#WHEN HE MET MILES AND THEY HAD A LITTLE CONVERSATION?!?!?!?

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 16 + 17) tw: violence, injuries, and misogynistic language

first chapter >> last chapter

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Sinking into fear is the body’s natural response. You let it envelope you without putting up a struggle. It wouldn’t be one that you’d win anyway. Resistance already leaks out of you like tar, pooling around your quivering legs.  

It makes you feel lighter than air, almost buoyant; and conversely, heavier than lead. 

You can’t feel the cold metal of the gun through the layers of fabric separating it from the skin of your back, but you can feel its weight. And you can imagine it burning into you, burning a ring into the flesh, the muzzle leaving faint depressions behind, circular indents.

“Don’t feel so clever now, huh?”

Fear chokes as well as it binds. When the man you remember as Graves (appropriately named, you think, the gravity of the situation sinking into you as well) drawls the words into your ear, any moisture in your mouth dries. 

“Well?” he prompts, shoving the gun harder into your back, almost sending you toppling into the shelf still in front of you obscuring you from sight. “Got anythin’ to say?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

“You a mute, girl? I know you ain’t deaf since you heard I’d been sniffin’ around lookin’ for ya. ‘Least I’m guessin’ you did, since you managed to give me the slip for the whole time I was in town.” He sniffs. “Took me a while to find out you were shacked up with the sheriff. Hiding in plain sight. Couldn’t believe I missed ya when Sheriff Price was damn near the first person I met in this two-bit town.”

You finally muster up the nerve to speak. “Y-you’re making a mistake.” 

The furled upper lip is audible in his voice. “I’d try not to piss me off too much, sugar. Lyin’ just rubs me the wrong way is all.”

“No, you—you really don’t—” 

He shoves the gun harder into your back, making you wince. “Now, I know you’re a slippery little bitch, so I’ll level with you, alright?” Graves murmurs, pitching his voice low to ensure that only you hear. “You make so much as a peep—so much as a fuckin’ whisper—and I’ll shoot. Wink and I’ll shoot. I am dyin’ for you to give me a reason to go with the better half of the dead or alive question.”

There’s no point in lying. It might’ve worked had it been anyone but the man holding you hostage; not a man as stubborn and mulish as him. You nod when he asks if you understand.

“Now get to steppin’.”

He doesn’t tarry long, leading you out of the shop with a hand on your shoulder and . You stare at Miles with mounting horror, wordlessly begging him to look up from the ledger open in front of him on the counter. Your prayers go unanswered though; he doesn’t so much as glance towards the door before it’s swinging shut behind you.

“Remember,” Graves says in a low voice as the two of you step out onto the porch, “not a word. I will shoot anyone that tries to interfere.” 

That kills the impulse to shout for help. 

The thought of letting Graves take you away without voicing so much as a single plea fills you with horror, but you can’t see any other way out. He walks you through the streets like an old friend, the pistol still wedged into your back obscured by his coat. No one seems to notice the wild look in your eyes or the strained edge of your smile. 

Your behavior infuriates you. Demural and soft and wretched. You’ve only allowed one man to put you under their thumb; only one has ever earned the right. 

The thought of your husband is an ache in your chest that doesn’t abate. It thumps with the terrified flutter of your heart. You half wonder if he’ll suddenly appear from around a bend and wrench you into his arms, gun already drawn and aimed at the man attempting to take you away from him. 

“My husband—” you start, tripping over your words. Almost tripping over a rock as well since your spine is too stiff to let you look down at the ground while you walk. “—He can—he can pay you.”

He laughs, a nasty, mocking sound. “I’m sure he’d like to, sugar. Jus' ain’t sure he’s got the cash to pay your price.”

“At least let me ask—”

At that, he jams the gun violently into the small of your back, making you wince agaun. Petrified. Sweat sluices off your brow and drips down your face. “What part of shut the fuck up don’t you get?”

That silences you. Hard to muster up the nerve to retaliate with a gun lodged against the base of your spine. Still there’s so much that bears asking. Why did he come back? Why here—why now? 

The town takes on a dull, listless quality as he steers you away from the more crowded areas. It’s almost like looking through muslin; a veil between you and the world. 

Your eyes dart from person to person as they pass by in the opposite direction, but even those that bother to meet your gaze only smile politely, a couple passing gentlemen chirping, “Morning, Mrs. Price” before sweeping by in a hurry. 

None question the wild, frantic glint in your eye, the look of a horse about to bolt. If they paid you more than a moment’s notice, they might, but even the lady who frowns curiously at Graves, his hand still resting gently on your arm as if he were an old, dear friend, abandons her momentary curiosity when her companion says something of interest, pulling her back into their conversation. The flicker of hope in your belly dies a soundless death. 

There’s something almost phantasmagorical about the entire ordeal. Almost like it isn’t quite happening, like you can’t quite make yourself believe that this is, in fact, real. Like you’re watching from outside of yourself. Though you can see the wooden facades of the nearby buildings and smell the scent of hay and manure from the livery stable, it doesn’t resonate within you as real. 

He meanders through town with you stationed in front of him. A meat shield. Collateral damage. Simply by the way he maneuvers you through the crowd, he reduces you to a body, stripping you of any semblance of personhood. You’re less than meat to him, less than human even—no more than a meal ticket. 

When you muster up the courage to open your mouth the next time someone passes you by, Graves’ hand slides up to your shoulder and he digs his fingers into the bone. A warning. 

“If you think I was kiddin’ before, just try me,” he sneers into your ear, thumb pressing into your shoulder blade until you wince. 

Again, his voice dispels any thought of getting someone’s attention. 

He doesn’t lead you towards the train station like you expect. Instead, he heads to an awning beneath the saloon on the periphery of town where a couple horses are leashed to a post, waiting for their riders to come untie them. The roof of the awning is strung with a dense cluster of overlapping cobwebs. A spider scuttles across the web and into the dark inner recesses of the canopy. 

This far from the center of town, there’s hardly anyone. When you give your surroundings a quick glance, you can’t find a single other soul within earshot, only a single man pushing open the batwing doors on his way into the saloon. Then you’re alone again. 

A tawny gelding chuffs when Graves approaches.  When he suddenly unhands you, it doesn’t click until he’s several paces away from you, running his hand down his horse’s neck and rifling through the saddlebags, emptying the contents of his coat pockets into them. You have to glance down at your shoulder just to be sure. He sheathes his gun as well, tucking it into the holster fixed to his belt. 

“Bought the horse off a drunk three towns back,” Graves explains while loading up the horse.

You don’t respond, still unsettled. It’s the first time since he led you out of the general store that his gun hasn’t been aimed at you. It wouldn’t be practical for him to dress and load the horse one handed. The sun beats down on you, burning the top of your head. This could be your moment—a moment to scream or run away.

But you don’t. You don’t scream and you don’t run because you are, above all else, a coward. Through and through. You’ve been running from your problems for months now, leaving someone else to take care of the mess you left behind. 

Fear paralyzes you; it makes you think too much or not at all. Even now, with Graves giving you the perfect opportunity to turn and run, you can’t stop thinking about the potential consequences. What if he were to shoot you? What if he were to haul you back into town and expose your sins to everyone who gathered around? What if the people in town that have come to see you as one of their own were to gather around your crumpled form and stare at you with vitriol and disgust? 

“How did you—” you start, then pause to breathe, the nausea building again. “I thought you’d left town.”

“You’d’ve liked that, huh?” 

You don’t answer that. You know better than to antagonize a man with a gun. 

He sighs when you don’t rise to the bait, almost pettish. “Wedding announcement. I saw it in the paper—by then, I’d moved on to Lexington, so it took me awhile to backtrack, but I just knew somethin’ about that bit in the paper about the sheriff’s wife hailing from the east coast didn’t sound right. Too big of a coincidence. Had to at least be sure—retrace my footsteps. Lotta money on the line, you know.”

You stare straight ahead at that. You ought to have known. 

(“In the paper. The county sheriff got hitched—of course it’d be a story.”)

“To be honest, that kinda cracked me up. Murderess marrying the county sheriff.” He snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “Sorta thing you’d read about in a dime novel.”

A new emotion wells up within you. It simmers in your belly, hot and cold at once. Righteous fury. All this time, you’ve been betraying yourself with your silence, allowing men to read your fear as guilt. Complicit in your own ruin. 

“I’m not a murderer.”

The look he gives you is withering. “Sugar, I hate to break it to you, but you did kill a man.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing ever does, it seems.  But the more you hold it in, the uglier the thought seems, until it erupts from your chest like Vesuvius, lava and tephra shooting out. 

“He deserved it,” you finally spit out, the words coming from deep in your chest. 

Graves doesn’t even pause in his ministrations, back to tightening the saddle straps. 

“He deserved it,” you repeat, spittle flying out of your mouth and landing in the dirt between the two of you. 

“That’s not somethin’ I usually concern myself with,” he finally says, looking distinctly unimpressed when he meets your stare. Bored blue eyes. 

You’re struck by the sense that your life means so little to him that the circumstances surrounding your bounty hardly merit more than a passing thought. If he could spare less, he would. 

It’s the vilest thing in the world to be regarded with such bored contempt. 

“He would’ve—he would’ve raped me otherwise. I didn’t have a choice.” 

At that, Graves pauses. When he looks towards you, his eyes are curiously blank. 

“Better that than what’ll happen now,” he says, the words so perfunctory that it takes a moment for them to sink in.  When they do, you have to swallow back bile.

His glibness shatters whatever hope you’d had left. 

In that moment, you finally acknowledge that appealing to his sense of decency won’t lead you anywhere because it simply doesn’t exist within him. You’ve known men like him before—those more concerned with lining their own pockets than taking care of the vulnerable people around them. The archetype is not uncommon. You should’ve expected it even, especially from a bounty hunter. 

There won’t be any bribing him or talking your way out of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Whatever facinorous end awaits you back east, he’s happy to shepherd you there so long as it earns him his thirty coins. 

How many times do you have to ask yourself if you’re brave enough to do something before you answer? 

When Graves turns to face you again and takes a step towards you, likely to urge you up onto the saddle, you recoil, stumbling away from him. His eyes sharpen at your movement, fulvous wolf eyes narrowing on you. 

“And here I thought you’d stopped pissin’ me off,” he says lightly, a hard edge underlying his words. His hand lifts to rest against the handle of the revolver tucked back in its sheath, thumb flexing over it. 

“What’s the point?” you retort, nostrils flaring. “You either kill me here or I die there.”

You sound braver than you feel, fear making you shake so hard that your knees almost knock together. 

Graves’ smile is all lip, no crinkling around the eyes. “Oh, I won’t kill you, sugar. I’m a better shot than that.”

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, stomach turning over at the thought of him putting a bullet through your shoulder or leg. 

“I’m surprised you won’t just come quietly. You think the sheriff wouldn’t hand you over to me himself if he found out what kinda woman he married?”

That’s been your fear from the very beginning. The one thing that’s kept you awake at night, the nightmare shaking you out of a dead sleep. You’d convinced yourself that him calling the authorities or even escorting you back east himself was an inevitability. That John Price, paragon of virtue, wouldn’t bend the rules for anyone, much less you. 

But the more you think about it, the less sense it seems to make. Every tender word and touch rises to the forefront of your memory. If John has shown you anything, it’s love. He’s proven his devotion a thousand times over, shown you time and again that were you to leave, he’d come running. 

Suddenly, the thought that your husband would let someone take you away from him seems preposterous. It doesn’t align at all with the man you know. He’d go to hell and back for you, would rip out a man’s tongue for speaking to you the way Graves speaks to you now. Hindsight makes that clear. 

You meet his eyes, intention set. “I’d rather just ask him.”

Blue eyes turn to flint, flat. Droll candor shed for ruthlessness. Silence before a storm. 

He’s on you before you even have a chance to whirl around and make a run for it, arm cutting into your windpipe when he wraps it around your neck. He drags you back into the shadows of the awning, out of sight from anyone on the street; your heels score lines in the dirt. You choke, wheezing on your next breath, but his arm tightens, trapping the scream in your throat. 

“Shoulda done this before,” Graves grunts, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the pair of cuffs he had tucked away. 

When he unhooks his arm from around your neck, you gasp for breath, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. Panic swirls and rises in your chest. 

“Get your hands off—” you hiss, beating his arm with your fist to no avail. He yanks your arms in front of you until your wrists are pressed close together. Your blood curdles at the feeling of cold iron against your skin and the gut-wrenching sound of handcuffs being fixed around your wrists, tightened to the point of pain. You can hardly flex your hands with how tight they’re bound. “Let me go, let ME GO—”

He pulls you in close again. “Don’t think I won’t tape your fuckin’ mouth shut too,” Graves snarls in your ear. Nausea swells in your belly. 

“Please— please don’t do this—” you beg, a sob breaking from your chest now. 

He sighs, long suffering. “Lord knows I tried to warn you.”

Despite the threat, Graves doesn’t tape your mouth shut. Instead, he fastens a rough piece of rope around your head, fitting it between your teeth like a bit. You don’t have it in you to be thankful for small mercies this time. The hemp cord scratches the corners of your mouth when you try to move your lips around it. 

“There,” he says, giving you a rough shake, satisfied. “That’s better. Can finally hear myself think.”

The tears leak out of the corners of your eyes in big, fat droplets, clouding your vision. When he wipes your cheeks with a calloused hand, the nail of his thumb catches on the delicate skin under your eye, leaving a thin cut. The pain makes you flinch, staring daggers at the man in front of you, but he doesn’t apologize for his rough handling. 

Graves heaves himself up onto the saddle first, swinging a leg over with practiced ease. You yelp when he hauls you up after, setting you on the saddle in front of him. Heat crawls up your neck when your skirt billows around your waist, horrified. 

“Save your tears, sugar,” he tells you, gathering the reins in one hand. “You’ll need ‘em for later.”

The horse whinnies when Graves pulls upward and guides him towards the road leading out of town, hooves clopping against the dirt. Your heart shoots up into your throat. 

Galloping out of town, you chance a glance back, head spinning as the world blurs around you. A man stands under the awning you just left, his head cocked as if stupefied. He’s too far away for you to get a proper look at his face though, no way to tell if he’s someone that might recognize you and alert John. You try to scream or wave your hands—anything to get his attention, to let the stranger know that something is wrong. 

You watch until the figure melds into the surrounding town. 

You keep waiting for someone to appear from behind you. A tall figure to darken the horizon, blot it like the moon passing over the sun. 

The last bastion of your hope collapses into rubble the farther away you ride, no man nor horse following you in pursuit. And then a hand grabs a fistful of your hair and wrenches your head back around, cutting off your view.

The plan is to leave the horse in the next town you reach and take a train back east. Graves would’ve done that back in the town you just left, he tells you, but he wanted to put as much distance between you and the sheriff. 

“You never know with men who’ve gotten a taste of married life,” he says when he finally deigns to stop miles from town, sitting on a rock and having a drink while he leaves you tied to the horse by your wrists. You shift from foot to foot, a cramp winding up your legs. “They get themselves a little pussy and lose all sense of dignity or morality. Can’t be trusted to do the right thing.” 

Steam practically billows out of your ears. You have the good sense to keep your mouth shut though, cognizant of the fact that you’re alone out in the middle of nowhere with a man who’d be happy to bring you back dead or alive. Though he hasn’t been quite so explicit, it’s apparent in the way he doesn’t offer to untie you or let you rest as well. The skin under the cuffs on your wrists are rubbed raw from your attempts to free yourself, and from the journey itself, with all the jostling and the persistent cramp in your right shoulder. 

The animal awareness dawns on you during that first rest. He’d taken the rope out when you were far enough outside of town that it didn’t matter if you screamed or not. That’s what stays your tongue now—the creeping notion that you are far from anyone that would be remotely sympathetic to your plight. 

“How much was the bounty?” you ask, more out of morbid curiosity than anything. You balance on one foot to shake the cramp out of the other. 

