#THE WAY I WOULD TAKE A BULLET TO AVOID THE TAGS

[forzalvr]

never thought I'd see a lando edit of him getting hit in the face 😭 [not mine!!]

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself. 

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac. 

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services. 

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself. 

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface. 

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation. 

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true) 

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier. 

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work. 

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful. 

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me? 

Yes, he can hear you. 

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep. 

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail. 

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train. 

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think. 

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room. 

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway. 

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively. 

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in. 

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him? 

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse. 

— Where do you want me to start, sir? 

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry. 

— The living room. If it’s not too much. 

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker. 

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless. 

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch? 

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it. 

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes. 

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit. 

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left. 

— Alright. Anything else? 

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway. 

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself. 

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you. 

And he only knew you for an hour tops. 

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours? 

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits. 

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service. 

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember. 

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body. 

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died. 

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad. 

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be. 

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face. 

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself. 

— What is it, liebling? 

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss. 

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him. 

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow. 

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already. 

He might not even let you go after. 

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment. 

— Alright. I will do it right away then. 

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless. 

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside. 

— I will divide everything into categories, alright? 

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces. 

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is. 

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely. 

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate. 

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. 

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in. 

[hier--soir]

bite the bullet

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: two idiots finally bite the bullet and admit how they feel. warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] fwb!joel, age gap [20 years], angst, miscommunication, a meddling Tommy Miller, soft sleepy sex, oral [f], unprotected piv, masturbation [f], rimming, sixty-nine, both of them are assholes for a minute, resolved emotional tension. word count: 9.4k [i got carried away sorry!] series masterlist | masterlist this is part four of my fwb!joel series. you can find the other parts here: one, two, three.

Everything was wet.

Your feet squelched against the ground as you moved, little flicks of water splashing up against your shins with every step. Inside waterlogged shoes your socks clung uncomfortably to your skin.

Tommy was crouched underneath your sink, inspecting the u-bend of the pipe there, his lower half damp from the water that covered the floor of your kitchen.

“It’s definitely comin’ from in here,” his muffled voice came, and you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face in exasperation. “I can stop it, but it’s gonna take some time for the place to dry out. I’d say you’d better clear out for a few days, leave a few windows open.”

You’d had a nice day. A lovely day, even. And you’d been looking forward to curling up with a whiskey and a good book before bed. But upon returning home from the greenhouse, you’d been horrified to find the entrance of your home covered in a thin layer of water. Splashing down the hall, you’d discovered that the entire place was wet; a shiny film of liquid coating anything that touched the ground. The wooden floorboards were soaked to the bone with cold water. A fucking flood. Thankfully Tommy was right, and you trusted that the August humidity would naturally dry it out with enough time.

“I can’t just stay here? I didn’t think it was too bad,” you lied. “Could lay down some towels.”

Tommy laughed under the sink. “You know you’ll get sick if you’re sleeping around all this water – towels or no towels.”

“Okay,” you acquiesced, gazing at the floor glumly. “Okay, yeah, I suppose I’ll uh… I’ll get some stuff together.”

“Joel would take you,” his said, and you snapped back to reality, staring at his back while he worked. You could practically hear the grin in his voice. When you didn’t respond, his head reappeared, and he looked at you curiously, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. “You and Joel are pals, right? Pals help each other out.”

Pals, you thought cynically. That’s one word for it.

Two weeks had slowly passed since the Peterson incident, and you’d only seen Tommy’s older brother a handful of times. There was still a tense energy between the two of you, so you’d been keeping your distance a little, allowing things to cool off. Bumping into each other here and there, dinner on the same table at the hall… but no alone time. No real time that would leave you two open to actually talking about it. That didn’t mean it didn’t play on your mind, though. Oh boy did it. In fact, most days you’d catch yourself gazing into a pot plant, thinking about that night. The way he’d taken you, made you tell him the details about Peterson, the way he’d showed you he fucking owned you. You couldn’t wrap your head around the way it had made you feel, and so you avoided it, even though your chest ached with the Joel-sized hole his absence had left in it. At least you weren’t so stubborn that you couldn’t admit to yourself how much you missed him.   

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Tommy gave a polite shrug, smirking at you. Testing you. A huff escaped your lips, and you broke eye contact, stretching out your shoulder. “Yeah, alright, I’ll ask him,” you agreed begrudgingly, brain whirring trying to come up with excuses. “It’s late though, and he might not want me there.”

“It’s not that late, but sure,” he chuckled knowingly, going back to work on the pipe. “When hell freezes over and Joel says no to you, you let me know.”  

An hour later, you were on your best friend’s porch, a bag slung over your arm, hesitating with your knuckle raised in the air. Taking a deep breath and running through what you were going to say, you finally willed yourself to rap your fist twice against the wood.

After a moment, the door swung open to reveal Joel, in a soft wrinkled t-shirt.

An easy, involuntary smile spread across your face upon seeing him. His beard was a little longer than he usually kept it, greys sparkling through the dark hair that framed his mouth so handsomely. He had clearly been settling down for the night, and he looked oh so cosy dressed in his sleep clothes.

“Hey man,” you offered up a sheepish smile.

He looked appropriately surprised to see you, considering you certainly hadn’t been knocking on his door at any point in the past fortnight. One of his eyebrows hitched upward, and he eyed the bag over your shoulder warily. “You skippin’ town or something? Who’d you piss off this time?”

You rolled your eyes and readjusted the duffel. “You gonna let me inside? This thing’s kind of heavy.”

He stepped back into the entryway with a grunt, allowing you to breeze past him and dump the bag onto the ground with a low thud. “Pipe under my sink is busted. Flooded the whole place today – Tommy said I should clear out for a day or two.”

He hummed, narrowed eyes raking over your face. “Oh yeah? So where you gonna go?” he teased, and relief rushed through your veins like warm water as you recognised the smirk threatening to take over his face.  

You gave him a small laugh and sighed, holding your arms out in mock surrender. “Come on, Miller,” you said. “Let me crash here – I’ll owe you one.”

“Owe me one, huh?” his eyes shone with mischief. “Well I like the sound of that.” An odd, twisting sensation rippled through your stomach and you sucked your lips into your mouth, nodding slowly.

“Sure,” you retorted. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.” When the words left your lips you both stilled, staring at each other warily.

He hummed, eyes darkening a fraction. “You’re playin’ with fire,” is all he said, before bending down to pick the bag up off the ground and ushering you towards the stairs.

You wondered off ahead of him, and when you reached the landing you veered right, pushing open the door to the spare room. He didn’t follow you in immediately, instead pausing in the doorway with a frown plastered across his face. You hadn’t thought about where you’d be sleeping until the second you reached the top of the stairs, but you knew this was the right decision. Sharing a bed with Joel for a few days? Probably not a good idea. Unless of course, that was going to be how you repaid your debt…Thankfully, or unfortunately, he didn’t push it, dropping the bag gently in the corner of the room.

“Hope Ellie won’t be bothered I’m here for a few days,” you thought aloud. The tone noticeably shifted, and you almost at how Joel seemed to deflate.  

He leant an arm against the doorframe and sighed. “She ain’t spendin’ much time in the house these days,” he admitted quietly. “Stays in the bungalow or goes out. I doubt you’ll even see her.”

You hesitated for a second before asking, “Have you two spoken much lately?”

He scratched his chin for a moment. “You know the kid,” he shrugged. “She’s stubborn. M’tryin’ not to push it.” 

“It’ll be okay, Joel,” you offered softly. “She’ll come around.”

He assessed you silently, eyes flitting down your body before resting on your face once again, and then he stepped back into the hall. Coughing awkwardly, he raised a hand in a sort of farewell, and said, “Well, uh, you know where everything is. I’m gonna… I was gonna head to bed, I guess.”

“Okay,” you nodded, watching as he turned to head toward his room.

“Hey, Joel, wait,” you called, and he turned, eyes glimmering with something you couldn’t quite place. I miss you, you wanted to say. I miss you, and I’m sorry things are off between us, and I wish we could forget it all and go back to normal, and I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. “Thank you,” you said instead, voice soft. “I really appreciate this.”

The look in his eyes dimmed a little but he offered up a smile. He nodded once, said, “Glad to have you here,” and then closed his bedroom door, and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

After showering and unpacking the few things you brought along, you curled up in the foreign bed. The mattress was soft enough though, and the sheets smelled like the soap Joel used. Your body ached from a long day of work, muscles tense and wired from hauling heavy pots around under the sun. Soon enough, you began to relax enough to drift off to sleep. Only a few hours into the night though, your dreams were interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps padding across the landing. A beam of soft yellow light was shone into the room, painting the inside of your eyelids orange. Cracking an eye open, you saw that the door was ajar, and a tall figure was peering in.

“Joel?” you asked groggily, dragging a knuckle over your eyes.

“Yeah, it’s just me,” his deep voice came, but he made no move to enter the room. “Sorry to wake you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Can’t sleep,” he said softly, and your heart clenched.

Pulling the blankets open on the empty side of the bed, you didn’t even think before you said, “Get in.”

Your head fell heavily into the pillows, and sleep tried to pull you back under as you listened to Joel shuffle across the room and slide into the bed beside you. For a moment, he just laid there, a sizeable gap between you on the mattress. And then his warm, firm body was pressing up against your back, his large palm sliding over your hip to rest on your stomach and guide you back against his chest. His scent overwhelmed you, hints of mint and soap and pine tickling your nose, and fuck you had missed him. it was so familiar, and yet your body tingled as if it was the first time he’d ever laid a hand on you. Through the haze that settled over your sleep addled brain, you could feel him, stiff against your thigh.

“Jesus,” you teased drowsily, throwing caution to the wind by rubbing yourself back against him. “Were you having a dream about me or something?”

His nose traced a long down the back of your neck and you fought off a shiver. “Always dream about you.” If you weren’t so tired, that probably would’ve garnered a bigger reaction from you. But as it were, you just brought a hand down to rest over his on your stomach and gripped his fingers softly. “Was thinkin’ bout you being so close, yet still so far. Just down the hall, sleepin’ in my sheets…”

You hummed, warmth flooding your abdomen as he nudged his hips forward, rutting himself against you. His hand drifted out from under yours to slide up underneath your shirt, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just below your breast.

“Joel,” you murmured, eyelids heavy.

He hummed eagerly, planting a soft kiss underneath your ear.

“I‘m so tired,” you said regretfully. “It’s been a long day – can hardly keep m’eyes open.”

“Let me help you fall asleep,” is all he said, hand now freely roaming over your chest. His thumb lightly brushed the firm peak of your nipple and your whole body shuddered. “Just relax.”

You were vaguely aware of him pulling the covers off you and moving down the bed, dragging soft kisses down your stomach, before dragging your underwear down your legs. Slumping into the soft bed, you allowed your eyes to flutter closed.

Gentle, reverent kisses were pressed over your hip bones as he settled between your legs, pulling one of your thighs up to rest over his shoulder. His long fingers rubbed over the muscles in your leg, pressing down gently when he found knots, pulling deep sighs of contentment out of you.  

“That feels nice,” you whispered into the darkness, and you could’ve sworn you felt him grin against your hip.

When his nose dragged through the dark hair on your mound you twitched slightly, body waking up a little at the sensation. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and you relaxed again, humming lowly as his pressed a kiss against the inner most point of your thigh.

It felt like hours passed with him between your legs. At first you allowed yourself to slip in and out of near sleep, eyes closed as lax puffs of air escaped your mouth while his tongue dipped gently between your folds, giving you soft lazy strokes that warmed your insides. When the first bit of slick began to seep out of you, he groaned gratefully, licking and sucking at your entrance, exulting in your taste.  

It felt like you were dreaming. Laying pliant on the bed, you were fully at his mercy, allowing him to move your legs anyway he wanted to give himself better access. You could vaguely hear him murmuring against your skin, but couldn’t make out the words over your own sighs, smiling sleepily as his tongue lapped against you. He worked slowly, and you realised that it was as much for his enjoyment as it was for your own. You knew by that point how much Joel enjoyed going down on you. He had told you as much on multiple occasions; how he’d love to spend hours with his face trapped between your thighs. But he’d never had the chance, or the patience, to really do it.

The sounds of his enjoyment vibrated against your core, echoing through the room around you. The way he fucking moaned into your cunt never failed to drive you crazy, but in that moment you just smiled at the sound, enjoying how peaceful it was, how sweet.

Every now and then you’d lazily blink your eyes open and look down, expecting that at any moment he’d pull away, be over it. But he never did. Every time you looked his eyes were closed, hands gripping your thighs softly, thumbs stroking rhythmically against your skin as content breaths rushed out of his nose, and you’d close your eyes again, the dark image of him scorched into the inside of your eyelids, never to be forgotten.

You started to feel more awake when he finally gave his undivided attention to the achingly sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your core. Moving painfully slow, he glided his firm tongue across your clit, switching it up between swiping back and forth across it and then circling it.

“Oh,” you murmured lowly, voice hoarse from lack of use, but you couldn’t help the soft exclamation as your hips shifted upwards, suddenly searching for more. He didn’t change a thing, pace never increasing or slowing down, and it was perfect.

Your orgasm washed over you in gentle waves. Joel’s tongue swirled slow, gentle circles around your clit and your thighs tensed around his head, fingers reaching down to softly rake through his curls. He hummed happily, tongue lathing against you, enjoying every second of your release. Only pausing once your body stopped twitching and the muscles in your thighs relaxed against him, before kissing way up your stomach, your neck, under he was holding himself over you.

Eyes still closed, your hands drifted to the back of his neck and you pulled him down, his weight crushing against you but you didn’t care. Yours lips met tentatively, and for a moment that was all it was. A soft, gentle kiss. And then you felt him, straining against his briefs, pressed between your thighs, and you pushed your tongue into his mouth. It was messy and slow, tongues tangling together, teeth knocking awkwardly, and you found yourself smiling into his mouth. It should have unnerved you. Should’ve been enough to make you stop, turn your head away and make him fuck you rough so you would forget how intensely intimate the moment felt. But you didn’t.

“You should sleep,” he murmured against your lips, pulling his hips back a little so his erection wasn’t so obvious.

“You should come inside me,” you whispered back, reaching down to grip the band of his underwear and tug them down over his hips. He groaned and kissed you again before reaching down to free himself from the confines of his underwear.  

No other words were exchanged as he adjusted himself, and then he was pressing into you, his needy moans spilling out against your neck while your hand snuck underneath his shirt, fingernails gliding down his back as he filled you completely.

“God, I missed you,” he choked out, voice cracking. You whimpered softly. “You’re so wet.”

“Made me feel so good, Joel,” you preened, kissing the side of his head.

“Yeah?” he pulled his face out of your neck to look at you, and you nodded, staring at him through bleary eyes. Joel kissed you again. A long, yearning kiss that made your heart throb, and it didn’t take long until he was falling apart on top of you, shaking against your arms that wrapped around him, held him against your chest. You whispered praises in his ear as he came, hips grinding into yours, pushing himself so deep inside that it had you gasping into his mouth. It was so unlike any other time you’d ever slept with him, and alarm bells rang somewhere far in the deep recess of your brain, but you ignored them. You’d missed each other, and you’d both earned a little softness after the time apart. And so the two of you fell asleep like that; tangled in each other’s arms, with him still inside you.

You woke up to the sun streaming in through the window. The light was harsh, and you cursed yourself for going to sleep without drawing the curtains. You went to sit up in the bed but stopped suddenly, realising how hot you were. With a soft start, you glanced down and understanding jolted through you like a flash of lightning. Joel’s house, you remembered; you were at Joel’s house. But what you hadn’t expected to find was Joel still in the bed, arms coiled around you like wire while he snored quietly in your ear. For as many times the two of you had slept together, neither of you had ever slept over. It was an unspoken rule, and one that had never been difficult to follow. But he’d broken it… or you’d both broken it, maybe. Keeping your body as still as possible, you found yourself breathing deeply, trying to maintain the allusion of still being asleep to avoid rousing him from his slumber. Frustratingly, your heart pounded in your chest, brain zeroing in on every part of your body that touched his.

His soft lips brushed the back of your neck, heavy breaths puffing against your skin. A solid knee was wedged between your legs, one hand lazily gripping your breast. The insides of your thighs were sticky where his come had leaked out of you overnight, and your eyes widened at the sensation. 

What surprised you the most wasn’t that you didn’t hate waking up with him beside you. No, what surprised you most was that you did like it. In fact, you found yourself longing to relax into his arms and go back to sleep. But common sense reared its head, and you slowly slipped out of his grasp, moving slowly so as not to wake him while you dragged yourself out of the bed. Staring down at Joel, a pang of fondness rush through your chest. Messy curls were strewn across his forehead, plump lips pushed out into a pout as he breathed deeply, hand resting on the empty bed where you had just laid. His breathing hitched momentarily, and you froze, realising how odd it would be for him to wake up and catch you standing there naked, staring. Trying not to give it another thought, you quietly collected some clothes from your bag, and slipped out of the room to start your day.

Hours passed in the greenhouse. You distracted yourself with cucumber seeds and tomato plants, pushing Joel out of your mind as you worked under the sweltering sun. Underneath the glass roof of the nursery, the heat multiplied, and by the time your shift was over you were covered in sweat, shirt ticking uncomfortably tight to your back. You stopped by at the community hall for dinner and ate alone, your brain a whirlwind of thoughts of Joel, Joel, Joel. You couldn’t shake the feeling that had lingered in your bones all day; the aching desire to have stayed in bed with him, to have relaxed into his arms and cuddled him for the rest of the morning. Your best friend, for fuck’s sake.

“Christ,” you mumbled aloud through a mouthful of food, rolling your eyes at yourself.

It felt like you were going crazy, but the worst part was understanding that this must’ve been how he’d been feeling for weeks already.

I’ve never asked you for anything. Not for anything more than what we’ve been doin’, never pushed you for more.

That’s what he’d said, two weeks ago, the day he found out about Peterson. The words played in your head like a mantra. Words that you had firmly avoided bringing up, ones you’d never pushed for an explanation about. You’d chosen to sweep them under the rug, and yet, as hard as you tried, you couldn’t fucking forget them.

By the time you returned to his house you discovered him sitting on the couch downstairs, engrossed in a book. It was the picture of domesticity. The sweet scent of vanilla floated through the air towards you, and you noted the small candle burning on the table beside him.

Staying in Joel’s home, even for just one night, you’d noticed so much more about it than ever before. There was something interesting to look at everywhere you turned, and sweet-scented candles were just the tip of the iceberg. He left random objects littered across countertops, like little treasures for you to stop and inspect during your travels throughout the house. Wood that he’d whittled into interesting shapes, books that he’d read the first few pages of and then abandoned, countless mugs in odd places with dark brown coffee stains at the bottom of them. It was homey, and warm, and subconsciously you found yourself enjoying the insight into his most private space – into the things he did when he was truly alone.

Joel hadn’t noticed you come in, so you seized the opportunity to watch him from the doorway for a moment. He was wearing his comfortable clothes again, and a thin set of reading glasses were perched on the scarred bridge of his nose. A quick flash of heat tore through your stomach. You’d never seen him wear those before, and it had you stumped. The glasses, paired with the salt and pepper through his beard and hair, reminded you of his age. Twenty years older than you, and still the most handsome man you knew.

You finally broke the silence, announcing yourself by asking, “What’re you reading?”

Joel’s head snapped up, and he stared at you over the top of his glasses. Shutting the book quickly, he straightened up on the couch. “Uh, Brave New World,” he lied, flipping the book so you couldn’t see the cover.

