man shouts, a wide grin on his lips. “I’ve perfected these arms, they are practically indestructible!”

“SO this is how you greet your old roommate?”

“I’d prefer for us to meet for coffee, but after how you treated me, I think this…” He brings a menacing robotic arm towards him, as if to inspect it. “Is way better,”

The arm suddenly lunges towards Miguel which he narrowly avoids. He jumps and entwines two of the appendages together as he lands behind the man, at which he growls and breaks free of Miguel’s red webs. “I never treated you badly!”

“No, not really huh,” He smirks. “But you never noticed the shit I did for you anyways!”

He spears those sharp arms towards Miguel which he does a couple of doges before jumping down the rooftop they were currently fighting on.

“All of those morning coffees, late dinners, all for nothing! None! All because you were so fucking focused-” He sharply turns, grabbing Miguel’s wrist and stopping him from dropping a punch. He suddenly pulls Miguel towards him, burning anger behind those eyes. “On combining a damn spider's DNA with yourself!”

He throws the Spiderman across the street, breaking several walls until the momentum finally stops. Miguel groans, cracking his neck when Lyla suddenly pops up. “Boss, the control panel for those arms is on his back, if you could pull it apart from him, it’ll stop him from controlling it,”

“On it.” Miguel swiftly stands, running through the many rooms he passed before leaping into the air, catching the man off guard. He throws a punch that lands on his face, throwing him off balance and into the concrete street below. He grows, and fixes his jaw, before launching back to full force against Miguel.

“It was all fine until you went out with that fucking brunette!” He shouts, throwing debris towards Miguel which he weaves and dodges. “Did I ever mean anything to you?!”

He’s got Miguel pinned to the ground, and pushes all of the arms to stab at him, but instead misses and gets buried in the ground instead when Miguel swiftly pulls away with his web. He struggles to get the appendages out of the strong concrete, suddenly finding them stuck, an opportunity for Miguel to rip the control panel off. He swings above the man, landing directly behind him where he quickly digs his nails into the seams of the panel.

“I’m sorry,” Miguel manages before he pulls. An ear-splitting scream, before deathly silence. Miguel could only hear his heavy breath, before sparks of green ran through the man's body, and it jolted him. He shouts, before falling into the pavement. Miguel takes a beat to examine the control panel, before throwing it somewhere on the ground. He spots the bareback of his once roommate, a horrid sight of root-like marks growing around the man's back. Miguel furrows his brows, before he hears the faint police sirens, no doubt coming over to clean up the commotion.

Just as Miguel was about to make his leave, he heard the man cough, a horrid groan behind him. Miguel glances slightly, as he hears him begin to speak.

“I was right… Your work did destroy you.”

Requests are opened! Remember to reblog!

#miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x m!reader #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #atsv miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fic #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara x ftm!reader #miguel o'hara x trans!reader

270 notes · View notes

thenightcallsme · 7 months

Text

Dove | Simon "Ghost" Riley

A/N: Hello lovely people, I have a backlog of short stories written for things like Avatar: The Way of Water, MWII, Stranger Things, The Arcana, Outer Banks, and many more that I have never posted and keep to myself. I'm talking hundreds of pages worth of fluff, angst and eventual smut - you've got to get through some plot first, though. HOWEVER, if anyone likes my writing and wants to task me with stuff to write, like straight smut, I'm all ears. Anyway, if anyone is interested in reading stuff I could potentially post, here is a snippet for a little Call of Duty fic.

Synopsis: You're to play the materialistic wife of a rich, well-connected husband during an undercover mission. You're to-be husband is a temporary recruit of the 141, who is to supervise your every move. While getting ready, you have a surprising interaction with your Lieutenant, Ghost, who you swear has made it his mission to treat you like a stranger day after day. Until now.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Contains: pretty much nothing of importance, just Ghost being as unreadable as ever, causing reader to have their mind blown by the smallest of crumbs

• • • • •

I look in the mirror at the woman who is supposed to be Lyanna Winstead. She’s the partner of Dario Winstead, son of a wealthy businessman. Everything about Lyanna is a carbon copy of myself. Her smile, her hair, her figure, her voice. Only, she presents herself in a way I haven’t in a long time.

Gone is the tactical gear and camouflage colours. Instead, she wears the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. The outline of the dress is simple yet captivating to suits the old Hollywood theme. Silver cascades down her body, creating the illusion of a mercury waterfall. The sweetheart neckline and thin straps compliment her full breasts and soft arms. Adorning the bodice are glistening silver designs that remind me of old, swirling boarders on French mirrors. The designs fall away, melting into plain silver threads that fall to the floor and pool at her feet. The dress hugs her body like a second skin, only melting away at her knees. The silhouette fit her hourglass figure well.

The silver jewellery she wears is modest so as not to take away from the dress’s magnificence. On her neck is a dainty Vivienne Westwood necklace, the inner planet of the pendant a pearl. Matching dangling earrings hang from her lower lobe piercing. The rest of her ear piercings are small diamond studs and silver hoops. One wrist displays a thin diamond tennis bracelet and a Van Cleef one with emerald clovers. On the other is the only ode to myself: the evil eye bracelet I never take off. The thin silver chain and bejewelled eye thankfully blend into the rest of the accessories. Small rings cover her fingers, few in number and easily ignorable. The bands are thin and any jewels are small and clear. However, one stands out; a breathtaking sight on her left index finger.

Glittery diamonds cover the band, giving way to a large, circular moonstone. Rainbow shimmer comes to life in the milky stone when the light hits it just right. Separating the band and the centrepiece are two small flowers with diamond centres. Two separate rings sit beneath and below the main one, shaped in V’s to follow the curve. At each point are flowers similar the the others, with curved leaves flowing from the petals. All three are gold, contrasting against the silver to make a statement.

I’m not just looking back at Dario’s partner. I’m looking at his wife.

I’m Will’s wife.

Fake wife, really. I nearly shake my head in wonder. I still look like myself, but everything about this makes me feel like I’m wearing a second skin. Lyanna’s skin. Every so often I stare at the ring in amazement. If anyone ever proposes to me, I would hope for nothing less than the magnificent that is this ring. All that adorns my body is courtesy of Will. Unbeknownst to me before this mission, he’s filthy rich, and a filthy rich man needs a filthy rich wife. All the designer jewellery, the dress, the shoes, and the engagement ring are authentic and top dollar.

After the last touch-ups of make-up, fragrances, and hair, I’m making my way to the courtyard. I’m to have one last briefing and run over of the plan before getting in Will’s blacked-out Corvette. I have to give it to him: he really knows how to pull off a lavish life with style.

Already am I wishing to rip off the damn stilettos on my feet. While I could live in the dress and jewellery, this is the one day a year I’m willing to wear heels.

The air is cool, the last golden light of day painting the courtyard and walls of Alejandro’s HQ in a luminescent glow. A low rumble fills the air from my 'husband’s car. Will leans against it, speaking with the 141. Ghost lingers back by the front door, arms folded and back leaning against a pillar. Weaving between his fingers with precision is a small dagger. His head turns at the sound of approaching heels.

“Was starting to think you were a no show,” he says gruffly.

I stop beside him to adjust my dress. It doesn’t really need adjust, but suddenly being subjected to his gaze makes me anxious. “Told you it would take a while. Gotta look the part.”

The way his eyes travel over my body almost makes me shrink away. Every curve is on full display. The tight bodice holds up my already full breasts, and somehow my waist-to-hip ratio is even more accentuated. Wearing my uniform doesn’t exactly hide my figure thanks to the tight shirts and cargo pants that aren’t exactly loose from my mid-thigh up. However, a lot of me is lost beneath the vests and belts.

“Stop...inspecting me, or whatever you're doing,” I mumble. “Makes me think I need to fix something.”

I begin taking the skirts in my hand as I survey my descent. It’s not too much, but the steps are steep enough to be an issue. The heels on my feet are no help.

Ghost shakes his head. “Don’t. You look…”

“Important?”

“Pretty.”

I stop in my tracks to look back at him, unsure if I heard him correctly. He doesn’t look away or seem embarrassed to have said so. Then again, when does he ever. No-nonsense and prideful in his emotionless character, Ghost is not one to regret his words. Everything he says is a calculated move. Compliments are certainly something to be calculated in a sense, but I don't think of it to be a compliment, even when a small part of me screams for more. I'm playing my part well; there'd be a problem if I wasn't looking pretty. A slow smile quirks at my lips, teasing in nature as I raise my brows. The teasing turns to surprise, however, when he offers me his arm.

“How chivalrous,” I quip as I lightly take his offered arm. Even the slightest contact sends thrills beneath my skin. “Careful, Lieutenant. I might start to think you actually like me.”

Ghost’s eyes train on the ground. At first, I wonder if he doesn’t want to meet my eyes, only then to realise he’s watching my footing. I barely catch a glimpse of his squint.

“I like you in one piece,” he corrects. “This job will be over the second you sprain your ankle on a flight of stairs.”

I hum. “Ahh, there it is.”

He looks up at me then. “There’s what?”

“Thinking about the job, as always.”