“Now, I hate to be rude, sugar, but what does it matter to you? It ain’t you collecting the reward.”

Your lips flatten into a taut line, already regretting prying. It’s not like knowing would change anything. 

The break ends sooner than you’d hoped, Graves urging you back onto the horse before taking a seat behind you. It troubles you because you’re not far enough away from town that you couldn’t still be rescued. There’d be more of a chance of John or someone else—one of his deputies, perhaps—coming across you out here. But you don’t have much of a choice. 

Out here, the land stretches on without end. Only the faint blue of a mountain ridge paralleling your route breaks the horizon. The land is flat, sparse apart from the dense shrubbery and trees twisted and bent by the wind. Cottonwood and boxelder. Chokecherry. Dogwood and hawthorn. Lush blooming saltbrush. 

The clear blue sky overhead is almost mocking, the rain from earlier long since abated. There’s hardly a cloud in the sky now. It’d be scenic if you could abstract it from the circumstances. A perfect day for gardening or a brisk walk after being kept indoors because of the rain. You’re still damp from riding through the rain earlier. 

A few bison congregate in a small dip in the terrain, grazing on the wild grass. You stare at them wide-eyed as you gallop along the upper ridge, startled by the sight of so many in one place. 

Despite the sublime beauty of the land, you remain on edge, unable to take anything in or truly enjoy it. Panic and revulsion leave you as gnarled and knotted as the krummholz trees out in the middle of the open plains. Riding with Graves feels nothing like the few times you and John shared a horse. It’s impersonal; transactional. Entirely against your will. 

The sun has only just begun to descend under the horizon when you and Graves approach a ramshackle house situated by itself in the middle of the open plains. Barely more than a barn, and long since abandoned by the looks of it. Age has done the place no favors; wooden slats sag and separate from the exterior of the house, the gaps in between the boards letting in all manner of insects and rot. 

Graves dismounts his horse about a stone’s throw from the hovel. His brow furrows with dissatisfaction as he surveys the abandoned property. 

“Shit,” he remarks, sucking his teeth. “A local back in town swore a family still lived here. Don’t look like anyone’s lived here since Abraham.”

Part of you wishes the former tenants still resided here, on the off possibility that one might take pity on you, but a much larger part of you is grateful for the dwelling’s vacancy. You’ve heard stories before, of families living out in the middle of nowhere. Rumors. Not all bad, of course; it’s common enough for families migrating west sometimes to stop along the way for a generation or two, building more permanent dwellings than the caravans they began their journey in. Many such families were also known for putting up travelers passing through in exchange for goods or help with chores. 

But you’ve also heard other stories. Like the Riley family out near Cherryvale and their homestead just off the Great Osage Trail. They lived out there for more than two decades before the number of lone travelers vanishing off the trail within walking distance of their property pointed the finger of suspicion at them. When the authorities finally got around to procuring a warrant for their property, they found the house deserted apart from the furniture that couldn’t be loaded into the wagon and an infant boy, dehydrated and petrified. 

You shake the story from your head. “…Are we spending the night here?” you ask tentatively. 

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, nostrils flared. “Don’t go gettin’ any ideas in that head of yours. Jus’ because a man’s gotta rest his eyes, don’t mean I gotta give you a peaceful night’s rest. No, I’m leavin’ those hands of yours tied.”

Your hopes deflate at that.��

He helps you dismount before hobbling his horse with a pair of leather straps around its front legs to keep it from darting off in the middle of the night. You wince sympathetically; you have more in common with a horse now than any man. 

The inside of the cabin is just as derelict as the exterior. At the very least, he feeds you. A couple scoops of pemmican straight from the tin. The fact that he insists on feeding you instead of letting you feed yourself puts you on edge. Your spine is stiff as a board through it all, your mouth barely opening up to receive the spoonful of pemmican, the metal clanking against your teeth. You wince, the sound itself tasting of rust. 

At all times, you are aware of the precarity of your situation. You can’t imagine there were any stipulations in the bounty to bring you back unscathed. Though he hasn’t tried anything untoward so far—not so much as made a licentious remark—you don’t know how long your luck will last. You flinch every time he so much as twitches in your direction, sure at any moment his mood will flip and he’ll drag you across the floor and haul himself over you. 

It’s enough to make your stomach hurt, turning over itself. He doesn’t try anything though, and for that you exhale shakily, the tension running off you in rivulets. 

One hour drags into the next. Night blackens the sky, seeping in through the crumbling walls of the cabin. 

“Well,” Graves says, wiping his hands together to dust off any lingering crumbs. “I’m gonna hit the hay.”

“Do…do I get to sleep as well?”

He cocks a brow. “Not much I can do to stop you.”

“It’s just that…” You lift your hands as you trail off, silently pointing out the handcuffs still secured around your wrists, the implicit assertion being that you won’t be able to sleep with the metal digging into the bones of your wrists. 

Graves scoffs. “You can’t think I’ll just uncuff you ‘cause we ain’t in town no more. I got a little more sense than that, sugar.”

“You could use rope instead?” you suggest. 

The seconds he spends considering it are long. You hold your breath as you watch him weigh the pros and cons. 

Finally, he shrugs. “Alright.”

The relief that washes over you is almost palpable. 

He pulls a blanket out of one of the saddlebags to function as a makeshift pillow, setting it up on the floor in the center of the room. True to his word, Graves uncuffs you and loops a double knotted rope around your wrists instead, fastening the rope tying your hands together around his own wrist. Your stomach sinks as he pulls the knot taut. 

He levels a heavy stare on you after giving the rope one last tug. “I don’t usually repeat myself, sugar, but I will this one time. Don’t go tryin’ anythin’ stupid. I’m gettin’ a good night’s rest and so help me if you wake me up—” his eyes flash, gray going steely “—you won’t like the consequences.”

You nod. Swallow back the phlegm clogging your throat. 

True night plunges the old house into darkness, cricket songs slipping in through the cracks in the walls. The temperature also plunges with the setting sun. It gets cold at night, even in the summer months; the draft makes you shiver, the rotting exterior letting in the elements. 

You keep to the wall with the least amount of rotting boards, as far as the rope tethering you to Graves will allow you to go. It would probably be in your best interest to try and get some sleep, but you’re far too restless to calm down. The atmosphere in the house is far too eerie to settle your nerves either; you can’t help but wonder about the family that must have left this place to rot and fade away into memory. 

It’s all you can do to blink back the tears that spring to your eyes when you think about the memory of you that John will have to carry into the future now that you’re gone. It isn’t fair. After everything you’ve had to endure in this lifetime, you thought maybe that this might have been your reward. That John was your reward. 

Your hands drop from your chin to your knees, hopelessness plaguing you again. The thin, sharp whistle of defeat. High and reedy as a death rattle. 

Then your eyes drop to your wrists.

The cord is fastened in a bowline knot around your wrists, difficult to undo without considerable effort, but the material is softer than the cuffs Graves had you in before, and it gives when you pull one hand down while pushing the other up. Your skin bunches around the cord, but it doesn’t cut into you the way the metal did. 

Graves is still fast asleep when you glance over at him. He doesn’t snore, but the rise and fall of his chest under the blanket is steady. Stable. 

The fatigue dissipates from your body the second you put it together. That there’s a sliver of a possibility of slipping your hands out of the rope tying you to Graves. The exhilaration is almost overwhelming. You have to sit with it a beat before acting, wary of letting your guard down too fast.

Time passes slowly as you fiddle with the knot, reaching your fingers as far as they’ll go and gritting your teeth through the ensuing cramp in your wrist. You nearly groan in frustration when your hand twitches and you accidentally retighten the knot. A near crushing blow. 

Please, you mouth more than whisper, frustrated tears clumped in your lashes. Teeth sinking into the flesh of your bottom lip, pinching off the wail rising up your throat. 

Your heart skips a beat when the rope loosens around one of your wrists, enough for you to wiggle a pinkie underneath and slowly shimmy it up the length of your hand. A cramp makes your pinkie spasm, almost causing you to lose your grip. Sweat pools in the cup of your palm. 

When your wrists are finally free, the rope clutched in trembling hands and the basal joint of your thumb scrapped raw from the fibrous rope, you can only sit there, heart beating wildly in your chest. You have to force yourself to remain calm, wary of waking Graves up after all that effort. His eyelids quiver only with his dreams though. 

You glance towards the door on the other side of the cabin. It seems either farther away now that you know it’s within reach. You know better than to just run straight for it though. Weeks of being on the run before finding John have taught you to pace yourself, to push down the fluttering evocation in your chest to make a mad dash for the closest way out. 

Instead, you take a deep breath out, closing your eyes until you’ve calmed down. Then you rise slowly to your feet. 

Your eyes, having long since adjusted to the darkness, scan the room for any loose floorboards. Aside from one obvious corner of the house which has begun to rot away and collapse, it’s hard for you to discern at a glance which boards will groan under the weight of your feet. You have no choice but to guess.

Each step has you on edge, heart in your throat. Your focus shifts quicksilver between the floor and Graves. Waiting for any sudden movement. 

Halfway to the door, you take another cautious step forward and the floorboard creaks under your foot. Your heart stops, eyes flitting instantly over to Graves’ sleeping form. He doesn’t so much as shift. It’s another beat before you’re able to move again, confidence shaken by the noise. You keep imagining him suddenly shooting up from the floor, pistol in hand, the hammer striking the primer, the hiss of gas escaping the barrel. 

The door gives a faint creak when you push it open, so you open it only enough for your body to slip through, wincing when you twitch and accidentally push it open another inch, dragging out the creak. Still, he doesn't wake. You slip past the door, shutting it quietly behind you.  

The moon glows cornsilk gold in the sky. A vast, uncharted land stretches out around you, untouched by human hands, or so changed over the years that any human presence has long since been buried beneath the loam. But when you stare out into the distance, you realize that you have no idea where you came from. Everything looks the same in each direction, no landmark familiar enough for you to orient yourself. You’re out in the middle of nowhere and nothing looks right. 

If you had less strength, you’d fall to your knees. The despair is so immense that you hardly have the strength to hold it all at once. 

The silence lulls you into a false sense of security. You linger for too long, stuck contemplating your options. Coyotes yip in distant packs, their barks carrying across the plains. You shiver at the sound. It reminds you again that you’re on your own now. No husband to come chasing after you if things get sticky. 

Your first few steps away from the cabin are tentative, gliding your legs through the grass and staring up at the cornsilk moon. A combination of indulgence and bewilderment. If you knew the right way home, you wouldn’t waver, but these days, you have no faith in your instincts. They’ve only ever led you off course. 

The gelding that Graves rode in on sits in the grass with its hind legs folded underneath it. With its legs still hobbled, you know removing the leather will take more time than you'd like, but you figure it'll be easier to make your way across the plains on horseback, with the added bonus of leaving Graves stranded. If God were just, he’d starve out here and leave his corpse for the coyotes to feast on. 

You approach the horse cautiously, conscious not to make any sudden movements. Its ears angle towards you as you draw near. Attentive to your presence. 

“Hey there, honey,” you whisper, reaching out a hand and trying to show that you aren’t a threat. Its nose twitches.

Another step forward. Easy does it. One leg in front of the other.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.” You try to mirror your memory of John in your voice, honeysuckle soft words. 

You aren’t John though. Not even close. You take another step towards it.

It brays when you get too close, skittish. The sound pierces through the night, louder than the coyotes in the distance. Louder even than the creaking door.  

The hair on the back of your neck raises, lips numb. Then the prickling awareness of movement in the house, like an itch on a phantom limb. 

Behind you, the door to the cabin bursts open with a bang, slamming off the wall and ricocheting back. You whip your head around to look only to find Graves’ towering form under the shadow of the doorway, his hair mused and clothes askew. And he looks enraged. 

“Hey!” Graves bellows from the doorway, breaking into a run towards you. “Get back here!”

There’s no time to sit with the regret, no time to bemoan the fact that you didn’t exercise enough caution, that for some reason without a gun leveled at your head, you allowed yourself to forget the very real danger this man posed to you. 

All you can do is run.

The grass whistles around you. You run so hard that your lungs burn, your arms pumping furiously beside you, dress swishing between your legs. You don’t have to look behind you to know that Graves is gaining on you. His body is built for pursuit. Still, you push yourself past your breaking point, not stopping even when you taste blood in your mouth. Mindless; directionless. No idea where you’re going—just away from him. You’d jump off a cliff if you came across one. 

He’s close enough for you to hear now, heavy breathing right behind you. But by then it’s too late. A heavy body rams into you, sending you careening towards the earth, the ground rushing up to meet you halfway. The dirt hardly cushions the blow. 

You hit the ground hard. Head knocked loose of thought, agony ripping across your face. The double blow of a body heavier than yours forcing you into the dirt, so solid that it crushes the breath from your lungs. 

Blood leaks from your lip, most likely split. When you breathe in to fill your lungs, you taste dirt and rust and earth. 

“Insufferable bitch,” Graves snarls, putrid breath wafting under your nose and making your eyes water. He grabs a handful of your hair and wrenches your head up before slamming it back down. Something crunches. Distantly, you wonder if your nose is broken. 

Your ears ring, the rest of his words drowned out by the blood rushing to your face. 

“Please—” you beg, blood dripping from your split lip. 

“Knew I shouldn’ta trusted you—conniving little cunt—c’mere now, get up—”

He rises to his feet over your body, big hand curling around your wrist. You hear your shoulder pop when he yanks your arm behind your back. A rush of cold. A sweat breaks on the nape of your neck. Shock sets in the moment after, adrenaline flooding your body. 

Then a sharp, focused surge of pain. It radiates from your shoulder outward, so intense that you can’t believe it at first. Your whole world reduces down to it. Feathering out down your back; irradiating waves of it. Thoughts scattering and then coming back together around the pain. If you scream, it comes out unbidden. 

“Ah, hell, I didn’t mean to do that,” he grumbles from behind you, likely staring at the unnatural jut of your shoulder. “Alright, sugar, one second—I’ll pop that back in.”

“Nononono—” you gasp, panic lancing through you, but he pays no attention to your words. 

The pain of popping your shoulder back in is excruciating. Relief follows shortly after, but the time between dislocating and relocating your shoulder is so short that it hardly comes as a balm to the pain.

“You…bastard…” you gasp. 

“Wouldn’ta had to do that if you hadn’t run,” he sighs, the sight of your pain subduing his rage. 

It doesn’t stop him from grabbing you roughly by the arm he just dislocated when he finally gets you on your feet though, steering you back towards the house. The pain that radiates up your arm is almost blinding. 

He drags you back to the cabin with a punishing grip. There’s no sympathy when you stumble. Moonlight illuminates the path back to the cabin and shows you the trenches in the wild grass made by your feet. Hardly more than a couple rods. 

The defeat that courses through you upon being dragged through the ramshackle front door is ten times that of earlier. When he lets go of your arm, you collapse in a heap on the floor, aching and sweating. A bag of bones and blood. You’d rattle if someone shook you. 

“I hate you,” you mumble from your spot on the floor, shaking through the pain. “Rot in hell.”

Graves doesn’t respond, but you can almost hear the way he grins.  

No rest for the wicked or the good this time. Graves wakes intermittently throughout the night to check up on you, wary now that you’ve tried to run. Your regret is palpable. You should’ve waited. Bided your time. There won't be another chance now, not after you played your hand so soon. 

The ache in your shoulder keeps you from finding sleep. Every time you get close to it, the pain radiates down your arm and it slips from your grasp, your hand closing around the empty space it leaves behind. Teeth grit, breathing through the pain. Loosening your jaw and panting because the pain overwhelms you when you so much as shift onto your side, the hard floor digging into your elbow. 

Right on the edge of sleep, just as you're about to latch on, a boot catches you in the ribs, jostling you back into the realm of pain. You wheeze, breaking into a coughing fit. 

“Get up,” a hoarse voice grunts above you, empty of sympathy. “We got places to be.”