You hummed, unconvinced, and bit down on your bottom lip to hide a smirk. Tommy had told you once before that Joel was a sucker for gothic romance novels, but you’d never truly believed him until that moment. From where you stood, you recognised the tattered copy of Wuthering Heights that had gone missing from your bedroom a few months prior.

A flush rose in his cheeks and he coughed awkwardly, picking up a mug that you hadn’t noticed on the floor by his feet. It was cute; a little beige ceramic thing, with an owl painted on it.

“You see the patrol roster for tomorrow?” he spoke into the mug, swiftly changing the subject.

“I did,” you murmured. What you didn’t acknowledge, was that you’d also seen Peterson and Davis’ names on the list for the morning patrol. “Should be nice. We haven’t gone to the ski lodge in a while.”

A vivid memory of you two fucking up there raced through your mind, and a low heat simmered across your face as you remembered Jesse and Dina almost catching you once. Shaking the thought from your mind, you looked at him again to find him gripping the mug tightly, lips pursed in thought.

“We haven’t,” he agreed lowly, and the corner of his mouth twitched a little. “You haven’t been gettin’ called outside the gates much at all these days.”

This is it, you thought hungrily. This is the moment he tells you how he can’t wait to fuck you there tomorrow while you’re supposed to be patrolling. This is the moment he tells you he can’t even wait until tomorrow, and he drags you upstairs to his bed. Warmth flooded through your thighs, and you held your breath, staring at him.

But Joel didn’t say that. Instead, you watched dejectedly from the doorway as he rose slowly from the couch and tucked the tattered book underneath his arm. “Well,” he coughed, turning towards the stairs. “I’m gonna get some shut eye. It’ll be a warm day, and I’d better get some rest before we head out.”

You watched him move towards the stairs, heart beating painfully fast against your ribs.

“I’m actually not tired,” you blurted out. Joel paused. His left hand gripped the banister, and you could’ve sworn it might break in half based on the way his knuckles went white.

“Well, I am,” he said over his shoulder, before padding up towards his room , not even turning to give you a second look.

You tossed and turned for an hour, staring at the ceiling wide awake. The linen sheets stuck to your sweaty skin, making you feel claustrophobic enough to kick them to the end of the bed. You waited for him. Every creak and groan the old house made had your ears twitching, eyes glancing eagerly toward the door, expecting it to creak open and reveal him sneaking in through the darkness.

And when it became clear that he wasn’t coming, you pushed away the uncomfortable feeling it brought, and snaked a hand past the band of your underwear. Your fingers raked over the coarse hair there, teasing yourself for a moment, before you slid a finger through your damp folds. Collecting your slick, you dragged it up to coat your throbbing nerves and sighed in relief.

Your middle finger dragged quick circles over your clit, and all you could picture was Joel above you, fucking you while wearing those stupid fucking glasses. Cursing him in your mind, you pressed a finger past your entrance, and huffed in frustration at how it paled in comparison to the thickness of his digits. You imagined the way the glasses would fall to the tip of his nose, almost falling off his face while he fucked you so hard you saw stars. In an attempt to stifle the soft moans trying to escape your mouth, you bit down on your bottom lip, fingers moving quicker against yourself. And you came like that; hand down your underwear, rubbing yourself frantically, thinking about nothing but him.

It was hot, and the skin of your thighs chafed painfully as you and Joel ambled silently through the stables, getting your horses from their stalls to saddle up. He hadn’t said much to you all morning and you were trying not to read into it, but the fraught silence had you on edge.  

You winced upon spotting Davis and Peterson standing by the gate, chatting while they loaded their rifles. Lloyd caught your eye and smiled, offering a short nod in your direction. You returned the nod before looking back down and fiddling with Japan’s saddle, hoping Joel hadn’t noticed.

“Gimme a sec,” he muttered. “Gotta go pick Jesse’s brain.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and continued tugging on the straps of the saddle, until your skin prickled, a presence looming over your shoulder.

“Should we see if we can swap partners?” that voice sounded, and you turned to see Lloyd smirking suggestively at you. “Send Davis and Miller out East together, and you and me could head to the ski lodge?”

Your palms dampened a little and your eyes darted around the stables. There was no denying that Lloyd Peterson was a handsome guy. He was young, somewhere in his early-twenties. He had bright green eyes that shone in contrast against the dark brown hue of his skin. Straight, bright white teeth almost blinded you whenever he smiled, and you’d have to be a robot not to be effected by it. Past his shoulder, you spotted Joel hovering at the mouth of the stables, gaze trained on the pair of you. Caught, he turned quickly, muttering under his breath as he stalked off toward Jesse.

You looked back to Lloyd and shook your head once. “I don’t think so,” you said. “Gonna stick with Miller today.”

Not giving him much chance to respond, you gripped Japan’s reigns and led her out of the building. Joel and Jesse were talking in hushed tones by the gate, and you walked in their direction, pausing a few metres away when you noticed how tense the conversation seemed to be. Jesse was frowning at the older man, shaking his head slowly.

“Hey,” Lloyd’s voice came again, and you turned with a sigh, raising a hand to block out the sun as you stared up at him. “Can we talk?”

“Talk,” you rushed out, glancing to the side just as Joel appeared beside you, holding out a rifle. You shouldered it quickly, noticing the way Lloyd seemed to balk at the older man’s presence. “Peterson,” you urged, eager to get it over with. “Get on with it.”

He spared another awkward glance at Joel before speaking in a lowered voice. “Did I do something wrong?” You cringed, knowing Joel could hear every word, and yet he didn’t move a muscle. It seemed he wasn’t going anywhere, eyes trained on the man, uninterested in offering the pair of you any privacy to finish your conversation. “I thought we had a good time, y’know? But you’ve been avoiding me.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you replied plainly, even as the thought of him telling Davis about fucking you flashed through your mind. Joel was deadly quiet, eyes flicking between the pair of you like he was watching a game of tennis. You sighed deeply, wishing this wasn’t happening in front of him. In a moment of almost… shame, you realised that you didn’t want Joel to get the wrong idea. Didn’t want him to think that anything else had happened, or would ever happen, between you and Peterson.

“Then why won’t yo-“

“Why don’t you back off kid,” Joel interrupted suddenly, and your shoulders tensed, skin prickling at his harsh tone. “She’s not interested.”

Lloyd flinched at the words, and he looked to you, waiting for you to say something, to refute Joel’s claim. But you were distracted by the sudden warmth in your abdomen, and when you didn’t react quick enough he scoffed quietly, spinning on his heel and walking back where Davis was waiting with their horses. When you looked at Joel, he had a pleased smirk on his face, and you felt your stomach fall somewhat, guilt spreading through you at the way Lloyd rode out of the settlement without looking back.

The ride to the ski lodge was long. For the most part of the three hour trek, you rode alongside each other in silence, until finally you couldn’t help yourself, thoughts tumbling from your mouth.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly.

Joel looked at you out of the corner of his eye, and didn’t say a word.

“He was already embarrassed,” you added. His top lip curled up into a mean smirk.

“Peterson’s an ass. He should be embarrassed.”

A huff escaped your mouth and then he was turning, looking at you fully now with his eyebrows pinched together.

“What, your little boyfriend can’t handle some friendly teasin’?” he sneered, the change in mood so sudden you almost fell off your horse. And all the warmth you’d felt, every soft yearning part inside of you toward him, you pushed it to the side and focused on the confusion instead, allowing it to morph into pure anger. You were seeing red; furious with him for never being able to just see reason.

“Oh, fuck off Joel,” you scowled. “I’m not doing this with you today.” You kicked your heel against Japan’s hide and rode ahead, not listening for a reaction.

The higher the pair of you rode up the mountain, the hotter it got. By the time the horses were tied up by a trough of water and the pair of you were walking into the lodge, sweat was rolling down your skin in rivulets. A headache brewed in your temples, and frustration weighed heavily on your chest as Joel huffed and puffed around the room. Even being able to hear his breathing across the room while he scrawled in the logbook was enough to set your skin on edge. Eager to get some space from the tense atmosphere, you gruffly told him that you were taking first patrol, before shouldering your rifle and stalking back outside into the heat.

“You idiot,” you scowled to yourself, storming through the trees. Shame burned in your chest like a wildfire as you thought back to the night before. Touching yourself in his house, making yourself come thinking about him, wondering if he’d fuck you at the ski lodge. God, you felt like a teenager with a hopeless crush.

Your feet planted in the dirt, the word ringing in your head like an alarm. Eyes wide, you gazed into the trees.

“Nope,” you mumbled, starting to walk again slowly. “No, no, no.”

“Y’know they say talkin’ to yourself is the first sign of madness.”

Fuck.

“What are you doing?” you turned quickly, staring him down from through the thick trees. “I told you I’d take first patrol.”

“Yeah, I heard that. Saw you storm off too,” Joel rolled his eyes, propping his hands against his hips. “What’s your problem?”

“Jesus,” you grinned sarcastically. “I should be the one asking that question.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” he frowned, stepping forward. The tan skin of his neck glistened in the sunlight, and you hated yourself for wanting to know how it tasted. Thankfully, hatred and anger were easier emotions to tap into than whatever the fuck you had been feeling about him for the past few weeks.  

“It means,” you ground out. “That you’re a nasty old bastard.” His face darkened, lips twisted into an angry snarl, but you continued. “Peterson’s not my fucking boyfriend, so you can give it a rest okay? I had it handled.”

“Sure,” he laughed bitterly. “Don’t act like you didn’t love it, havin’ him hit on you right in front of me. You get off on the attention, from him and from me. I bet you loved havin’ me step in, tell him to fuck off.”

Your face was on fire as you glared at him, acutely aware of how the tension had spiked between the pair of you. Entire body tensed, you squared your shoulders and stared him down. “Are you fucking serious, Joel?” you asked lowly, eyebrows raising.

“Deadly,” he grit his teeth. “Don’t forget that I know you, baby, better than anyone.”

“No, you fucking don’t,” you spat desperately, turning around and walking quickly in the opposite direction.

“Oh yeah,” he called, the sound of his footsteps following closely behind you making your stomach drop. “Walk away, sunshine. Let’s just not talk about it, right? I know that’s your favourite thing to do. Walk away, and act like nothing happened.”

“Oh my god!” you shouted. “Grow up, you fucking assho-“ But as you spoke, your foot landed awkwardly on a patch of moss. You heard a low popping sound before you shrieked as your legs flew out from underneath you. You hit the ground awkwardly, ass slamming into the ground, and dirt sprayed into the air around you.

“Shit,” you hissed, moving to get up but cringing as a sharp pain shot through your ankle. The flesh around your shin was already swelling, and you cursed audibly, reaching down to rest your hand against it only to wince at the dull pain spreading through your entire foot.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him say, and then his warm hands were on your shoulders, and he was crouching beside you. Breathing heavily, you stared as your ankle swelled to the size of a golf ball. “Come on, let’s get you back,” Joel said, gripping your elbow to lift you up.

“Get off,” you snapped, shoving him back. He stumbled a little and then stood, glaring down at you. “I can do it myself.”

“Clearly you fuckin’ can’t.”

Eager to prove a point, you dug your fingers into the dirt and pushed yourself up, and then began limping back towards the ski lodge.

You moved slowly with Joel trailing just a few steps behind, close enough that you could hear his breathing, and the way he muttered inaudibly whenever you stumbled. When you almost tripped trying to step over a tree branch, he snapped, appearing at your side in an instant and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Joel,” you warned lowly, but he interrupted.

“Would you stop bein’ such a brat,” he snarled. “You might’ve broken your fuckin’ ankle, just let me help you god damnit.”

You grumbled under your breath but didn’t fight him again, silently grateful to lean on him and get some weight off the injury. His chest rose and fell quickly as he led you back to the lodge, and you could practically feel the anxiety radiating from him.

“It’s not broken,” you muttered. “Probably just a sprain.”

“Good,” he grunted, helping you up the steps and into the building. “Idiot.”

“Jeez, thanks, Joel,” you said bitterly. “You’re a real pal.”

His hand gripped your waist tighter, before lowering you onto the couch. “Any time, bud.”

Joel stormed into the kitchen and returned moments later with a bottle of water, tossing it at you before slamming down onto the sofa beside you. “Jesse and Dina will be here in a few hours, just keep it elevated until then.”

“You got it doc,” you rolled your eyes, eagerly gulping down the water even though it had gotten uncomfortably warm in his pack.

The pair of you sat in silence for a while, your ankle throbbing where it rested atop the coffee table.  

“I don’t fuckin’ get you,” Joel finally breathed, and you looked to him with a raised eyebrow and a snarky comment on your lips, only to find him with his head tilted back against the couch, eyes closed.

“What?” you asked dumbly.

“You heard me,” he said. “I don’t fuckin’ get you. You go two weeks avoidin’ me, I hardly see you, then you’re knocking on my door, askin’ to stay? And then today you’re cursin’ my goddamn name. Throw me a fuckin’ bone, darlin’, cause I got no idea where I stand with you.”

Your lips parted, all the breath in your lungs rushing out of you in one fell swoop. His eyebrows were furrowed, a deep frown settled across his face, and his arms crossed against his chest. He didn’t look angry, you realised. He looked confused; he looked hurt. Your stomach rolled.

“I could say the same,” you started pathetically, and then his eyes flashed open and he was staring back at you with those dark brown eyes that fucking killed you.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” he said blankly, eyes darting around your face.

Your lips felt numb as you slowly asked, “What?”

“You left,” he said quietly. “You fuckin’ left me, and I just don’t know if I can keep pretendin’ anymore. Pretend that this doesn’t… mean anything to me. Pretend that I’m fine with… this. Don’t know if I can keep doing it if you’re just gonna leave. My heart can’t take it.”

It felt like time stood still for a moment. Outside one of the open windows, you could hear the trees rustling in the hot summer wind. Your ankle ached. Joel kept staring at you.

“You know that’s the best I’ve slept in years?” he asked softly, licking his lips. “Slept so fuckin’ sound with you next to me. No nightmares – hell, I didn’t even dream. And then I woke up, and you were gone, and I almost wished it had never happened. So that I wouldn’t have to know how good it felt to have you, wouldn’t have to try and sleep without you every night after, knowing exactly what I was missing.”

“Joel,” you tried again but he shook his head, raising a hand in the air to stop you.

“Just let me,” he took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking. “Let me say this. Just once, and then I’ll let it be, okay? I won’t bring it up again, and we can go back to the way things were befo-“

“Stop,” you croaked out, tears swimming in your eyes. “Shut up for a second. I,” you paused, eyes darting over his face, searching for understanding. “I didn’t want to leave, okay? But I’m scared Joel. Jesus, I’m so scared of this.”

“Scared?”

“Of this feeling that won’t go away. Of wanting to stay. I’ve been trying to push it down, to ignore it, and it doesn’t fucking work, no matter what I do. I’m so scared that I’ve fucked up our friendship, that I’m going to lose yo-“

“Never,” he shook his head firmly, hand reaching out to squeeze your knee. “Listen, you’re not losin’ me, okay? That's never gonna happen.”

“But Joel,” you sighed shakily. “If we push things further, there’s no going back. Don’t you understand?”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he admitted quietly. “I think it’s been too late for me for a while now.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, and when you spoke again you could hear the fear in your voice. “I don’t know if I can be what you want.”

Joel chuckled humourlessly and sighed, squeezing your thigh again.

“It’s you,” he said. “That’s what I want. You don’t have to do anythin’, don’t have to change or be anythin’ else. I just want you.” His eyes shone in earnest, and you couldn’t help but surge forward, planting your lips against his. He returned the kiss with fervour, parting your lips with his tongue and gripping the sides of your face in a searing grip.

He tasted like salt and mint and your head was swimming, consumed by him. Your fingertips were numb as they raced over his body, desperate to touch him everywhere all at once. You fumbled with the buttons on his shirt until his hands joined yours, carefully undoing them all until you could pry it off him.

Pulling back from the kiss, you allowed your eyes to rake over his exposed chest, taking in the sight of his tanned, hairy chest, littered with scars and freckles and you felt the urge to kiss every single one of them. So you did. You pushed him back into the couch and straddled him, ignoring the way your ankle cried out at the movement, and attached your lips to his collarbone, licking and sucking your way across his torso. Showing reverence to every imperfection on his skin. Your tongue swiped past one of his nipples and he jolted beneath you, hands dragging under the fabric of your shirt to rest on your back. You could feel him growing hard beneath you and you smiled against his skin before rolling your hips down against his. He was murmuring your name in between sighs, scratching at your skin, revelling in the kisses you sponged across his chest.

Your eyes trailed upwards to meet his. “Want your cock in my mouth,” you whispered, and his face crumpled in on itself, eyes rolling back into his head.

“Fuck,” he sighed, gripping your hands tightly before pushing you off him. He stood up and in one quick movement he knocked the coffee table over, before he was undoing his belt and stripping his pants off. He helped you off the couch slowly, before lowering you down onto the carpet, crouching down to rest beside you. His large hands roamed across your chest, gripping the hem of your shirt and tugging it upward to expose your breasts, your aching nipples peaked and begging to be touched.

“Fuck,” he repeated, harsher this time, leaning over you to plant his mouth on your chest. His teeth scraped across your sensitive skin and you whined, gripping the nape of his neck as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked gently.

“Joel,” you mewled, tugging his face back up to yours for a brief kiss. “I mean it,” you breathed into his mouth. “Need you in my mouth so bad. M’gonna make you feel so good, I swear.” Within a second, he flipped the two of you over so his back was against the ground and you were straddling his hips. You grinned triumphantly, shifting your hips back as you kissed down his chest, moving your body down until you were straddling his shins, and pulling his briefs down with you.

His cock rested proudly against his stomach, thick and swollen and begging to be touched. The head was a deep shade of red, small beads of precum weeping out of his tip as he stared at you, patiently waiting for you to make a move. You didn’t waste a second before leaning down and gliding your tongue softly over the tip, swiping up his salt and humming at the taste. A sharp inhale whistled past his teeth, and you watched his eyes clamp shut at the sensation, hand forming a fist at his side. Gently, you took his hand and raised it to your head, encouraging him to touch you. He obliged, fisting your hair in his hand, grip tightening as you parted your lips around him and let him sink into your warm mouth. A long, drawn-out moan left his mouth and your cunt pulsed in response, the warmth between your thighs suddenly impossible to ignore.

“S-so good for me,” he groaned, pulling your hair tighter. “Love your mouth, I love it. That’s it, baby, open up a little more for me, show me how much you can take.”

The sharp sting on your scalp made you moan around him, and he cursed, undoubtedly feeling the vibration. The weight of him against your tongue was intoxicating, and you bobbed your head up and down slowly, his cock gliding in and out of your mouth easily, slick with your spit. You’d missed the taste of him, missed the sensation of him filling you up to the point where it was hard to breathe, and yet you still wanted more. You pressed forward, eager to feel him fill you up, but when his cock brushed the back of your throat he was gripping your hair and pulling you off him.

“Turn around,” he ordered, and you looked up in confusion. His bottom lip was bitten raw, and his eyes were a darker brown than normal as he gazed at you. When you didn’t move, he was pulling you up and turning your body so your back was to him, and only then did you realise what he meant. He pulled your shorts down your legs, dragging your underwear with them, and then he carefully tugged one of your knees up and over his shoulder, so you were straddling his chest. Slowly, you shuffled back on your knees until your wet heat was hovering over his face, and you leaned down to let your chest rest against his.

“Baby,” Joel sighed. “So fuckin’ perfect. Such a pretty pussy. Can never get enough of you.”

You clenched around nothing, and heard him groan, signalling that he’d seen it. Without warning, his tongue dipped between your folds and you gasped, pushing your hips back to give him a better angle, before taking him back into your mouth. And it was nothing like it had been two nights before. He wasn’t gentle, or slow, or relaxed. No, Joel was relentless.