As always, I keep my tone light and teasing, but there's an accusing hint. A subtle jab I let slip that I pray goes unnoticed.

There's no room for emotions in this job, and though I've compromised that with the rest of the 141, Ghost is a difficult case. An impossible riddle, a mind-numbing equation with no real answer. Nothing about him should be likeable. He's painfully honest and dismissive when he bothers to speak, he's angry half the time, his attention is never lingering and his mind is an impenetrable fortress. It would make more sense to give in to Alejandro's shameless flirting or Gaz's sleazy grins. Only, it's Ghost that keeps me up at night. It's Ghost, who sends a pang through my chest when he reminds me any care is from pure investment in performance. I'm useful, nothing more.

I can count on one hand the number of times he's thrown me small morsels of care as if I were a stray dog whining and begging for food. Even then, I wouldn't have made it past three fingers. A greedy piece of me spins those memories into something that serves my desire. See, he's returning your interest, that hopeful voice purrs in my ear while feeding me botched versions of what really happened. I know better than to give in to the delusions. The ending of those memories is what sobers me, and it's no different now. I need you in shape for tomorrow. Keep your head in the game. I'm just making sure this isn't interrupting the job. He's always quick to redirect any concern from me to the job.

Maybe, just maybe...what if he was trying to save face? Does he not want to care?

Ghost remains silent for a moment. In consideration or because he doesn’t care to answer, I can’t tell. But when he does answer, his voice has my full attention. It’s low and rough, each syllable laced with something intoxicating. Something I've never heard before and never thought I would hear. Something I want to hear again and again.

“You have no idea what I think about, dove.”

Dove.

The response catches me so off guard I almost forget to take another step. We’ve reached the bottom of the steps, now. The second both my feet are on the flat expanse of the concrete driveway, he breaks away from our linked arms. There is no follow-up, no hint of a miscommunication, not even a look in my direction before he's gone from my side. All I can do is hesitantly trail behind him, lost in my thoughts.

Ghost has never given me a nickname before. Hell, he barely refers to me as anything other than my callsign. When I do hear my real name, it's never for good reasons.

The nickname that pours from his lips comes in a deep voice curled into a sensual tone, sounding like silk-covered marble, low and intended for my ears only. It's strangely intimate—something a lover would purr with lustful eyes and a seeking touch. Somehow it seems to invoke a phantom touch that glides across my skin. Gooseflesh puckers in its chilling wake. In the span of only a few seconds, I seem to experience every emotion humanly possible. Shock, surprise, a sickening, perverse enjoyment...and irritation that I must now join the rest of the team as if a mind-numbing heat was not boiling in the pits of my stomach

• • • • •

I'll get the formatting of posting these to be prettier btw I promise 🙏🙏 But anyway just interact with this or tell me directly if you want more.

109 notes · View notes

kiwixlime · 2 years

Text

Say It Louder

V is for Virgin

It’s a post-apocalyptic world. Relationships are hard to maintain. Of course, it doesn’t help that you’re crushing on your dad’s best friend. But what your dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Age difference, loss of virginity (reader), daddy kink, unprotected p-in-v (it’s the end of the world), oral (f receiving), fluff, teasing, dirty talk bc i can’t resist, joel is gentle but also fucking feral, angst of course, touch of violence at the end lmao. Potential for this to turn into a series. Please do not engage if this topic is uncomfortable for you. In this, reader is 21, but I understand it’s still not everyone’s cup of tea. Do not feel obligated to read!

Nighttime in Jackson is surprisingly lively. You indeed have nothing to compare it to. But from what you’ve experienced in your 21 years on Earth, growing up in this doomsday scenario, nightlife in your town just feels right. It feels normal. At least, what you think normal would be.

There’s a bar where the residents like to hang out after long grueling days. Many of the patrol groups gather after their shifts are over to relax and mingle, comparing gruesome stories or funny instances. Your dad tells you it’s like the old days when he’d get off work and meet his buddies at a place in the city. You have no idea what that’s like, but the fondness in his eyes is enough for you to know it’s a good thing.

So you’ve come to enjoy spending time at the bar with everyone. You like to be social, and put yourself out there to get to know others. Especially the guys. Of course, you’ve built yourself up a reputation by doing this.

You’re a young girl, you’re flirtatious, and for a while, you were a little boy crazy. So people started to talk. Whispers of you being a slut made their way around town. But you knew the truth. You haven’t done anything with any of these boys.

They’re all immature assholes in your eyes. They don’t deserve you. And on top of that, your heart yearns for someone else. A man.

Granted, he’s your father’s best friend. So he’s totally off-limits. But that doesn’t stop you from admiring him. Or thinking about him in ways your father would not approve of. It doesn’t even stop you from flirting with him from time to time.

But honestly, how could anyone ignore a guy like Joel Miller? He is literally the most attractive man you’ve ever met. And it’s not just his looks, even though his eyes are dreamy and his physique is downright sinful. His maturity is part of what makes him sexy. He’s above and beyond any of the guys you’ve dated in the past.

And yeah, you fell hard. You feel lucky that you get to spend so much time with Joel, even if it’s because of your father. You’ve gotten to know the older man somewhat well, and you have a pretty decent relationship with him. He’s not blind to your flirting, indulging you sometimes, and writing it off as a silly little crush. But deep down you think he knows he’s fueling this fire. You think he likes the attention you provide.

You’ve never seen Joel with another woman. You were always curious to know why, but a quick discussion with Ellie once told you that he’d never been interested in anyone. You find that hard to believe, but you don’t question it. If no one’s caught his eye before, maybe you can be the first. It’d be an honor.

You think you have a bit of a head start already. Sure, you’re young and naive. But you know when a guy is into you. Most of them don’t hide it very well. And you’ve noticed Joel’s eyes lingering on you on more than one occasion. You just have to crack him. It can’t be that hard.

Currently, you’re strolling down the streets of Jackson, heading to the bar where you know your dad is probably hanging out with Joel for the night. You’re wearing one of your cutest outfits, a light lavender sundress that ties at your shoulders, hugs your waist, and flows out at the bottom reaching mid-thigh. You feel beautiful in this dress. Just something about it lifts your spirits.

So of course you’d wear it to encounter the man of your dreams.

When you enter the building, you spot your father immediately. He’s sitting at one of the tables with Joel and Tommy, speaking animatedly while they listen and laugh along. Your focus stays on Joel, smiling a little as he smiles. Wow. You could stare at him forever.

To your delight, Joel’s the first one to notice you, jaw dropping a little as his eyes rake over your body. He bites his tongue when you catch him staring, a sly grin spreading over your perfect lips. You’re too cute for your own good and you know it, which makes it even worse. Joel shakes his head and looks back at your father, nodding in your direction.

Your father turns in his chair and smiles brightly at you. He waves you over with his hand. “Pumpkin!” He exclaims, calling you out by his favorite nickname for you.

You cross to their table with a little bounce in your step and notice as Joel shifts uncomfortably in his seat. You smirk, knowing his discomfort is a direct result of the way your body fills out the dress, maybe jiggling a little in all the right places. Good, you have his attention.

Stopping when you reach them, you lean over to wrap your arms around your father’s neck. You give him a quick hug, pecking him on the cheek. “Hi, daddy,” you say happily as you stare Joel down.

Your poor father, unaware of what his sweet daughter is thinking, grins at your greeting. “Hey, sweetie, what are you doing here?”

You shrug, pulling away from and drawing your gaze away from Joel to look at your dad. “I was wondering when you planned on heading home? I’m going to Violet's for a little while and I didn’t want you to worry.”

He looks at you, feeling proud, grabbing your hand before turning to the guys. “Such a good kid, isn’t she?” He asks, his words genuine. You smile shyly at the two men, tongue slipping between your lips as you look at Joel.

It’s like he knows exactly what you want with the way he stares at your lips. Your filthy thoughts are practically leaking from your pretty little head as you hover around them. You want Joel to agree with your father. Yes, you want him to say. You are such a good girl. The fantasy makes your body run warm and you have to look away before they see you blush.

“I’ll be home in a little bit,” your father says. “Don’t worry about me. Have fun with Violet. And behave!” He adds, knowing you have a tendency to get the poor girl in trouble. What can you say? You’re a bad influence.

You nod your head politely, giving him a sweet smile. He accepts the gesture and turns, but you let your gaze linger, eyes lighting up when you and Joel catch a glance at one another. His jaw is tense as you wink, swiveling on your heels so your little dress twirls, riding up the tiniest bit so he can see a flash of your white cotton panties. You don’t look back as you prance out of the bar, knowing in your heart that Joel Miller has to sit the rest of the time he’s with your father hiding a boner.

Your mood only brightens when you get to Violet’s. She knows about your obsession with Joel, and honestly, it scares her. She’s more sheltered than you, and she definitely worries more. Every time you talk lustfully about the older man her anxious brain spins into a tizzy.

You’re surprised she’s even friends with you. God knows her life would be so much easier, and way less stressful if you weren’t in it. On the other hand, it’d probably be, like, super boring as well.