He has the two of you back on the horse as soon as dawn breaks. Your escape attempt the night before must have spooked him, and you regret it now in the light of day because you know he won’t let you out of his sight again. The metal handcuffs digging into your wrists assures you of that. 

There’s no time for breakfast or time to wash up. Graves makes it a point to be back on the road as fast as possible, repacking his bedroll and stuffing it back in the saddlebag before dragging you up with him. 

The pain is a dull throb after sleeping most of the agony away. It comes back when you move too quickly though, which is hard to avoid on horseback when each gallop echoes through your sore bones and joints. 

The arching sun immixes with the heavens above, rising higher as the hours pass. You ache for a hat; something to keep the heat of the sun off your head. On the horizon, the mountain ridge sits like a spine bursting out from the earth. It’s all wastelands and portents. Evil omens. 

Your heart feels swollen and bruised, like something trampled under elk hooves. 

“Cheer up,” Graves says, tipping your chin up when the sun reaches its peak around midday, the gesture making you so uncomfortable that you almost shudder out of your skin. Your face still throbs with pain. “You should be glad I didn’t jus’ shoot you.”

Your lips pull back, baring your teeth to nothing. 

A shot rips through the air at that, his words commanding it into being. Your head instinctively ducks and even the horse under you staggers, spooked by the sound. Graves curses, tensing up behind you.

"What in the hell—"

You whip your head around to stare behind you, looking for the source of the gunfire. When you find it, your eyes widen.

[fandomxo00]

King Of My Heart - Part 1 - The Wedding - Hugh Jackman fanfiction

You finally get marry the love of your life, Hugh

characters: hugh jackman x plus size!oc!Ainsley

word count: 12.8k

warnings: hugh's kids are in this, using different names tho, pregnant reader, eventually smut, daddy!dom kink, degradation, rough foreplay sex, teasing, oral!F+M, cockwarming ,lots of teasing and foreplay, really leant into this lmao

You didn't think that you were ever going to find love, when you turned 19 you came to that conclusion later on. But then you remained basically single for the next ten years. Focusing on your mental health and career. You knew that you wanted to start a family soon so you maybe have to dive back into the dating pool. You weren't completely single the last ten years, off and on surface-level relationships, then you had friends with benefits. Off and on, Miles truly was just one of your best friends, the two of you stopped having sex after he met his now fiancé, Leilani. It was just a simple conversation that the sex was over, but Miles also taught you about how a woman should be treated, in bed and out of it. 

You grew up reading fanfiction and as you've progressed your writing career, you wrote a lot about sex for a girl that hasn't had a lot of it. You'd let men treat you like shit, and because you wouldn't go in with real expectations of a real-life interaction, you just naively went along. It didn't help that a lot of the men you have slept with have been poor in bed and didn't even care to make you orgasm. With Miles, it was like seeing how many times and the dirtiest way to make each other come. 

Miles was a good man, but you were happy that nothing came of that relationship. Though he did offer to be your sperm donor before he meant Leilani. You just didn't think that would work out now. Little did you know it was all falling into place, when you published your first book. The last thing you expected was for it to get picked up as a movie. You had wormed your way into the production to make sure they didn't mess up the plot or characters. Little did you know you would see Hugh Jackman at the audition. The two main characters weren't any older than you, Erik and Matilda. But you still didn't expect such a well-known actor to show up at the casting of your movie. 

You felt an instant attraction because he was Hugh fucking Jackman coming in to play a man that you wrote as literally the perfect dad and just guy. His character is a big part of the story, as he was a single father but he'd done a lot to try and be closer to Erik. You described the character as attractive in your book, Matilda even thinking he was handsome. Though she chose the younger man to pursue, you don't think you would've. 

Most of the men your age were nothing like precious fictional Erik, and real men like him were few and far between. So, you found yourself wanting an older man all the way back in your early twenties. 

It didn't help that you thought Hugh was gorgeous. The two of you had clicked right away, that beaming smile on his face getting to your heart. When you went home and called Miles you talked about how they were turning your book into an indie film and for some reason, Hugh Jackman wanted a role. He told you that he was now divorced and that you should go for it. You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Are you nuts?" 

You were also lucky to know that the director was a huge fan of your book, so she wanted to hear all of your ideas, preferences, and directions. You even confessed you wanted to be a director, you just didn't have any experience, "You don't get any experience until someone gives you a chance." That meant you got pretty close with the four main characters, including Erik's brother. Erik's dad was kinda based on your dad, though verily different. The way Hugh embodied the character made you actively blush. At first, you started avoiding him, not excessively but enough that he confronted you. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No! Of course not." You flushed, looking away from him. "I mean I bet you hear this all the time but I kinda have a crush on you." You blurted, letting out a very barely there squeak of humiliation. Avoiding his eyes, you looked around, but Hugh stepped forward, his hand coming to your shoulder. The feeling of his large palm encompassing your skin as his other hand came to your chin. Lifting your eyes to his light hazel ones, the sunlight beaming on him. The faint highlights of his hair, he was growing out his beard and there were gray splotches along his jaw. You never really liked when men had beards but then you met Hugh Jackman. You wanted to feel it everywhere, you flushed at the dirty thoughts that only his touch caused.

"I'd admit I have a bit of a crush even at my age." Hugh grinned over at you, as you couldn't control the giggle that erupted from your mouth, your hand coming up to your mouth as the sides of your eyes crinkled. 

This was just the beginning of your relationship, getting closer together and helping him learn his character. Eventually, towards the end of filming, you finally had sex in his trailer. The two of you had been handsy all day, with hidden touches, secret kisses behind curtains or sets, trying not to get caught. Slowly falling in love with each other, going on press afterward with full tension and fans trying to ship the two of you. At a premiere, Hugh had been seen pretty close to you, his hand going to your back. There were pictures of the two of you looking at each other when the other was looking away. 

You did just a bit of press for the movie, then rolled into the press he had to do for Deadpool and Wolverine, and you went out with him. Ryan was thankful you had gotten Hugh out of the house; he'd been sleeping on his couch for a couple of weeks. He'd been coming to your apartment most nights, the two of us not spending much time apart. Then you went to the Chiefs game with Hugh, Ryan, Blake, and Taylor. The five of you going out after, getting to know celebrities you never thought you'd even talk to. When the reality finally set in for him, you really allowed yourself to trust his people. 

Eventually, the two of you bought a house in upstate New York, and the night you moved in he proposed to you in front of the fireplace sitting in his arms as you sat on the ground with a blanket underneath you. He slipped the ring on your finger before making love to you right there. 

You didn't want a huge wedding, but you did want it to be special. Both you and Hugh came up with a list of people who you wanted to invite, and you'd ask his daughter to be one of your maid of honor and he'd ask his son to be one of his groomsmen. Because you've gotten somewhat close with both of them, they like to come stay at your house in Skaneateles. 

You and Liz, his daughter, had bonded over crafts actually, the two of you didn't have to talk to have a good time together. When Hugh was away for different things, she would turn up to the house. You'd take her out shopping, or making food together. Then she spoke to her dad about wanting to stay at the house more often. So you helped her decorate her room and when you asked her to be your bridesmaid, you couldn't help but cry. You had a very deep connection with your cousin, she always called you her, 'Little', she'd carry you around on her hip in high school and some people thought you were hers. You don't know what your life would be without her. And you saw that in Liz, the two of you having an instant trust with each other. You knew that you were never going to be her mom, but you didn't want to be either.  

Carmen, his son, was a little harder to bond with because he was in his early twenties and his independence was very important to him. In a way that Liz hadn't quite grown into yet. He also didn't want you to replace his mom, which you understood. You had a stepdad that you hated and wished every day that your mom hadn't married him. But you knew that you would pressure it, that you needed to lean off giving any unsolicited advice. You also spoke to Hugh about it, you were trying to not overthink it, and he told you to just be patient. 

Then for Liz's 20th birthday, Hugh took her, Carmen, and you to Disneyland. For the most part, you were able to stay out of the public eye but there were fans, most of them didn't come up to Hugh, he wore a hat and sunglasses, which helped sometimes. He then posted for her birthday with pictures all of you had taken. You'd finally been able to kind of bond with Carmen while standing in line and you let them play heads up with your phone. 

Liz and your older cousin, Cassidy had gone out dress shopping with you, it had taken a while to find the one but when you did, you started crying. She had come over and hugged you, as you wiped the tears away while you looked in the mirror. You never thought this was going to happen to you. You had even mourned the idea of ever getting married, but here you were. A gorgeous meaningful ring that Hugh had chosen perfectly. It was a small oval diamond, a few smaller ones on either side on a golden band. 'Sunshine', the nickname he always called you, was scribed on the inside of the ring. Little did you know the band had 'Jackman' scribed on the inside. You had even picked out his ring, bringing your father's ring to try and find one similar to it but not exact. When you found the right one you just knew. 

The two of you needed to take time out to get a marriage license, you planned on going to the local town clerk, however, you needed a witness. Luckily, Liz was over that week, and she went out with you two to get it. Before going out to eat to celebrate, unfortunately, the paps found you, but Hugh held your leg, trying to calm your anxiety as he rubbed his thumb against your thigh. You struggled to eat when they were around, your anxiety getting the best of you. 

Hugh had been taking time off with the wedding rolling in, the two of you having a lot of sex. The anticipation for the wedding drove the two of you crazy, and you just loved him like crazy. With all the sex you were having you forgot to wrap it up, but you didn't really mind. 

You've talked to him about wanting children of your own because Liz won't need your and Hugh's support forever. Liz had brought her boyfriend over frequently; Hugh couldn't do much because she was an adult. You also told him she needed privacy, having a conversation with her the night before. Hugh loved you on a different level, especially with the way you were his children. You were incredibly patient and the idea of you giving you babies? He already wanted to give you the world, something you wouldn't easily accept. Being very hesitant with money, you just took from everyone and everything, never taking responsibility for your impulsive spending. But one day you cut down, rarely letting anyone loan you money or spend money on you. Except for rare occasions for holidays or birthdays, you didn't ask for much, usually essentials. 

When you met Hugh he let you indulge in spending, giving you a limit on a card for emergencies, that it'll always be loaded with money. You had his and his' assistants' number if you ever needed it. When you brought up your anxiety around money, he'd look into your eyes, his hand coming up to brush your hair away from your face as his shoulder bumped into yours. "Baby, what's mine is yours and what's your-."

"Is mine." You sighed, looking up into his eyes, your knees to your chest as another arm wrapped around you to pull you closer. "I-I just don't want to spend too much and make you feel like I'm using you-sometimes I'm really impulsive so-."

"Baby-." Hugh hushed, his other hand coming up to your jaw as he gazed into your eyes with a dreamy, sweet look in the shades of hazel green eyes. "If we have an issue, we'll talk about it, yeah?"

"God, you know you're a dream boat?" You murmured, as your hand came up to comb through his hair. 

You wound up having a doctor's appointment about a month out from your wedding. What you thought was a simple check-up, which it seemed like the whole time. But then you got a call a couple of hours later because your blood had come back and you were pregnant.

So with only a few weeks to spare, Hugh went Ob-gyn with you. You got to the building, had to pee in a cup to confirm your pregnancy before getting set up in a room, and they went over your medical history. They were able to do an abdominal ultrasound, so you lifted your shirt as the tech put gel on your stomach. You wince slightly as you smile over at Hugh, you are thankful for the blanket you had over half of you, plus the warmth of Hugh's hand on your shoulder. You were in the second month of your pregnancy, or 9 weeks along, so you didn't see much. But a bright smile came over the technician's face as she moved the TV towards you, pointing at the little circle on the screen. The sound of a fast heartbeat started sounding through the room. A very full feeling came over your heart, as you started crying. Hugh moved down to kiss your forehead, a tear of his own, dropping from his eyes. 

You were very focused on the pregnancy the next couple of days before your cousin reminded you about your honeymoon planning. You were going to plan your trip to Colorado, the plan was to be high and hang out in the city but now you agreed to go stay up in the mountains. All you wanted was a comfy place with a good view, and Hugh had found the perfect spot. Being so invested in the pregnancy the wedding was growing closer and closer. Your cousin had stepped in to be your wedding planner, she had done this a few times before. Though she hasn't done it in years, not even wanting to do anything for her own wedding. But she joked that she'd come out of her retirement for her 'toots'. 

When you turned 18, she was your safe place, you grew up in a pretty chaotic environment with an undiagnosed narcissistic mother and a father with undiagnosed autism. Which resulted in your mother cheating and your father getting angry, both of them numbing the pain with alcohol. Something that you decided to stay far away from when you were an adult. Drinking on special occasions and usually never enough to make you drunk. You'd rather be blazed as fuck than drunk. But your cousin also gave you structure, something you crave, helping you in every way she can, even to the point where she pushed herself too hard. The two of you coming together to set boundaries and grow closer. 

Before you knew it your wedding was here, the day before the wedding was the rehearsal day. Your house was filled with guests, your bridal party, and some friends. Your best friend came up to hang out with you in the morning, and Liz and your cousin went for coffee. You got ready for rehearsal dinner; you didn't really have to do much more until 3 when people started arriving. You were going to chill, take your time, and just spend time with the ones you love. You were so happy to see your dad and his wife arrive. You were 19 when you cut your mom off and never came to a point where you wanted her around. But you still sent her an invite, knowing that even though you weren't on good terms, you wanted your mom here. She would never be a part of your life in the way you wanted because of her toxic behavior, but she still meant the world to you. You wanted to hug her and see her, it'd been over ten years. So when your mom walked through the doors, tears came to your eyes. A bright smile covered her face, her brown eyes always reminded you of your own. You'd always thought you looked so much like your mom. 

All of your siblings had arrived, they had also met Hugh two Christmass' ago. Hugh paid for your family to come, it wasn't what you expected, that was the moment you knew you were going to marry him, even that early in the relationship. You always wanted to host and also wanted to bring your half-oldest brother, his wife, your sister, Hailey, and her husband. 

You were so happy to see everyone, greeting Hugh's close family members you met over the holidays. You were not the social type so not having to be constantly greeting everyone was a lot, eventually, Hugh took over as you retreated to go take a breather. "God, I need a hydroxyzine."

"Got one for ya." Your cousin said, handing you one as you grabbed your water and drank. You breathed out as you sat down in your rehearsal dress as Hugh came in shortly after to check on you. Coming to sit next to you on the couch, his hands coming to yours as he looked down into your eyes.

"We got this, yeah?" He murmured, you smiled over at him, all of the anxiety meant nothing while you were looking into his eyes. Your hand came up to move in close and kiss him. 

"I love you."

"Love you sunshine, so much." Hugh breathed as he kissed your cheek. 

You were trying not to cry as you watched your cousin set everything up, directing everyone to their places. Coming down by the lake to the setup of the arch, you were facing the trees but if you turned your head to the left, you'd see the shiny blue water. Hugh's hand rested on your back as you looked at the view that you'd hopefully look at the rest of your life with this man. You felt tears come to your eyes at the happiness you felt, your hand reaching up for Hugh's face, he had a twinkle in his eyes, his face stuck in a small grin as you gazed down at you. 

The two of you worked with your cousin to place everyone, later in the day, Hugh's best friends showed up. The two of you practiced walking down the aisle and then Ryan and Liz, your other best friend and Miles, your cousin and one of Hugh's brothers, his other brother, Ian paired with your sister-in-law, and Carmen with your sister. You pretended to do your vows, and he scooped you up in his arms, kissing you, as you giggled against his mouth. Your cheeks warming, it was hard to be in front of so many people. But you loved them all and felt relief in that as you put your arms around his shoulders, he gazed down at you with those glowing eyes that made butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

After the rehearsal, the two of you snuck off while everyone got food from inside. Hugh's lips were on yours so fast when you got behind the door of your room. His hands skimming down your waist, feeling your curves underneath his fingers made him growl. He pulled you tightly to him as his hands skimmed under your dress and felt your panties underneath. You moaned into his mouth, wanting him so bad, he ground himself against you. His tongue was hot in your mouth as it fought for dominance. You melted in your fiance's arm, as he pulled away from your breathless, his hands sliding back up to your waist. You giggled as you looked up at your smeared lipstick on his mouth, your finger coming up to wipe at the red. Hugh's lips puckered to kiss the tips of his fingers as his eyes, now a shade of almost mossy green, the light brown still shining in his eyes. 