His tongue moved rhythmically against you, and you tried desperately to focus, harsh breaths leaving your nose as you moved your mouth lazily along his length. You pulled back and lathed your tongue around the head of him, tasting the salt that dripped out of him. He grunted into you and you smiled, stroking him slowly as you sucked the tip, grinding your tongue into the sensitive skin just underneath his head. Joel’s hips bucked up off the ground, and your hand left his length, gripping his waist firmly to hold him down while you took him into your mouth again. You pushed yourself as far as you could, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed as he brushed the back of your throat. His beard scratched against your inner thighs deliciously, and you decided you loved it a little longer. And then suddenly, his tongue moved away from your clit and he was licking broad strokes along the entirety of your core, and then over your entrance, and then… his tongue flicked all the way back and into new territory.

You flinched forward, his cock surging deeper into your throat and you gagged around him as you explored the new feeling. You moaned, eyes screwing shut at the foreign sensation, and you felt your legs begin to shake against his sides. His hands gripped your hips and pulled you down harder against his face, ruthlessly dragging his tongue back and forth from your clit to your hole, until you were tearing your mouth away him and sitting up, grinding yourself down desperately against his face. Arching your back, you writhed on top of him, crying out hoarsely. Every strong flick of his tongue felt like an electric shock jolting through your body, and he continued until you were panting and twitching on top of him, and then you let go. The orgasm tore through you, a shout falling from your lips as you rode his face, gripping his thighs for leverage as your entire body shuddered with the intensity. He didn’t let up; licking and sucking and kissing, his moans vibrating through your core until you were whimpering and dragging yourself off him, clit aching from the pressure.

You were still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm when Joel pressed your back down onto the carpet, nudged your knees apart so he could fit between them, and pushed himself inside you. A sweet, low burn blazed in your abdomen with every inch he gave to you. The wet sound of you sucking him in might have embarrassed you, but the look of awe on his face as he stared down at where you were connected just made you feel powerful.

His thrusts were strong, the sweaty skin of your thighs smacking against each other noisily filling the air, mixing with your breathless moans of his name.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he was saying, but you weren’t listening, eyes rolling back in your head as he played with your nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers.

“Fuck, Joel,” you cried out at a particularly hard thrust, stomach tensing as the head of his cock grinded against your g-spot.

“There?” he panted, and you nodded frantically, mouth hanging open as he pressed against it over and over again, groaning at the way you tensed around him.

Urgent sounds left your lips as you felt yourself nearing the edge again, and you watched with wide eyes as his hand trailed down your chest to rest over your mound, his thumb slipping between your folds to press gently against your throbbing clit. Your back arched up from the ground and you choked out a moan as he rubbed you in slow circles, a stark contrast to the way he drilled into you with his cock.  

“Come,” Joel encouraged and you whimpered, eyes screwing shut as the overwhelming feeling soared through you. His free hand landed over your throat and your eyes flew open, looking up at him as he applied soft pressure to the sides of your neck. “C’mon baby, let me have it. I can feel you, you’re so fuckin’ close, give it to me, please, I want it.”

His words pushed you over the edge, and you gasped against his hold, bucking up into him as he fucked you roughly. You twitched and writhed on the ground, his thumb never stopping its movements against your clit as you cried out his name.

And somewhere amidst it all, his movements slowed. His hands turned soft on your body, head dropping down to drag gentle wet kisses along the skin of your neck.  

“So good,” he praised lowly. “So beautiful.” Your heart soared in your chest, and you smiled drowsily, body tingling as he continued to give you gentle thrusts.  

“Kiss me,” you said shyly, and Joel smiled, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You sighed into his mouth, gliding the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip as you draped your heavy arms around his neck, pinning his torso down against yours. “Fuck me like this,” you told him. “Want to feel you close to me.”

He nodded, starting up a slow rhythm, only ever pulling out halfway before pressing back into you. You were both slick with sweat, and you wiped his forehead gently before raking your fingers through his thick messy curls. His face was red from exertion, and you thumbed his cheekbones gently. A heavy sigh fell from your mouth. Still recovering from your previous orgasm, you knew it wouldn’t be hard for him to build you up for another one.

“Give me one more,” he begged, sponging feather light kisses over your eyelids, your cheeks, down your neck. “Want to feel you come with me, baby, please. Just one more, I know you can.”

You gripped his hair and kissed him deeply, your tongues tangling together as he moved his hips slowly, cock dragging in and out of you at a devastating pace. Joel pulled back to watch you, eyes gazing down with adoration as he moved above you. That familiar liquid heat began to burn in your stomach, curling through every fibre of your being, and you could see in his face that he was close. And there was something else there too. Something you couldn’t place; simmering in his eyes, lingering on the tip of his tongue, begging to be said. His hips began to stutter against yours, a choked gasp of your name falling from his lips as he quickened his pace until you were coming together, holding each other tightly on the ground of the ski lodge. He moaned heavily against your mouth, and you throbbed around him as his spend coated your walls, warm and slick, squeezing out around his cock as he moved.

As a low, warm silence filled the room, you worked to control your breathing, body shaking against his as he pulled out of you. You whimpered at the empty feeling, missing the weight of him already. But he didn’t go far.

Joel laid down on the carpet beside you, draping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his chest. Your fingers trailed over the skin of his stomach, smiling at the goosebumps that developed in your wake. Mine.

His hand caught yours and he lifted it to his mouth, kissing the back of it gently. You leaned forward to rest your face in the rook of his neck, and he sighed in contentment, trailing his fingers down your back.

“Hey Joel?” you murmured against his skin.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I called you a nasty old bastard.”

Joel laughed and tightened his grip around your back, tugging you closer to his chest. “I forgive you.”

[a-spes]

| THE SHOT YOU MISSED - One shot (3k).

| Summary - you're spending a day at the fair with your girlfriend, the sweetest mob boss that possibly exists and she makes sure that you've a good day.

| Tags & warnings - mob boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, just a fluff writing, slight angst (?), beginning of a panic attack, guns, domestic domination (kinda), Natasha is the sweetest in that.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO REQUEST

You’re taking a deep breath, trying to chase away the tension from your shoulders. There is only one cartridge left in the gun you have been given, so you already know that you won’t have a second chance: if that shot doesn’t hit its target, the mission will be a failure, and it’s not an option. The stakes are too high for you to miss that one. 

You’re doing your best to ignore your surroundings, a difficult thing to do when you’re used to paying attention to everything, especially when being in a crowded place. You could hear the conversations of those around you, the screams and laughs alongside the footsteps of the children running on the asphalt. They were meters away but it was still piercing your eardrums. Even your own breathing started to be unbearable, it was fast and loud because of the anticipation and stress.

The weapon is stable, you’re maintaining it with a firm grip despite the slight trembling of your hands. You have been in this position for several minutes, and your muscles are starting to ache. 

You have to do it, now.

There is nothing left to divert your attention, and you are eventually able to forget about everything else. For a moment, you can’t hear anything, you only see the target that is right in the center of your sights. A pressure from your finger, a clatter that rings in your ears, and just like that the bullet is gone, straight toward your target.

“Fuck!” you screamed, and it takes all the control you possess to not throw the plastic weapon when you see that you missed it. 

You ignore the way the showman glanced at you when you screamed, a mixture of annoyance and satisfaction. You have been here for almost half an hour and you didn’t move an inch, refusing to go back to your girlfriend with empty hands. But sometimes determination isn’t enough, all you’ve managed to do is to pop a balloon or two, but you need more if you want to get that coveted prize.

When your hand reaches into your jacket’s pockets, you’re unpleasantly surprised to find nothing. The desperation with which you are now searching isn’t enough to reveal one last coin and you realize that you’ve spent everything you were given by Natasha, which means the fun is over for tonight.

It is already over and you weren’t even good enough to win a little something.

You had no other choice than going back to your girlfriend with nothing to give her, which you find embarrassing because she will obviously ask what took you so long and you didn’t want to admit your failures, not in front of the woman you love. The second she saw you, she stopped talking with the rest of the group to focus all her attention on you, noticing the way you were avoiding her gaze. As you are trying your best to get over your frustration, she is running her finger over your furrowed brows.

“What's happening, sweetie? You’re tense,” she told you, she knew something was wrong the moment she glanced at you, there is nothing that could escape her gaze.

“I lost, again,” you mumbled, not really wanting to talk more about it, especially because you knew she would react that way: you wanted nothing more than to rip that smirk off her face.

“Oh, baby … come here” she cooed, trying to hide her smile - but she just can’t help it.

She opens her arm and you wait no more than a second before throwing yourself into her embrace. The moment she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug, all your frustration is gone.

She is good when it comes to ease your worries: she spent the next hour dragging you everywhere, and you’re sure you’ve tried every ride at least twice. She even bought you cotton candy despite her strict rules about sweets, just to make sure you smile again.

At some point, you were separated from her, you let go of her hand for one second, just enough time to drink some water, but also for your girlfriend to disappear. She probably told you where she was going, but you hadn’t heard because of the screams and those missed words are the reason you’re now panicking.

You are turning around again, and again, and again, but it’s useless, you are lost without her at your side. Every time you think you spotted her red hair in the crowd, it turns out that it isn’t her and the minutes start to feel like hours.

You're being manhandled by the crowd, trying to sort out your thoughts until a hand comes to rest on your shoulder and pulls you out of your torment. You turn sharply, but fear is replaced by relief when you realise it's only her. 

She doesn’t like to see you like this, with tears in the corner of your eyes, and she hates it even more knowing that she caused this. She wasn't expecting you to react that way, as she only left for a few minutes and this view almost makes her feel bad. Almost, because she knows that what she has brought you will make up for her mistake.

“I got a surprise for you…,” she said, but it was not much of a surprise as you could already see the stuffed toy she was trying to hide behind her back.

It is a black dragon that is almost your size, you saw it at the stand where you were playing earlier. You’ve spent dozens of minutes and dollars in that game without winning anything so you can’t believe that it took her less than five minutes to come back with the biggest prize.

“How did you do that?! It was impossible to win anything!” you exclaimed as the woman hands you the stuffed toy. 

You immediately hug it, squeezing the dragon as tight as you can. It is the fluffiest and you’re already loving it. If you are a bit surprised that Natasha got you something that big, you’re trying to not think too much about it. She always tells you no for everything that could ruin the aesthetic of her house so you want to enjoy the plushie as much as you could before she changes her mind and takes it back.

“Thank you, I love it so much,” you told her, not letting it go, which made her laugh - the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard. 

Even her knows that she’ll eventually regret it, but for the moment the smile on your face makes it all worth it. It became even more important than her house’s décoration.

“But?” she asked, frowning when she heard your tone, knowing that something else was keeping your mind busy.

“There is not but,” you replied, and this time it is your turn to frown at her question.

“I know when you’re lying, love,” she said, her hand brushing your hair away from your face so she could admire every feature of your face.

“... god, I hate when you do that, you’re so annoying,” you mumbled, perfectly knowing that she was right. You bury your face in her shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassment. 

Even when you try your hardest to keep your thoughts for yourself, you are unable to do so. There is nothing you can hide from the woman because she is too good at reading people, her eyes seeing everything.

“Then tell me what’s in your mind, and maybe I'll stop being annoying,” she said, trying to hold back a laugh. She won’t say it because she doesn’t want you to be mad at her for real, but she finds it cute when you’re angry.

“I-didn’t-want-a-stuffed-toy-I-was-trying-to-win-one-for-you,” you replied, talking as fast as you could in hope she won’t retain anything of your rambling - which was doomed to failure.

You are a bit embarrassed by the situation because she succeeded so easily where you didn’t. For once, you wanted to be the one to give her a present, something you rarely have the chance to do because she is always the one who spoils you, but somehow she managed to turn the situation around once again, and you hate it.

She chuckles, relieved that it was nothing too serious. She gently grabs your chin to lift your head up and watch your expression. The moment she saw that hint of sadness in your eyes, she understood how affected you are by the situation, and she finds it surprising how something so insignificant in her eyes could be so important to yours.

“Then I could keep it and we’ll pretend that you won it for me, what do you think?” she asked, trying to cheer you up, not wanting to see that look on your face anymore.

“But that's not the same,” you whined, starting to complain about the unfair situation.

“Oh gosh, you're such a child,” she said, rolling her eyes at your answer - but even if she acts like your attitude is annoying her, deep down you know that she loves it. “Come,” she added, pulling you by the hand to guide you through the crowd after she handed the huge dragon to one of her men.

“Where are we going?” you tried to ask, but of course you don’t get an answer from the redhead. 

When you eventually get to the stand where Natasha won the dragon and you lost your money, the showman looks at you with a wry grin. He recognizes you as the one who spent dozens of dollars in his game without winning anything and he is probably hoping that you are back with more money.

But as soon as his eyes landed on the redhead at your side, his face completely changed. He knew he messed up the second he noticed how her hand is resting at the bottom of your back as she guides you toward his stand. She puts down a bill, which the man takes with caution, probably thinking that there is a trap somewhere. 

“We won’t need that,” she told him the moment the man made a move to give her one of the plastic weapons.

If he is about to protest, one glance from the woman is enough for him to understand that he would better keep his mouth shut. Instead, he watches her carefully as she takes her own gun out, a real one. 

You are a bit confused when she puts the gun in your hands : it is the first time it happens. She has never let you touch anything that could be dangerous, and it obviously included her weapons. It has nothing in common with the fake guns you are used to, it is heavier and more impressive.  

“Go on,” she said, trying to encourage you when she noticed you still haven’t made a move.

“What? With your gun?” you asked, unsure of what you are supposed to do now, “b- but I don’t know how.. I mean, I’ve never-,” you added when she nodded as an answer to your question, but she doesn’t give you time to argue. 

“I know,” she cut you, already knowing what you were about to say, “but I’ll help you, don’t worry about it,” she added, putting her hands on your shoulder to turn you around so you’re facing the targets instead of her.

She stands behind you, and if you can’t see her, you could feel her hands roaming over your body. You’re barely listening to the advice she is whispering in your ears, your mind being entirely focused on her hands. She moves your shoulders and legs in the right position, then she wraps your hands with hers to be sure that you won’t miss this time. It requires even more concentration than earlier to not let yourself get distracted by your proximity with the redhead, so close that you could feel her breath on the back of your neck. 

Even if it doesn’t feel right to do that, you shot. Three times, and you didn’t miss one, all the balloons popped under your eyes, granting you the victory. She immediately snatches the weapon from your hand, not wanting to leave it to you for more time than it’s necessary, but you don’t care, too happy about your victory.

“Theirs are rigged, you never stood a chance,” she simply said as if it was obvious, but it wasn’t. If she understood what was the problem in one shot, why didn’t you after you’ve tried countless times?  

You start to feel a bit stupid as the realization sinks in ; you blamed yourself for something that wasn’t even your fault, something you should've noticed on the first shot. You now understand why the showman was looking at you that way, he must have been happy to see someone that was dumb enough to spend all their money in his stand, from the beginning he knew you wouldn't win because no one that plays along the rules does. 

 “I am so proud of you, malyshka,” she added, the sound of her voice pulling you out of the spiral of your thoughts - a deadly one.

The lower part of your back is now pressed against the stand, she turned you around so she could admire every feature of your face.

“Stop lying,” you mumbled, the expression on your face not matching the smile on hers - she is smiling but you want to cry, fearing that you might have disappointed her because of your mistakes.

“I am serious,” she immediately said, not leaving you a chance to argue. Her hand gently grabs your chin, lifting your head until your eyes meet hers. “It even makes me want to see you try with live targets now, you must be so hot…,” she continued, her thumb brushing your cheek as she gets lost in the pleasant scene her mind is playing.

But you are not enjoying it as much as she does. A shiver of disgust shakes your body at this simple image, the one of your hands covered in the blood of your victim.

You are not a murderer, nor a monster.

Even after meeting the redhead and being dragged into her chaotic life, you’ve never done a thing that was illegal. If you know about her activities, she always makes sure that you are nothing more than a witness. She likes her women to be innocent, she used to toss them as soon as she felt their souls started to be corrupted, but she was slowly changing her mind. 

For the first time, she wants to see her sweet thing with blood on her back. There is nothing that could please her more than to see the glimpse of darkness in your eyes growing until you are too deep in it to step back. 

For the first time she wanted to fully introduce her girl to her reality.

She wanted to corrupt you as much as she wanted to protect your innocence. There is no word to describe how much she appreciates this oblivious expression of yours and, right now, she is not missing a thing about the one on your face. She revels in the mixture of fear and disgust she could read on your face.

“I was joking,” she sighed, “so don’t worry your pretty little head with that, okay baby?” she said and you believed her, nodding.

You couldn’t see the smirk on her face - the only hint that she was lying - because she leans forward to kiss the top of your head, her hand brushing your temple one last time before she pulls away. You immediately whine, trying to grip on her arm so she wouldn’t leave but this only makes her laugh. 

“Go get your prize now, so we can get home,” she said, ignoring the pleading look you’re giving her to gesture towards the showman.

You turn around and, indeed, you see that the man was impatiently waiting for you to make your choice, he probably couldn’t wait to get rid of you and your problematic girlfriend. You immediately point to one of the biggest stuffed toys, similar to yours, but before the showman could make a move, Natasha shook her head, showing that she disagrees with your choice. She takes your arm and gently moves it so you’re now pointing at the shelf where the smallest plushies are displayed.

“It’s one of those or nothing,” she said, her stern tone leaving no room for discussion. 

She obviously doesn’t care about the pout on your face. She considers that she has already been pretty nice by gifting you that giant stuffed toy, so she definitely won’t bring a second one home.

“Fine …,” you replied, frustrated that you couldn’t freely choose, but it was the perfect opportunity to make her regret her decision.

You missed nothing of her expression when the showman took the strawberry bunny that was on the shelf. She rolled her eyes, obviously you choose the most childish of all, but she decides that the smile on your face as you’re handed it to her is worth everything. She gladly takes it, and even if she tries to pretend she doesn’t like it, you don’t fall for her lies. The kisses she lays on the top of your head, then on your lips, are enough to convince you to keep your sneaky words to yourself, enjoying the moment the two of you were sharing.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO REQUEST

[angelltheninth]

Can I make a request of Sung Jin Woo being the reader's childhood best friend?

They are so in love with each other but reader is highly insecure and believes that he is in love with Cha Hae In?

Readers gets jealous and vent it out with Jin Woo when he asked what's wrong?

If possible, can this request be NSFW?

(You can do this any time and not rush. I really love your work and this is my very first request.)

I'm very excited that this one is getting an animated adaptation next year.

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, insecurity, self-doubt, reassurance, comfort sex, kissing, praise, jealousy

A/N: There are so many cool webtoones and manhwa out there I'm glad a lot of them are getting the recognition they deserve.

Jingwoo agreed to meet you at your favorite café to talk about what has been bothering you for the past few months. He's seen your performance get worse and worse but he hasn't seen the cause of it. As your long time friend however he would offer you any help he can. First it comes in the form of caffeine and sweets, then in words of encouragement but none seem to get through to you. You can see that Jingwoo is worried about you but if you told him what was bothering you you're worried it might end your friendship. But not telling him could also end your friendship because you've been avoiding him a lot lately.

"Tell me what's been bothering you. It's bad enough to make you slip up and you know that's not really an option out there. If I can help you out in any way I will. That's what best friends are for right? And it's not just me, I know any one of your friends would say the same."