On her bed, you talk about what life would be like outside of Jackson while she reads the same book she’s read twelve times already. It’s funny how she’s come to be your best friend. The two of you are complete opposites, but that’s why you work together so well.

She flips through the pages but listens to you as you talk about getting away from here, heading for the beach or someplace tropical. Every once in a while she’ll chime in on how dangerous it could be starting somewhere new, but you think you could take on that challenge.

“What about you?” You ask her, rolling to the other side of the bed, meeting her where she sits on the floor. “If you could leave Jackson, would you?”

She places her bookmark to save her page and sets her book down. She looks off in thought before turning her attention to you. “I’m not sure,” she says quietly. “We’re safe here. I know it gets boring, but I like it. I like my home and I like the weather.”

You nod, understanding her reasonings. But you crave excitement. You crave adventure. If you could get with Joel…

“I think I’m gonna do it,” you say, shifting so you’re on your back. You stare up at her ceiling, sighing dreamily.

“Oh, no,” she groans. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna tell Joel how I feel,” you state with finality. “Yeah, I’m just gonna tell him that I like him. That I want him. And see what happens.”

“That is such a bad idea,” she cringes, hiding her face behind her hands. “Oh my god, you cannot do that! What would your father say?”

“Who says he has to know?” You scoff. “I don’t tell him everything.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” she says, internally panicking. You’re thinking of what Joel’s lips feel like and she’s thinking about how this could destroy the town. “What do you even see in him? He’s the same age as your dad!”

“So?” You snap, glaring down at her. “He’s hot and funny and charming.” Your words come out in a breathy sigh. “I bet he has a big dick.”

Violet squeals and grabs a pillow off her bed, hiding her embarrassed face. You can’t help but laugh, sliding down off the bed so you’re sitting next to her. She mumbles something into the pillow, and your giggles get louder. When she pulls away, her face is beet red. “I can’t believe you’re a virgin,” she whispers.

You shrug your shoulders as your thoughts drift off to Joel. “Maybe not for long.”

A few days later, you find yourself upstairs in your room, dying from the summer heat. You were outside listening to an old iPod you found until the sun became too much, then you had to head indoors. Now, you’re on your bed, writing down your thoughts of the day in your journal.

The previous pages are all filled with thoughts on Joel. Unfortunately, you haven’t had any alone time with him recently. So much to Violet’s relief, you haven’t told him your feelings. Yet.

But there’s hope. You know your father is supposed to meet with him today. And you know Joel has a habit of showing up earlier than expected when your dad isn't around. You have a theory that he does it so he can see you. But you’ve never tested it. Until now.

As if on cue, there’s a loud knock on your front door, followed by Joel’s deep voice. “Hello? Joseph, are you here?”

Excitement flows through you and you slam your journal shut, shoving it beneath your pillow. You quickly wipe the sweat from your forehead before calling out to him. “He’s not home yet!” You yell. “I’m upstairs!”

For whatever reason, Joel takes that as an invitation and decides to follow the sound of your voice. He cautiously climbs the stairs as he heads for your room. Oh, he knows he shouldn’t be up here. Curiosity killed the cat.

But satisfaction brought it back.

He enters your room, stunned when he sees you on your bed, hair up high in a messy bun to keep off your neck. A white tank top hugs your top half, leaving little to the imagination. Beads of sweat drip down your chest, beneath the flimsy fabric, gliding down between the valley of your breasts hidden where he can barely see. The shorts you wear certainly have an effect on him and he has to force his eyes elsewhere.

Dangerous, he has put himself in a dangerous situation here. “Uh, hey,” he says, avoiding eye contact and glancing around your room.

“You here for my dad?” You ask innocently, staring at him in the hopes he’ll look at you again.

Joel nods. “I’m a bit early,” he trails off.

You smile to yourself. You already knew that. He’s here to see you.

“You’ve been coming over a lot,” you point out, and that grabs his attention. He raises an eyebrow in confusion, wondering where you’re going with this statement. “And it seems like you come earlier and earlier each time,” you say. You watch his chest rise as he takes in a deep breath. “You’re here to see me, aren’t you?”

“What?” He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “N-no.” You don’t miss the slight stutter in his voice. Oh, this is too good.

“Relax, old man,” you tease with a shake of your head. “I’m just fucking with you.”

He seems to calm down a little, rolling his eyes. “Should have known,” he snorts under his breath, but you still hear it.

“Excuse me?” You challenge him.

“Well, you know,” he mumbles in his smooth southern accent.

You feign annoyance, glaring at him. “Oh, so you believe everything you hear?” You ask harshly.

Joel huffs in disbelief. “You tellin’ me you ain’t the promiscuous little princess this whole town thinks you are?” His eyes bore into yours and damn it if your stomach doesn’t flutter with butterflies with how he stares you down.

“I know my reputation, Joel,” you say with a grin, squirming under his smoldering eyes. “People start rumors, rumors spiral out of control, sometimes it’s easier to roll with it than fight it. But I’m a virgin,” you confess and giggle at the way his eyes widen. “Yeah, that’s right,” you confirm as realization crosses his face.

The confession takes him off guard. And, admittedly, it makes him hot. He’s heard rumors about you, everyone has. And like the rest, he just assumed those rumors were true. You had notoriety about you, and even though it wasn’t the most flattering, it was intriguing. But this? Knowing you’re really just some innocent girl everyone wants, but no one’s had… That’s… That’s hot.

“Uh, really?” He coughs, trying to keep his interest in your sexuality concealed. Christ, you are his best friend’s daughter. You are totally and completely off limits. He shouldn’t even be having this discussion with you.

But then you smirk at him, blink those dazzling eyes and say things that drive his mind wild. “Yeah,” you whisper, voice dripping with suggestion. “Why? You want to change that?”

“W-what?” He stammers, feeling his heart nearly leap from his chest.

You sigh, sitting up so your knees press into the mattress. “Isn’t it obvious?” You ask as you lean forward a bit, using your arms to frame your chest and showing off your cleavage, glistening with sweat. “I want you, Joel, I have for a while,” you finally admit.

He shifts awkwardly, feeling his jeans get tighter the longer you look at him. He’s known you have a thing for him. You’re not exactly subtle. But this? This little admission is almost too much. Your father could arrive at any time. “Are you crazy?” He whispers.

“Oh, come on,” you roll your eyes. “I see the way you look at me. I’m not the only one feeling…something.”

Joel shakes his head, face turning crimson. Fuck, he’s got to get out of here. He’s got to get away from you before he says, or does, something he’ll definitely fucking regret.

You pout, slinking back onto your mattress. “You don’t like the idea of being my first?”

You say that and he bites back a groan, taking in a deep shaky breath. Of course, he likes the idea. He loves the idea. To know that he’d be the only man who has touched you, who has made you cum, who has heard your pretty moans of want. It’s such a hot fantasy. But he can’t. He won’t. It’s worth repeating, that you are the daughter of his best friend. And you’re so young.

But he can’t help but wonder.

“Why me?” He asks, hesitantly. “Why now? You’re an attractive, young girl. I know you’ve had boyfriends.”

“No one’s been worthy,” you say with total honesty.

This makes Joel laugh. Hard. “Wait, you’re telling me you think no one’s been worthy of sleeping with you?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you answer him. “Why?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles, still trying to wrap his brain around this entire conversation.

“Guys my age have proven time and time again why they don’t deserve me,” you tell him with sincerity.

“And I do?” He asks, clearly flattered by the thought.

“Don’t you?” You say quietly.

Just then, you hear the back door of your house open, meaning your dad is finally home. Bummer, just when things were getting interesting. You frown, knowing this is the end of your conversation.

Joel looks panicked like he’s trying to figure out an escape from your bedroom. It’s cute how nervous he is. But you hold your hand up, telling him to calm down.

“Hey, kid! Where are ya?” Your dad yells, voice booming through the house.

You bring a finger to your lips, suggesting Joel be quiet and let you take the lead. He looks annoyed but does as you say, standing completely still. “I’m upstairs!” You call out, getting off your bed. You motion for Joel to follow.

You know your dad will ask if the older man is around. So the best you can do is distract him long enough so Joel can sneak out of your room and out of your house. Should be easy.

“Can you come here, pumpkin?” Your dad asks.

You look at Joel and hold his gaze, smiling wickedly. “Coming, daddy!” You yell in response and see Joel’s eyes darken. You give him a wink before heading downstairs to meet your father, ready to play dumb.

He greets you with a smile and a small hug. “Has Joel come by yet?” He questions.

You shake your head. “Nope, haven’t seen him,” you lie. “But oh! Have you seen my flowers? They’re already blooming!” You say excitedly and drag your father out towards the backyard.

Joel listens and waits for you two to leave before he tiptoes downstairs and heads outside. Once on the porch, he takes a few moments to collect himself before knocking on the front door. Get it together, man, he thinks.

Your father hears the knocks from the other side of the house and heads back in to greet his friend. You follow along innocently, leaving behind your garden. Inside, you stand behind your father as he speaks to Joel.

The other man tries to pay attention to his friend, but it’s nearly impossible when you’re idling there, licking your lips, and fanning yourself due to the heat. He can see your tank top sticking to your sweaty skin and for a second thinks you’d feel so much better if he took it off for you.