"Are you doing alright?" Hugh pressed, leaning into your neck and kissing above your pulse point. Your hands going to his back to feel his muscles as you smiled up at him. 

"Overwhelmed, but a good overwhelmed." You admitted as he grinned down at you, his hand coming to move your dark hair away from your face. "How are you doing lovebug." You breathed, his fond smile still on his face. 

"Just worried about you." He hummed, pulling you back into him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Hugh's familiar orangey and woodsy scent that always reminded you of him. He even kept a bottle of his cologne at home for when he was away traveling so you could spray it on his shirts or sweatshirts. "Also want you so much." Hugh gruffed, leaning down to put his lips on yours. You grinned up at him as you brought your hand down to his pants, his bulge beginning to harden.  You were as hungry for him as he was for you, haven't felt his naked body in yours in a month. Just the feeling of his cock underneath your hand made you wet. 

Hugh groaned lightly as his head came to your neck, his hips leaned into your hand as his hand came down to cup your core through your panties. The intrusion was unexpected but he felt how hot you were against his hand. "Fuck me." Hugh breathed as you licked your lips coming to kiss his lips.

"Gotta wait baby." You teased, against his lips as you felt his cock harden completely under your touch. "W-want your cock so bad." You stuttered over your words, as he applied pressure to your clit, massaging your pussy. 

"Shut up," Hugh grunted, playfulness in his tone, as his lips met yours in a bruising kiss. You knew your words were getting to him, as you moaned into his lips and bucked into his hand. The two of you pulled away from each other, the last of your restraint coming out as you giggled up at him. A toothy, dopey smile that he sent your way, which made you melt as you leant in to hug him again. Whispering how much you meant to each other, making sure you both looked presentable before going back to join everyone for dinner. 

Everyone slowly started leaving throughout the night before just the bridal party was left. Your brother included as he was going to be officiating the wedding and other people's partners. Taylor and Travis taking the kids for the night. You'd been really close with him growing up, the two of you were kind of close in age but he always made sure to hang out with you. All of you came together to play some board games, the mixture of people made for a hilarious heartwarming night with all of the people who meant so much to you. Hugh stood up at the end of the night, his hand coming to his stomach as he put a hand behind your chair. 

"I want to thank all of you for being a part of this day for us. I know how much this means to Ainsley, to have all of her people together and have a good time. This woman deserves the world." His eyes meet yours, as you wrinkle your nose in an attempt to stop crying, "Ainsley, you are a brilliant creative woman who stole my heart from the moment I met you."

You felt tears in your eyes as your hand came to the hand on the back of the chair, grasping his fingers and palm as he sat back down. Hugh leant in to lightly kiss your lips as you grinned over at him. The two of you had to separate, the guys leaving for the night as the girls stayed at the house. Hugh left giving you a kiss, his hand lingering on yours pulling your hand with his as he walked backward and mouthing that he loved you. 

The night was filled with rom-coms, fun bridal games, and a lot of everyone drinking. Liz wanted to drink a little, but she mostly stayed sober with you. Though for your anxiety you put some CBD drops under your tongue, or you would absolutely not sleep tonight. One you were pregnant it was already hard to be comfortable and two you didn't have Hugh. You used to have sleeping meds, but you didn't want to take too many medications because of the baby. So you cut down on a lot of them but also stepped away from the stress of your job for now. Right now, you wanted to focus on your family, you would take time for yourself when needed, and would always take time to write for your next book, but it was a choice to focus here on home. So, there was no real deadline or much to do. 

The next morning, your cousin had gone out with Liz and gotten breakfast and coffee, similar to the morning before. You were anxious to see Hugh, and received a text from him, like he knew you needed to hear from him. 'Good morning, my love, I don't know what made you wait for a guy like me, but I'm grateful that no one stole your heart before I could. I can't wait to marry you today, this is just the beginning baby.' You grinned down at his words, trying not to cry already, before deciding to tease your future husband. 

You sent a picture of your wedding lingerie, posing in the mirror so the curve of your ass was in the picture with the sides of the panties lifting over your hips and love handles. The bra was supposed to lift up your breasts, it also helped that you had larger breasts that looked like they were going to almost pop out with how tight you had the back clipped. You sent the picture with a little red heart and 'I love you'. You didn't let him see your face in the picture and you knew that always irked him in nudes. He wanted to see your face in pictures or just didn't do it for him completely. You laugh down at your phone as he sends an 'Oh my god, on my knees for ya baby.' 

Then you loosened the bra before putting on your clothes for the morning, a cute little satin two-piece with 'bride' on the side. The morning was verily relaxing, there wasn't much to do before everyone got there, a lot of work was done. The rest of it got done by your cousin's friends, and you went out to see them. Looking around your backyard that was completely done. You'd grown up with your cousin's college friends, you remember them at your cousin's wedding. You felt so grateful that they came all this way to help you out, though you helped finance it with your own money. You didn't mind, you didn't have to finance a lot for this wedding, Hugh covered most of the guests, but the college friends were something you wanted for yourself. Seeing them on this day was special to you, but also tried to pay for your families as well. Trying as much to pay for things where you could, you didn't have the amount of money Hugh had, but you were comfortable and willing. He'd wound up paying for a lot of the wedding and it was hard for you to not feel guilty. But he also let you know it wasn't a lot of money, affirming that it was a small wedding. 

Yesterday, the only people who were here were parents, close extended family, or a part of the bridal party. But the rest of your families and friends came, though you kept the guest list under 70 people. 

You sat outside at the back of the house, as you were talking to them. You've changed so much since the last time you really saw all of them together. You were a complete nervous wreck most of the time, even medicated. But now you were a strong, free woman who openly expressed how she felt. Something you don't think you could've done without your cousin. "Ainsley go downstairs!"

"Why?" You laughed, turning towards Liz, who had been with her father this morning. "Oh, are they here?"

"Yes!!" Ryan greeted, walking through the house and walking over to you. Your cousin's friends knew about your more high-profile life but being confronted with Ryan Reynolds was still a lot. The fact that you were marrying Hugh Jackman had to be a weird thing to come to terms with. Very unexpected especially since you were twenty years younger than him. "How's everyone doing?" He asked, slinging an arm around you. 

"Good!" You chirped as he started dragging you away. 

"Got to hide the treasure before he finds it! It's not time!" Ryan joked as you rolled your eyes at your obnoxious friend before sneaking in, as Ryan went inside. You looked over the corner of the wall, to see your handsome fiancé standing tall at the kitchen island. A toothy smile covered his face as he spoke to your dad. You giggled as you moved back before scurrying down the hall and going upstairs to get ready. You were trying to look for your cousin to no avail, she was supposed to do your hair. 

But you made your way to the bathroom to see that your best friend and Hailey had transformed your bathroom. It had big lights by the mirrors decorated in pink and white with makeup and hair supplies on the counter. Your wedding dress hung up in the corner. Liz was still with her dad from what you knew, she didn't need to get her makeup done yet; you were planning on helping her with it though. Eventually, your cousin found you, a mischievous smile on her face but tears glistening in her eyes as she came over to hug you. "What's going on?" You laughed, as she handed you the phone.

"Just so happy for you, toots." She grinned. That's when she showed you the video that Hugh and your cousin had made you. It seemed to only be the two of them, that's where she was? But before you could think too hard, you saw your handsome future husband in his black and white suit, his head tilted to the side as he smiled at the screen. "Okay, Hugh, I'm going to ask you some questions, are you ready?" Her voice was off-screen. 

"Okay, yes go for it." He clapped his hands together. 

"What are your thoughts? How are you feeling?" Your cousin asked as Hugh shrugged with a dimpled smile on his face as his hand came to his heart.

"I'm just extremely happy, slightly nervous that I'll mess this day up for Ainzy." He smiled at the childhood nickname that he pulled out, "I just hope this day is everything to her, and she chose me to marry me? It means the world to me."

"Good answer." She laughed, "What's the thing you love the most about Ainsley?"

"God,-." He huffed out a laugh, his hand came up to his mouth, and went into deep thought. "First thing that comes to mind is her humor, she's so funny and just beautiful. Also love to see her creative mind, working with that woman was an honor. It's the reason why I fell in love with her, she's been a strong presence since the moment I met her-." He rambled, as his cheeks lightly flushed, a soft chuckle falling from his mouth. You heard a sniffle on the other side of the screen as tears rose to your eyes. "She's always thinking about ways to better herself and the others around her, she just cares so much. Never met a woman like her before."

"God, stop, you're gonna make me cry." Your cousin's voice cracked, as you reached for her hand, your bottom lip coming into your mouth as you saw the bright smile come over Hugh's face. 

"What are you most excited for in this marriage?"

"Our love." Hugh started, smiling over at her, "She just has so much love in her, I can't wait to be with her for the rest of my life and see her with our child."

"Your child?" She choked.

"Yeah, she's pregnant." Hugh grinned over at her, and you heard an 'oh', before the phone the camera was moved around as she went in to hug him, before moving back, her voice scratchy. 

"Any last words?"

"I just love you so much sunshine, whatta think Y/C/N?"

You were happy that they hadn't really started on your makeup yet, as tears streamed down your face. 

"I don't think I've ever seen her happier, Hugh." She replied before the video shut off. 

"Oh my god!" Your best friend squealed, as she hugged you. You looked over at your cousin with a fond smile as your sister came in to congratulate you. 

"Supposed to not make me cry." You breathed out shakily, as your cousin brought a tissue up to her eyes to stop the makeup from running. As you are getting your makeup and hair done you blast Mamma Mia soundtrack music while everyone else gets ready in the large upstairs bathroom and your bedroom connected. 

Liz came to join you after your hair and makeup was done, so you let her sit in your chair, and you did her makeup while talking to her. "Dad told me about the baby." She grinned up at you as you smiled, nerves flashing in your eyes.

"You're okay with that?"

"You two really deserve it, Ainsley." Liz smiled over at you, as she tried not to cry, as you tilted your head at the girl. 

"You remind me so much of me at your age." You breathed; you couldn't stop smiling at the young girl who was about to be your stepdaughter. "Ya know, I couldn't be more honored to be your stepmom. I don't ever want to replace your mom, but I want you to know you can come to me if you need anything. You or your brother, I love you both so much." 

"We love you too, Ains." Liz assured as she leaned in to hug you, you gave her a soft squeeze before finishing up her makeup before curling her hair. 

The morning was going incredibly fast, like it was flying by, you were a bucket of hormonal emotions. You mind kept going to Hugh, you wondered how is morning was, if he was missing you the way you were missing him. 

When you saw your dad, you felt your lip wobble as you saw tears come to his eyes. "My little girl." He breathed, coming forward to hug you. 

"Thank you." You sighed.

"For what?" He chuckled.

"For always showing me what a good man looks like, even when you struggled. You were always such a good man and a good father." You said as you looked over at him. 

"You've grown up so much, I'm so proud of you sweetheart."

"Thank you dad." You sniffled. 

The two of you spoke for a couple more minutes before it was time to have the first look with Hugh. It had meant so much to you, when he stood down the hallway. You watched as his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenching as he swallowed back tears. You couldn't help the smile on your face as he moved over to you in quick strides. 

His hands came to your jaw, cupping your cheeks as he lightly pressed his lips to yours. "You are so beautiful." He choked, smiling down at you, his eyes running all over your dress, to your chest that your grandma's pearl necklace and your "H" initial necklace. Your hand came up to his face as you gazed up at him. 

"I'm marrying you." You laughed.

"Yeah, you are." Hugh smiled, his green eyes sparkling, as your heart pumped hard against your chest. His hand came to your stomach, as he lightly kissed your lips again. You felt tears rise up in your eyes, as his hand came to your cheek, his pointer finger lightly brushing against your cheekbone. Some of your highlighter coming off on his finger, just the tiniest bit. "Ainsley, you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid my eyes upon. I love you more than words can describe. Hopefully, I can show you that for the rest of our lives." 

"Suppose to save your vows." You pouted as you tilted your head back to keep in the tears, Hugh just chuckled. You looked over to see Liz taking pictures of the two of you. His hand comes up to the your 'H' necklace, putting it between his two fingers as he gazed down at you. "You are the perfect model, aren't you?" That caused a smile to break out over Hugh's face, his crow feet wrinkling at the sides of his eyes. You can't help but move your hand up to his face. He leaned into your hand as you gazed into his eyes. "Now you gotta get shirtless." You whispered, leaning into his ear, as he laughed. Hugh's strong arms wrapped around you easily, as he tugged you into him as he gave you that adorable tight lip smile, your fingers moving over his smile lines. 

"We're gonna have to get real pictures soon." Hugh sighed, leaning in to kiss the side of your face. He's watched you put on makeup several times to know that you didn't put foundation on, so he knew where to kiss. You giggled as your hand ran through his hair as a wobbly smile came on your face.

"Messin' up your hair." You squeaked. 

"You know I don't mind."

"Now even for a photoshoot?" You teased.

"It's our wedding, Ainsley." Hugh huffed out laughter, as he moved in to softly kiss your lips before letting you go. You know that he didn't want to, but you never pulled away first so eventually he had to. 

You grabbed Hugh's hand as you went out of the house to see your cousin, your brother's family hanging around the front. You went out to see your cousin who had been busy with final touches, telling her that you were ready for pictures. You were going to do the pre-ceremony pictures with her but after the ceremony, Hugh had hired an expensive photographer of his choice. Then you walked over to him to make sure everything was going well on your brother's front. "Thank you for doing this." You smiled over at your brother, as you hugged him. Hugh went in for a friendly handshake, as your brother nodded to him. Your eyes landed on your blue-eyed niece with a soft grin. Last night, they had gotten a babysitter for their baby, but you were so happy to see her here. 

She was in the same dress that your cousin used for her niece at her wedding. It was made up of your grandma's wedding dress, and she had lent it to Hailey for her wedding, and now yours. You put your niece to your hip as you grinned down at her. Your cousin moved over to take pictures, as Hugh's hand came to your back as he leaned in to say 'Hi' to her. Eventually, you had to hand her back, she was your flower girl so you would see her soon. But your cousin whisked the two of you off to do some pictures by the water. 

You always enjoyed taking pictures with your cousin, she did your senior photos and has been taking pictures professionally since high school. Hugh was as charming as ever and your cousin had complimented how photogenic Hugh was. He goes to dip you, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you grin up at him. He leans down to kiss your lips before pulling you back up, keeping his arms around you. "I love you." Hugh leaned into your ear and whispered, as you grinned before bringing your hand up to his cheek as you kissed his lips. 

"Gonna have to reapply my lipstick."

"Oh well." Hugh breathed, smiling against your lips as your chest shook with laughter. Before his head moved to tuck into your neck he pulled you closer. Your hands went to the back of his head feeling the hair as he held you. He was really big on physical contact, something you had to get used to. But one day he just became your most trusted person, your favorite person, his touch was always soothing. 

"My lovebug." You giggled into his ear, Hugh felt his chest warm at the sound of your giggling, it went straight to his heart. Breathing in his favorite perfume that you wore, as his hands splayed on your back. He loved the material of this dress, and he so badly wanted to take it off of you. 

You finished the pictures before going back into the house as the guests arrived and went right to the backyard through the side of the house. Your bridal party was with you inside of the house but everyone else had been seated. You started feeling slightly dizzy, and your heart began to race, this was the most important day of your life, and you were allowed to have some nerves. You sat down and drank some water before reapplying and retouching your makeup. Hugh sat next to you rubbing your back, as your hand came to his, slotting your fingers together. "Just a lot of people." 