You don't want him to keep worrying so you need to bite the bullet and let him know about your jealousy. You don't blame Jingwoo for falling for Cha Hae at all, she's inspiring and good looking and can be by his side in fights during battles better then you can. It's not him who is at fault here and you're sorry if you ever made him think so. This is an issue purely born out you being unable to see your childhood friend and longtime crush falling in love with someone else.

"Cha Hae? I don't have a crush on her. She's an amazing ally, she's fun to spend time with but... I've got my eyes on someone else. I have since before the System made me who I am. It's you, even when I was an E-Rank Hunter you were always supporting me, and after everything that's happened you're still by my side. You have no one to be jealous over, there's no one that can ever take your place in my heart."

He rushed you both out of the café because the tension of your confessions made the air so damn thick. You didn't last a minute with your clothes on after getting to your place, and neither did Jingwoo. He was even more impatient to get you naked. His cock began to get hard on your way here, causing him to stumble up the stairs a few times. You find yourself on your back on your bed and Jingwoo taking in every detail of your body, as well as pinning your hands so you can't hide from his eager lips leaving their marks on you.

"Don't hide, do you forget we grew up together? You don't have anything to be ashamed of. Do you have any idea how many nights I spend busting a nut to you? So many tissues gone into the trashcan because my cock couldn't go down when I thought about how wonderful and sexy you are. It makes me feel better that you couldn't keep your hands still either. Now we don't have to hide. Please, can I make love to you?"

When you cried it wasn't because Jingwoo was hurting you and being too rough, you cried because the person you loved not only loved you back but he was also kissing you, thrusting his cock in and out very gently actually, much too gently for someone of his strength. Clenching around him only served to make him push his cock in deeper but not faster, he wanted this to last for as long your hole could take his cock fucking it. He wanted to make up for all those cumshots he lost in his hand.

"How long do you think you can go for? We can take a break, I don't mind cuddling with you. In fact I think it's great idea. We can talk come more until the soreness goes away. So tell me, how long did you know you were in love with me? Cause for me it was at least a few years back now. Hm? Damn, that long huh? Actual childhood then. Sorry I left you pining for so long. Promise I'll make it all up to you."

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hotel Room

PAIRING: Tangerine x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2392

SUMMARY: changing plans midway into a mission in Tokyo- you, Tangerine and Lemon decide to stay in a hotel instead of taking the bullet train.

TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+ only. dry humping, pinv, unprotected sex, pull out. no use of y/n MINORS DNI.

A/N: this is my first post and im a little scared to post it, so please plz be kind. I tried to keep it as accurate as possible, however I accidentally made Tangerine kinder than I had originally planned and changed some things about the film plot so it doesn’t create a domino effect in this- aka Tan dying

rewritten 09/12/23 - no change to the plot, just made it less crap

"I don't think we should be getting this train," you mutter like you were talking to yourself, eyes darting across the busy platform of the station. "Guys?" you repeat, turning to see only Lemon behind you. "I don't think we should get this train."

"Yeah?" Lemon hums, sounding distracted.  

"I have a bad feeling. The next one is in thirty minutes. I say we wait," you respond, wary eyes glancing around.

Tangerine joins you both, looking over the tickets he just collected. "What's that now?" he questions, brows furrowed.

"I got intel someone I used to know might be on here," you murmur, avoiding the Twins' focused gaze.

"Like an ex?" Tangerine prods, his tone slightly cautious.

"No— stop it. I'm being serious," you emphasise, eyes squinting to show your annoyance.

Usually, when others act possessive around you, you'd turn the other way - having no interest in games. But when you talk about other guys in front of Tangerine, you'd often notice how his forehead vein would subtly protrude, like he was bubbling with rage from the inside - keeping it hidden. Though you'd always notice. It wasn't hard to tell when he was jealous. His quick, snappy comments are often the main giveaway.

"Alright, alright. Keep'ya knickers on, bellend," he scoffs, crossing his arms and widening his stance as if he was trying to intimidate you - which it doesn't.

"Okay, so, you remember Johannesburg? When we saw that guy— dirty blonde, mid-length hair? Facial hair? Yellow outfit. Looked like a prisoner? That one?" 

"No, not really," Lemon adds, shaking his head - looking clueless.

"Lemon. You shot him— a few times."

"No, not ringing a bell," he continues, just as clueless as before. "Oh, you mean Joburg?"

Tangerine pipes in, sighing. "Yes, you daft fuck."

"Well, I was just checking."

"Yeah, but it ain't important now, is it?" the twins bicker, overlapping each other.

"Oh my god," you mutter, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "Right, anyway, none of that's important. I used to work with him— Ladybug, like way way way back. I got a tip-off he's gonna be getting this train, and he's clearly been assigned to snatch that case," you nod to the silver briefcase tucked under Lemon's arm. 

"We can keep the case safe. We got hired for that reason," Tangerine adds, subtly reassuring you. 

"No, no. That doesn't matter. He's seeing a new therapist, and he's got some weird fate, destiny thing protecting him— like everyone except him gets hurt. I dunno about you, but I don't really feel like getting shot at again today."

You look between the brothers, eyes softening like you are talking without words - telling them things to make them take your side, to make them see that you're trying to protect them. You find it harder to pull away from Tan's fixed blue gaze, feeling strangely hypnotised under his attention.

"Okay," Tangerine agrees simply. "We'll wait," he nods, extending his hands towards you, resting them on your shoulder as if he's comforting you - telling you in his own way that everything will be okay. He rips his hands away when he hears a cough from beside him - Lemon suspicious at the placement.

The kind gesture wasn't long-lived, but it helped. A lot.

You suggest staying in a nearby hotel for the night, offering to try again in the early hours of the morning. The case would be safe, and that's what mattered.

————

You and the twins walk into the quiet hotel lobby, asking for three rooms - preferably all next door to each other. Once collecting the key cards, you make your way up to your floor, letting yourselves into your rooms with a quick nod to one another, silently saying goodnight.

After the nonstop events of today, all you wanted was to shower. To wash away the grime of the day, literally.

You throw your overnight bag on the floor and do a quick sweep of the room to check it's safe, then head into the bathroom, stepping into the shower to begin a lengthy wash.

Afterwards, you pat yourself dry with a fluffy hotel towel, dressing in an oversized tee when you hear a few rhythmic knocks at the door. You look through the peephole to see a wet, curly-haired, ‘stached man - there was only one person that could be.

You tug on the hem of your t-shirt, covering your exposed thighs as you open the door, greeted by Tangerine on the other side wearing a baggy tee and a pair of boxers.

His eyes leisurely travel over you, slowly pulling away from your thighs that you subtly tried to hide. He coughs, clearing his throat like he's refocusing, diverting his attention from your lower half back to your fresh face.

"Just doing bed check. And you are... ahem," he masks the pause in another cough. "You are accounted for. So that's. That's good."

"Right, okay," you murmur, purposely keeping your gaze fixed on his face - stopping your eyes from glancing lower.

He hesitates, lingering like that wasn't all he knocked for. You wanted to invite him in. To hang out for a bit. But you get all finicky and squirrely when it's just the two of you, and you never know what to say or do. It was like you couldn't think straight, his aftershave and biceps acting like a barrier in your brain. Besides, it's not like anything can happen between you anyway - he didn't like you in that way.

He clears his throat once more, scratching the back of his neck. "My tv ain't working. I don't wanna watch Lem's shit, so can I watch some in your room?"

Letting out a small puff of a sigh, you agree and move aside, allowing him to walk past. He settles in almost instantly, shimmying himself under the covers and flicking through the channels, trying to find something good to watch.

You sit down awkwardly beside him, leaving a safe and comfortable gap between you, subtly scootching away when he moves closer to you.

"What's up with you? You're being well weird," he asks, diverting his attention from the Japanese game show to you, looking over you with furrowed brows.

"I'm not being weird. You're being weird," you divert, crossing your arms over yourself, trying to minimise space. "Just trying to get comfy."

"That's cos'ya hanging off the bed, knobhead. Get closer, then."

He swiftly pulls you closer, gently dragging you towards him so that both of you are leaning against the headboard, his arm draped over your shoulder.

It was the complete opposite of what you were trying to accomplish - now smushed up close to his side, forced to smell his masculine shower gel. You had no idea what to do with yourself.

You have only been this close in proximity a few times. And on those occasions, one of you would always be drunk - never to be brought up again. But when you're sitting so close to him, both completely sober, your brain can't help but stir up those feelings you've been trying to suppress.

Lewd and vulgar thoughts spiralled around when you feel the steady sound of his heartbeat against your arm, everything so casual and natural - like everything was a breeze with him. Your mind begins to wander when you feel him shift beside you, legs spreading, groin adjusting like he was making himself comfortable - like he was situating himself in your bed for the night.

In your line of work, you don't often experience genuine human interactions - ones that are soft and gentle, ones filled with tender love and care. Every encounter lately has ended in a blood bath - literally. 

So when you feel Tangerine's hand slip into yours, you can't help but overthink it. It was so unlike him to physically show how he felt, so it was tricky not to question his motives.

His thumb swipes over your hand, softly squeezing yours, so you decide to look up at him, but he is already focused on you - the tv a mere thought away. The way he looked at you was so unexpected, so different to all the other times. 

All you could offer under his concentrated attention was a faint and gentle smile, nose softly scrunching as you held his gaze. He returns with a boyish grin, tache twitching with the movement.

You momentarily break eye contact, quickly glancing down at his lips. You thought you were sneaky, but the way his breathing ever so slightly faltered told you otherwise. 

He slowly leans towards you, his movements articulate and calculated as he pulls you in for a kiss, working over your lips carefully and considerately. His large palms nestling on the side of your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss - everything turning somewhat desperate. Hasty.

His mouth travels away from your slightly bruised lips, now working along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Muttering faint groans into your skin as you tug on the damp curls at the back of his head - holding him close to you.

Tangerine's movements remain dominant. In charge. Guiding you and bringing you down the bed, laying you flat on your back so he can situate himself between your spread legs - hovering atop of you with his chest pressed to yours.

His cock feels firm against you, tucked and slotted perfectly between your thighs, nudging and brushing your clit with every subtle move he makes. 

It wasn't long before you found yourself whimpering into his mouth and toying with your hips, the dry humping working you up more than you had thought.

He parts from your lips, looking into your hazy, blissed-out eyes -ones that mirror his own- and begins to lazily push up your tee, stroking up your stomach, exposing just what he wanted to see; plushy tits and cute soft tummy. 

You help him out of his t-shirt, wanting to see more. Eager fingers trailing over the contours of his stomach before pulling him back to you, his happy trail brushing against your abdomen - chests sandwiched together. 

He trails a faint line of kisses down your neck and along your collarbone as he slips himself from your grasp, sitting on his knees between your thighs. He picks up your hand, sliding his gold rings onto your fingers. "Look after these for me, would'ya?" he whispers, kissing the back of your hand.

It's then that he finally slips a hand between your legs, faintly trailing up and down your slit, teasing you as he palms his cock through his tented boxers, circling over the wet patch of fabric - right by his head.

His gaze remains lidded, lazily looking over you as he dips his hand into the waistband, rolling over his aching cock a couple of times. Your eyes respond pleadingly, silently begging him to hurry up.

Your keen fingers make haste movements, brushing over his boxers like you were trying to strip them from him - doing his job for him. 

He answers your prayers and tugs down the fabric, flinging his briefs to the edge of the bed, letting his thick, hard cock spring free. He grips himself at the base, guiding his head towards your slick hole - rimming his tip around before slowly easing in. 

He goes slow, steady. Like he has all the time in the world. Letting you adjust and accustom his size, deeply filling you. Bottoming out.

With his cock stuffed inside, he leans over you once more, hovering over you and caging you to the mattress - your arms and legs clinging onto him, wrapping around him like a monkey on a tree. 

"Fuck me," Tangerine blabbers, voice hoarse and incoherent. Hot grunts against your throat as he winds into you, cock grinding inside you. "Christ."

He brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks, holding you still so he can lap over your lips, swallowing your whimpers - your sweet pretty sounds muffling against his tongue. 

Your touch mirrors his, moving your hands from his back to hold either side of his face, pushing away a stray curl that fell. Holding him close. Keeping him there.

Tangerine quickens the pace, fucking into you a little better. More deliberatly. The curve of his cock rubbing against your gummy walls in the most sinful way.

He chases your release, wanting to feel you shudder and tighten around him - wanting to feel you cum on his cock. So, he parts from your lips and trails messy open kisses over your cheek, halting when he reaches under your ear. 

"You feel so perfect wrapped around me—  you're so perfect," he hazily whispers, talking low. "God— yeah, that's it," he nods slowly, encouraging you. "You're right there, pretty girl. I can feel it."

With his soft praise, you find yourself gripping onto his dick, tightly clamping around him as you cum. Moaning sweet cries senselessly into the crook of his neck.

Your release triggers his own, pumping his thick, warm load onto your stomach, biting back broken groans as he milks the rest of his cum onto your jittering tummy. 

He leans back over you once more, placing a lingering kiss on your lips before pushing himself off the bed, heading for the bathroom.

Returning with a lusty smile and a wet washcloth, he sits on the edge of the bed beside you, gently wiping it over your stomach before doing the same with his cock, rubbing the fabric over his leaking, messy tip.

"We should've done that years ago," you whisper, flattening your tee down your stomach.

"Fuckin' years ago," he coyly grins, raking back his now-dried curls.

Your smile widens, meeting his eyes. "You, uh... you can stay over? If you want... so you— you can watch tv?" you offer, trying to persuade him - finding a reason for him to stay.

"For the tv," he chuckles, nodding. Playing along

He slips into the bed beside you, tugging the covers up and settling himself next to you. His large, warm arms find you under the sheets, holding you to his side.

"We got an early start. Get some sleep, love," he whispers, placing a delicate kiss on your temple. "Goodnight."

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.65)

(Sneak peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The truth always comes out one way or another, and with Jimin temporarily whisked away for surgery- it's up to you and yoongi to answer Namjoon's questions.

Tags: angst, blood, guns, murder, discussions of morality, descriptions of dead bodies, discussion of past spousal abuse, confessions, hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals, reconciliation, vmin focus, Trans! tae, discussions of transness, everybody lives nobody dies,

W/c: 12.0k

A/N: this chapter is a bit heavy on the dialogue but! sorry that this chapter came out when it did, we're finally here! sorry for the break in chapters- I got some not great news about a family members health and wanted to spend some extra time with them over the holidays.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Chapter 65 Sneak Peek: Lucky Gods

You drop a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder without a word. After some beckoning Namjoon follows you into the room. Legs shaking and sluggish at first. The pack is quiet even as the door closes.

But once Namjoon's moving it’s hard to stop, careening like a comet or a bullet in your direction.

To say that Namjoon is angry is an understatement; rage rolls off of him in quiet unending ripples carrying with it the strength to change the pack for good if he’s not careful.

He watches you startle and turn, eyes widening. You do not make to move out of his path.

Namjoon has never made you feel afraid before, but the pulse of it, the threat of it is there as he backs you against the wall until your body lies against it. Looming over your head, so much taller and larger than you.

An alpha. An alpha hunting. You tremble but do not move to avoid him.

He has a tiny bit of blood on his face, and a hairline splatter, almost like a constellation of stars across his temple. His fingers are harsh and shaking when they dig into your cheeks, pinching them until your lips open. Your knees tremble and you press your palm flat against the wall.

His scent thunders so thick and consuming that you can't physically stop yourself from trying to bear your throat. Namjoon stops you, holding you in place.

His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as he looks down at you, He pinches your cheeks harder, shakinging you just a little. His voice is steady when he speaks, a low snarl.

“Never make me hurt one of our packmates again.” You swallow, although it’s hard. And he pinches again, harder before you get a chance to speak, to try and defend why you brandished that knife at Jimin hours ago. “I mean it. Never.”

He holds you there for a second longer before he lets you go, gasping. His hand slides down your throat to your neck, around the back near your scruff and gives it a small reassuring squeeze that only makes you feel like you're about to fall over. You would fall over if it wasn't for his touch keeping you up.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, a few stingy tears making themselves known at the corner of your eyes. Namjoon rests his forhead against yours and closes his eyes. his spiky silver hair hitting your skin.

After a second he opens them again, nodding, and his scent looses its bitter edge. He steps closer, guiding you to rest against his chest. You take big gasps of his scent now that he's giving you permission. your instincts thunder through you so viciously that you can't physically stop yourself from tilting your neck and bearing your throat.

Namjoon just drags a finger down it, humming. He holds you up, arms around your shoulders, an anchor and a cage.

“It’s not okay.” I’m not okay, “but I forgive you.” Your knees do give out when Namjoon’s hand brushes the back of your neck, fingers digging in tenderly. Because even if he wants to be angry, anger won’t accomplish anything.

He walks you two strides, to put you into a chair next to Yoongi. Your mate takes you from him. the plastic chair makes a loud scraping noise against the linoleum floor. Jin’s on your other side looking just as tired as the rest of you. You'll get no rest tonight, sleeping in Jimin's hospital room when he gets out of surgery, every fitful dream interrupted by the oxygen monitor on his arm.

Secret, killer, and agent. All there in a pretty little row. Namjoon glares down at the three of you and crosses his arms.

“Explain.” Namjoon can’t wait another minute, another second. “Explain to me everything going on in my pack that I don't know about right now or I swear I’ll-“

Yoongi scoffs, "That you'll what? That you'll tear us apart Namjoon? that you'll leave? Look around you- we're already falling to pieces."

Coming Saturday January 6th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments below)

[gyllenhaalstories]

WE'RE NOT COWBOYS — DANNY SHARP

summary: danny likes his banks robberies short and sweet. he avoids collateral damage at all costs... most of the time.

warnings: reader is gender neutral! bank robbery, weapons, injury, blood, some sort of comfort/fluff mix? your guess is as good as mine. 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2515

gif credits: @/stephendorff (cropped) / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i watched ambulance again and i could not resist writing whatever this is. 💵 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"Why is it taking so fucking long?" A man shouted from God knew where. "Where's Mel? Has anybody seen Mel Gibson?" More men answered 'no sir' in sync.

You sobbed, the pain stung so bad that even crying hurt. You were stuck in a cycle. The more you cried, the more it hurt and the more it made you want to cry.

A tall, bearded man stared down at you. He rubbed his knuckles, soothing the pain he caused himself by punching you in the face. You had taken him by surprise, squealing of fear while he hurried out of the vault with the last of the money and valued goods he stole. He took a better hold of his rifle, he tried to assess if your life was worth wasting a bullet on.

"I swear to God, I'm gonna kill that guy!" The first person spoke again and marked a pause before continuing, he chuckled while he specified his wish. "I won't! Okay? I won't. Not until today's precious cargo is safe and sound."

Nope, you were not worth it. He abandoned you by the bank tellers' desks, shaking like a palm tree in a storm.

"There you fucking are! Thought you got lost, that's not very Braveheart of you." You heard some mumbling you assumed came from the man who punched you. He received more reprimands and threats in exchange for his tardiness. "Do I have to tie you to one of those kiddy leashes so you don't run away? I saw some parents walk their child with that shit last week. Los Angeles, man... It'll drive you crazy!"

You heard instructions being given, the men were wrapping up and leaving the building. All men except for the one who's footsteps echoed louder and louder. You covered your mouth with your free hand, trying to be as quiet as you possibly could in this moment. You closed your eyes too, maybe if you could not see him then he would not see you. Wrong.

"Hi."

You ignored him, rocking yourself back and forth until another wave of pain made you wail.

"Hey, hey, hey. Listen to me. You're okay, you're fine."

You made the mistake of looking up and locked eyes with this man dressed in fancy attire. He looked like a manager with his tailored suit and dress pants, he even got a shiny name tag to go with it. You failed to read what the tag said.