Fuck, no. He can’t think like that.

But, shit, it would be so fucking hot. And as you bite down on your bottom lip, he swears he’s going to explode. What he wouldn’t give to be the one biting that lip.

“I’m going back upstairs,” you say in a bored tone, bringing him back to life. “Let me know if you need anything!” You sing out.

Your father bids you goodbye as he ushers Joel into the kitchen. He follows your dad, but can’t stop himself from checking out your ass as you leave. You are trouble.

Luck’s been your friend lately. After a couple more run-ins with Joel, you’re standing here in his weapons class with Violet, watching him intently. You’re not the only girl with eyes for him, and you have to admit that it annoys you. Violet finds it humorous, though.

There are girls your age blatantly flirting with him and he doesn’t push them away. He doesn’t exactly pay attention to it, either. But it’s enough to piss you off. If there were any cute guys in this class, you’d throw yourself at them just to show Joel how it feels. But alas, it’s mostly women.

And those women, the ones his age, you worry about them. You don’t know if, after all this, Joel sees you as some stupid kid. Maybe he doesn’t take you seriously. Maybe you’re just embarrassing yourself by flirting with him. The thought breaks your heart. Some of these women are gorgeous. You wouldn’t blame him for wanting one of them instead of you.

But you’re not going to back down. Yes, you joined this class because your father made you. He said you could learn a lot from Joel and you needed to know the basics of weapons to keep yourself safe. However, you’ve been sticking around just so you can be closer to the man who plagues all of your thoughts.

“Um, Joel?” You speak up, catching his attention immediately. The group of girls surrounding also turn around, disgusted by your interruption. “I need some help,” you say.

He could ignore you and go back to teaching the class. But where’s the fun in that? Instead, he passes instructions over to Jesse and leaves the jealous girls in favor of you. Violet groans and excuses herself, not willing to participate in whatever you have planned. She’s far too shy for this.

“What is it you need?” Joel asks, his voice deep and rough as he stands behind you.

You decide to get a little brave and place your handgun on the workbench in front of you. Sighing, you lean back, feeling Joel tense as you press yourself against him. His hand finds your hip, instinctively holding onto you. “I’m just not sure I’m doing this right,” you frown, cocking your head to the side.

Joel’s warm breath fans across your now exposed neck and it takes everything in his power to not just lean down and kiss your glowing skin. Instead, he squeezes your hip harder and angles his body around you to see what you’re doing. “Don’t know how to handle a gun?” He grunts, and you don’t miss the suggestive undertone in his words.

“I told you,” you laugh innocently. “I’m a virgin, Mr. Miller.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, dropping his hand from your body. He moves to stand next to you, but you already felt his hardness pressing into you. He glares down at you, shooting you a warning. “Behave,” he whispers.

“I’m always on my best behavior,” you tell him, flipping your hair over your shoulder. It’s blatant flirtation, and anyone who looks at you can see it, but you find it hard to care. He’s so close and he smells so good and he’s so warm. God, he’s perfect. “Like remember the other day?” You ask. “In my room?”

“Nothin’ happened in your room,” he snaps, glancing around to make sure no one heard you.

“I know,” you tell him. “Because I was on my best behavior.”

“Listen,” Joel interjects, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you to a more suitable location without prying eyes. “You’ve gotta stop,” he says, but you can hear the hesitancy in his voice. “You’re young. You don’t know what you want.”

Annoyed, you step into him, pressing your chest to his. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t move away. No, he lets you invade his personal space. “I know I want you,” you whisper, trailing your fingertips along his chest. “And I think you want me, too.”

“I can’t,” he says darkly, grabbing you by the wrist. “Do you have any idea what your dad would do to me?” He hisses, searching your eyes for any sign of understanding. Fuck, it would be so easy to just grab you and kiss you right here, pin you to the side of the barn and take you the way you want; the way he wants. But he has to be a better man. He has to.

“But,” you pout, looking up at him. “Do you know what I could do to you?”

Joel groans, dropping his head against yours. You close your eyes and tilt your chin up. His lips are so close to yours. If you just step on your tiptoes, you could kiss him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, brushing his knuckles across your cheek. “You wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Stunned, you stand frozen as Joel kisses your forehead and walks away from you. You’d be offended if that situation didn’t send warmth buzzing through your stomach. He’s teasing you and, as frustrating as it is, you take it as a good sign.

The next night, your father is on watchtower duty with one of the other town leaders. It’s not his favorite job in Jackson, but he only has to do it every so often. So it’s rare you have nights alone. He bid you goodnight before leaving, making sure you had food for the night. He still treats you like his little girl and you’re thankful for that. But it does make it harder for you sometimes. You never want to disappoint him.

You think about Joel and wonder what he’s doing tonight. Ellie’s been spending a lot of time with her friends. Joel’s told you before that she’s rarely home. He misses her, but he’s happy she’s putting herself out there. You would bet tonight she’s probably off with her little group, meaning Joel’s most likely home alone.

The smart thing to do would be to let it go. Just stay home, be the good girl your dad thinks you are. But your brain won’t shut up. Knowing Joel is just within reach and that you could actually be alone with him is the only thing you can focus on. You’ve got it bad.

“Just do it,” you murmur to yourself. “If he turns you away, he turns you away. At least you tried.” Your little pep talk gives you the energy you’re looking for and you decide to leave your house, opening your door to the darkness of the night.

Before you even have the chance to step out onto your porch, you bump into something, or rather, someone. You look up at the figure towering over you, heart skipping a beat at those familiar hazel eyes. “Joel,” you breathe. “What are you doing here?”

He looks ashamed, head down low like he’s afraid to make eye contact as he speaks. “I know your dad is workin’ the tower tonight,” he mumbles. “Thought I’d come check on you.”

The fluttering in your chest increases at his words. And the longer you stare at him, the more flustered you get. You know why he’s here. He’s finally done pushing you away. “That’s very kind of you,” you say softly, biting down on your lip.

He watches your every movement, slowly taking in every part of you from the knee-high socks to the sleep shorts to the baggy shirt that covers your beautiful body. When his gaze reaches your lips, you let out an involuntary sigh. He swallows the lump in his drying throat and steps closer to you, one foot at a time.

Your pink lips are parted in uncertainty, glittering eyes shining up at him intrusively. Under the cloudy porch light, you look like a doll, handcrafted to perfection. And you want him. Why? More importantly, why can’t he accept that? You’re stunning and he’s being his own personal cockblock.

A breath leaves your lips, and you open your mouth to speak, but before any words can come out, Joel’s wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. His warm lips crash against yours, aggressively kissing you, walking you back into your house. All coherent thoughts fly out the window as you kiss him back, savoring the feeling, sliding your arms across his neck, and pushing yourself up on your tippy toes.

He pulls away for only a second to catch a breath before claiming your lips again, trailing his tongue lightly over your bottom lip. It’s such an intense feeling that shoots pleasure down to your core. And with your lips parted, you accept his tongue, finally tasting him.

In all the kisses you’ve had with the many boys of Jackson, you’ve never felt like this. Joel’s mouth molds against yours with passion and his rough beard tickles your sensitive skin. He kisses you deeply, fiercely, like his life depends on it; like you’re a drug and he’s an addict. You’ve never felt so desired.

Even when you see black spots form behind your eyelids at the lack of air you’re getting, you can’t pull away from him. You don’t want to. You want to die just like this, smothered by his kisses.

But he can feel you struggling against him, and he laughs lightly, breaking the kiss so you can gasp for air. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glazed over, and Joel wishes he had a camera so he could capture this image forever. He waits quietly for you to regain your balance, and when you give him a confident smile, he kisses you again.

No words are said as you jump up in his arms, feeling his hands grab your thighs to steady you. He holds you up, shutting the door behind him with his foot. Lips still attached, he carries you up the stairs to your bedroom, a place he’s been dreaming of.

He walks over to your bed, dropping you down before quickly closing your door. He wastes no time sauntering back over to you, crawling over your panting body. His hand reaches up, cupping your face so delicately.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asks and there’s a determination in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“More than anything,” you answer without flinching. You’re confident in knowing what you want. And he finally accepts that.

Joel nods and kisses your lips and up to your ear before whispering the hottest thing you've ever heard. “Darlin’, I’m gonna fuck you so good, it’ll ruin you for other men.”

“Please,” you whine, eyes lidded, body writhing and hot, desperate for his touch.

He props himself up with one hand, the other trailing down the curve of your body, stopping at the hem of your shirt. He looks at you and you nod, giving him the permission he needs. As slow as possible, he pushes the dark green fabric up, gradually revealing your gleaming skin. He shuffles down your body, settling between your legs, kissing the exposed area of your stomach.

You let out such a pretty noise as his wet lips follow where he continues to push up your shirt. You grab the cotton in your hand, holding it just below your breasts as Joel continues his soft grazes over the expanse of your tummy. Exhaling deeply, your body twitches when you feel the brush of his beard against your hand.