"I know, baby," Hugh murmured, kissing your hair as he rubbed at your back. Your cousin came to put your veil into your hair, as she grabbed a curl and tightened it around her finger. You grinned over at you before getting up, Hugh squeezing your hand before going out to the back doors. You started getting ready to walk down the aisle, listening to 'Kacey Musgraves Love Is A Wild Thing, as you focused on your breathing trying not to overthink. Your dad came in, as you two started chatting back and forth until it got to the bridge, the two of you walking out with your arm looped through his.

You felt a lump form in your throat as your eyes met Hugh, the reality that you were marrying this man, the love of your life, right now. You really couldn't feel any happier than in this man’s periphery. He had the softest look on his face, before his nose flared as he tilted his head, a wobbly smile on his lips. You could see the emotion on his face, you never thought you would feel this loved by another person. Hugh's love was written all over his face, something that he showed you almost every night.

You didn't have sex every night, but you were intimate together. Focusing solely on other's bodies, learning every sensitive spot, kissing every dip and freckle. Trusting each other in ways you'd never trusted another person before. You had never gone bare with anyone before him, something you did later in the relationship. Never let a partner stay inside of you after you have sex, or hold you the way he does. As close as he could possibly be, doing whatever he pleased with your body. You started experimenting with different toys, different ways to pleasure each other, and find what drives the other crazy. 

But now with him standing in front of you, love is emitting in the air between you as your dad handed you off to Hugh. You kissed your dad's cheek before Hugh led you to stand in front of him, his hand coming into yours after you handed off your bouquet to Liz. You glanced over at your brother with a fond smile, as the music ended. 

Your brother begins his speech, "Hello and welcome! We're here today because Hugh and Ainsley have decided they love each other so much that they want to get the government involved! But again, thanks to all who have joined us today, I know that every one who is here today is very important to both the bride and groom." He clears his throat, as you smile over at Hugh. "Growing up I always wanted to protect Ainsley, we always had a very close relationship, and I knew that whoever was going to end up with my sister needed to be a good guy. Little did I know when you said you were bringing your new boyfriend that you'd be bringing home the wolverine." Hugh chuckled, along with the crowd, a smile curving your face. "All jokes aside, I should have known you'd find a superhero to fall in love with. The moment I knew that you were going to wound up with his guy was when you said. "Yes, he's a superhero, but I don't need him to save me, I just want to be by his side no matter what happens." Because that is what love is, it's growing together, forgiving each other even if you hate each other, and coming together. At the end of the day, you love each other, and you promised you'd always be by each other’s side."

The two of you promised yourselves to each other, before getting the opportunity to recite your vows, Hugh got to start, "I'm going to start off with a story of when I first met Ainsley. If you didn't know we met on the set of her movie and from the moment I walked into that audition I felt your strong presence. You've always been a force to reckon with and I didn't like to admit that but you captivated me in a way I had never felt before. I'm a 50-something-year-old divorced man, with a career that was slowing and a status that was waning. I didn't want to do the movie at first, so I went to the audition to see the script in action just to meet you. Seeing your vision come to life became my passion, to see what you spoke about so vehemently on the big screen, come to life. I wanted to spend as much time as I could with you because your creative talent was something anyone would want to witness. It also helped that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. As cheesy and repetitive as that sounds, there is a type of beauty that only your kind, creative, observant soul emits. The only type of beauty that I can associate with your eyes and your name. The type of beauty that got me to do an indie romance movie this late into my career." You laughed as tears clouded your vision, your handkerchief from your cousin’s wedding, a beautiful blue, purple, and green peacock on the fabric. You brought up the material to dab at your eyes. "I've said this many times but you are my world, wanting to make you happy and see you thrive has become my number one goal. My career used to come first, one of the things I was most passionate about. But when you walked into my life you showed me what I was missing, I started only being able to picture you as my future and started seeing you in the tiniest details of my life. I couldn't have asked for a better partner, someone who took the time to get to know my kids, even without me asking. This woman spent hours trying to come up with the best way to connect my children, she asked my advice and showed the type of patience I could only wish I had. You care so deeply about others and show me the love I deserve. Our love is the type that consumes us but somehow stabilizes and grounds us as well. I know from the beginning you told me you didn't need a man in your life, you could be by yourself and be content. But that you chose me, you chose to shove past all of your fears to come into my arms. And my love, my sunshine, my Ainsley, I can't thank you enough for choosing me and I want to spend the rest of our lives showing you why you chose me." 

"Thank you, Hugh. Ainsley, have you prepared your vows?"

"I have." Your voice shook, as you cleared your throat before opening up the paper. You don't know how Hugh managed to recite that but it warmed your heart to know he took it so seriously and said the sweetest heartfelt words that made it impossible to not cry. "I um, I never wanted to fit into the patriarchal idea of marriage, and giving away your last name for someone else. I didn't think that the love I deserved was going to happen for me, not because I didn't deserve it but because it was so specific. People told me to lower my standards and conform, but I held strong and eventually thought I was going to end up alone. But I found you." Your voice wobbled, as a tear came down to your cheek as you looked up at Hugh, his green eyes shimmering as he squeezed your hand. "You know that feeling you get when you've made a final decision, cut and dry so easily was what I thought my future was. I thought I was going to be alone. Then you did everything, you filled in the gaps and checked all of my boxes. Even when you couldn't, you'd walk in head first and you asked me what I needed and never hesitated to give it to me. Your love is the type of thing that heals so many wounds because all of my trauma can be shut down by saying I did find the love of my life. I did find the right guy, I did hold out for my hero. I found a man who I trust to love me for the rest of my life and someone I can so easily love. Because Hugh, that is what you are and always have been. You are just so so easy to love, it's nuts. You are ridiculously funny, charming, and kind. You constantly put others in front of you and you never ask for anything in return. You constantly held my hand in the darkness and reminded me that I wasn't alone. You held the door open in your life and welcomed me through the front door. Ever since I have felt at home in your arms," Your voice breaks, as you try to take a deep breath. "I have never felt safer with anyone or anything, the way I feel with you. The way you show me every day that you are my safe haven, my hope, and everything that I could've ever wished for. Hugh, I don't think I'm very good at this but lovebug, I love you so much. In a way that I could never possibly write, paint, or create. The type of love that can only be shown through time, grace, and passion. The type of love that we hold between us and that we will continue to spread in our future.” You looked up into Hugh’s eyes as you finished, his fingers squeezing yours as he looked down at you with glassy orbs. 

"Thank you, both great displays of your love. Ainsley and Hugh, are you two ready to get married?

"Yes please." You murmured as Hugh breathed out a, "yes.", 

"Do you take one another as partners from this day forward?"

"We do." You and Hugh spoke together as you gazed into his deep brown eyes, a shine of green reflecting in his orbs with a fog of almost beige, brown. His frown lines dipped as he held a serious look in his eyes, your fingers itching to feel his smile lines against your thumb. Your eyes trace the curve of his nose to the barely-there dusting of freckles. 

"Will you love, honor, and cherish one another as partners for the rest of your lives?"

"We will." You repeat as you feel a smile line your face, as you squeeze Hugh's hands. 

"Hugh and Ainsley have chosen these rings as a symbol of their unbreakable love. Please place these rings on each other's fingers and repeat after me." Your brother began, as Ryan's son waddled over to you with the rings. 

"Thank you bub." Hugh grinned down at him, before standing up and handing you his ring. You felt your eyebrows furrow as you tried not to cry, as Hugh took your hand. 

"I give you this ring as a reminder of our love, safety, authenticity, and trust." Your brother started as Hugh gazed down at you, his eyebrows dipping as his eyes flicked back and forth from yours. His warm hand encompassed yours as you pointed your ring finger at him as he looked into your eyes with passion and repeated your brother's words.

"I give you this ring as a reminder of our love, safety, authenticity, and trust." And Hugh gives you his hand, your other hand holding it as you repeat the words before sliding the golden ring on Hugh's ring finger. 

"By the authority vested in me, it is with joy that I pronounce you married. Family and Friends I present to you, Mrs. and Mr. Jackman!"

Hugh scoops you up in his arms as your ring-clad hand comes up to his jaw and his lips smash against yours. You smiled against his lips before giggling in joy as you parted, your hands coming together as he pulled you back to lightly kiss your lips again. Your hands clasped together as he raised your hands into the air, making you laugh as you looked over at your husband. ‘Can't take my eyes off of you’ by Frankie Valli started playing as Hugh forced you to dance down the aisle. Your cheeks flamed before you got back inside of the house. Hugh wrapped his around you the sound of his booming laughter making your chest feel warm, as he kissed the top of your head. "We're married, baby."

"God I love you so much." You cried, your arms slinging around his broad shoulders as his arms went to your back and tugged you in closer as his lips fell on top of yours. 

"I love you," Hugh mumbled against your lips, as Liz and Ryan came in after you.

"C'mon let's make it official love birds." Ryan ushered, slinging an arm around Liz as Hugh led the three of you to the reading room where you had kept your marriage license on your desk. Your brother walked in shortly after and you walked over to hug him.

"You did so good! Thank you."

"No problem, Ainsley." Your brother replied, patting your back as you moved back as he came to sign his part. "Okay you guys sign this and your witnesses and it's official."

Liz and Ryan signed their names first before you and Hugh did your own, signing your name Ainsley Jackman. Your hand came over Hugh's as he handed the license to your problem. "We're gonna drop Y/N/N, off at home and go get this to the courthouse, we'll be back."

"Grab some food before you go," Hugh suggested, as your hand came to his forearm and you looked up at him, your hands coming to rest on his stomach. Your brother left, as Hugh glanced down into your eyes he saw the look in your eyes. You needed to be alone. "Why don't you go out, Ryan led them to the dining area."

"Yes sir." Ryan huffed, as Liz grinned over at the two of you before walking out. Hugh's arms wrapped around your thighs as he sat down on your loveseat. Pushing your dress up so it was looser around your hips, as your hands came to his chest. His hands came to grip your hands as his lips landed on yours. Then you moved your head into his neck as he pulled you in closer. The sound of his heart beating against your ear. You had planned a break between the ceremony and the dinner, your cousin and her husband were supposed to take your food and bring it in. You would go back for dessert, cut the cake, and socialize with everyone. 

But after all the social interaction you needed time alone with your new husband. The smell of his woodsy cologne fills your senses as your hand comes up to thread through his hair. Hugh's nose pressed against your neck, as you felt his eyes flutter shut against your skin. One of his hands rubbed up and down your back, as you held each other close. Little murmurs about how much you love each other go back between the two of you. Your eyes almost grow tired as the door opens and your cousin comes in. "Hey, love birds!" She greeted, setting down one of your plates and cups. Her husband is doing the same, nodding over at you. 

"Congrats Ainsley."

"Thank you." You smiled over at him as you moved off of Hugh's lap. The two of you go over to grab your plates before sitting on the couch together, pulling a table over to you, that hangs over the couch. The two of you chatted back and forth, your hands kept reaching over to touch each other. Or wanting to try something on each other's plate. You're giving each other excuses to reach over the table and kiss. 

When you're done with your dinner you walk back out, everyone cheering for you and making you blush. Everyone grabs their wine glasses and taps their knives against it. You giggle your hand coming to your mouth as Hugh's left arm comes to your waist, pulling you in to smash your lips together. When he moves back, he gives you a soft smile, as he leads you to the front of the room. The dinner and reception go back in a flash, full of dancing, and singing. Right before the dancing, Hugh serenaded you with 'All Of Me' by John Legend, a song that you now deemed as your song. You weren't sure where you were sleeping tonight, Hugh was keeping that a secret. Before you knew it, you were drunk off the happiness, love, and excitement. You were shocked when there was a limo waiting for you. "They're going to keep the window closed," Hugh whispered in your ear, as you walked out of the house. 

The night twinged your nose as Hugh carried your bags over your shoulders. The rest of your suitcase all packed up in the back. You smiled at the fact that he had to set this all up for you, keeping a secret. You still didn't know where you were going. Your family came out to decorate the back of the limo for you earlier, it was all marked up with 'Just married', streamers, and balloons hanging off the back of it. The sunset was starting to come down as you said goodbye to your family and got into the back of the limo. Hugh climbed in after you, before getting right down on his knees. Your eyes widened as his hands came to your knees, spreading your thighs. You flushed, as he pulled your hips down the seat. 

"Hugh." You giggled, as he grinned up at you and he pecked kisses against the inside of your thigh. ---start here. His hands came up to the sides of your dress, dragging them up your hips. Hugh's hands soothing over the rolls on your belly. His lips kiss over the fabric covering your clit, making you huff out. 

"Keep imaging this on you all day, trying not to get hard. God it's been so long since I've been inside of you," Hugh grunted, burying his nose into the wet fabric of your cunt. "Always smell so fucking good. Gotta fucking taste you, my wife." 

"I'm yours, Hugh." You panted, as his hands to your white lacey panties, pulling them off your hips and dragging it down your thighs, your heels falling off your feet. Hugh moves your legs up around his shoulders before parting your thighs and licking a fat strip up your petals. He groaned at the taste on his tongue before burying his mouth into you, his nose sitting on your mound as his fingers came up to prod at your tight entrance. Your walls flutter around his finger, and he grunts into your nub making your hips buck into his mouth. Hugh's strong biceps flex as he pulls you back to his mouth in the position he wanted. "Hugh, fuck." You moaned.

This man ate pussy like a god. His finger came up to pinch at your clit, spitting on it while he lapped at your folds. Or his nose rubbing at your clit while he fucked you with his tongue, you wreathed in his grasp, and one of his hands pulled your top down to cup your bra-clad breast. Finding your nipple through the fabric and tweaking the nipple. Hugh mumbling and groaning into your cunt to make you slicker as he made you come all over his face. "Fuck me, princess," Hugh called. "Such a good girl." His large hands soothed up and down your thighs as he gazed up at you with forlorn eyes. 

"God I need your cock, please Hugh, fill me up." You begged as Hugh groaned, pulling you to him and shoving his erection into your wet pussy. The black cloth of his dress pants getting wet with your clear arousal. 

"Gotta wait."

"No, fuck me, Hugh. Gotta fuck your wife." You pressed, your hands coming to unbutton his shirt. His hand smacked your hand away. "Wanna feel you."

"So fucking needy," Hugh grunted, as he rutted into you, his head shooting back as he groaned softly. "Know how badly I wanna claim you and teasin me like that. Knowing that you wanna wait." His hands come to your ass, pulling you up and his hand comes to the side of your cheek. 

"Hugh!" You yelped, flushing a deep red, and the feeling of sweat rose to your skin. 

"Shut the fuck up." He grunted.

"You're the one you spanked me." You squeaked, a giggle erupting from your chest. Hugh couldn't help but smile over at you as his lips came to your thighs. 

"Make you come again."

The car came to a stop, as Hugh moved back keeping your panties in his pocket. Pulling down your wedding dress as your hands came up to your chest. Readjusting your breasts as Hugh moved to readjust his cock in his pants. Your eyes fixated on the bulge as his hand came over it. A shaky breath came out of your mouth as you moved closer. "Need your cock so bad. Let me taste you."

"Fuck-we gotta go-."

"Please need you in my mouth, fuck my throat daddy." Hugh huffed out a rough laugh, as hand came to your hair, gripping it in his hand. The nickname turned him on, as your hand came on top of his bulge. Your lips smashed against his in a hard kiss, your tongues and teeth clashing together. 

"So fucking naughty, princess." He taunted, nipping at your lip before pulling you away. "Get out of the car."

"But d-."

"Get out of the fucking car," Hugh said as you stood up as he harshly demanded, his hand coming to smack your ass possessively as you opened the door. 