"My name's Daniel," he offered you a smile you could barely decipher with your vision, blurry from the tears. "Everyone calls me Danny."

You did not budge, bloodshot eyes staring at his foggy figure.

"You're hurt." He noticed a drop or two of blood on your brow bone. "Who hurt you? Was it Mel Gibson?"

You nodded frantically, but stopped. It hurt too much.

"That fucker." He said under his breath, but covered it up with another disingenuous smile. "You stay there, okay? I'll be right back. Don't move."

He ordered you to stay immobile and you listened. Where would you go anyway? Maybe he had an army of Mel Gibsons out there. All you knew was that they swarmed in the bank, you froze in place and, because of your reaction (or lack thereof), you failed to follow the other workers and visitors when they were bunched up in a corner of the facility.

Danny speed-walked his way back to where he came from, instructing his men to leave without him. He'd be fine, there was just a small inconvenience he had to deal with.

The next thing you heard was his familiar footsteps hurrying back to you.

"Good job! You listened." His tone was somewhere in the middle of patronizing and comforting, but at this very moment you preferred to cling to his words and to do as he said. "I'll take a look, okay? Let me look at you." He crouched down.

You pulled your hand slowly away from the left side of your face, where you were punched. You flinched when Danny approached you.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. And I'm gonna make sure the guy who did this..." He looked at your wound then back into your eyes. "Pays for it. Got it?"

You nodded, slower this time than before. You figured out what he meant by that and the thought was sinister.

"Oh, poor little thing." He grinned, his facial expression softening when he assessed the gravity of your state. "It's just a black eye. You'll be fine."

You were starting to wonder what being fine meant to him.

"It won't hurt for long, trust me. I've gotten my fair share of those. I'm a little bit of a troublemaker." He winked at you and giggled.

The adrenaline rush started to drop, leaving you shivering.

Danny quickly noticed. He kept an eye on you, noticing how much you flinched and tensed up when he moved, while he took off his jacket and the black cashmere sweater he wore underneath. "Can ya feel that? It's soft. It's cashmere. I love cashmere." He draped the sweater over your body, hoping that it would stop you from shaking like a leaf. "I'll get you something for the pain."

Your mind began an epic race. If this guy was anything like the villains you saw in movies, he'd probably drug you or kill you the second he earned your trust. Oh God. He was earning it already! You were doomed, this was how it ended for you... Sitting on the dusty floor of the bank and being sweet talked towards your demise.

While your mind spiralled endlessly, Danny had searched the place around. He located a vending machine, probably destined for employees for their lunch break. Now, all he needed was a handful of coins. Lucky him, banks were full of coins. He scavenged through messy desks and even messier drawers until he found what he wanted. He headed towards the machine and, while waiting to select his desired item, he made a quick phone call to Castro.

"Mister Sharp, I can't do this right now! No, I'm not watching the soccer game. I'm just busy, the guys are arriving! What am I supposed to do? Okay, got it. I'll go! I'm coming! Yeah, I'll get a car! I'm running! Are you good? You seem stressed again. Stress is bad. I heard tea helped, have you tried to drink tea? Wait, how am I gonna make it back here? Mister Sharp? Do you need flamingos this time?"

You caught no word of that, despite how his employee was shouting through the phone, too busy listening to your own thoughts. Only Danny's silhouette walking towards you pulled you out of this misery.

He pressed a cold can of soda on the corner of your eye. "It will soothe the pain and you won't swell as much. First time getting punched, huh?" You shrugged, he took that as a yes. "I remember my first time... It was with my brother."

You frowned, the phrasing could not have been worse.

"No!" He yelled, clearing everything up. "I mean the first punch. He punched me. We were playing cowboys and he just popped one right in my face. He said it was an accident. I believe him. He became a Marine, maybe that moment inspired him."

You were not in the right state, both physical and psychological, to unpack what you just heard. Instead, you focused on the cold aluminum of the can and how it numbed the stinging pain.

"There's gonna be a car waiting for us soon. I'll take you back home? You can take something for the pain, lay down and sleep it off. It will turn different colours while it heals, but you'll look as pretty as ever in no time."

You swallowed the lump in your throat that was telling you to not trust him. He was a stranger. A dangerous stranger, at that. Your gut feeling rang all sorts of alarms, but still... You wanted to believe him.

"If anyone asks, you can tell them you were clumsy. Hit yourself while opening the cupboards. They'll buy it, people are so gullible."

The flag could not have been more red than that.

Speaking of red, there was a red reflection coming from the windows.

"There he fucking is, took him long enough." Danny sighed with a roll of his eyes. His demeanour changed radically when he aimed his attention back to you. "Think you can stand up? Here, let me help you." He offered you strong hands to pull you up.

Your legs were shaky, your knees barely held you up on your feet but you managed.

"I gotcha." Danny wrapped a solid arm around your waist, silently encouraging you to lean on him while he guided you towards the exit.

You held the soda can tightly, subconsciously preparing yourself to use it as a weapon if needed.

Danny's employee, Castro, held the door open for you. He drowned the both of you in a river of excuses before his boss could even speak a word. "T'was the only set of keys I found, sir! I made it as fast as I can like you told me to! I always listen so well, maybe not about the flamingos though... But you know, maybe one day you'll think of paying me more. I'm kinda like the employee of the month."

"Employees of the month wouldn't forget the first fucking rule! What is it Castro? We don't touch these cars." The two men repeated this last sentence together like a parent lecturing his child.

You looked around. Your gut was telling you to run while they were arguing, to run and save your life.

Danny's grip tightened around your waist, as if he guessed what went through your mind. He discarded of Castro, sending him off to God knew where again. He opened the door of the luxury car for you.

You sat down, let him buckle your seat belt. It oddly felt like you were a hostage he tied up to prevent you from running away. Perhaps because that was exactly what you were.

"Tell me, sweetheart. Where do you live? I'm taking you for a ride. How romantic!"

*~*~*

Danny sang along, badly if you dared to admit it, to the songs on the radio while he drove you back to your place. He parked the car and walked around to the passenger side. He most definitely overcompensated his insanity with chivalry.

You got out of the car and sighed of relief. He was right, people were gullible and you were the best example of it. "Hey, Danny." You handed him his sweater. "Thank you."

"You can keep it. As a souvenir." You sure would remember this terrifying day and you did not need an expensive cashmere sweater to remind you of it.

The two of you walked until you reached the front door. "Can you promise me something?" Danny hooked a finger under your chin and made you look in his direction. "You can keep a secret, can you?"

You nodded.

"Good. You seem like a trustworthy person."

You smiled faintly.

"Got a beautiful smile too." This hint of praise was not manipulative, well not intentionally. "Listen. We're not cowboys. Well... I'm not. I'm not a cowboy. I do things right. Nobody else got hurt today, you know? You shouldn't have gotten hurt." Danny brushed his finger gently over the bruise. "But you gotta promise me to keep this between you and I."

He felt you tense up, a breath getting caught in your throat.

"You have to. I know you can. I told you how to cover it up." It referring to the black eye, to the context and reason behind it, to this day that was taken straight out of some of your worst nightmares. "This is a day just like any other day for you."

You opened your mouth to disagree. All you wanted was to take some money out of your bank account and go about your day. You did not even get to do any of that and you got a nasty bruise as a bonus.

"By keeping this a secret, you're saving a life." He nodded slowly with a grin on his thin lips. "Yours." His eyes darkened and his smile faded. "We're not cowboys," he repeated. "I only wanted the money and I got it." He shrugged it off like it was nothing. "You don't want to become collateral damage, do you?"

You hoped there would be no other day like today.

"And you won't." He swayed between threatening you one second and, on the next, he was reassuring you. "As long as you promise me." Danny's hands, that were resting on your shoulders, dragged down your arms.

He held your hands in his, it stopped you from shaking. What was it about this man that felt so soothing? You had heard him scream at his legion of bad guys. Yet, with you, he was rather calm and composed. Almost caring.

"We got a deal? Ah, fuck, wait." He rolled his eyes, faking to have forgotten something. His other hand disappeared behind his back and, for one second yet again, you regretted not having trusted your gut feeling. You stared at a stack of cash, fresh out of the bank that he robbed not that long ago, that he pulled out from under the back of his belt. "Now. Do we have a deal?" He presented his pinkie finger to you, waiting for you to seal this promise.

You glanced at the money, then at his face. You were met with eyes as blue as the sky behind him. You locked your finger with his and took the money with you. "Deal."

He started to walk away, turning his back at you. You were left with an immense promise to keep, enough money to take your mind off it for a while... And a cashmere sweater that smelled of his cologne. "Danny!" You called out his name.

He turned to face you, too quickly to have time to put on a fake smile. Danny started to second guess if this whole thing... If you were a good idea. But you cut him short.

"Will I see you around?"

The smile that started to spread from ear to ear was anything but fake. "Fuck yeah, you will. On TV. they'll be talking about it on the news. Impressive, huh? I never get tired of that shit." He took a deep breath, his chest swollen with pride. It took him a moment to register the intention behind your question. He arched his brow, amused. "Oh, you want more of this?" He gestured towards himself.

You agreed to meet again.

He told you he'd pick you up in this same car, so you knew what to expect. It was fine when Danny broke the rules. He could break all the rules he wanted. He was not a cowboy, but he sure was an outlaw.

[braidlottie]

it's classical, anyway.

pairing: mommy!lottie x inexperienced!transmasc!reader

summary: lottie takes you to buy your first sex toy.

tags: smut, nsfw, 18+ (minors dni), vibrator, reader is a little shy, but lottie is so soft with him :(, lubricant, cute nicknames for reader :3

word count: 1k

a/n: i figured out the custom coloring!! so thats Nice :]

title inspired by lotion by deftones

“we don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, honey.” lottie’s hand rubbed your knee as the two of you sat in the car in front of an adult toys shop not too far out of the city.

“but, i want to, mommy.” you were a little scared, but you’ve been wanting to take this step with lottie for a while now. lottie’s hand went to caress your burning cheek before giving it a small peck. “i wanna go in.”

the older woman nods, taking the car keys out of the ignition. “i’ll be right by you the whole time, baby, m’kay?”

you nod, mirroring her smile shyly.

***

the bell at the top of the door chimed when you and lottie entered the store, catching the ear of the worker at the front desk. she smiled, putting some boxes down behind the desk. “welcome in! is there anything i can help you two with?”

lottie smiled back, walking up to her with a question.

“could you point me to the vibrators, please?”

your face burned at lottie’s words, looking down at your feet. “no problem, right this way.” the worker smiled once more, you and lottie following her to the aisle.

the walls were lined with different toys, all color coordinated and stacked perfectly. “let me know if you need anything.” the worker walked back to her desk and left you and lottie alone in the aisle. the store was empty, it was just you, lottie and the worker.

well, a sex shop wouldn’t be packed at 11 am on a thursday, right?

“which one would you like, sweetheart? you can pick out any one, it’s just for you.” lottie smiled before pulling you closer by your waist. you couldn’t choose all the colors and different prices were too overwhelming- until you found the perfect one.

it was a small, black bullet vibrator that had multiple types of speed and vibration patterns. you try to grab it, but it was a shelf too high, making lottie help you out. “this one, darling?” she gave it to you, watching you scan the box for more facts.

rechargeable. 6 hours of battery life! dishwasher safe?

“you like that one, don’t you?” lottie smiled down at you, pinching your cheek. “but the price-”

“nooo, what did i say about that, honey? mommy would buy it for you, no matter how much it cost.”

you shrugged, avoiding lottie’s eyes. “let’s buy this and go home, yeah? i know you’re just dying to try it out.”

you whined, hiding your shy little smirk into lottie’s shoulder. “i’m only teasing you, little one.” she squeezed your hand as the two of you walked up to the cash register.

***

as soon as you got home, lottie told you to undress, taking off your pants and your boxers frantically, and your shirt lastly, ready to finally try it out.

“come sit on mommy’s lap, sweet boy.” lottie was across the room on the couch. she had taken the toy out of the packaging, pulling you in closer when you sat down. “it’s beautiful, isn’t it? are you ready?” you heard the cap of a lube bottle snap shut after lottie put some on the vibrator.

she rubbed your tummy, keeping a secure grip on you around your waist because you were definitely going to squirm. “i’ll start slow, then we’ll work our way up, yeah. don’t hesitate to tell mommy to stop.” you copied her nod.

lottie rubbed the toy against your t-cock, making you shiver from the coldness of the lubricant.

then she turned it on.

you gasped softly, your stomach already flipping as the low buzzing sound filled your head. “you’re such a brave boy for doing this with mommy, yes you are.” lottie cooed, her hand still rubbing your stomach.

your breaths were jagged, biting your lower lip as a moan almost slipped out. “don’t be afraid to moan in front of mommy, baby. c’mon,” she coaxed you, a small whimper from you muffled into her chest.

“there's my boy, does that feel nice?”

“mm- yes, s’good,” your words were slurred together but lottie could somehow still understand you. “you want it faster, don’t you?” lottie smiled sweetly, spreading your legs farther with her knee. you would've never thought that such a tiny thing could make you feel this good.

“mommyyy..” you almost cried, holding onto lottie’s wrist. “i know, sweet boy.” lottie couldn’t take it herself. holding her little boy in her lap while he squirmed and whimpered against her shoulder, it was such a precious site. “do you need mommy to stop?”

“nono- please!”

the pressure in your stomach was getting tighter and tighter as you rocked your hips into the new toy. “are you close, my baby?” lottie deliberately pressed the vibe into your little cock, marveling at how perked up every so often.

“faster, please mommy- ‘m so-” your sentence was cut off by lottie turning up the speed once again, dragging the tip of the bullet up and down against your dick, resting it directly on the head. “so close for mommy, i just know it. let go, my darling boy, c’mon.” she kissed your ear before whispering. “cum for mommy.”

the high pitched moan you let out was alarming, to both you and lottie, but you couldn’t feel embarrassment now, only pleasure as your orgasm bursts through your stomach, a tear falling from your eye when you blinked. “such a good boy. how was that?” you nodded, smiling from the praise. “good, mommy.” you rubbed your wet face with the back of your hand.

“you know, you don’t have to ask mommy to use this. you can use it whenever you like. while i’m at work, or at the store, even if i’m in the next room, baby.” she teased, watching you get flustered for the umpteenth time today.

“or mommy can teach you, baby. if you don’t know to use it.”

you nodded once with a smile, buzzing with excitement at the thought for using your new toy again.

taglist (i forgot it): @antlerbf @deerlottie @theyellowjacketschewtoy @girltwinklater @kessellluvr @lotties-ashwagandha

[cap-winter-barnes]

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader - Don’t Leave Me Alone

Warnings: Brief/Vague mentions of childhood & teenage abuse. Y/N has a panic attack due to physical touch.

Someone requested this piece but I lost their @ so apologies for not tagging you when I said I would - hope this is okay for my first Spencer fic.

You’ve been a member of the BAU team for over a year and yet you’re still not ready to open up to your colleagues about your past. Hotch had made it clear to the team that you were not one for physical contact, handshakes and hugs were off the cards. Even a hand on your shoulder is enough to set you off in a panic. Your childhood into your teen years were a painful experience that has left you fearing human contact, even the slightest touch can trigger a panic attack, something you desperately try to avoid. Spencer respects your personal space, especially as he struggles to deal with people touching him too. But he can’t help but want to provide you with support to hold you when he can see that you’re struggling with your own mind or freaking out after a case.

The teams most recent case has you travelling to the humid climate of Florida. With the weather causing an unreal amount of heat and discomfort you reluctantly opted to wear a short-sleeved t-shirt rather than your usual long-sleeved blouse. It made the bullet-proof vest just that little bit more bearable. Yet you didn’t account for the local Sheriff to take it upon himself to grab your upper arm during an argument with one of his detectives. The detective in question had been making derogatory comments towards you, JJ & Emily the entire time you had been at the precinct and you had finally had enough. After calling you ‘sweetheart’ for what must have been the hundredth time, you needed to speak your mind.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, Detective,” your words laced with venom. “But my name isn’t sweetheart, or honey, or darlin’. It’s Y/N.” Silence follows your outburst.

“Well, darlin’. Maybe if you dressed more respectably you’d be treated as such.” The smirk on his face irks you beyond reason, so much so, that you leap from your position on the desk across from him.

“What did you just say to me?” Reid, JJ & Hotch all close in to defend you but you raise your hand to stop them. “I’ve got this don’t worry.”

“Yeah, the little princess over here can handle herself.” This earns chuckles from the other detectives and officers around the room.

“Right, that’s enough!” The Sheriff storms through but with your back turned to him, you don’t realise that he’s reaching for you as you take a step back, getting into his bad books isn’t going to help the progression of the case. It’s too late for your team to step in as they realise what is about to happen just as his hand closes around your upper arm. On instinct you’re body reacts in the only way it knows - a panic attack. You try to pull away as his grip tightens trying to move you aside for a quiet conversation but that isn’t happening now.

“LET ME GO!” You repeat the phrase as loud as your voice will allow you. His touch instantly causes your mind to picture the violence you suffered in your younger years. Tears stream from your eyes as your panic intensifies. You can just about make out the voices of Reid & JJ as they try to comfort you and reassure you whilst Hotch is demanding you be let go. When the Sheriff finally releases you under the threats of Hotch, your can no longer hold yourself upright, on instinct, Spencer catches you as you fall.

“I’m so, so sorry Y/N, but we need to get you someone quiet. I’m so sorry.” Spencer cradles you in his arms as he half walks, half carries you to an empty filing room for some privacy.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry. I’m so-“

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault.” As he settles you down he pulls his hands away to let you go, fingers outstretched like approaching a wounded animal. But you reach out, taking his hands in yours.

“Please, Spence.” Your words are breathless as you speak, begging him to stay, to touch you. To comfort you. “Stay with me?”

“Of course.” His grip on your hands tighten as he sits himself beside you. “I’ll always stay for you.” You respond with a tight smile, grateful for him not pressuring you to reveal anything from your past, grateful for the respect he shows for your personal space. Yet now, nothing comforts you more than the feeling of his thumb dancing across the back of your hands, calming you unintentionally. For once in your life, you feel comforted and relaxed by someone’s touch. Maybe it isn’t so bad after all, yet only time will tell. And maybe you can finally let Spencer into your heart that little bit more like you so desperately want to.

[caffeiiine]

I read the tags on your Kunikida post… go ahead and explain, my liege

JUST SAW THIS SOMEHOW ABYWAYS TYYY

OKAY so probably going into detail about how kunikida can be considered passively suicidal since i have the most coherent thoughts on that aand warnings for stuff of that nature under the cut :D + length

[also small disclaimer, i have been procrastinating reading dazais entrance exam and so far have only seen the anime adaptation which apparently left a ton of stuff out so feel free to correct me on inaccurate details and/or missed examples or just downright incorrect information]

[note: idk if passive is the correct term bc i was thinking about it and hes not exactly like oh i hope this kills me yk, so whatever that term is lmk <3]

This stuff also sorta ties in with his ideals and their potential self destructive-ness. they tend to cause him to either negligently often risk his life with there being an apparent “other way”, or just outright risk his life with barely a second thought for his ideals.

so kunikida has very strong morals and that’s the core of his character. the main ideals referenced in the show being his infamous “ideal woman”, “how to make dazai ideal”, and the ideal that basically tells him to save people. [i forgot what that one is referred to as]. If we’re talking timeline wise i think one of the first examples of his ideals causing him to negligently risk his life would be in Dazais Entrance Exam, or The Azure Messenger arc if you’re an anime watcher.