“Let it go, baby girl,” he says in a low voice. Your shaking hand drops the hem of your shirt as your mind ignites at the pet name. Bliss takes over as Joel sits up, pulling you with him so he can remove your top completely.

A grunt leaves his lips as he looks you over, lips pressing against yours again as he pushes you back down onto the mattress. You melt into him as he takes over once more, kissing down your neck, gently biting you just enough to give you pleasure, but not too hard to leave a mark. Your hands don’t know what else to do but rest on his shoulder and the back of his neck as he claims you.

“Joel,” you whisper, and the way you say his name, full of lust and need, makes his gut clench. How could he have resisted you for so long? It doesn’t matter now. He has you beneath him and he intends on making you feel amazing.

His rough hands snake up your body as he kisses his way down your chest, tasting your salty skin, licking up the sweat line that’s formed between your pretty tits. Soft gasps pour out of you and it’s the sweetest melody he’s ever heard. He can only imagine how gorgeous you’ll sound when he’s actually fucking you.

“So pretty,” Joel murmurs, pressing wet, opened mouth kisses to your breast while his hand cups the other. “Fuckin’ stunning,” he corrects himself.

Your body arches from the bed, leaning into his every touch. Emotions you have never experienced before present themselves in colors behind your eyelids, reds, and purples of passion, warm oranges, and golds the way Joel makes you feel safe. And sounds you’ve never made come out loudly when his hot mouth encloses around your nipple, sucking tenderly while his calloused fingers pinch the other.

That fervor builds inside of you and excitement takes over. Joel feels you squirm beneath him and smiles at how receptive you are. And he’s only just started.

He pulls his mouth away and looks up at you. “Feel good?” He teases to which you nod. “Good.” He licks his lips and drops his gaze down to your shorts. He wants to take his time with you, make you feel good, and give you the experience you deserve. But the desire pulsing through his veins is eager. “Can I take these off?” He asks, snapping the band of your shorts.

“If you take your shirt off,” you smile, greedily grabbing for his chest.

“I guess that’s only fair,” he chuckles, sitting up slightly to pull the shirt over his head. He tosses it to the floor and leans back over you, your chest flush against his. He kisses your lips sweetly as he traces circles through the fabric of your shorts. “Now can I?”

“Yes,” you breathe, lifting your hips so he can pull your bottoms off. He sits back on his heels, lifting your legs, and kissing your skin as he rolls down your socks, too. His hands soothe over the goosebumps that form on your thighs before settling his body between them.

“Are you okay?” He questions, sliding those hands up to your panties. “We can stop--”

“Please, don’t,” you groan, frustrated and flustered.

Joel laughs and kisses your inner thigh. You tense for a second and then relax, looking down at him. He does it again, this time using his teeth to nip at the sensitive spot he’s discovered. He feels comfortable enough sucking a bruise into your flesh here. No one else will see.

Your hands grip the bed sheets next to you, mind racing, swirling with a million different thoughts, unable to focus on just one. No one’s ever been this close to you. And no one has ever made you feel so weak yet so strong.

“I want to taste you, darlin’,” Joel mumbles into your skin. For a second, you forget how to speak. You never thought you’d hear those words come from Joel. But they sound so good and he sounds desperate, even. “Will you let me, baby girl? Will you let me taste your pretty pussy?”

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, nodding your head furiously. “Yes, Joel,” you groan. “Please.”

“I’ve been dreaming of this moment, princess,” he tells you with a slight blush. His fingers dip into the band of your panties, slowly pulling them down. “Been dreaming of my head between your thighs, my tongue inside you. I used to be jealous of those guys you were with. How silly of me.”

His little confession sends your brain into another dimension. You can’t believe he just said that. Oh, but you were right. He does have feelings for you.

And he’s proving it to you by kissing up your thighs, taking his time to taste and explore every part of you. You whimper at every touch, eager for him to take you, make you his. But he’s moving so slow, you can barely stand it.

“Baby,” he coos, holding your thighs in place to stop you from thrashing around. “Relax,” he grins. “I’m gonna take care of you, I promise.”

“I need it,” you whine, trying to buck your hips up. “Please, Joel. I’ve waited s-so long.”

“And you can wait a little longer,” he teases, pushing himself up slightly. He brings two fingers to your lips, pressing into the soft flesh. “Open,” he orders. “Suck on my fingers.”

You groan and part your lips as Joel demands, sucking the two digits into your mouth. His eyes darken as your tongue rolls over them, getting them nice and wet with your saliva. You’re an enthusiastic one, trying to take them deeper. That cute little mouth of yours begins to drool around his hand.

“Good girl,” he praises as you moan around him. The sounds you make are so adorable and the light suction of your lips feels so sweet. He can admit now that he’s imagined what those lips would feel like wrapped around his cock. Given the way you’re trying to deepthroat his fingers, he knows you’ll be a greedy little cockslut. But that’s for another time. Right now, it’s all about you. “You’re doing so well,” he hums.

He pulls his fingers from your lips and you watch him as he slides them between your legs. You tense up, nerves taking over until Joel kisses you. He’s gentle, pressing a finger to your entrance once your rigid body unwinds.

“Oh!” You gasp as your body curves against the mattress, absorbing the feeling of Joel’s finger. You’ve touched yourself before, but nothing can compare to the caress of another person. And for it to be Joel is on a whole new level. Yes, you’ve pursued him, but you never imagined he’d be here, in your room, slipping his finger in and out of your cunt.

“Sound so sexy, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his finger through your slit, gathering your slick before pushing it back into you. He’s mesmerized by you, by the way your legs spread for him, overwhelmed with the notion that he’s your first. He’s the only man who’s touched you like this.

It’s sick, a little bit, the fact that he enjoys corrupting you. He likes the way your pretty little cunt squeezes around his finger. He likes that when he adds a second one, a heavy moan rips from your throat, a sound he’s sure no one else has heard before. He likes watching as his two fingers pump in and out of your virgin pussy demanding your juices leak out of you.

He loves the way you writhe beneath him, your hands pushing up against your pillows for something to hold on to while he finger fucks you quickly. He loves the way your perfect tits bounce from the force of his motions, knowing that your messy behavior is because he’s making you feel things no man has.

“J-Joel,” you stutter, grinding your hips down against his hand. “I-I need it,” you mewl. “Fuck, I need…”

“Tell me,” he growls, rotating his wrist until his fingers find that tender spot inside of you. The little moan you let out at his discovery is so fucking hot that he doesn’t hesitate to brush over that bundle of nerves over and over. “Tell me what you need, baby girl. And I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you whatever you fuckin’ want.”

“Oh, my god,” you choke, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to enhance every sensation rippling through your body. “I want y-you to…” You trail off as your words fail you. Your eyes roll back as Joel curls his fingers inside your wet cunt. “F-fuck,” you whimper.

He almost feels bad for teasing you, but watching your body fall apart beneath him is so satisfying. “Aw, poor girl,” he shakes his head. “You want me to lick your pussy, is that it? Huh? You want my tongue buried inside you?”

You nod, biting your lip so hard you taste metallic on your tongue. “Yes, yes,” you groan.

He doesn’t say anything, situating himself between your legs until you can feel his hot breath clash against your core. He doesn’t spare another second, bringing your legs over his shoulders and flicking his tongue through your sopping folds. You can’t contain the sounds you make at the feeling of his intrusion.

You can barely look down at him, too aroused that Joel Miller, a known leader in Jackson, a friend of your father, a respected citizen, is eating you out with fervor. His wet tongue feels so heavenly as it laps up your juices you have to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs around his head.

But you’ve never been in this position before. You don’t know how to act as he plunges his tongue inside of you, licking at your dripping core with desperation. The sounds he makes as he buries his face into your cunt are feral and you can’t stop yourself from grinding into him.

He accepts it, moaning as your taste coats his tongue. He wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, and you yelp, shooting your hands to his hair. You grab onto his graying strands, tugging hard as you lose yourself in the feeling. You can tell just how wet you are from the slurping sounds Joel makes mouthing your pussy.

You sigh in ecstasy as his lips wrap around your clit. He sucks lightly, moaning into you and sending vibrations up your spine. It’s such an unfamiliar pleasure, but you feel so lucky that Joel’s treating you right. You knew waiting for him would be worth it.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan. “Feels so good. Don’t stop,” you breathe, and as soon as you say it, he stops.

You whine, propping yourself up on your elbows as Joel tears his face away from you. His beard is damp with your slick and his smile is lazy, he looks drugged up, almost. It’s kind of hot he got so turned on just by eating you out.

“Why’d you stop?” You frown and it’s so adorable, Joel can’t resist crawling back up to your lips. Your breath hitches as he leans in to kiss you, eyes closing when your lips meet. You taste yourself on his lips, and it’s so fucking seductive that you bring your hand to his neck to deepen the kiss.

“You taste good, don’t you?” He smirks, licking his lips. “Mm, I wish we had more time,” he admits. “I’d love to have you ride my face. Suffocate me with these gorgeous thighs. Cum all over my tongue.”

“Fuck, Joel,” you whimper, running your hands over his chest. “Don’t tease me,” you huff.