You turned around with a grin on your face, "Harder." His hand came to your hip pushing you out of the car before standing behind you. Hugh leant down to grab the bags from the car, before wrapping his jacket around your shoulders. You pulled the sides to your chest as you walked forward out of the car. Your eyes widened as you looked around at the airport, there was Hugh's private jet, he didn't use it often, but he wanted to get it out for this occasion. The two of you are staying in Denver, Colorado for the next couple of days to see the local cities and go to different places. When you got on the plane, Hugh took you back towards the private part of the plane. Locking the door before turning you around, you giggled as his lips came to the back of your neck lightly placing kisses along your skin. His hands work the zipper down the back of your dress. 

"Just wanna rip this off of you." Hugh groaned as he tugged off the dress, pulling at the sleeves as he undressed you. "Fucking love you so much, my everything right here." He breathed out, as his nose pressed against your collarbone, and he pecked against the skin. When your breast was let free from your bra, he grasped one of them in his hands as he groaned, before his other hand came between your folds and his fingers entered your slick entrance. "God your so fucking wet." He started hammering his fingers in your g-spot, making you moan out loudly as his mouth came over your clit. You loved the feelings of his fingers inside of you, they were long and thick, hitting places deep inside of you. But it was nothing like his cock, and the further his fingers reached the more you imagined his cock bruising your cervix. 

"God, fuck me, Hugh." You pleaded.

"Come for me first," Hugh argued, as started swirling his tongue on your clit as he sucked, his fingers rubbing upwards to hit the special spot inside of you. The feeling welling up inside your pussy as he continued his ministrations, the squelching filling up the room as his index and middle finger prod at the spongy part inside of you. The part he loved wrapped around his cock, he bucked his hips into the mattress as he spit on his finger to make it even wetter. You gushed out on him as you jerked your hips, not quite coming yet, but as he blew on your clit, you cried out his name. 

"Fuck, Hugh." He pulled your aching clit back into his mouth and he keeps sucking like his life depends on it.  

"God can't come, need your cock." You cried as you leant forward, your hand reaching down to the tent in his crotch. "I bet you’re so fucking hard, gotta feel it. Love that vein that runs down your Adonis belt to your cock. Need inside me." 

"Fuck, needy little cock-slut." Hugh growled, his hands coming to his shirt to start unbuttoning it. While you sat up scooching forward to undo his button and zipper, pulling it down and pushing down the sides of his pantsuit. You left out a soft whine as you felt his cock bulging from underneath his boxer briefs. You sighed out shakily, as you leaned forward to kiss his hot dick over the fabric. Your fingers came to the hem of his Calvin Klein's and tugging them down to expose his hard as a rock member, bobbing in the air. His tip was a fiery red, precum bubbling off the tip, he was rough and veiny, his mid-shaft thick and long. You leant forward to kiss at the sides of his dick before spitting on his cock. Hugh groaned, as he pushed back his button and his hand came to your hair, tugging on the roots as he positioned the mushroom tip of his cock at your lips. Your tongue poked out to wet the skin, Hugh hissed at the softest before your wet mouth enveloped him. A deep moan of your name fell from his mouth as he panted. 

Hugh pushed his cock further into your mouth, as your jaw loosened, and you started gagging around him. He breathed out shakily, the sensation coursing through his veins like adrenaline. Your mouth was so soft, you knew just how he liked your mouth on him. You were drooly and messy, your hips kept shifting and your thighs kept wiggling. He pulled you off of his cock, his hand coming to pet your cheek. Hugh leant down to kiss your lips, his hand coming to your waist and pulling you closer to him. He stepped out of his dress pants before sitting on the bed and pulling you on top of him. Your lips crashed down on his with a soft moan, your hand coming down to his hard cock that rested between the two of you. You started moving your hand up and down his shaft as he gazed into your eyes with a light brown haze in his eyes. Then you lifted your hips, bringing his dick to your entrance and starting to sink down on his tip. The velvety walls taking him in made a groan quell from his throat, his hands stopping your hips from moving further. "Fuck you're so tight." Hugh panted, as he tilted his head to look into your eyes. You felt tears well up in your eyes as you looked over at your husband. You felt the cold of his ring against your skin. Hugh pulls you off of him, before moving you onto your back and sliding into you. You cried out at the feeling of his cock filling you completely, your walls so slick it didn't hurt. "I love you, baby." He murmured, leaning into your room before he started slowly thrusting his hips into yours. 

"Fuck, Hugh." You whined, tucking your head into his neck as your hand delved into your hair, tugging on the strands as his lips messily met yours, his hips making soft moans fall from your lips like a case of the hiccups. His hands moved to both sides of your hair, moving your hair away from your face. Hugh started lightly tracing your features while he gave you deep long thrusts, his hand coming down trace circles on your throbbing clit. You fluttered around his dick before spasming more, almost pushing his member out of your pussy. But he pushed his hips further into you, your eyes looking down at his flexed sweaty abs, his head tilting back at the feeling of you clamping around him. Then the gush you let out as you orgasmed, the high-pitched roaring moan of his name echoing off the walls of the room. You were lucky that you were in the sky, you hoped no one else heard you. "Wanna mark you, fucking mine."

"Yeah, baby? Need to mark your territory? Fucking show me I'm the one?" Hugh grunted, pulled out of you for a moment, as your lips sucked and nipped as his neck. You were sure to leave fat bruises on his neck, your fingers digging into his skin and pulling him in close. You sighed at the vicinity of his cock, making sure that he remained close as he grinned down at you. "Just wanna make you come again on my cock, feels like fucking heaven." 

"Don't want you to stop fucking me." You admitted, a flush throughout your whole body, as his hand came down to your sensitive pussy to massage the skin. He moved forward, lining up his cock with your pussy and sinking inside, he filled himself to the hilt. Your pussy was the perfect fit for his cock, your hands shakily gripping his shoulders as you sloppily bit his jaw and mouth. 

"Just gonna stay right here for a moment." Hugh's mouth enveloped your breast, his other hand coming to cup your breast and tweak at your nipple. Your nipples puckering up for him, growing wet with his mouth sucking and teasing them. He groaned softly at the way you fluttered around his cock, he leaned into you an idea popping into his head. "Fucking use me, fucking yourself on my cock." 

You moaned, your hands coming to cup his hands that moved over your breasts as you started grinding your hips against his and letting out the airest brightest moan as your clit rubbed against his pubic hair. Hugh moved forward to kiss your lips a soft kiss, trying to resist fucking you into oblivion as he helped you move your body against his cock. Your hips doing the motions and Hugh giving the oomph behind it. That was until you started begging him, whining like a little puppy, "God fuck me, Hugh. Need you to fuck the shit of me, baby." You slurred, as he couldn't help but give a toothy grin as he pressed his swollen lips to yours. Hugh was hesitant to buck his hips into yours, the two of you moving together in harsh movements, your orgasm welling up in you with the rhythmic movement before your back arched, his hands over your breasts as you cradled his arms. Your mouth dropped open as you panted out his name, but before you could react he started jack hammering into your soaked cunt. His cock fell out of you before he pulled out of you, a moan falling from your mouth as he turned you over on your back, getting pillows to help support you and the baby. His hand moved behind your thighs to feel your slick, the arousal a web between his pointer and middle finger. Hugh brought the essence up to his mouth, moaning at your taste before grabbing his cock and pushing his hips forward to bottom out at you. 

"Fuck Hugh." You cried, grabbing onto the maitress as he started jackhammering into your cunt. Your head tilts back as you move against him, his hand coming around to rub at your clit. Your body folding back into him as you started fucking yourself back on his cock like a hungry slut. "Daddy you fuck me so good."

"God your fucking husband now baby girl." Hugh grumbled against your lips, as he lightly slotted his against yours as started rubbing taunt circles on your clit, the movements concentrated as you grabbed at his hand covering your stomach for leverage. One of your hands slid to his strong veiny bicep clutching on for dear god, as you felt a strong orgasm begin to blossom in your stomach like a tall blooming sunflower on a hot shiny summer's day. 

"Mine." You sighed, leaning back into his back before your legs give out as they tremble with your orgasm running through you like a freight train, sucking in your husband's member and his hips stuttering into you, before ground into you while his orgasm shot out of his slit and into your pulsating cunt. Hugh kept his cock inside of you as he leaned his weight on to you, making you sign with the feeling of him against you. Your hands smooth up his back, feeling his sweat skin and the dips of his muscled back. You kissed his shoulder as he hid in your neck, both of your sexes pulsating and throbbing. Hugh eventually pulled out of you to take care of the two of you. 

Carrying you to the bathroom to help you go to the bathroom, you both take bird baths before getting into the pair of pajamas that Hugh had packed for the two of you. Brushing your teeth and getting back out to the bedroom. He pulled off the top blanket and set it on the ground before pulling up the top sheet. You crawled under and he turned off the light as he crawled under with you. Hugh's strong arms wrapped around you as his hazel eyes gazed down at you with piercing love.

note: this got out of hand and i had to imagine every little thing because i wanna marry this man so badly it's not funny

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1 @squishyfruitloop

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

~

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

~

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

~

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

~

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

~

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

~

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

(Don't You) Steal My Thunder

my tyler owens playlist 🤝 inspiring fic titles

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's set on getting you on his good side. And the more you get to know him, the less you can resist.

a/n: i had to research sm car stuff for this it's not funny. i now know exactly how to describe a truck bed though, so. that's fun.

again, my inbox is wide open <33 i don't guarantee anything, but you can always come talk to me or request smth

masterlist | twisters masterlist

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met.

He prints his face on t-shirts, writes his autograph on mugs, comes up with ridiculous sayings ("Not My First Tornadeo" and "If you feel it, chase it" are really just the tip of the ice berg) and most importantly, he costs you the best shots of tornadoes every goddamn time.

Tyler Owens is a problem.

And Tyler Owens seems to have actively decided to make himself a problem too.

Which would be fine, if he flipped you the bird or told you to fuck off or threw his paper towels at you. Unluckily, those are rather examples of what you have done to him. Because it's not fine, not at all - no, Tyler Owens has decided that it's not enough to be in your way all the time, he has to seek you out and rub your nose in it.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's arrogant and he's entirely too full of himself. He brags too much and calls you "weather girl" too often. He gets under your skin more than you would ever admit.

And, as if all of that isn't enough - Tyler Owens is the very epitome of handsomeness.

It's like god didn't just have a good day when he created Tyler Owens, no, god must have still been in the post-haze of the best head he'd gotten in his whole immortal life when he'd created Tyler Owens.

Because Tyler Owens has the body of a greek god and the face of a Hollywood actor. He's not a pornstar, he's who pornstars worship. He's the Prince Charming little girls dream of and the Christian Grey grown women lust for.

Tyler Owens looks like everything you've ever wanted.

But he's just such a fucking asshole.

You wish you could say you didn't care. You'd love to be the kind of woman who didn't even acknowledge him. But you're not. You're not. You watch his videos when you can't sleep, you chuckle when you happen to overhear his jokes, you ogle his back when he's turned away from you. Sometimes, you get so lost in staring at him that you realise too late when he turns back around, and then you have to act unbothered when he grins his fucking grin at you. That's mostly when you flip him off, desperately fighting to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

Not like it stops him. You honestly feel like it only spurs him on.

Something has to seriously be wrong with him. It's not his face. But something is seriously wrong with him, you're sure of that.

Something has to be wrong with him. No sane person would ever go tornado wrangling. No hate to the rest of his crew - they're nice, you've managed to hold a few pretty normal conversations with them here and there - but none of them are sane either.

Storm chasing is different. You keep your distance. All you need are a few well-placed photographs - and those you can get from a rather safe number of miles away. The weather channel doesn't care about close-ups (not really, anyway). They want something to show the people on their comfortable couches, up in New Hampshire or Maine, so that all of them can say to each other "What poor folks, wouldn't wanna live there" and nod in pity as they switch the channel to watch another blockbuster.

You're just doing your job.

The only problem is that it's hard to do your job properly when there's always that fucking red truck in the way, driving down empty roads right into the heart of the tornado. And because no one on the news wants people to see that and go "Well, can't be too bad if there's still cars on the streets!", in the last few months - ever since you'd volunteered to move back to Oklahoma 'So that we've got someone right in Tornado Alley and don't have to fly people out there every time' - the weather channel has only shown the first few minutes of tornadoes forming. The rest of your pictures and videos lie abandoned in the trash file on your laptop. Except for a few - a very, very few, very, very good pictures of Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers. But those won't ever see the light of day either.

You'd be damned if you let anyone know that while Tyler Owens is busy disturbing your actual work, you're busy taking pictures of him shooting fireworks into tornadoes. Pictures that would make for some damn good headers (if you hadn't buried them far, far down your gallery).

This time is no different. You get a few amazing shots of the tornado forming – surely an EF2, maybe even an EF3 - before you settle in the driver's seat again, your window rolled down and your camera hung around your neck as you push down on the gas. Then, a few miles further, you get even better shots of the full tornado, of the first few minutes of destruction, right there, in the middle of an empty field.

And as always, of course, just as the tornado takes on full form, you spot that familiar red truck through the lens of your camera. It speeds down the pavement right in front of where you’ve swerved onto the side of the road and you snap a few pictures, just because you’ve got the trigger right underneath your finger. Honestly, something about that dirty red paint against the grey skies just looks too good not to capture. But then the truck comes closer and closer and starts to slow down and you let your camera sink.

Tyler has his window rolled down already when he stops the car. There’s that annoyingly handsome grin on his lips, the one that makes you want to slap him across the face.

“You’re too far away, weather girl”, he calls out above the rumble of distant wind and thunder. “The good pictures are down that way.”

“The good pictures are right here.” You lift your camera at him. “Maybe you just need to update your equipment.”

Tyler’s grin widens, but before he can throw another of those obnoxious retorts your way, Lilly’s voice rings out through the car.

“Hey, T, looks like it’s changing course. You should hurry.”

His eyes are still glued to yours, still glued so firmly to yours that it makes your skin crawl. You can’t look away, couldn’t possibly look away. Tyler Owens might just be a cocky asshole, but you’re only human. And the weight of his gaze on yours is enough to keep you stuck in place, clutching at your camera.

“We’re on our way, Lilly”, he drawls without looking away from you. “See you around, weather girl.”

The rest of the pictures you take land in your trash file with all the other pictures of the last few weeks. You’re laying in bed, your laptop propped up against a pillow, the empty plate from dinner on the mattress next to you as you sort through today’s work. That’s the good thing about the time difference – you’ve got until seven to send the channel the day's results.

By nine, you’ve showered, put on a dress you feel confident in and settled on one of the chairs at the local bar. You’ve been telling yourself you need to get out a little bit more – you’ve been living here three months now and you haven’t really made any friends so far. To be fair, your job has kept you out and about most of the time. You’ve spent more hours at gas stations to fill up your tank than you have in your own home. But now you’ve decided to put an end to that. You're a young woman in a new town, you can meet more people than just the cashier at the local supermarket.

So for the past twenty minutes, you’ve been nursing a mojito at the counter and talking to the bartender. She’s nice, she’s your age, she’s extroverted enough to keep sidling up to you after every time she has to excuse herself to do her job. That, and she tells you she’s grown up here, so she knows most of the people around. She’s just serving another customer – a long-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing country guy who’s already shared a smile or two with you – when someone rests their arm on the countertop next to you.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”, he drawls, all low, deep Southern accent and you recognise his voice before you’ve even tilted your head up and looked at him. His grin drips down onto his words and wraps itself around your mind.

Tyler Owens isn’t just annoying – he’s unbelievable. He's unbelievable and he’s here.

“So you’re stalking me now”, you say, as drily as you can possibly manage. You've been doing that a lot around him. Dead-panning everything. Schooling your expression into fake neutrality.

"I'm here all the time, weather girl", he grins. "If anything, you're stalking me."

You snort, but it's rather unfunny when you think of all the videos you've watched, hours after they'd been livestreamed, cuddled up in your bed until midnight just to stare at his face. He's not that far from the truth.