First example off the top of my head in dazais entrance exam would be when him and Dazai first see the hostages, specifically the ones in the room

after the gas came down dazai has to actually wrestle kunikida away from the room because otherwise hes gonna die. kunikida repeatedly shouts about how “people shouldn’t die like this”. This might be a bit of a tangent but later on in the episode he remarks how he “may as well ahev set the bomb off himself” when Dazai asks about Rokuzou’s dad, implying he blames himself for Rokuzou’s dad’s death. This is of itself isn’t enough for me to say “oh yeah he’s passively suicidal” so moving on to the main manga where there are several other instances of his tendencies to throw himself directly in harms way.

[there may be examples before this i just skipped to chapter 40] and starting off strong we have the thing with Aya. This could be written up to circumstance but he had the opportunity to avoid death himself so im counting it. he’s basically hugging death. that’s all i have to say for this.

of course he ends up surviving it because of deus ex machina yosano. After the fact, Aya asks him what he would’ve done if Yosano wasn’t there. To which he replies basically he would’ve done the same thing he just did except died and basically would have been fine with the outcome as long as she didn’t die in front of him. [he would’ve been dead as well and not had to deal with the guilt] i should point out as well, he does this because of his ideals. he specifically cites his ideals around these parts usually. The not letting anybody die before his eyes is one of ideals and the most common one he uses.

[im pulling that from the fact he had no backup plans or anything to actually stop the bomb aside from Yosano, since his words could imply he would’ve tried to save Aya. and the guy with the bombs was using the fact Kunikida holds his ideals very close to him, taht he wouldn’t have allowed Aya to die if he could’ve prevented it.]

aaand i think our last example and best example for tonight

context for the scene: they’re in the getaway helicopter and tecchou is trying to take it down via his sword and Kunikida decides to take matters into his own hands and take down Tecchou. First off, HE DID NOT HAVE TO, CHUUYA IS RIGHT. THERE. HE LITERALLY SHOT TECCHOU WITH GRAVITY BULLETS EARLIER.

HE DID NOT HAVE TO RISK HIMSELF BUT HE DID. also additional context, in this arc and the previous arcs, he’s been faced with situation after situation where his ideals have failed him and he’s been unable to exercise them and save the people he thinks he should.

point being, he feels like complete shit! he probably is thinking like if he should do anything then, it should be he makes sure he gets his friends out of there. regardless of whether he’s dead or alive because he jumps out of the plane and full body tackles tecchou while being in direct contact with fucking chuuya.

chuuya “has to stay out of the fights and arcs half the time because he’s too good at his job” nakahara.

chuuya “just shot tecchou and did a decent job at keeping him back a few pages before” nakahara. you see my point.

oh and then he just attempts to blow the both of them up.

he does not care for his life at all here. not one bit. also he did not need to blow the both of them up. he could’ve made a fucking stun gun or anything else that wouldn’t KILL the BOTH of them??

my whole point is he does not care for his life here and it’s gets worse the more you progress through the manga.

anyways anyways ending off, kunikida repeatedly puts his life in danger either for his ideals or neglectfully and/or without need. this has been a ramble. this man is not okay.

also kinda funny is he’s partners with dazai of all people, actively suicidal princess bungou himself. i really enjoy their differences and how similarly different they are.

^ not actually related to anything but i almost started laughing so hard with my family in the room at this piece, junichiro looks so concerned

[varilien]

(character uses they/it) i keep wanting to start posting my ocs over here again and then Just Not Doing It so uhhhh !!! some stuff from february, had a dream about knives that made me think of a plant oc with a constant power output so extreme that it generates a deadly radiation field around them. because of that they've been living alone this whole time, avoiding contact with other living things, and over the years they've learned how to suppress that output for short spans of time or "safely" pour out the excess in order to be safe to be around, though they ultimately prefer their solitude due to a history of bad experiences with humans. they're very blunt, spiteful, and curious

@whatever-you-can-give-me suggested lr would make good friends for them since they are 🤝 about being extremely hard to hurt lol

also! wrote like 2k about they and razlo's first meeting below the cut if anyone's interested in some good ol violence + gore :3

that was a fr content warning btw read at ur own discretion:

Chance encounters with violent strangers out in the open desert are nothing new to LR, even when Livio purposefully had tried to find the quietest possible route to travel.  It’s not even necessarily surprising to run into someone a little to the left of human, someone a bit bigger or stronger or more durable than they really have any right to be.  The Eye aren’t the only ones designing freaks on this planet, that much is obvious, evidenced sufficiently by the odder fights LR have ever gotten in.  

And this one is shaping up to be one of their oddest fights yet.

Livio hadn’t seen the fucker coming, occupied as he was with the slow realization of why this stretch of road doesn’t see much use anymore: a creeping heat across his nerve endings unrelated to the overcast, evening suns, the taste of metal in his mouth, and a deep-rooted nausea twisting up his guts.  Radiation sickness.  He’s dealt with it before, and as unpleasant as it is, it’s hardly enough to slow him down too bad.  

It’s damn distracting, though.  A good enough excuse for not noticing them hiding up along the rockface above his head.  Not a good enough excuse to keep Razlo from tagging in, especially after something’s pierced straight through the back of his neck, nearly taking his head clean off.  

Razlo rolls for cover with a strangled sound, blood gushing from his forced-out throat and foaming at his lips.  Even with his senses jarred and his vision blurred, it'd take more than a near-decapitation for his instincts to be overridden.  He's slinging out a Punisher before he even knows what he's up against.  

There's a blur of motion to his right as soon as his sights are raised.  They're probably surprised Razlo's still standing, but so was everyone else who's gotten a lucky shot at him.

He can track their motion by sound alone.  They're sloppy.  Feet hitting the cracked earth in hard thumps, every one a warning that Razlo can aim a spray of bullets at.  And by now Razlo's healed enough to notice and wonder why the hell his head is still so fucked up.

At least now he can mostly see them when he turns, hanging back a ways, out of Razlo's reach.  Shorter than him by a head and a half, covered toe to tip in layers of sun-bleached rags, save for their face.  That's hidden behind a tall, curved mask, shaped in a way that looks an awful lot like a tomas' crest, with the false eye markings to match.  Even the glass for the lenses is opaque.  The only part of them that’s exposed is their left hand, extended delicately aside to keep Razlo’s blood dripping off it from getting on their clothes.

Razlo physically tries to shake out the buzzing in his skull that only gets worse by the second, only to notice the foul smell of burning meat and risk an instinctive glance down at his arm, where his flesh has started to bubble and steam seemingly on its own.  He looks between his arm and his opponent, the way their body tenses and head begins to tip, shaking hard, simultaneous with his skin boiling that much more fiercely.  

Something clicks in his brain.  There’s no way.

And no time to find out.  This time when they dart in he’s expecting it; he takes a swing at their head, and they dodge right into his follow-through, slamming his Punisher into their skull with a crunch and a wet sound from their throat.  They drop, like he’d expect them to, like anyone would.  And like no one does, they just roll out of the way and onto their back, braced to spring back up again.�� Razlo puts his boot through their ribcage before they get the chance to.  That should be the end of it, too, but the fucker just keeps kicking, trying to get away, the only sound they make being the gurgle of their lungs filling with blood, and they keep kicking.

At this point Razlo doesn’t even have a plan anymore.  Needless to say, he doesn’t go up against an awful lot of guys who match him in the department of being a pain in the ass to take down.  Razlo's just starting to come up with a new idea when those long arms swing up, claws digging into and making ribbons of his right leg.

Razlo curses and tries to pull away, which only makes them hold on even tighter.  He's staring that four-eyed glare down when that burning feeling across his whole body raises in pitch again, and it's the sight of his flesh starting to disintegrate around their fingers that finally makes him back off.

Razlo rather gracelessly falls on his ass in trying to take a step back, not expecting his right leg to simply break off halfway down his thigh.  He scrambles back a ways, ready to keep going, missing limb or no, but— they aren't following him.  They're collapsed in the sand, limbs akimbo as they fight to draw a full breath.  Razlo watches with morbid curiosity as his severed leg dissolves into nothing more than an off-colored patch of sand beside them.

All that angry tension has gone out of their body, leaving them limp and motionless except for the stutter of their chest, and Razlo can hear the damp gasps muffled behind their mask.  By all rights, it should look like more of a struggle.  They should be dead, really, but from where Razlo is sitting, it looks a lot more like they’re just taking a rest.  He feels more sure of that when they roll their shoulders back a bit, arms braced in the dirt as they delicately arch their spine.  There’s some sharp popping sounds, and a little exhale from them; setting their ribs, Razlo figures.  He’s had to do the same thing before.  Once they can move their arms more effectively, they start to gather themself up into a seated position, bones and joints still crackling like popcorn here and there as they go, til they’re all the way up, with their hands resting in their lap, looking far too fucking comfortable for the fight they’d just had.

"You're not dead."

Their voice startles Razlo despite being as soft as it is, and his gaze flicks up to that mask, just slightly tilted to the side, orange lenses glinting in the harsh sunlight.  They don't move at all that Razlo can see.  Even their breathing has evened out enough to have become imperceptible under their heavy shroud; if they're in any pain still, Razlo sure can't tell.

"Nope," is all he says, or can manage to say.

He scrubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking hard a couple times to scrunch up his face in the hopes his nerves might start feeling right again soon.

Another wave of nausea hits him, but his stomach was empty before the fight even started, so he leans forward to put his head between his knees and dry heave for a while.

The whole time, he's aware of his little opponent continuing to sit in silence, watching and eerily unmoving, even when Razlo manages to sit up again and wipe his mouth with his wrist.

"The fuck's yer deal, anyways?"  Razlo asks.

"'Deal'...?"  They echo.

"Couldn't exactly kill you, either."

He wasn't expecting them to spill their life story or something, but he was thinking he'd get something more of a response than their head tilting back the opposite way.  There's not a lot to work with here in trying to get a read on them, but Razlo feels it's safe to hazard they're probably just pretty damn confused, the same as him.

"You kinda smell like a Plant.  M'not an expert, but I've met two others."

Now that gets something out of them.  A tiny wiggle of their head that makes the pieces in their mask rattle.

"I wouldn't know.  I've only met me."

“Huh.”  

Whether it’s a confirmation or rebuttal hardly matters at this point.  He’s feeling sure enough that his assumption was correct, now, anyways.

"You, uh…"  Razlo has to pause for breath.  Unlike the thing across from him, he's having a hell of a time getting his back.  "You're the one making this radiation field?"

"Yes."

"Any way you could turn it down?"

They say nothing, though Razlo feels suddenly that he's being studied very intently.  And shortly after, slowly, slowly the fire in his cells begins to go out, and he can spit the worst of the sourness off his tongue.  Eventually he can't feel any radiation left at all, though his body's had a rough enough time from the dose he got, he'll be getting the sickness out of his system for a while yet.

Regardless, Razlo’s fingers twitch against the triggers when he hears that mask rattle again, and his eyes are on it in an instant.

"You didn't answer my first question," Razlo reminds, cautiously.

More silence, for a while.

"You wanted to hurt me."

There's no malice in the statement, at least that Razlo can tell.  Just the simple facts.  Still, he narrows his eyes.

"You started it.  Figured it was mutual."

"That's true."

Razlo grins.

"So, what now?  Regrow my leg, and get back to not killing each other?"

"If you'd like to."

That gets a laugh out of him.

"Nah, I think I’ll pass, if it’s all the same to you.”

“It is.”

That much is obvious.  They stay put, seeming transfixed on watching Razlo’s leg grow back, only a little more slowly than any of his other injuries, now that he doesn’t have the radiation to slow him down.  It leaves him feeling itchy and achy all over, and he’s got a bad hunch that right ankle doesn’t have the best chances of coming back right.  Once there’s enough of it to fuss about, he gets his foot in his hands and starts experimentally rolling it on its hinge, checking that the range of motion is right.

And still, those orange lenses glint at him curiously.  They don’t flinch or look away when Razlo considers them in return; he guesses they don’t know it’s not polite to stare.

“What's yer name?"  Razlo asks.

"My name?"

"Don't tell me you ain't got one."

The silence that follows is pretty self-explanatory.

“I’m Razlo.”

He can just make out the sound of them mumbling his name under their breath, like they’re not sure how it’s going to come out.  Almost warmly, almost shyly, they manage to say: “hello, Razlo.”

[yanfairiie]

TIME ENDS ALL ✦

kafka x fem! reader

cw: angst???, probably ooc kafka, character death, mentions of blood and murder, violence with guns ig, my first post btw TvT

you never expected such a thing to happen at all.

to be reunited with your old friend to now suddenly be admist a battlefield, stabbing and slashing away at enemies around you, blood creating a sea of crimson around your feet.

"how did you get in this situation?" some may ask.

ask and you shall receive.

. . . .

it all started when you and the astral express crew received news an infamous stellaron hunter has wreaked havoc on a hostile planet and while you would've avoided the journey, the mention of kafka's name snapped your eyes in himeko's direction.

"kafka? in this planet?" you suddenly spoke, interrupting the red-headed woman. everyone looked at you, surprised that you abruptly speak up about kafka and with such gentleness too! the mention of the other two stellaron hunters would make your voice intimidating.

"okay then, who's going?" you asked, and welt responded, "me, dan heng and stelle.. are you interested in coming along, y/n?" you nodded rapidly as you went to your room to get your sheathed weapon.

you returned no later and said, "im tagging along then." everyone looked shocked but they didn't object you going with the trio. himeko simply sighed, "if you're going, make sure to return in one piece, y/n. this is a hostile planet and you have to be careful, everywhere you go."

march sprung up from her seat and hugged you tightly, "make sure to take pictures! i won't be tagging along this time." she and himeko waved at you and the departing three as you lastly said, "sure, i promise."

and with that, welt stated, "let's get going now and put an end to the violence." you smiled as the four of you descended down onto the vast planet below.

once you were all gone, march's vibrant smile dimmed down to a frown. "y'know himeko. . is it just me or did y/n look a bit happy at the mention of kafka? like not with a smile but with a sparkle in her eyes. ."

himeko gazed down at the planet below and hummed, "you're not the only once, march. y/n did look rather entranced when we mentioned kafka. i think they used to be. . . close friends."

. . . .

you coughed at the smoke blurring your vision slightly as you stabbed through an enemy's neck. you almost feel like passing out at this point but you have to keep fighting or else you won't be able to stop her.

kafka. your old best friend. your crush. your frenemy.

you and the astral express crew were on the run towards catching kafka. news from the planet's higher ups reported her escaping from the guards, last being seen in a vast plain near active volcanoes.

you stood behind dan heng as kafka's elegant voice echoed, "hm? the astral express crew here in this blazing inferno planet? not a surprise, this is what elio told me on what would happen anyway."

"listen soldiers. get rid of those unworthy of my presence." suddenly as if on cue, a horde of soldiers came chasing after you all, making you take out your weapon.

"see if you can catch me now~" and with that she leaped off. dan heng gritted his teeth and shouted, "after her now!"

so many words could describe the chase and the battle that broke out. despite kafka manipulating the powerful soldiers, she took out her guns and started shooting bullets everywhere with that oh, so perfect smile of hers.

welt's void abilities, dan heng's true power and stelle's preservation powers almost were proved weak if it hadn't been for you slashing the incoming enemies charging towards you all.

that's when you realized that reinforcements arrived and started killing their way towards the crowd, slowly aiming towards kafka's head.

not wishing to see kafka injured, you broke free from the trio and sliced through the air, contact with an reinforcement's sword. kafka, ━ sensing someone was behind her ━ unknowingly shot a bullet through your shoulder and neck, thinking you were just another weak enemy of hers.

how horribly wrong she was.

you choked out blood as stelle screamed your name and started heading towards you through the blazing red. at the sound of your name, kafka's eyes widened as she saw your familiar figure slowly collapse towards the ground due to the pain her bullets delivered.

"y/n!" kafka's voice sounded muffled in your ears as she kneeled and delicately grabbed ahold of your broken body. she saw the gushing blood pouring out of your deep wounds but yet, you still smiled at her softly.

you placed a hand on one of her smooth cheeks and sadly laughed, "kafka. . you left so fast. . . i don't think you know how secretly happy i was to see you again but i didn't have time to call out for you."

kafka's smiled dimmed as she said with an urgent tone, "you were?. . ill stop this all for you, just stay alive for me and. ."

but she never finished her sentence as your eyes suddenly widened. a soldier was heading straight for kafka, aiming towards her heart.

you wouldn't allow that at all, even for the person who was supposed to be considered your enemy.

"kafka, look OUT!" you shoved her away from you roughly and onto the dead grass, her eyes slightly watering.

just as the blade drove straight through your heart.

it seemed as if time slowed down for you all. at the sound of your cry, the astral express crew turned their attention on you and stopped battling. kafka eyes widened even more and for the first time. . .

she felt fear.

she was on her torn knees as she saw your bloody figure descend towards the ground with a thud, your hair flowing upwards as you did and a hand over your bloody wound.

you laid there in pain, blood seeping out from everywhere in your body. from the slashes of the manipulated soldiers to the bullets from kafka's gun to alas, the stab to your heart.

a sad expression fell upon your face as your tears dried out. kafka put a gloved hand over her lips and sobbed. why did you have to sacrifice yourself just for her? why did it have to be you?

that's when she had enough. she took out her own sharp weapon and stabbed her own body, collapsing with you.

she didn't care. nothing mattered anymore. elio's script went to waste. her hair was disheveled. her smile was gone. your smile was gone.

weakly, she crawled towards you. her last wish was to be with you once more. her only closest friend. her once true love was dead.

and it was her fault. she ruined it all.

what if she didn't join the stellaron hunters just to bring a change to her life? what if she never abandoned you and leave you in the dirt? what if she never manipulated those foolish soldiers? what if it was her that got stabbed? what if she just never joined the dark side at all?

ah, there are no what-ifs anymore.

with her lovely eyes drooping heavily for a final rest, she slipped her gloved hand into your dirtied one. her smile returned a bit, only the ends curving upwards a tiny bit.

and with that, her final words for you?

"i love you."

A/N: HJAKKAKSAK my first oneshot and an angsty one too >:) but fr tho was it okay 😭 i need advice on how to make my bio aesthetic like those top tier writers like PLZ yall my biggest inspo 🙏 anyways tysm to those who see this, hope it wasn't too shitty TvT

also uhhh mdzs fans out there? do yk where i got the death idea from

maybe ill write the astral express crew's pov next?? who knows 😛

ill cya again >:)

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Saturday Fandom :) This ep is solid gold. We see how Lucy takes care of Tim in her own way in this one. How pranking is one of their natural love languages. The continuous pining era continues on. It’s pretty damn glorious. Let’s get going shall we?

5x06 The Reckoning

We start off with Aaron and Tim. The more we get these two more I love it. Aaron asking Tim if he should be working? Didn’t he just have surgery? Tim deflects and says it was only an old bullet. Mmhmm. Aaron really jumps in after that. Says he heard him talking to Ashley about him grabbing rest of his stuff.... The balls on him LOL Tim straight up walks away from his ass before he can speak more. It’s so funny. Lucy can immediately see how grumpy Tim is as he approaches her.

She stops him and gets him to say good morning. Your girl won’t be ignored Timothy haha Also seeing her and Chris laughing no doubt added to his grumpy fire. He was trying to avoid it all together. Sadly your wife will not allow this. Tim is as civil as he can muster up. Not wanting to say or do more. Truly doesn't want to be around the clown.

So after his pleasantries he takes back off. Leaving Lucy stunned in his wake. She immediately looks to Aaron. Who says too much and yet not enough for her. Lucy is reaching for more but Aaron isn’t stupid. He stumbles around and tries to get away ASAP. Fearing he’s said too much as it is. The fear Tim has instilled in him is hilarious. Lucy is left wondering what the hell is going on with her best friend?