“Next time,” he grins and slides off the bed gracefully. You watch as he undoes his jeans, sliding them down his legs with his briefs following them.

Your eyes widen at his naked body, impressed at how well he’s kept in shape. Even more, impressed by his size. You lick your lips absentmindedly as a thought pops into your head. But it’s like Joel can read your mind because before you say anything, he’s back on top of you.

“We can save that for next time, too,” he winks.

“You want there to be a next time?” You ask him, suddenly feeling shy.

“Of course,” he says before spitting into his hand and wrapping it around his dick. “You said it already. You know how I feel about you.”

“You like me,” you tease, spreading your legs and welcoming him between them. “So naughty of you, Mr. Miller.”

“Says the girl about to get fucked by her father’s friend,” he points out and your face heats up. “Are you ready for me, darlin’?” He asks for the last time.

You nod desperately. “Fuck me, please.”

“God, that’s hot,” he groans and eases himself into you. You let out a little whimper, and Joel softly kisses your cheek. “Shh, it’s okay, baby, I’ve got you. I’m gonna make you feel so good. Don’t worry.”

“Uh huh,” you whisper, biting your lip to hold back any sounds. He rubs comforting circles into your hips as he slowly pushes half of his cock in and out of you. You feel the pressure, appreciative that he’s going at a pace comfortable for you. You want more, but you’re almost afraid to ask. You don’t want to seem overly excited.

But Joel can hardly focus on anything else but the way your walls flutter around him. You’re so wet, so tight, so hot. Your pussy grips him so deliciously he nearly cums. He knew you’d feel fantastic, but he still wasn’t prepared for just how perfectly you fit him.

“Can I move?” He whispers, hoisting your leg up slightly so he can angle himself better. You nod, muttering out a quiet yeah. And he takes it slow, pushing the rest of the way into you. “Oh, fuck yeah,” he mumbles as you surround him.

“Joel,” you gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Fuck, I--” Words blur together in your head, leaving you speechless and unable to think one single coherent thought. All you can feel is Joel inside of you, stretching you with his thick cock, filling you up in all the ways you desire. “Please, oh god,” you cry out with no idea what you’re pleading for.

“So tight, baby girl,” he moans, picking up the speed of his hips. “God damn, you feel so good. Can’t believe I tried to let you go.” He shakes his head, mentally calling himself an idiot. He could have missed out on this. Missed out the cute faces you make as he pumps into you, the pretty sounds that tumble past your lips. He could have missed out on the feeling of your slutty little cunt squeezing him so tight that he wants to fuck you forever.

“Ungh,” you let out the most pathetic whine, pushing your ass into him, taking him deeper. He feels incredible, so long and hard and hitting that spot that makes your insides burn with need. “Faster,” you pant, digging your nails into his shoulder. “Go faster, ugh, fuck me.”

“Fuck,” Joel grunts, thrusting into you nice and fast, hips hitting yours so hard you can hear the erotic sounds of his skin slapping against yours fill your room. “So fuckin’ hot,” he groans, pulling you against him. “And so needy. This is what you wanted, isn’t it baby? To have a man fuck you senseless, take your virgin pussy all for himself.” He grins a wicked grin and moves his hand to your chest. “Mm, all behind daddy’s back.”

You roll your eyes at the comment and from the pleasure of Joel’s dick splitting you in half. That’s such a touchy subject, but you can’t lie, the fact that it’s practically forbidden makes it so damn alluring. You get off on secrets, obviously.

“Don’t,” you pout, wiggling your hips as a way of asking for more. Joel’s happy to oblige, feeling his release quickly approach. He holds you down by your hips, driving himself into you, claiming you all for himself.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He teases as you scrunch up your nose. “You’re so fuckin’ cute. And you’re takin’ me so well. Doin’ so good for daddy,” he chuckles.

“Fuck, shut up,” you groan, slapping his chest. “Don’t say that!”

“Say what?” He whispers, rolling his hips into yours. “Daddy?”

“Joel, I swear,” you breathe out in frustration.

“I think it’s kinda hot,” he says. “You’re mine now, you know that, right? My baby, my little fuck doll. It’s only fitting that I be your daddy.”

“I, fuck,” you whimper, hating how hot it sounds when he says that. Oh, this is so wrong.

“Come on, princess,” he moans low and dirty. “I know you wanna say it.”

You shake your head, feeling weak as your orgasm nears. You’re gonna cum. You’re gonna cum so hard all over Joel’s cock you can’t fucking believe it.

“Please?” He purrs, moving his hand down your body until his fingers find your swollen clit. “I’ll make you cum nice and hard if you say it. I know you want to, baby. It’s okay.”

His fingers slowly roll over your clit and that coupled with Joel’s cock stretching you and his heavy breathing in your ear makes you want to give in to his every desire. Your tummy tightens as that familiar feeling intensifies. Fuck, fuck. “Oh, god, daddy,” you moan in encouragement.

“Oof,” Joel smirks, rubbing your clit faster. “That’s my good girl. So fuckin’ sexy,” he tells you. “Now, say it louder.”

“Daddy, please!” You cry and that’s all it takes for you to cum, fucked happy for the first time by the man you really like. Joel works you through your climax, licking his lips as he feels you squirt all over his cock. Your warm juices cover him, and shit, it’s so sexy to watch you fall apart beneath him. And a sense of pride washes over him knowing he’s the first man to make you cum.

That thought is what tips him over the edge. He looks into your hazy eyes and lets go, releasing his load, filling your pussy with his hot cum. He shivers as he shoots into you, clenching his jaw to hold down his sounds. He swears he’s never cum that hard in his life.

For a moment, he just stares at you in your post-orgasm glow. Sweat makes your hair stick to your face, you wear such a weak smile, and your eyes are so droopy. You’re beautiful. You’re satiated. He made that happen.

“Wow,” he breathes and holds himself steady as he pulls out of you, wincing at the sensitivity. “That was…wow.”

“No regrets?” You ask with worry.

“None,” he answers quickly. “You?”

“Nope,” You giggle.

You happily roll over on top of Joel, dancing your fingers over his beard. He smiles and it’s so beautiful it makes you all warm inside. You lean in to kiss him, soft and slow this time. For now, you’re content. You never want him to leave.

Unfortunately, your luck can’t last forever. In your state of happiness, you don’t think that your father might be home soon. So when you suddenly hear his voice calling for you, your stomach sinks and you look at Joel in panic.

“Pumpkin, I’m home!” Your father shouts, announcing his return.

Joel hops out of your bed, tripping over the messed-up sheets to hurry and put his clothes on. You look around your room for something to slip into, grabbing your panties from the floor and then tearing through your blankets to find your nightshirt.

Just as you pull it over your head, your bedroom door opens and the smile falls from your father’s face. He stares in horror as Joel buttons his jeans, standing shirtless next to your bed that’s obviously been used. Red flashes before him as he looks at you, your messy hair and lack of pants. It all sinks in. And he loses control.

“Motherfucker,” he grumbles and lunges at Joel, grabbing the other man by the throat and knocking him to his knees. “I'll fucking kill you!” Your father screams, choking Joel with such force you can hear him gagging.

“Daddy, stop it!” You yell as tears well in your eyes. “Please!”

“You shut up!” Your father hisses, glaring daggers at you. God, what have you done? How could you do this to him? How could you do this to yourself? He’s so disappointed in you.

“Don’t hurt him,” you whimper, running over to try and pry your father’s hands off of Joel’s neck. He’s far too strong, you fear he might actually kill Joel right here in your room. “Stop, please!” You cry, pulling at his arm.

“Fucking pervert,” your dad spits and you watch with horror as Joel’s eyes flutter closed all while your father shouts. “You’re going to fucking pay for this.”

Masterlist

Joel Miller Taglist: @swtaura - @chxpsi - @extraneous-trip - @cerebellam - @tiredbeebo - @kirsteng42 - @trickstersp8 - @detectivebarba

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction

871 notes · View notes

frankcastlescumslut · 8 months

Text

Ch. 2: Hard Times

pairing: frank castle x f!reader / platonic!amy bendix x f!reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: angst, language, hurt/comfort, implied loss of a sister (no details), descriptions of wounds, established relationship yet somehow it’s a slow burn

summary: He somehow reached across space and time to tell you the words you wished you had heard that night: you didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is on you. Frank had become a god, transcending the laws of physics to piece you together with sutures and sympathies.

A/N: I wrote this chapter based off of this song. loosely. sorry this isn’t the happiest of endings, I’m leaving it open ended in case I get the momentum to keep going (there is a potential plot).

[previous chapter]

I love your feedbacks and comments so much, thank you. reblogs help a lot as well <3

The stars looked like pin pricks against a dark sheet, so bright you had to squint to make sense of your surroundings, but there was nothing to make sense of. Just black asphalt laid out like a red carpet.

Your body ached and groaned as you stretched ever so slightly, and Frank pretended not to notice the way you winced when you pulled your shirt from your dried wound.

He cleared his throat, trying to distract you. “Mornin’.”

“Mornin’,” you yawned, checking the dashboard.

1:42am.