"In your dreams, Owens", you say anyway, dragging your eyes back towards your almost empty cocktail glass. You wrap your lips around your straw and drain your drink entirely. What you say and what you do, none of that matters in the end. All of this is just show. Every conversation you've had with Tyler Owens in the last three months has been nothing but a performance. Other than your name, you don't think a single sentence out of your mouth has been honest. Not when it comes to him.

"Let me buy you a beer" is the only answer you get.

His grin widens when you look back up again - so cocky, so unbelievably cocky.

"I don't drink."

You push your glass an inch further down the bar top. Tyler raises his eyebrows. Fuck, someone really needs to kick him in the face. You can't keep having all these little heart attacks whenever he's close enough that you could touch him if you wanted.

Not that you want to.

"You're drinking right now", he says. You rest your palms against the bar top and blink at him.

"I don't drink with you."

He lets out a chuckle, one of those deep ones that settle right in your chest and make it hard to swallow.

"Just this once?", he asks and in all honesty, for just a second there, you actually consider giving in. He's too handsome for his own good. You really need to get it together. He's an ass (what an ass, goddamn). And he's insane. He's an insane ass. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that - those times like now, when his piercing eyes and his kissable lips and his rugged stubble and his broad, broad shoulders and his drawled voice overshadow everything else.

"Don't you have some livestreaming to do?", you ask, hoping it still comes across just as sarcastic when you're the slightest bit distracted by how gloriously tight the sleeves of his flannel are. "Go chasing tornadoes, not me."

His grin widens inexplicably further. You're sure that if you were in a comic, there'd be a lightbulb flashing above his head right about now.

"Well", he drawls, "if you feel it..."

"Don't you do that shit to me, Owens."

He's raising his eyebrows again, raising his eyebrows as you clasp your hand around your empty glass so hard your knuckles turn white. But you're serious. Just as you'd lost yourself in the view of him, that angelic, sinful view of him, he'd gone and reminded you why you were so adamant to keep your distance. If you feel it, chase it. Ridiculous. Obnoxious. He's an arrogant, know-it-all, suicidal job-wrecker. He's the guy with cameras pointed at him everywhere he goes. He signs mugs and selfies and hats and shirts and bras. He's the reason you haven't gotten a single un-edited shot of a fully formed tornado in the last three months.

"You're not a fan of my catchphrase, weather girl?"

He can't even pretend to look wounded (even though he tries) with how big the grin on his lips still is. You stare right at him, dead-eyed and unflinching.

"I'm not a fan of you."

Lies slip off your tongue so easily by now that you wonder when you'd become morally compromised enough to not even care anymore. It must've happened somewhere along the way, sometime between the first conversation you'd had with him and the one you're having with him right now.

"You wound me", he grins, his palm pressed to his chest.

For the first time tonight, you allow yourself to grin back at him.

"I try."

With that, you slip off your chair and wave the bartender goodbye. You're already two steps away when Tyler calls after you.

"I'd still buy you a beer."

"I'm still not drinking with you", you call back. You don't turn around again. You just make your way back to your car and mark the evening as a half-successful night of socialising on your to-do list.

...

You see him again first thing the next day. Of course. Because there's no tornadoes without the Tornado Wranglers on their tail. By now, you're used to it. You wave at Dani as they come back out of the store at the gas station you're waiting at. They've got both arms full of coffees and for a second, you consider offering your help, but then you hear Tyler shout something out of his car and you suddenly don't feel any desire whatsoever to get up. You've sat yourself down in your truck bed, your camera slung around your neck and the radar on your lap. If all goes right, you're hoping for a tornado to form a little to the east from here. And as much as you dislike Tyler Owens, the fact that he's here soothes your nerves. Where he goes, there's sure to be tornadoes close by.

The few times you hadn't seen him had never ended well for you. You'd missed an EF3 your second week here just because you'd followed the wrong hunch. Meanwhile Tyler, of course, had been in the middle of it.

This might just be the one singular situation that you welcome seeing his red truck around. As long as you can manage to overtake him on the road after.

It's not that you need to be faster. You don't need to reach the tornado first. You don't even take the same way as him most of the time. He wants in there, you just want a sensible picture. Still, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time you hit the brakes and jump out of your car, miles away from the actual cell as Tyler speeds down towards it. You've been telling yourself that it's because he ruins your pictures. It kind of is.

"Hey, weather girl!"

You let out a resigned breath as you tilt your head up and squint against the sun. He's still in his truck, his window rolled down, his elbow propped up against the car door.

"What do you want, Owens?"

Your fingers itch to reach for your camera. It's a visual, him in that fucking car, leaning out of his window with the sun peaking out behind him. But you can't, you can't take a picture of him this openly. Even if you were to argue that it's just the light you'd wanted to capture.

"To give you some advice", he calls out, his lips pulling into a grin. You raise your eyebrows at him. "East isn't gonna work out. Wind's changing. Go south."

He throws you a mock salute and hits the gas before you can say anything else.

Not that you'd been about to.

Instead you just curse to yourself, jump off the truck bed and throw your treacherous technology into the passenger seat with a little too much vigor. Fuck this. You sit at the steering wheel and stare out at the sky for exactly two seconds before you make your decision. Then you start your car and drive south.

You may not be a fan of Tyler Owens, but you've long since admitted to yourself that this man has got a gift. He has an unbeatable instinct when it comes to storms. And sure, you have your fair share of knowledge, but in the end, you're a photographer, not a meteorologist. You won't miss a day's work just because you're too proud to listen to Tyler.

You're a little further behind, but you can spot his truck and guess that he's driving straight on into the cell today, so you take a right and decide to try your luck with the side of the tornado. Not being right in its path doesn't sound too bad anyway.

You actually manage to snap a few well-placed pictures. You don't know what Tyler's doing, but it seems like he's not shooting random shit up the cell today. You'll watch the stream later - you're just the slightest bit curious now what's happening with them. Maybe they're doing some old-school chasing? Or maybe they're doing a challenge. Maybe Tyler is driving blindfolded. At this point, who knows.

It's good for you though. It's a considerable tornado today, an EF2 at least, and you only spot Tyler's red truck again when the cell moves further down the fields, away from him. It doesn't look like it's gonna disappear anytime soon. Maybe today's your lucky day.

Half an hour later, you're sure you've got at least a dozen pictures of the fully formed tornado, long touched down and without the red truck in the way.

You're just packing up your things, already sifting through the photos on your camera, squinting against the sunlight, trying to both tug the zipper of your bag closed and hit the right buttons at the same time when Tyler pulls up next to you.

"You look busy, weather girl", he says, already grinning that damn grin again.

"I am", you say - truthfully, for once. You let go of your bag and lower your camera. You're hesitant, but... "Thanks for the tip."

"Anytime", he grins. "Just do me one favour."

You already know this can't be good. Not with that cheeky look on his face. But he'd just saved you from chasing hot air (quite literally), so he deserves a little treat. And you don't want unsettled scores with Tyler Owens.

"I want to know what favour that's supposed to be before I agree", you say anyway, because with him, you can never be too careful. And in the end, you're only willing to do so much. (Though for him, you'd already do a lot more than you'd admit. A lot more than you hope he's aware of.)

"Let me buy you a beer", he says, and for once, he sounds serious.

The memory of yesterday night flashes before your eyes, of those same words at the bar. With him so close, way too close - with that grin and that stubble and that voice and those shoulders. You cross your arms and stare at him.

"If you're livestreaming this, I'm gonna sue your ass so hard."

He just lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender.

"Cameras are off, I swear."

You stare at him for another silent ten or so seconds. At him in that fucking truck that looks just a little too good in your pictures. At him and his fucking face. That fucking face that you certainly wouldn't mind sitting on, if just to shut him up.

God, he's asking you to drink something with him. He's asking to buy you something to drink with him. You're stupid.

You're so, so stupid.

"Alright, cowboy", you say, uncrossing your arms and reaching for the handle of your car door. "I'll humour you."

...

You're in the bar again by nine that night, the same way you had been the day before. You're wearing a different dress and there's a different bartender, but you've ordered the same mojito and chosen the same place to sit.

Only this time, you're actively watching the door. And when Tyler strolls in, you've got to shift around in your seat and cross your legs. You don't even pretend you're not staring. You just ogle him openly. Not for the first time ever - you'd checked him out very obviously when he'd strutted towards you to introduce himself three months ago - but definitely for the first time in a while. And god yeah, he's a hunk of a man, alright. If you had your camera here right now...

But you don't. So instead, you drop your eyes to his feet (brown leather boots), drag them up his legs (blue jeans), over his chest (red checkered flannel), over his face (god, what you wouldn't give-) and finally rest them on the cowboy hat on top of his head.

When he's close enough to hear you, already grinning, of course, probably at how you're actually sitting there in the same spot as yesterday and hadn't just lied to his face about coming here, you raise your eyebrows at him.

"A cowboy hat?", you ask, your voice as unbothered as you can possibly manage (even though you're very, very, very much bothered right now). His grin only widens.

"Ladies love country boys", he drawls with a shrug.

"Now that's straight out of a song", you say. "You're getting lazy, Owens."

"A song?", he asks. "No, that's an Owens Original."

You pull your eyebrows even further up.

"Ladies love country boys? Trace Adkins?"

"Nope. Not familiar."

But his grin tells you that he's lying. He's a liar. He knows very well where he got that line from. And he knows just how easily he got under your skin with his simple trick. As if his face isn't enough already.

You just shake your head and turn away from him.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Owens. Buy me a beer."

...

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also a great conversationalist.

The hours fly by as you're talking. One beer turns into two, then into an uncountable number of soft drinks. You both agree that you need to drive home, neither of you is willing to risk a run-in with the police. You need your drivers license for your jobs.

Tyler talks to you about the pictures you've taken today, then about the pictures from last week. He laughs when you blame him for ruining half of them and almost spits out his coke when you slap his arm for laughing at you. He tells you about his crew, about the people they've helped with the money from their dumb t-shirt sales. You think you hate him less by the minute. You're not sure if you're okay with that. But he gets you talking about your childhood and your parents, about school and college and about how you've wound back up here in Oklahoma. That effectively distracts you.

That, and how his cocky grin morphs into a genuine smile the more you open up.

Not that you didn't love the cocky grin. You did, just a bit. As obnoxious as it was. But the way he smiles at you all sweet has you melting right in your spot.

It's not the first time you realise that beneath all that rough exterior, there beats a heart of gold. You've known what those t-shirt sales are for, that he offers food and water after a tornado hits a town, that he carries the injured out of the ruins of their houses and helps find lost dogs. The more you've been around him in the past weeks, the more you've seen of his soft side. Of the way he cares and supports. But in the end, it always is easier to go back to the status quo - to fall back onto mindless snark and fleeting first impressions.

You'd clung so desperately to the image of him as this arrogant, smug, holier-than-thou influencer god for the sole purpose of keeping your own sanity. Because you'd known that without despising him, you would fall head over heels for Tyler Owens, and you just couldn't have that.

But now, with his arm brushing against yours and his hat discarded on the bar top and his smile, that beautiful, beautiful smile on his lips...

"Five bucks", he drawls, already reaching for his wallet.

"What?"

"Five bucks says there won't be a tornado tomorrow."

You raise your eyebrows at him, your glass hovering in mid-air between the two of you. You'd meant to take a sip, but now you're setting it right back down on the bar top.

"You're shitting me."

Tyler just shakes his head. He's grinning again, but it's much softer this time around.

"The winds are looking great. The forecast says it's gonna be the best conditions for tornadoes we've seen in the last six weeks. I've heard Dexter talk about how we're probably gonna see an EF4 tomorrow", you tell him, even though you're sure he's well aware of all of it. This is Tyler Owens, for god's sake. He knows about the winds and the forecasts. He knows that his crew is making preparations already.

His grin only grows. And it's smug now. It's cocky now. It's everything you thought you'd left behind during this conversation. He looks like the Tornado Wrangler again, like the guy who fucks up your pictures and makes your job harder than it already is.

It takes you a second too long to realise why.

"Dexter said that on our live", he grins, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. You physically recoil from him. "Do you watch our streams, weather girl?"

"No", you breathe, rigid and frozen, shocked to your very core. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You'd... You hadn't made that mistake. He hadn't got you to make that mistake.

"Dexter talked about tomorrow on our live", Tyler says again, straightening his back and grinning down at you like he's just uncovered the lost grave of Cleopatra. "Only on the live. You watched our stream."

"No", you mutter, your eyes wide and your mouth dry, so dry. You need to drink. You need to drink so badly. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You watched our stream, honey."

The petname runs down your spine and clogs your senses. Honey. Oh, he's an ass, he's an asshole! But you're on the spot, you're on the spot and he's calling you honey, honey, honey. You can't do anything but watch as he leans closer to you, grinning down at you like it's his one true purpose on this earth, like he wants to eat you alive.

"I'd say you watch our streams pretty regularly, weather girl."

You swallow hard and clasp your hand around your glass.

"Yeah?", you breathe, hoping against all hope that your voice sounds somewhat innocent. You're sure it doesn't. You know it doesn't. You probably sound as guilty as you are, but... Hope dies last. Hope always dies last. "Why would you say that?"

"Just a hunch." He shows off those pearly fucking whites for you. "Call it an instinct. I'm usually right."

He is.

He's right now. He's right usually.

Him and his fucking instinct. His goddamn gut feeling about tornadoes, always right all the fucking time. He's like an Oklahoma Jesus. The first coming of Tornado Christ.

Fuck him.

Fuck him.

"I'll take your bet." You drain your glass at once. "Give me your five bucks, Owens."

You don't think it'll work. You don't think he'll let you distract him. You don't think it'll be this easy to stop his vile teasing. He's not the type of guy to let something go. He's not the type of guy to let anything go ever. But he looks at you and he grins at you and he trails his eyes over your face and then he opens up his wallet and pulls out five dollars without another word.

He puts the bill flat on the bar top.

But when you go to reach for it, he pushes his fingers down.

"The price just went up", he says.

You raise your eyebrows and let your hand sink again. Tyler is absolutely unpredictable. You should've known.

"The price just went up?", you repeat. He nods. "What more do you want to bet?"

He's closer now, closer all of a sudden. He's too close, close enough to make your breath hitch. He's looking down at you with that cocky, cheeky grin, with his weirdly green eyes, with his three day stubble and his generally much too symmetrical face. You can't do anything but look back up at him.

"A kiss", he says. Simple as that.

A kiss.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He is. Truly. He's annoying and way too full of himself and much too presumptuous. Tyler Owens is the only man who would ever do something like this. The only man who'd bet a kiss on whether or not there will be tornadoes tomorrow.

Especially with that forecast.

The one that says a tornado is basically inevitable.

"Alright", you say. He may be Tyler Owens, the guy with an infallible instinct - but he is also Tyler Owens, the guy who's been doing his hardest to get under your skin. This time might not be any different. For all you know, he's bluffing to rile you up. "I'm in."

...

At eleven the next day, you're standing next to Dexter in resigned silence.

"I really thought today was gonna pan out", you mutter.

"It should have", Dexter frowns, tapping against the screen in his hands. "It should have worked out. The conditions should have been perfect. Everything's been building the last few days."

"But it collapsed this morning."

You turn your head and watch as Tyler comes to a stand next to you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the clear sky up above. He tilts his head to you and grins. Fuck, he's wearing his goddamn hat again. It's like he doesn't even try to be normal.

"Hey, weather girl", he greets. "Ready to cash out your bet?"

You shake your head at him. No, you're not giving up this easily. You never give up this easily.

"The day's not over yet, Owens. You haven't won 'til midnight."

...

You spend most of the next hours sitting in your truck bed, reading a book you'd thrown into your backseat weeks ago and had so far neglected. Lilly hands you lunch around two, Dani offers you a coffee around five and Boone pipes up here and there to joke about the wasted day. Around six, Dexter comes by to let you know they're calling it.

You still have another hour to go. By seven, it'll be too late to send your pictures anyway. But you want the hour. You need the hour.