Aaron tries to get Tim talk again. Idk why he thinks he would truly I don't. lol He flames out pretty quickly with the idea. It's a swing and a miss good sir. Only one who gets that is currently not in this shop. They stop to help this director with a prop that fell out. Aaron tries to lift it solo to impress this girl. He fails so badly. Tim has to be tagged in to help him. This is where the premise of this episode begins.

Tim placing his radio down in her truck bed to help. Their hilarious banter kills me while they lift it up. My god it’s amazing Tim doesn’t kill Aaron regularly LOL Poor Tim looks wiped by the time they’re done loading it back up. He has to take a call while Aaron fails miserably at hitting on her. It’s so funny I’m cackling. They get called away while the director takes off with Tim’s radio...

The director finds Lucy of all people to return the radio to. What cracks me up the most is the director's confusion from Lucy's excitement LOL All she wants to do is the right thing with it and get it back to Tim. Here's Lucy 0-60 explosion of happiness with how delighted she is he forgot it. This scene is so great for a couple reasons. First off her calling Tim 'Broody.' I’m dying. I mean he can be pretty broody especially right now. It just kills me that’s how she referred to Tim. Second she seems so confused by Lucy’s excitement.

She starts going off about how Tim is a super cop. How he’s never once let her forget about being late to roll call one time. Asking her 'Can you believe that?' This girl is like ‘Ok….’ She just wanted to drop off a radio LMFAO. Even says ‘You’ll give it to him right? ‘Wondering if Lucy will given how giddy she is about him losing it. Lucy promises her she will…but she just gave her a Christmas present ha Not a good day unless she can mess with her soulmate.

Lucy is about to tell him when we see a look of realization dawn over her. Now we know she knows something is wrong with Tim. For him to forget his radio is a sin he would’ve blasted her to the wall for. She knows he’s off. Just doesn’t know why. Teasing/pranking is one of their love languages. Which is why she chooses this path with his radio going forward. So married even when they aren’t even sharing scenes.

We return to Tim and Aaron ripping apart their shop for his radio. Tim is frantic as he searches for it. Says he’s going to check their kit bag again. It then hits him that the lady they helped has it. Tim knows Aaron was trying to hit on her while he was on the phone. What Tim didn’t see was Aaron absolutely crash and burn with his lines.

So Tim asks if he got her number? Aaron KILLS me with his answer. He seems so cocky with his 'Almost.' I’m rolling. Tim’s reaction is the best part. Like what the hell am I going to do with that info? It’s completely useless and helps him in no way. Their dynamic is hysterical. I don’t know pre-Lucy Tim could’ve handled Aaron the way present day Tim does. lmao

Tim’s phone goes off. It’s someone texting him about his radio. He is so very confused what's happening. Also very agitated they're holding it hostage. Aaron asks who it is? Tim doesn’t know but says they’re in a lot of trouble. Aaron being his rookie self just says to do an incident report. Tim tells him why he can’t do that. I mean a day of suspension for a Sergeant isn't a good look...So I don't blame him for wanting to hunt it down instead. Tim zooms in and say that he knows where this is. So the race begins to find his stolen radio.

The guys arrive at a coffee truck. Aaron making a comment it looks sketchy af LOL Tim defends it saying this is where he gets his coffee every morning. Goes on a mini rant about screen writers and oak milk mafia. I love this man so much. His dislike of screenwriter continues and it's so funny. Aaron saying that line I love so much. That I have used couple times in previous reviews. Telling him he’s like the old dude from UP. I mean he is. haha But we love him just the same.

He asks the owner if she’s seen his radio? She tells him no. It’s then he gets another text of his radio on a studio lot. Aaron is so confused why this is happening. Saying they haven’t asked for money or anything. They could be doing anything with that radio but not this. Tim says he’s not sure but they’re gonna find out.

They make it the studio lot fairly quickly. They find out it’s where Tim’s fav movie was filmed. Aaron starts to put it together little more. Saying first his fav coffee place then his fav movie. Whoever this is texting him knows him really well. It’s then it hits Tim. it’s Lucy. Ain’t no one knows that man better than her. He knows it too. Who else would know about his elitist black coffee spot, favorite movie and the lot it was filmed on? His wife heh.

We get our first real scene of the episode and it’s glorious. They’re about as married as it gets in this scene. I love how post 5x05 they’re back to being flirty and playful. The teasing is top notch in this scene. Tim asks her right off the bat where his radio is? Lucy plays dumb and says maybe a vengeful spirit took it. It is Halloween after all. Tim doesn’t give into her teasing at first. Ask's why she’s doing this? He's SO grumpy Lordy lord. Good thing Lucy is well versed in all things Tim Bradford.

This doesn't phase her in the least. She charges forward with her plan. Continuing to play dumb and says she doesn’t know what he’s talking about… The sarcastic banter really picks up above. He asks if she’s doing this because he was tough on her as a rookie? I mean that could be one reason haha But that isn't THE reason Tim. Lucy is armed with sass and maximum level teasing with her reply ‘We’re you? Gosh, I hadn’t noticed…’

Lucy throws out her bait waiting for him to take a bite. Hoping he does so. Wrapping her concern into some playful banter. Thinking if she offers up her 'help.' He will crack and tell her what's going on with him. Tim holds steady and is just as sassy in his reply. Telling her there is nothing going on with him. Ok Tim....it's not like you're talking to the one person who knows you best or anything...

Lucy drops the playful banter and gets real with him. We can hear the concern in her voice. Especially the way she says 'Are you okay?' She is truly worried about him. She can't stand him being upset and her not knowing why. We do see him soften when she shows that concern for him. His words are saying one thing but his face is saying another. Look at that man above. All soft looks and heart eyes for her asking. For caring.

Despite the sweet look above he is is deflection nation with Lucy in his reply. Come on Timothy of all the people to do this to she is not the one. Can read you like a damn book blind if she had to. The thing to note here is the amount of feelings being shown here. Goodness these two are so damn loud with their feelings. In the middle of the bloody precinct no less. Which has been a thing for them since S4 really. No one could've been shocked they ended up together. If they were they clearly weren't paying attention ha

All Lucy wants to do is fix it for him. It's her natural instinct to do so. But the problem is Tim isn't sharing the problem so she can do this for him. He is being SO stubborn. She truly doesn't understand why he's being this obstinate. The best part of the scene is Lucy legit stomping off in frustration. Can't stand anymore of his games and takes off.

She is so damn mad he won’t just share with her. Share with your wife Timothy. His reaction kills me as well. Eric crushes it with the facial expressions. It's so friggin funny. Tim is just as exasperated with her and she is with him. Gah these two idiots in love. Acting like an old married couple in public. Lucy keeping his damn radio if he’s going to be a stubborn ass LOL I’m dying this scene is masterful.

Lucy comes up to Aaron again seeing if he knows anything. He tells her Tim is just upset about his radio. Lucy offers up she will give him the radio if he just spills it. Aaron holds strong and says he doesn’t know. Tim bypasses her on the way to the shop. Lucy’s sass is fantastic ‘Hi. Good morning.’ Mirroring the one at the beginning of the episode.

Like excuse me hubby you can’t just ignore me and not say hello. Lucy asks the question she already knows the answer to about his radio. Tim tells her it’s in the shop. We hear a call go off for a supervisor. Tim reaches in and grabs this gigantic radio answering dispatch back. Oh Tim...

Lucy’s face is hilarious. Trying not to laugh at his stubborn dumbass. All she wanted you to do was talk my love. Not like you haven't done that before. Now you’ve forced her hand in this prank war LOL Tim is trying so hard to save face with his ‘This is it.’ Lucy giving him crap that hasn’t been standard since the 60s. Tim ignores her and tells Aaron to roll.

Lucy can’t help herself and wants a picture of him with it. I love how cute she is. Tim ignores her and rolls up his window. Her reaction to him shutting window it's so funny. I mean look at HER FACE in that second gif. Like she wasn’t going to think of something to get him to use it. To get back at him for doing that. He brought this on himself. You can’t play these games and expect to win Tim haha

Such a wifey in this moment wanting a pic. I’m laughing so hard about this scene. Lucy tells him to do a radio check. That way she can get her damn pic. Tim’s face is so very over it. I’ve said this many times before. This is the woman you’ve chosen to love Tim LOL Her unbridled joy at thinking of this is so precious. Enjoying her damn self torturing him till he finally fesses up. Can you imagine the camera roll on both of these goobs phones? Probably a plethora of these types of moments. If looks could kill in that 4th gif. Good thing she's immune.

We catch our lovely duo at the end of shift. Lucy comes up with his radio. Hands it back to him. I love how both hold onto it longer than necessary. The symbolism with the radio was seen writers I see you. It was their way of keeping them connected through out this episode. Lucy’s way of staying connected with him. Doing her best to try and distract him. Take care of him in her own way through this prank. One of their love languages whether they admit it or not.

She didn't even know what was wrong but knew she needed to do something for him. Lucy telling him she thought it would be more fun to torture him. Help distract him from whatever he’s going through right now. Wanted to help him get his mind off of whatever is bothering him. Comments she should know better than to get into his personal business... Gah look at the way that man looks at her after she says that. To paraphrase Chandler Bing 'Could he be anymore in love with her?’ You are his personal business Lucy Chen.

All that’s been running around in his mind since you kissed him in 4x22. Tell me you’re in love without saying you are. That’s both of them in this scene. Especially our boy. Tim see's what she did for him. He can’t let her walk away without explaining. This is such growth for him. Look at this man sharing why he’s upset with her. Being truthful and honest about what happened. Lucy’s ‘I’m sorry.’ I truly think she is sorry for him but not for the situation. Inside I’m sure she’s doing victory dance of epic proportions.

He then does Lucy one more solid. Tells her he appreciates her radio gag. That it did help take his mind off things. I love this sfm. Not only has this man shared his feelings with her he then does this. My damn heart. Being so vulnerable in this moment with her. If you don’t see the growth that is this moment for Tim you haven’t been paying attention. I’m so proud of him. Look how far he's come. All because of that beautiful human in front of him. Beautiful inside and out. The impact she has had on this man is unreal.

Also It’s heart eyes nation out here and we’re all here for it. I mean she pranked him so he would feel better. And then he did. That’s love people. Also so very on brand for them it’s insane. Another thing I adore is he is going out of his comfort zone. All to thank her for what she did for him. Not just be annoyed but thank her. 'Started from the bottom now were here.' Oh my lord the growth. Let's not bypass the affectionate stares Lucy is throwing his way as well. This is a two way street of heart eyes and affection in this moment.

The way he looks at her when after she says ‘Well, good.’ Look at that man above. Might as well be a billboard that screams ‘Tim Bradford is hopelessly in love with Lucy Chen.’ Also my god he looked delicious as hell in that shirt. Dark blue does him wonders mmm. That’s my fav color with my fav human. Double yum. Plus biceps on display. Sinfully delicious this man.

Anyways heh There is so much left unsaid and tension between them. You can see it above. There is more Tim wants to say. It reminds me of their parking lot chat in 4x22. Where Lucy is holding her breath as she waits for it. Tim trying to build up the courage to say it. Before he can the clown walks over. Having no idea what he’s just walked into.

Chris comes barreling in like an idiot. Or maybe for once he senses something. But that might be giving him too much credit. Lucy asking if Tim wants to join them? I mean that sounds like legit hell to Tim. He understands her motives though. Maybe if it was just her….Tim does his patented fake Sanford smile. The one where it doesn’t really touch his eyes.

He’s just uncomfortable and wants to go. Look at his body language all he wants to do is flee. He declines and tells them to have fun. You can see Chris's face is slightly confused when Lucy offers this. Like why are you offering for your boss to join us? Cause she's in love with him but you're not gonna put that together. What a ignorant putz lol

We talk about the pinning era in this first half a lot. This one moment is the most epic of the pinning. Tim Bradford is legit LONGING for Lucy out in the open. How he blatantly turns back to watch them go. My poor heartbroken man. The way he drops his arm in defeat. Frustrated she’s with Chris and not him. Gah it's so good. Tim looking devastated she’s with the clown. That he has to go home alone without her. That mistake from 4x12 coming back to haunt him in this moment. Watching as they leave with deep longing and want in his eyes for her. He sighs and climbs into his truck.