The last time you stopped was somewhere in Ohio at a run down 7-Eleven. Amy threatened to jump out of the van if she didn’t get a slurpee, but you couldn’t really blame her, it did sound good, so Frank was outnumbered like he usually was.

That was hours ago, though, and you found Amy curled against the duffle bags with a ring of blue food dye around her lips.

“How far are we?” You prodded.

“Few hours.”

“Oh.”

Frank was a man of few words when he first met you. It took him three days just to ask you for an extra blanket when he met you at that motel in Nebraska, though he chalked it up to his unnatural ability for needing something. Didn’t wanna bother you.

You were patient with him, never pressing him about the occasional bruise or poorly hidden glances, instead choosing to talk about how vending machine chips are basically just bags full of air and how mattress stores are money laundering operations—he laughed at that, fully and with his chest, and it was game over for you both.

Yet somehow you were sitting within a foot of each other and felt like strangers.

“Do you want me to drive?” You offered, daring to look at him. He looked worn, his eyes drooping with sleep.

“No,” he answered too quickly. “I’m okay.”

“Maybe we should stop somewhere?”

He was silent, unwilling to admit defeat. Stoic. Stubborn. A pain in the ass that kept you awake with a fevering bullet shaped gash in your side.

You would make yourself power through the pain if it meant he would be normal again—if he would even look at you for more than a second and without what you perceived as disdain. You would pretend that each day you had Amy didn’t feel like salt being shoved into your sister-sized wound. You would lie through your teeth and tell him that you were capable of keeping up, that this life was enough for you. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.

“We’ll stop at the next motel.” He looked over at you, his eyes trailing towards the rust colored stain on your shirt. Your cheeks burned underneath his gaze, and all you could do was nod in reply and watch the constellations blur.

“Wake up.” A breathy voice tickled your ear, causing you to jolt upright in your seat.

“Damn it!” You cursed before placing a palm against your sternum, ignoring the way the seatbelt burned against your exposed neck.

Amy was pleased by your reaction, carelessly falling back into her designated makeshift seat of a jacket tucked against the back of your chair. Frank didn’t crack a smile.

“Knock it off,” he warned, his eyes quickly darting towards the backseat.

“Oh come on,” Amy whined. “It was funny.”

“I actually disagree,” you chimed in, your heartbeat still racing.

“You’re no fun.” She pouted, slouching against the hard interior.

Frank would disagree, though. You were fun. Charismatic. Lighthearted.

He missed that version; the one where you existed alongside of him with ease, the one where you convinced him that joy existed and was accessible to people like him, to people like the both of you.

It felt foreign to him, the easiness of it all, but he gave up rejecting his need for self denial when he met you. Because you were fun.

“We’re stopping soon,” he cleared his throat and those distant memories of you, and you nodded with a “k.”

“I have to pee,” Amy broke her secret vow of silence, probably just to hear herself speak.

“Hold it,” you and Frank spoke in unison, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

You often wondered what he was like as a dad. If he was the silent and stern parent, always fussing with light fixtures and the underside of a truck. Maybe the kind that cared a lot about grades but even more about after school sports or school projects. Really, you think, he’s the kind of parent that just enjoys his children’s joy, never getting in the way of what was causing it— a winning soccer match, a new video game, a carousel. It didn’t matter anymore, anyways, and you were too scared to ask him about it.

So you didn’t, and you don’t. You never do, because you’re not really sure what you would say if he ever asked about your sister. Some things are better to be speculatory, you decided, until Amy came along.

She acted like a secret maneuver that would draw back the curtain on what Frank Castle was like as a father, and you seldom looked away.

“Sheesh,” she muttered, and you hid a smirk behind the palm of your hand.

It was silent for the next few miles, save the occasional clanging of weapons every time the van fell victim to a pothole. It was silent even as Frank drove past the first motel. Then the second one… and the third.

Amy eventually caught on, sitting on her knees and looking out the window like a dog with its ears flapping in the wind.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Frank was quiet, eyes still straight ahead, even as he pulled into the parking lot of a neon green Holiday Inn.

“A hotel!” Amy squealed, throwing herself in Frank’s general direction, ignorant to the way the car swerved due to her affections.

He watched you from above Amy’s head, thankful she was blocking the smirk on his face as your brows furrowed in his direction, silently asking are you sure?

He was sure. He had made up his mind hundreds of miles ago when he first saw the blood soaked cotton of your shirt, but he wouldn’t dare to tell you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Amy let out a sigh of relief, loud enough that it was dramatic even for her.

Frank was silent as he dug around in a back pocket before handing you a thick wad of cash. You failed to meet his eye as you accepted the offering, opting to nod with a tight lipped smile as a thank you.

“Get the biggest bed you can get!” Amy called out to you before the door swung shut in her face.

She pulled herself into the passenger seat and sat back with a huff and a genuine smile on her face. Finally, she thought.

Frank’s eyes were trained on the entrance of the hotel. He watched you pull your jacket across your body, attempting to hide your ghastly appearance, as you leaned against the counter. The woman at the front seemed reasonable, he assumed. You both smiled at one another, so things must be okay.

“Frank,” Amy attempted to disrupt his attention

“Not now.”

She watched the way he studied you, almost disgusted by the way he withheld his care and affection from you.

“Frank,” she tried again.

“What?” He snapped, finally meeting her gaze.

“You really need to fix whatever this,” she pointed a finger from his chest to the hotel lobby, “is. It’s a little ridiculous.��

“There’s nothing to fix.” He straightened ever so slightly.

“Bullshit.”

He was thankful she dropped the conversation when she did. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to admit there was a palpable tension, he just didn’t know how to fix it. He thought the hotel would be evident enough that he was sorry, but you pulled the door open a little too roughly for that to be the case.

“Here,” you handed him a rectangular card.

“Two keys?” Amy asked.

“That’s for your room. I got my own.”

“What?!” She scoffed and Frank clenched his jaw. “Are you serious?”

“I’m right next door.” You began to unload the van, carefully slinging a heavy bag around your good side. You tried your best to hide your inconspicuous smile, but it was harder the more you thought about the king sized bed assigned to you.

Amy and Frank trodden heavily behind you as you made your way through the empty lobby and towards the elevators, not without waving towards the kind faced woman at the front desk.

“You’re actually leaving me alone with him?“

“You'll be fine, Amy.” You rested your head against the back of the elevator wall, closing your eyes in surrender as the metal doors slid together.

“That’s not fair,” she whined; you half expected her to start stomping her feet.

“Life ain’t fair,” Frank finished the argument as the elevator came to a bumpy halt. You barely opened your eyes to glance at him, surprised at the way he nods, as if giving you permission to be alone.

You aren’t sure why you became shy and why your cheeks warmed. Maybe it was the way his eyes had softened ever so slightly, or maybe it was the gratification of him acknowledging you made a sound decision for once—that you were capable, even after your extreme fuck up just hours earlier. Either way, the softness lingered as you found your rooms.

The cool air hit Frank’s face as a pleasant surprise, though the cleanliness, the luxury, felt burdensome.

“You have to apologize.” Amy claimed her bed, minding the way her sneakers dirtied the white sheets.

“Yeah?” He huffed, remembering he should be offended by your lack of appreciation for the new scenery. “For what exactly?”

“You’re being a dick!” She exclaimed, slapping her hands against her crossed legs. “I’m serious, Frank. It’s my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” he sighed.

“Okay, great, then stop blaming her for it.”

“I’m not.”

“Sure.”

The hum of the air conditioning filled the room as Frank stood awkwardly, thrumming his fingers along his thigh while Amy pretended not to notice.

“‘I shouldn’t have left you alone, okay?” He leaned against an empty dresser, still unwilling to find comfort in the queen-sized mattress.

“She did what you couldn’t do,” Amy mumbled and he grit his jaw in response. “I was the one that called for pizza, okay? I wasn’t thinking. It was on me and I’m still alive, so go say you’re sorry.”

Being still was a foreign concept for Frank. He was constantly moving, hard wired for productivity and precision, scoffing at the mere idea of rest. His neurons exploded even in his sleep, unable to ignore the zap zap zap that kept him moving, kept him alert, kept him alive. It kept you alive.

He ran through the numerous possibilities and outcomes of apologizing to you in his overtired head, filtering through his own remorse and your indignation.

Fuck it, he decided, ending his marathon around the room.

“Don't call anyone. Don’t move from this bed. Don’t answer the phone and don’t answer the goddamn door,” he placed his hands on his hips, emphasizing his seriousness. “Understand?”

“Roger that.” Amy saluted him as he neared the door, unable to hide her smile. “Use protection!”

Just as his hand reached the handle, he paused. “What did you just say?” She audibly laughed at the mixture of disgust and genuine shock plastered against his face.

“Go kiss and make up!” She shooed him away, and she swore she saw him smile before he disappeared.

The bathroom mirror shook in a steady succession following the slams of heavy doors. It was constant, and you almost considered complaining before remembering that this was a luxury compared to your previous hideaways.