Both of their looks are saying so much in this moment. This is what I mean by angsty goodness. Hurts so good to watch these kind of scenes. Lucy sensing his eyes on her and looks right back. The game has changed for her now he’s not with Ashley. It shows as she gazes back at Tim. She's supposed to be present with the clown...but her look indicates she is anything but that. Lucy is back at that truck mentally with Tim as she returns that look. She is throwing out just as much love and longing as Tim is in these looks of theirs. She is feeling what he is throwing down and feels the pull to him. Damn good ep good I love the pining era. It’s *chef kiss*

~~~

Side notes-non Chenford

James and Nyla was goodness per usual always enjoy their SL’s

Wes’s SL was ROUGH. Elijah winning and his past being drug up in this one. I wanted to smack him a bit and so did Angela lol

Thank you as always to the amazing readers of these reviewer. Your likes, comments and reblogs fuel my soul and I adore you all. See you in 5x07 :)

[attic-club-sandwich]

Finally finished your request for you, Anon! I really appreciate your patience as I worked through this. I seriously was having a hard time for a little while omg. But I wrote for the 7 brothers and of course included Satan! If you can let me know what you think 💜

Summary: MC's hands are always a bit on the sweaty side, especially when they are nervous. When the brother ask them out on a date, they are extra on edge! A little bullet point style drabble on how the 7 brothers would react to you being hesitant about holding their hand for the first time. Based early on in their relationship with MC.

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flower divider by @/saradika

I'll Hold all Your Worries

You were always painfully aware of how nervous you got around the brothers. They were to put it one way, drop dead gorgeous. Ethereal. Beauty unlike you've ever seen before. They may be demons, but their presence always managed to take your breath away. When things started to get a little more romantic with him though, you were hesitant. You could feel your palms begin to sweat when you went places with him, and you spent a majority of the time worrying and overthinking how disgusted he would be with you for it.

Lucifer:

When the day of your date with Lucifer finally comes, the butterflies in your stomach will not settle down.

You're heading to the human world today to visit a museum, and his outfit of choice has your head spinning.

The black turtle neck tucked into dress pants. The navy blue blazer. And....

Those damn glasses.

He notices right away how nervous you are.

But he stays quiet for now, not wanting to add to your discomfort.

You're walking together down a long corridor of the museum, admiring the many famous works of art.

You can feel your heart racing.

Your palms beginning to sweat.

And of course, his fingers brush against yours.

You squeak, pulling your hand away.

"MC? Is everything alright?"

You nod, your face flushing once more.

"I-It's just my um...hand...it's really sweaty. You shouldn't have to hold it...it's gross..."

He tilts his head, confused.

"That's why you don't want to hold my hand?"

The floor is very interesting to you as you nod, trying to avoid his worried gaze.

Suddenly, his long fingers are lacing themselves between yours.

"My love, I've experienced far worse things than a sweaty palm."

He brings your hand up to his lips, gently placing a kiss to the back.

"L-Lucifer...but..."

He chuckles, squeezing your hand.

"MC, I could never be disgusted by you. You are truly the most beautiful being in the entire three realms. I would be honored to hold your hand."

Your heart feels like it's soaring as you gaze up at him, wide-eyed.

"Let's head down this way shall we?"

You nod, a wide smile on your face as he guides you down the hall hand and hand.

Mammon

You stood nervously in the entryway of HoL waiting for him.

Mammon had finally got the courage to ask you out on a date.

A date. With The Avatar of Greed.

Needless to say, you were nervous.

You twisted your hands together, noticing that they were becoming noticeably sweaty.

Of course, you thought. They always get like this during the worst moments...

When he greets you, his face is flushed and he's stuttering.

"H-Hey, MC. Are ya um, ready to go?"

You can tell he's also nervous, which makes you giggle.

The two of you walk side by side to Devil Town.

He planned to take you out to lunch as well as shop around the many storefronts together.

As you walk down the cobblestone road Mammon bumps your shoulder, grinning.

You practically melt at his smile.

His golden-blue gaze was shimmering with nothing but adoration.

"What?" you ask, grinning.

He shakes his head, blushing again. "N-Nothin! I was uh, just wonderin' if you'd uh... hold my hand?"

You feel as if your heart skips a beat.

Your hand was definitely still damp with sweat.

But you want to hold his hand so bad....

"W-Well um.. It's just... I don't want you to be disgusted with me is all..."

Mammon is confused.

"Whaddya mean? Why would I be disgusted?"

You blush, staring down at your feet as you walk.

"My hand is so sweaty right now, I'm sorry."

To your surprise, he laughs.

"That's all? C'mon MC like that's gonna bother me!"

You feel his hand grasp yours, lacing his fingers in between your own.

"See? Not so bad is it?"

You feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

"You're sure you don't mind...?"

Mammon stops, turning you to face him.

"Of course not! You're um... really cute ya know? I've been wanting to do this for a long time now."

Now your face is really burning. "M-Me too... thank you Mams."

He grins, giving your hand a firm squeeze.

"I'll hold your hand all day. I'm never lettin' go."

Leviathan

You hesitate, taking a deep breath before knocking on Levi's door.

The two of you planned a movie night together, but this time it was...

A date.

After a few more moments, you finally got the courage to knock.

"C-Come in!"

You enter his room to see Levi adding the finishing touches to his bathtub, which is placed in front of his TV and has been filled with several blankets and pillows.

A small table filled with snacks stands right beside it for easy access.

"Wow, Levi, this looks so cozy!"

He smiles, nodding enthusiastically.

"Come on, we're all ready to go!"

He climbs in first, settling against the back of the tub.

Then it's your turn. You nestle yourself in front of him, right between his legs.

He pulls the blankets up over the both of you, and hits the remote to start the movie.

"Are you comfortable?" he whispers as the previews begin to play.

You nod. Hopefully he doesn't feel how fast your heart is beating.

Suddenly, you feel his hand moving, brushing against your wrist.

You flinch, pulling your own hand away.

"A-Ah, s-sorry...!" he blushes.

You shake your head, embarassed.

"N-No it's okay! It's just that um..."

You glance down at your now open palm.

"I'm a little nervous... so it's kinda sweaty... I know it's gross, I'M gross...so you don't have to touch it..."

Levi talks down on himself a lot, but he will not stand for you doing it to yourself.

"N-No! I want to! I-I mean... it doesn't bother me..."

He grasps your hand and your heart flutters.

"L-Levi..." you turn your head to glance at him, and he's bright red.

He's staring straight at the TV, unable to look you in the eyes.

After the initial shock of him grabbing your hand, you giggle.

He finally looks at you, still blushing.

"I-Is this okay?"

You nod, bringing your hands to rest on your chest.

"More than okay."

He smiles, hugging you just a bit closer to him.

"I won't let go the entire time!"

Satan

You had butterflies in your stomach the entire walk to the cafe.

Today you were on a date with The Avatar of Wrath himself.

Satan.

How did you get here? How were you so lucky?

Satan is another one to notice your nervousness.

So he tries to do what he can to ease your anxieties.

He orders your drink for you, knowing exactly how you take your coffee.

He's studied you for a long time, after all.

As you're sitting at the table sipping on your drinks, he rests his chin on his hand.

"Thank you for coming with me, today."

You give him a shy smile, suddenly nervous under his emerald green stare.

He's so beautiful...

"O-Of course! I love spending time with you."

He slides his other hand across the table, gently touching his fingertips to yours.

You can feel the palm of your hand sticking to the table.

Oh.

Not good.

You pull your hand back, your internal panic evident on your face.

"MC? What's the matter? I thought..."

His head tilted slightly, his blonde bangs falling into his eyes.

You glance away, your face flushing with embarrassment.

"I have this thing... when i'm nervous..."

You wipe your palms on your lap.

"My hands get disgustingly sweaty. I don't want you to have to touch them..."

Satan narrows his eyes. "Who told you it was disgusting?"

You glance back up at him, surprised at his tone.

"W-What? Um, no one I guess... Just me."

Satan reaches for your hand, gently clasping it in his.

"Well let me be the first one to tell you that I've been longing to touch you for quite some time now."

Blushing, you feel yourself squeezing his hand.

"I feel the same way."

The two of you sit hand in hand as the sounds of the cafe begin to fade away.

Only you exist to him right now.

And he's already made up his mind that he's going to hold your hand as much as possible.

Asmodeus

When Asmo asked you out on a date, you thought you were dreaming.

The Avatar of Lust? Interested in ME?

But here you were, trailing nervously behind Asmo as he took you to the biggest mall in the Devildom.

"You're gonna love this, MC! I'll show you all of my favorite stores!"

You began to sweat.

Was it out of nervousness or excitement?

You weren't sure which one.

After sometime of going in and out of several different stores, Asmo had already bought quite a few things.

"I want to buy you something too, MC!"

He went to grab for your hand, which was terribly sweaty.

"U-Um, wait..." you mumbled, slipping your hand behind you and attempting to wipe it off on your pants.

"What's wrong, darling? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable..."

You shake your head, keeping your gaze focused on the floor.

"N-No it's not that...It's just..."

He guided you over to a bench, sitting you down next to him.

"Tell me."

His eyes are full of nothing but concern for you as he focuses completely on you.

"My hands get really sweaty when I'm nervous. I don't think you should touch them..."

Asmo pouted, sticking out his bottom lip.

"But, MC, I don't care about that!"

You finally looked him in the eyes.

"But...Asmo... you wouldn't be disgusted by me...?"

Asmodeus reaches a hand out, touching your cheek.

"I could never be disgusted by you, MC! You're so adorable and cute, I would be the one honored to hold your hand."

You blush, folding your hands together in your lap.

Cautiously, Asmo reaches down to grasp one of your hands.

"Let's try again. Is that okay?"

You nod. Your heart is practically in your throat at this point.

He gently clasps his hand in his, and pulls you up from the bench.

"Let's get some ice cream from the food court. That always cheers me up! You have to get the strawberry okay?"

You giggle as he leads the way, your hand in his and the several shopping bags in the other.

"Let's go, MC! After our ice cream we still have so many more shops to cover!"

Beelzebub

You had become a lot closer with Beel lately.

So when he asked you out to dinner one day, you were equally surprised and excited.

You were feeling almost euphoric as you sat with him at a table for two in Ristorante Six.

He was engulfed in his plate of food, but also couldn't seem take his eyes off of you.

Of course, you were in a similar state.

His violet eyes and red hair always had your heart soaring.

It was hard to look away.

The two of you finished up and began to head back to HoL.

"That was so good, Beel. Thanks for inviting me."

He glanced down at you, giving you a warm smile.

"You're welcome. I love eating food with you, MC. I hope you'll go with me again sometime."

You feel your face heat up.

Suddenly you're nervous.

Finally being alone with him had you sweating.

That also included your hands, which had a horrible habit of sweating anytime you felt even a hint of nervousness.

As you walk side by side, you feel his fingers brush against yours.

You loved his hands. They were big and comforting.

And you wanted to hold them so bad but...

"S-Sorry Beel um... I can't..."

He stops in his tracks, panic flashing across his face.

"No I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong...?"

You melt at the sadness in his eyes.

"No! Not at all... I just um.. my hands are so sweaty right now. I know it's disgusting..."

Beel furrows his eyebrows, clearly confused.

"Oh... But I don't think that's disgusting."

You glance up at him, surprised. "You don't?"

He nods, gently grasping your warm hand in his.

"Mine are sweaty, too."

You giggle, "Are you also nervous?"

Now it's his turn to chuckle.

"A little bit, I didn't think you'd say yes to a date with me."

You blush, leaning into him. "I'm looking forward to our next one."

Belphegor

You never thought you would be having a date with The Avatar of Sloth.

He had asked you to meet him in the garden that evening.

You weren't sure what he had planned, but your tummy was full of butterflies as you made your way to the garden.

When you arrive, you see Belphie spreading out a blanket onto the grass.

"Hi, MC. I'm glad you made it."

You walk over, helping him adjust the blanket.

"I wanted to show you the stars tonight."

You glance up to the sky, noticing the dozens of glimmering stars.

"The stars...?"

He nods, "Yeah, they are different than the human world stars."

As you lay down together on the blanket, you keep one hand crossed over your chest.

You're feeling nervous.

Being alone and in the dark with Belphegor?

It made your heart speed up so much you were sure he could hear it.

You watch as Belphie points to different constellations in the sky.

He tells you about every single one, not missing a single detail.

"Wow." you breathe, "You know a lot about them huh?"

He chuckles. "I spent a lot of time studying them."

A few moments of silence pass when he suddenly reaches for your hand which is now laying between the two of you.

You blush as you pull away slightly, feeling that the palm of your hand has become embarrassingly damp.

"S-Sorry. I...didn't think..."

You feel your face burning.

"It's just my hand... it's sweaty, I didn't want you to be surprised and get grossed out..."

He chuckles, propping himself up on his elbow.

"You really think I'd be grossed out by you? I'm the one that asked you on a date."

You blush. He had a point.

"I-I guess you're right."

He smirks, slowly reaching towards your hand again.

"Can I touch you, MC?"

You nod slowly, allowing him to lace his fingers in between yours.

He smiles, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Your hand is soft and warm.... I like it."

He's blushing now, although he hopes you don't notice.

You do.

"Now don't let go of it okay? I'm not done telling you about the stars."

[jostyriggslover96]

Unexpected Connections Pt.1

Summary: Y/N has a complicated history with Navy men and has sworn off dating them completely. When she finds herself working at the Hard Deck to earn some extra money, Navy men are hard to avoid. Catching the eye of Rooster, Y/N is determined to avoid any potential feelings she may have for him, despite his persistence. Will Y/N be able to avoid her feelings for Rooster and avoid the Navy man that made her resent the profession? Or will she make some unexpected connections that she can’t shake off?

AN: Sooo, this is my first Top Gun: Maverick fic! I haven’t written anything about something that wasn’t hockey players in forever, so be gentle with me while I get into the groove with this story. It’s going to be a bit of a slow burn, but trust me, Rooster will get some love in this fic. Thanks to @bradshawsbaby​ and @callsign-milano​ for helping me iron out my ideas. Huge thanks to @hockeyboysimagines​ for always encouraging me to continue writing. Enjoy and if you want to be tagged, let me know!

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, complicated history with a parent, Jake being Jake.

Word Count: 2.9k

Pt. 2

Unexpected Connections Pt.1

The sun was beaming over the Hard Deck as you tossed your aviators in your cup holder. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, you let out a shaky breath. Were you really doing this? You hadn’t set foot in the popular bar since your 21st birthday, which was anything but the night of your life. You had vowed you would never step foot in the Hard Deck again, not risking seeing Him again. Things changed when Penny took ownership of the bar and your teacher’s salary wasn’t quite cutting it anymore. Summers were long for teachers and you needed a new car. Plus, what are the odds that you would run into Him? He was getting a little old for the bar scene, he’d probably be spending his Friday night playing ball with his kids or having a family movie night. With Penny running things, you were certain he wouldn’t risk showing his face around the Hard Deck again, not after what he did to your family.

Jumping in your seat as you heard a nearby car door slam, you took a few deep breaths. Inhale and exhale, you thought as you attempted to push the thoughts of your father out of your mind. Stepping out of the car you smoothed your black t-shirt out and hesitantly walked towards the doors to the Hard Deck. Pausing with your fingers on the handle, you bit the bullet and yanked the wooden door open. It was like stepping back in time, the bar looking exactly the same as it did 7 years ago. You were pretty sure some of the same regulars were still there. Feelings of dread started to set in as you took in your surroundings, noticing all the young Naval officers occupying the tables and pool area. Just as you were debating if you should turn back around you caught Penny’s gaze from the bar. Her small smile melted your fears away, with Penny by your side you could handle anything that came your way. Penny was helping you out with this job and you refused to let her down; the woman was practically your second mother.

 Quickly making your way to the bar, you brushed past two young aviators at the dart board. You guessed they were aviators based on their uniforms. Growing up in the small Naval town, you learned a thing or two about uniforms. Coming from the family you came from, there was no way you wouldn’t recognize the pilot’s uniforms. You noticed the blonde pilot watching you stroll behind the bar and greet Penny with a tight hug. Shaking off the aviators gaze you focused on Penny as she finished pouring a pint for a gentleman at the bar.

“How are you honey?” she asked while taking the cash from the man and dropping it in the register.

 “I’m alright Pen,” nervously tucking your hair behind your ear as you met the bar owners gaze. She could read you like a book and you could tell she sensed your anxiety.

 “I know it’s different being here, but he never comes in so don’t worry,” her hand brushing your arm reassuringly. “Now, I know you bartended in college. Any questions or are you ready to jump in?”

 “I’m good to get going, thanks Pen,” shooting her a smile before throwing your hair up with an elastic. You turned to the few folks sitting at the bar, checking that they had everything they needed. One of them asked for a pint of Coors Light, as you turned to the beers on tap you were startled to see the blonde aviator that was watching you earlier leaning against the bar top. He smirked at your flustered demeanor while you tried to focus on pulling the beer.

 “You must be new around here, I know I would never forget such a pretty face,” his lips twisting into a smile. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you passed the beer to the customer, taking the cash he passed to you.

 “Not new, just not a regular here,” attempting to flash a sweet smile to earn yourself better tips.

 “Jake Seresin, but you can call me Hangman,” he extended a hand for you to shake.

 “Your callsign is Hangman?” you took his hand in yours, raising an eyebrow as he pulled away. “Where’d you come up with that one?”

 “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” his gaze intense as you dropped his hand. Chuckling to yourself, you shook your head. Aviators sure were cocky. “Does the pretty new bartender have a name?”

 “Stop calling me pretty and I might tell you,” turning and walking across the bar before he could respond to you, stopping to help some new customers who approached the bar. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the aviator, Jake, walk back to his friends who were now at the pool table laughing. Sighing, you rolled back your shoulders and focused on the task at hand. You were here to bartend, not appease the cocky customers.

 As your first hour on the job passed, you found it easier to not focus on the aviators in the corner as the bar filled with more and more people. It was packed in the Hard Deck, even by typical Friday night standards Penny pointed out as she passed you with a tray of drinks. It was hard not to notice that the group of aviators in the corner grew in size as time passed. Each new arrival was cockier than the next. Most were in uniform, you weren’t sure if it was because they were used to the structured Navy lifestyle or if they knew more civilians would hit on them if they wore them.

 As you were loading beer bottles onto a tray you noticed a tall tan man with sandy brown hair and a tacky Hawaiian shirt enter the bar. You couldn’t help but bite your lip as you saw his muscles ripple while he took off his aviator sunglasses and searched the bar for whoever he was meeting. No uniform was a good sign for you because there was no way in hell you would ever go home with a Navy man. Not after how your father treated your mother. The attractive brunette met your gaze for a moment before he flashed you a smirk that melted you to the core and pushed through the crowd to the pool tables. You attempted to focus on your tray of full drinks but couldn’t help getting distracted as the handsome mystery man started greeting the aviators in the corner. They greeted each other like old friends, making your stomach drop as you realized he must be a pilot too. Groaning in disappointment, you lifted your tray and made your way to the table of college aged guys who barely glanced up from their phones and conversations about some kind of sports to thank you for the drinks. Turning to head back to the bar, you noticed the route you took before was crowded with people meaning you had to go around the pool table to get back to the bar.

 Shit, here we go. Dropping your tray to your side you stood tall and started walking towards the group of aviators. Keeping your gaze forward you tried not to acknowledge any of them in hopes of avoiding any attempts at conversation. Just as you were weaving your way through the crowd of pilots you felt a gentle hand on your arm. Spinning slightly, you heard a familiar voice.

 “I didn’t know you were working here Y/N!” Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace exclaimed as she dragged you into a hug before you could protest.

 Smiling brightly at the only pilot you actually liked, “Well I needed something to keep me busy in the summer.”

 “I could keep you busy!” you heard over your shoulder. Glancing around you saw one of the pilots who was in with Jake earlier.

 “In your dreams hot shot,” rolling your eyes before turning back to Natasha who looked unimpressed by her fellow aviators.

 “Coyote don’t be such a creep. That goes for all of you animals, treat this lady with respect,” her warning tone intense as she lectured the others. “Boys, this here is Y/N, one of the best high school teachers in the district,” Natasha commented before introducing the crew of aviators to you. You learned the gorgeous brunette from earlier went by Rooster.

 Shooting her a grateful look, you waved to the others as they muttered their greetings. You noticed Rooster was staring you down with the sexiest expression that could defeat your willpower within a second. Breaking away from his gaze you turned back to Natasha, “you’re still at Top Gun?” She nodded with a smile, just as she was opening her mouth to respond, she was interrupted by the cocky blonde from before.

 “Wait how do you know each other?” Jake rudely inserted.

 “Well Bagman, some of us at Top Gun take public education seriously and actually go out to the schools for presentations,” Natasha fired back.

 “Natasha came to my grade 11 class in the fall to talk to my students,” you offered before quickly bidding farewell and promising Natasha you would catch up soon. As you finally broke away from the group to return to the bar you heard your mystery man speak for the first time.

 “Phoenix, you’ve gotta set me up with her,” his voice as smooth as velvet. You wanted to get lost in him, but you knew you couldn’t. All Navy men were the same and you weren’t going to let yourself get hurt.

 “Sorry Rooster, she’s not into Navy men,” you heard Natasha respond, smiling as your friend had your back, you rushed back to the bar and got back to work. The night went by quickly as you and Penny were swamped with drink orders. Thankfully last call came and went while the bar started to clear out. The group of Navy pilots headed out as Natasha sent you a wave before exiting out the door with her friends. You returned the wave, slightly disappointed that her friend Rooster didn’t come chat with you. It was for the best though, you could already tell he was trouble that you couldn’t afford to get wrapped up in. You were wiping up the countertop when your hand collided with someone else’s. Clutching your chest as you jumped, glancing up at your brunette mystery man.

 “Shit warn a girl next time,” you chuckled as the aviator held your gaze. He let out a low rumbling laugh that made your heart sing as you went back to work.

 “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

 The silence was deafening, “Umm, nice performance earlier,” you mentioned, referring to his rendition of Great Balls of Fire that he graced the patrons of the bar with. The man truly had a gift with the piano.

 “Thanks,” his smirk returning to his face. “I’m curious about something though,” he trailed off.

 “Oh?” raising an eyebrow at his elusive questioning before moving on to polishing the pint glasses.

 “I heard you aren’t interested in Navy men,” his eyes piercing yours as the glass almost slipped out of your hand.

 “Shit!” you exclaimed as you fumbled to catch the glass, Rooster smiling at your clumsiness. “Uh, yeah, I’m not. Not my type,” you stammered as your cheeks grew warmer by the second.

 “Hmm, not sure I buy that,” his eyebrow raised as he tucked his sunglasses into his white undershirt. You smiled as you noticed that you had the same sunglasses in your car outside.

 “Rooster is it?”

 “You ma’am can call me Bradley,” he said with a smile that was sure to drop your panties. You practically gulped at the show he was putting on, he sure was persistent.

 “Rooster—”

 “Bradley,” he quipped. Fuck him and his quick wit or whatever.

 “Bradley,” you said with a sweet smile. “It’s complicated. Before you ask why, last call was 30 minutes ago, and I want to go home, so it’s time for you to go big guy,” gesturing to the door so he would take the hint. Rooster stepped back from the bar, head dropping in defeat.

 “Alright, well I guess I’ll see you around Y/N,” your name dripping off his lips like honey. You desperately wanted to run around the bar, throw your arms around the tall handsome stranger and ask him to take you home, but thought better of it. You couldn’t and wouldn’t go there.

 “Goodnight Bradley,” you called as he left the bar without a second glance. You spent the rest of the time closing up with Penny and wondering if this is how your mom felt when she met your dad. I mean, it had been this very town they met in so many years ago. Both were too young to be in the bar on a Friday night, but struck up conversation on the beach. Your mom always told you after one conversation, she was smitten with your father and that’s how she got on that rollercoaster ride that led to you a year later.

 You felt like you were floating as you wished Penny goodnight and she gave you that knowing look, she had clearly seen the whole exchange. Making your way out to your car, ignoring the patrons lingering on the beach you swung your car door open and got inside. Inserting your key and turning it, you heard your engine make the revving sound, but it didn’t start. Twisting your key again, your engine revved but again wouldn’t start. “No, come on girl,” you muttered to yourself.

 You were starting to feel desperate as you continued to try your key and your car continued to be difficult. Shit, what now? Resting your head on the steering wheel, you were thoroughly done with this whole evening. Suddenly a knock on your window snapped you out of your thoughts. Glancing up, you noticed Rooster or Bradley was standing outside your car. Opening your car door and stepping out, you started at him expectedly. “Probably not a good idea to approach women in a parking lot at night,” you teased as you leaned against your silver Jetta.

 “I just heard your car struggling and thought I would help,” he offered, his hands up in defense.

 “Ugh, my battery is probably toast. This car is not long for this world.”

 “Well, let me give you a ride home. It’s late,” he gestured to the blue Bronco behind him for, clearly hoping you would take him up on his offer.

 “No, that’s okay. I’ll just walk,” hesitant to get into a car at night with a man you’d just met.

 “You can’t walk alone this late.”

 “It’s not far, I’m just fine.”

 “C’mon, Phoenix would kill me if something happened to you. I swear I will be total gentleman.”

 It was late, and you were so tired. Normally you would say no, but the only thing you wanted to do was to climb under the sheets in your bed and fall into a coma. “Fine, thanks for the offer,” grabbing your purse from your car and making sure it was locked.

 Bradley opened the door and helped you inside his vehicle. He quickly ran around to the driver’s side and before you knew it you were pulling out of the parking lot. The ride was silent as you stared out the window enjoying the breeze on this warm summer night. Bradley seemed to know the area where you lived once you told him, so you didn’t need to help him navigate. He kept his eyes forward the whole 5 minute drive, true to his word he was a gentleman. As he pulled up in front of your house you felt compelled to ask him something, the words blurting out before you could stop yourself.

 “Were you waiting for me tonight?” It was a valid question, you had sent him home at least 20 minutes before you came outside.

 He let out a rumbling chuckle as he shook his head, “Just enjoying the evening, the beach is always my favorite at night.”

 “Yeah, me too,” you mumbled to yourself. “Well thank you for the ride, you were the perfect gentleman as promised,” you offered a smile as you turned to the door, pulling the handle to welcome in the night breeze.

 “No problem. I’ll win you over, you’ll see,” he smirked as you stepped out of the vehicle.

 “Not likely,” you scoffed.

 “I know, it’s complicated,” he commented before you could. “Have a good sleep Y/N.” You waved goodnight to the handsome aviator before making your way inside.

 As you drifted off to sleep that night you couldn’t help but feel sick to your stomach. You could tell you were attracted to this man, but he was the exact type you swore you would never end up with. Trying to shake it off, you snuggled further into your pillow. Little did you know, that aviator would spend the next day harassing Phoenix for any information she had on you, which was very minimal much to his chagrin. Penny would also spend the next day commenting on the instant connection she noticed between the two of you. You were in trouble for sure.