It wasn’t always so bad, though. Before Amy, it was exciting— like a cheap thrill that you hadn’t felt since you were 16, sneaking out of a bedroom window and choking down a stale cloud of smoke. There was a monumental lack of pessimism between you and Frank; he brought life back into you, and for once you didn’t feel guilty for living.

So you accepted the cheap motels and fried foods, never minding the greasy-lipped kisses. You welcomed the sun beaming on your bare feet when they laid across the dash as you drove nowhere. You loved the way your stomach felt full as you drank a beer, pretending you weren’t hiccuping while Frank sunk an 8 ball in a top right pocket. You loved the nights spent in a dirty dive bar where you didn’t have to think about who the fuck you were for at least a few hours. You loved it, and then he told you to run before bullets started flying.

The knock on the door was so faint you almost missed it over the sound of your cursing.

It was him—you knew it was him. He had an aura so thick it bled through walls.

“Y’gonna open the door?”

No.

Maybe.

The door opened with a metallic click, though you didn’t care to hold it open. He shoved himself inside, feeling like an intruder.

You studied your irritated wound in the mirror, continuing your attempts at cleaning and suturing it. The sting of the alcohol wipes hardly compared to the pair of eyes transfixed on the evidence of your failures.

“You okay?” What a stupid question.

“Fine.” What a stupid question.

Fine. It wasn’t a complete lie, though you avoided meeting his gaze at all costs. He could see right through you, hell, he could feel the resentment radiating off of you.

You didn’t have to distract yourself from the emotional distance; your attention was spent on unwrapping the much too small steri strip from its packaging to notice the way he awkwardly balanced his weight.

“Shit,” you cursed as the first suture folded over on itself.

“Do you need—“

“I got it.”

You really tried, but it was impossible to see the wound over the mound of your breast, and you could hardly twist your waist enough to get a decent angle. You decided to go in blind, completely embarrassed but unwilling to admit defeat.

The sticky strip landed incorrectly, directly atop of the ragged flesh, and you yelped as it adjusted.

“Let me get that,” he didn’t wait for your protest before inviting himself into the small bathroom.

“It’s fine, I got it,” your fingers shook as you attempted to pry the suture from your skin, salty tears splashing towards the floor.

You dropped your hand against your hip and audibly exhaled as he assessed the wound. He was hardly offended that you refused to look at him. Truth be told, he could hardly look at you without having his whole chest be filled with the weight of his own shortcomings.

He hated when you cried, especially at his own doing. You could blame it on that searing pain of torn flesh instead of the heavy burden of disappointing him, so you did. You pretended that the only pain you felt was the physical kind as you stood in front of him, half naked and bleeding, as he sat on the lip of the bathtub.

In any other situation you would have taken advantage of this position, cupping the back of his neck before sliding between his legs, waiting for him to pull you into his lap. But it’s different now, and you almost flinch as his calloused fingertips carefully brush your skin.

“You ready?” He asked, waiting for your permission before hurting you all over again.

You nod while stare at the ceiling, counting the porous tiles, bracing yourself for what is to come.

He tried to get the stitches and bandages ready as quickly as possible, prepping them on his knee as he gave the countdown. “One, two, three...”

“God damnit!”

The world became nothing but splotchy stars and radio static as your flesh ripped apart all over again, and you bit down on your knuckle, focusing on that dull ache that took your attention away from the way Frank was piecing you together again.

“I’m sorry.” He sounded muffled, his silhouette splotchy, but he held you together with nothing but cheap butterfly sutures and a half assed apology.

“I know,” was all you could muster out, breathing in that last bite of fight you had in you.

“Y’gonna stop poutin’ then?”

You jerked away from him, your nostrils flaring as you looked over his bent frame before turning on your heel, leaving him in that makeshift emergency room.

He almost regretted saying it, almost, but there was nothing worse for a man than putting himself out there and being disregarded, so he sat there, counting the bloody wash cloths and discarded bandages until he felt that familiar sense of carnal responsibility.

You were changing when he finally came about, his imaginary tail tucked between his legs. It felt wrong to look at you, to see the way your bare back curved and folded before disappearing beneath an oversized shirt—his oversized shirt.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you before, with your body on full display as he appreciated every inch with a soft brush of his lips. He had seen you, tasted you, held you, but this time it was different.

“Look,” he cleared his throat to signal his presence. “I’m sorry.”

“You done?” You ignored him as you pulled the starchy sheets back, but he wrapped a hand around your wrist, forcing you to look at him.

“Hey,” his eyes softened and voice dropped. “I mean it.”

There was an invisible argument happening as you both held onto the white sheet. You knew. He knew. Someone had to give in. Someone had to break first. Someone had to bare their soul and damnit were you tired of pretending.

“Well it don’t feel like it.” You gave in, and for a minute, you sounded as tired as you felt.

He ran a hand over his face with a sigh and you took the opportunity to sit on the first clean mattress you’d seen in months before bracing yourself against the sturdy headboard.

“Sometimes,” his hand twitched at his side as he contemplated his next sentence, “I look at her and all I see is my Lisa.” Your eyes shot towards his face at the mention of his daughter, and it was hard to ignore the painful knot in your stomach. “It’s like I’m losing her all over again and I—“

“Frank,” you leaned towards him, and the mattress sunk next to your feet.

“I just can’t do it again, y’know?” He looked at you, tears brimming on the waterline but never daring to spill. “I can’t do it again.”

“You won’t. You won’t do it again.”

You said it as if you were a god, fully capable of aligning the stars and galaxies and writing history. You said it as if you were able to predict the future—a future where Amy was safe in an undisclosed location and you and Frank were, well, somewhere.

He huffed at that, and rightfully so, though you tried to convince him anyways.

“I’m sorry,” you attempted to shift the blame, “I didn’t know that she ordered food, I should have paid attention. I should have known better, I should have—”

“Hey, hey, hey” he placed a hand on your leg. “Quit it.”

“I’m sorry, Frank. I didn’t mean to mess up.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry, I tried,” you could feel the uncomfortable knot lodged in your throat but you couldn’t push it down. “I swear I tried.”

It was embarrassing the way the hot tears left patterns against your white cotton shirt as they fell. You weren’t really sure why you were crying or who you were crying for. Amy was still alive and tucked into a bed just behind another door, but your sister was somewhere else entirely.

“It’s not your fault,” Frank attempted to intervene, gently scooping you into his side. You let him, though not without feeling so incredibly selfish. He rubbed your arm, in a steady motion, squeezing lightly for his own emotional support. “I’m sorry for taking it out on you. I shouldn’t have left you guys alone. You shouldn’t have had to clean up my mess, okay?”

You nod into his chest, wishing his words didn’t feel like a cheaply made sympathy card.

“None of this is on you, you understand? You didn’t do anything wrong.” He placed a kiss against your temple, and you folded into him even more.

He somehow reached across space and time to tell you the words you wished you had heard that night: you didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is on you. Frank had become a god, transcending the laws of physics to piece you together with sutures and sympathies.

It was quiet for a while save for the muffled lull of the obnoxiously cold air conditioning. You missed this—the feeling that life could go on, that you were enough for him, that the silence didn’t signal an impending doom.

“Stay,” you whispered.

“Hm?”

It was silent as you considered your next move—play dumb or give in, going belly up for a few more minutes of playing pretend.

“Can you stay?”

It was silent for another minute, but his breathing shifted and you held your breath.

“Sweetheart,”

“I know. I know she’s next door,” you tried to make his decision easier. “Can you just stay until I fall asleep?”

“Sure.”

It was less than convincing, but he kissed your neck before sliding himself down the mattress and pulling your body into his stomach.

You curled into yourself, hugging a pillow against your face before deciding it was too soft. This, you and Frank, felt too soft after a week of sleeping in different beds and communicating through glances and strategies to stay alive—to keep Amy alive. It was different. Too soft and still not enough.

He felt the emotional shift as your body tensed, snaking an arm beneath the crook of your neck before reaching for your empty hand. You followed directions without a second thought, intertwining fingers and limbs with a relaxed sigh before your world went dark.

He stayed, like he said he would, watching the numbers on the clock face ascend.

It was unfair to you, he thought, that he was splitting his attention between you and a young girl he barely knew. It was unfair that he had to uncurl himself from your body and walk next door to a bed that would be too cold, too empty, too soft and pretend that he didn’t just abandon you. It was unfair that he brought you along to something he wasn’t sure how to finish.

The bed dipped as he forced himself away from your warmth. He held his breath, silently praying you wouldn’t notice his absence. You looked calm for the first time in a long time, since before you both became honorary foster parents and ran from men that looked like they were on a pilgrimage. You looked so calm, and he tucked his invisible tail between his legs again while pressing a kiss to your shoulder, letting out a final sigh of resignation before disappearing behind a closed door.

You were too tired to move. Too tired to leave that spot that still smelled like him if you closed your eyes and inhaled. You knew he was leaving, only pretending as a courtesy to his feelings, though you couldn’t help but wish the metallic click of the door was a gun aimed directly at your chest.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle hurt/comfort #frank castle angst #frank castle slow burn #frank castle series #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher x female reader #the punisher angst #the punisher hurt/comfort

115 notes · View notes