You still haven't decided what to do about Tyler. About Tyler and his fucking bet.

He's been loitering the whole day, walking by, joking around with his crew, livestreaming a spontaneous q&a just because.

And the more minutes tick by, the harder it is to keep ignoring that you've most definitely lost the bet. Even though you do your best. You read, you check your phone. You stare at your radar. You stare at the weather forecast. You talk to Dexter and Dani and Lilly and Boone. You take a few pictures of the sky. Then you take a few pictures of Tyler, standing some feet away from his truck and looking out at the clouds.

It's only when two of three Tornado Wranglers cars are disappearing down the road, when Tyler Owens suddenly stands in front of your truck bed, that you put down your book and face reality.

"No tornadoes in sight", he says, instead of 'Hello' or 'How are you' like any other person would.

"There's still six hours left", you reason. Even if only one of those is relevant for your job today.

"You really want to wait out six hours to prove I'm right?"

"You're not right", you argue. It's fruitless, it's stupid, it's unreasonable. But... "Not yet, anyway."

Tyler raises his eyebrows at you, lets out an amused chuckle and leans against the side of your truck bed.

"Alright, so we wait."

You eye him from the side. He's fucking leaning against your truck, staring out at the sky, talking about six hours. Goddamn. He can't be serious, can he? His crew is already gone. They've disappeared into the descending sun and he's talking about waiting another six hours. Leaned against your car.

"Fuck's sake, Owens", you sigh, scooching over to the right. "At least sit down then."

You don't talk much at first. You just open your book back up again and try your hardest to ignore that he's even here at all, barely two feet away from you on the other side of your truck bed. If you stretched your leg, you'd hit him right in the hip.

It makes reading close to impossible.

Even though he's not doing anything at all. He's just sitting there, one arm propped up on the side board, that goddamn cowboy hat on his head and his feet hanging off the opened tailgate. It's almost worse that he's not doing anything.

That he's just sitting there and watching the sky change.

You give up on reading entirely when you realise that you've finished exactly five pages in half an hour. Instead, you put your book back in the car, pull out your bluetooth speaker and two water bottles and offer Tyler one of them.

You don't even ask him what music he wants to listen to. You just put on your country playlist and roll with it. By the twitch of his lips, you know he certainly doesn't mind.

Another half hour later, it's starting to get chilly and you're beginning to grow bored of the music. Tyler sitting next to you makes you fidgety, somehow, and you can't really enjoy the songs you usually love so much. So you switch to a podcast. You don't ask Tyler if he minds. He's free to go anytime.

Around eight, the sun starts to set, and the chill turns into an unpleasant cool. You hadn't really expected to be sitting out here so long. You're not prepared for the temperature to drop. You're wearing shorts, for god's sake, shorts and a top. It's summer in Oklahoma - you don't know how Tyler even manages to survive in his long jeans. You certainly wouldn't.

But now you're a little jealous, to be honest. He doesn't look cold in the slightest while you're fighting off shivers. You can feel your hands trembling already.

You really should've brought a jacket. But who brings jackets in 30 degree summer weather?

So instead, you just resign yourself to your fate and rub your hands along your arms. Anything to get some warmth into your body.

For the first time since you've sat back down, Tyler turns his head and looks at you.

"You're cold", he says, eyes raking over your arms and the goosebumps you'd gotten.

"Great observational skills, Sherlock Holmes", you deadpan, even though he doesn't really deserve that. He had so far left you pretty much alone. "A+ on that assignment."

Well, it's hard to break bad habits.

Tyler just chuckles, shakes his head and pushes off of the truck bed. You watch, eyes narrowed, as he walks back to his own car, opens up the trunk and- pulls out a blanket?

Your hands have sunken down to your lap all by themselves by the time he's standing in front of you again, holding out the blanket.

"For you, Watson", he grins as you slowly, carefully take the blanket from him. You mutter something along the lines of a soft 'Thank you' before you wrap the blanket around your arms.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also the very definition of "Tough on the outside, soft on the inside". Sometimes, you think the word 'angelic' works for more than just his divine looks.

Your eyes are glued to him as he sits back down next to you and looks out at the darkening sky with that signature grin on his lips, like he knows that you're watching him and enjoys it more than he should. That doesn't deter you though. For the very first time. You don't even stop staring when he turns his head back to you. You don't even stop staring then.

You just look at him until his grin crumbles. Until he's smiling that smile from yesterday night, the one that has your heart squeezing together and then exploding in your chest. You think you could stare at that smile for the rest of eternity and never feel sated.

"What?", he asks, his voice so soft it makes you swallow. Your lips part, but there's no words on your tongue, none in your throat. They're stuck in your chest somewhere, wrapped around your heart so tightly that you can't let them go even now. So you just press your lips together, wrap your blanket tighter around yourself and say:

"So I'm Watson, yeah?"

Your podcast is long forgotten by the time the sky turns dark. So dark that you make Tyler climb into your car and turn on the lights. You're comfortable in your blanket, you don't feel the need to move.

It's around ten when the blanket isn't enough anymore.

You tuck your hands underneath your top, but that only helps for so long. A few minutes later, you're trembling again, trembling even though you're pulling the blanket as tightly around you as you possibly can. Tyler raises his eyebrows when a particularly heavy shiver runs down your spine, one of those that come and go within three seconds.

"Come here", he says, shuffling in his spot and motioning for you to move over to him. You don't really think about it. It's more of a reflex as you fumble the blanket off of your body, scooch over to him, settle yourself against his side and sneak your feet under his thigh. He tugs the blanket back up to your chin, tucks it in behind your back and wraps his arms around you.

Tyler Owens wraps his arms around you.

And he's so fucking warm you literally almost moan. God, you hadn't actually realised just how cold you'd been.

"Damn, you're freezing", he notes as well, just as you nestle further into him and hum in agreement. He's like a living heater right now. You'd like to just crawl inside of him and suck up all his warmth. "You should've told me sooner."

"I didn't tell you at all", you mutter, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He smells good. He smells so good. Earthy, musky somehow. You're tempted to turn your head and bury your nose in his shoulder.

Instead, you just satisfy yourself with what you can get. Fuck, he smells so good. He smells just like you'd thought he would, like country and rodeo and thunderstorms. He smells like falling into bed at the end of a successful chase. He smells like more. You want more.

You want more of Tyler Owens.

"Are you sniffing me?", he asks suddenly, but he sounds so amused you can't even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You just open your eyes and grin at him, tilting your head so you can look up at him.

"What if I am?", you ask, if only to hear that breathless chuckle fall from his lips. Oh, those lips. You're in trouble. "Are you gonna call the cops on me?"

"I could never."

"Yeah, you better not, cowboy", you mutter, eyes dropping to his lips when he grins. He's so close. He's way too close. "There's like thirty things I could call the cops about on your channel."

His grin grows until he's showing off his teeth, glinting against the low light of the leds in your car. He's closer now.

"So you do watch our streams, weather girl."

His voice is so low and he's so close, so close. Your lips part all on their own. You haven't looked back up at his eyes in too long. Far too long. But he's so close, and he's so warm, and he smells so good.

"Alright", you whisper. His mouth is barely an inch from yours. You can feel every breath he takes. "I watch your streams."

And then your lips are on his.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's smug. He makes your job harder than it has to be. He does everything and anything to get under your skin. But Tyler Ownes is the best goddamn kisser this side of the globe.

He trails his hands, his big, big hands, down your sides, pushes the blanket out of the way and grabs at your waist with just enough firmness. He pulls you onto his lap and rests his thumbs over the hem of your top. He breathes into your mouth and takes it slow. He doesn't care that you almost knock his hat out of the way when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. He just holds you tightly to him and lets you tug on his lip.

You honestly don't know how much time has passed when he pulls back, grinning an entirely new grin at you, hazy and euphoric.

"It's not midnight yet", he mutters, the slightest bit out of breath.

"I don't care", you mumble, drawing him right back in for another kiss. You think you might be addicted. You simply can't get enough of him. You can't get enough of Tyler Owens.

But then a thought strikes you, and you pull away with a grin that makes him raise his eyebrows.

You chuckle against his lips.

"If you feel it, chase it, right?"

[kyseya]

You reap what you sow

Yandere farm brothers x f.reader

—————-

Just your typical luck, your car had suddenly broken down in the middle of nowhere. What will you do now? You can’t stay there, there’s no food or water available. Luckily, you hadn’t run out of recourses just yet but it was very close to being gone.

You stepped out of the car and went around it, staring it down with waves of irritation rolling off you. You tried coming up with a plan. The next stop was miles away and it was nothing but a daydream that you’d be able to make it there on foot.

Right as you were about to give up and let the animals take you, the sound of wheels on gravel caught your attention. Turning around, you saw another car speeding towards you. Yes! You were saved! You waved at the person in the car and luckily enough it stopped. ‘I’m gonna pray it’s not Michael Meyers lost cousin or something.’

The door to the passenger side opened and you spotted a man sitting behind the wheel. He was young, around your age, probably a little older perhaps. He had dark brown hair and equally dark eyes. You instantly noticed a scar below his left eye as you glanced at his face. You had to admit, he was very handsome; in a rugged type of way. You couldn’t help but eye how his plain shirt hugged all the muscles on his body. You mentally slapped yourself, ‘Geez (Y/n), you’re here to ask for help not ogle him like the last piece of cake at the party!’

“Your car broke down?” He asked, looking at the worthless piece of junk that had decided to betray you just minutes ago.

“Yeah, it did.” You scratched the back of your head in slight embarrassment. “I couldn’t trouble you for a ride, could I?” He was quiet for a moment, in which you hastily added, “Not for long! Just so I can get proper help from a mechanic. I won’t be a bother I promise.”

The man nodded. “Alright then, hop in.”

Your eyes lit up at his response. You gladly took a seat beside him and thanked him again for his help. “Thank you so much. You’re literally saving my life.”

He nodded once more. Guess he wasn’t much of a talker. Well not that it mattered much. You’d only stick around until you got to a town and found someone who could fix your vehicle. You didn’t have to be all buddy-buddy with each other. You only had to be happy he didn’t seem to want to kill you and hang your organs like Christmas ornaments. The chance of you meeting again was down to basically zero.

Or that’s what you thought, but life has a funny way of messing with you. It must have a grudge against you or else you wouldn’t be seated in the same position you were previously, only it being about 3 hours later. The drive to the nearest town was long(you definitely wouldn’t have made it by walking) and when you got there, you found out the one mechanic they had was out of town.

You thought you were going to have to spend the night in a bush, but you were pleasantly surprised to have your muscular helper offer a nights stay at his farm. You were grateful(once more) and also confused. Why was he being so nice to you when he didn’t have any reason to? It didn’t make sense. The two of you had just met, plus that you’ve only spoken a number of times and none of the conversations were noteworthy.

It was after you accepted you got to know his name, Weston. It fit him quite well, you thought. He told you there was a spare room you could use. It would be further away from his, to offer you some sort of privacy. He also mentioned there was one other person living on the farm, his younger brother. If he annoyed you, you could just tell him off, Weston said to you.

Your butt was sore from all the sitting, both in your own car but also from this little trip. The sky darkened and the sun had nearly completely disappeared when you finally arrived at the farm. It looked like you imagined. There was a large house which you assumed was the main house. Behind it was a big, red barn. You thought you could hear the faint sounds of animals.

Climbing out of the car, you glanced expectantly at your host, waiting for his initiative. You didn’t want to be rude and march right up to the house. As you were waiting, another figure came into view. He was much like his older brother, with brown hair and eyes to match. He was smiling at the both of you, although you caught a slight suspicion towards you.

“Who’s the new kid?” He asked his sibling, who gave him a rundown of what’s happened. You were a bit annoyed at how he called you ‘kid’, you were very much a grown person. And he’s one to talk, you were sure he was younger than you, even through all that brawn. He wasn’t as tall as Weston but he was no joke either. The younger brother looked at you with sympathy, “Really? Well that’s unfortunate. What’re you gonna do now that the mechanic’s gone- since you need him I’m guessing you don’t exactly know how to fix cars.”

You sighed, “I’m not sure yet. I’ll come up with something tomorrow. I’m too tired from all the driving and thinking.”

“Alright, I get it. I’m Lucas by the way.”

You shook his hand. “(Y/n), and thank you for having me. You’re really saving me here.”

“Haha, well Weston likes to pretend he’s heartless, but he’s really just a giant teddy bear.” Lucas said and smirked as he received a glare from the ‘teddy bear’.

“Come in (Y/n), I’ll show you your room.” Weston led you into the house.

Right as you stepped over the threshold, you felt a slight chill. Something felt wrong. You turned around to see Lucas’ beaming face. He tilted his head in confusion.

“Everything good?” He asked, concern lacing his voice. You’d gotten the impression that he’s a chill guy, but now you started wondering if you’d made the wrong choice.

“N-no, everything’s great!”

There was no turning back now, you thought as you descended deeper into the house.

It was unfortunate that every time you followed one of the brothers into town again, for supplies and other things, the mechanic was never there. Sadly it seemed like his vacation wasn’t over yet which meant no way home for you. However, you didn’t have it so bad. The brothers had been kind enough to let you keep staying with them at their farm.

Honestly it was pretty good there. Sure, it wasn’t what you were used to, but some change of scenery was good for you. Not wanting to appear lazy, you helped them to the best of your ability around the farm. You couldn’t lift heavy things like they could even if you really put your back into it, and you certainly didn’t trust yourself to milk the cows; something you could do was cook! It’d become a routine for them to do their work during the day and you’d make them lunch and then dinner in the evenings. You’d never seen yourself as a homemaker, though this was kind of fun. Maybe it was the heat poking your brain or it was that you genuinely enjoyed their company.

Besides, it was really nice looking out the kitchen window and catching a glimpse of them at work. You weren’t proud, but it did something for you. The way droplets of sweat ran down their backs, not in a gross way though, in an appealing manner. During the instances they took of their shirts, you got a front row seat to see the muscles in action. You now knew Lucas had stone-hard abs and that Weston had a very nice back.

Despite the fun in getting to know both of them individually, there were some things you couldn’t deny making you uncomfortable. For example, there was the curfew. That one had a good explanation; there were wild animals sometimes running around and they didn’t want you to get hurt. That made perfect sense! Though you couldn’t shake off that one time you couldn’t sleep and had gone outside on the porch for some air. You were just relaxing and looking at the bright stars when shouting woke you up more than your insomnia. Lucas had come rushing towards you in panic. He’d frantically asked you what you were doing up. You responded honestly and he slowly calmed down. He said you shouldn’t go out by yourself anymore. If you can’t sleep you can see the stars perfectly from the living room window, or better yet, you can come to one of their rooms instead.

Then there was the room furthest back in the barn. Although it could be excused as well, they told you that’s where they slaughtered the animals. But you could swear you heard something from inside, something that doesn’t sound at all like a cow, a pig or a chicken. Suspicion arose in you, but fear held you in a chokehold and prevented you from investigating. However nice they were to you, there was no way you’d risk pissing them off. Especially since the mechanic still wasn’t back which meant you had no way to escape, if it would be necessary.

Lucas had been right, Weston wasn’t as scary as he seemed in the beginning. Sure, he was a bit rough around the edges but he had sweet moments too. Once during one of your little adventures on the porch, Weston had suddenly appeared by your side, giving you a scare. He apologised and asked why you were out. You were worried he would get angry considering you’d just recently had the ‘no more going out’- conversation with Lucas. To your surprise he chuckled at your nervous demeanor and did not reprimand you. He told you that in his opinion, Lucas was too paranoid for his own good and sometimes didn’t know when to stop. You don’t have to walk on eggshells, though you probably shouldn’t wander off the porch after dark. Better to be safe than sorry, right? Afterwards he declared he’s going to bed before wrapping you in a blanket, you didn’t even notice he had it with him until he turned you into a burrito. He was very sweet in his own way, you realised. From then on you paid more attention to the affection he undoubtedly showed. Sometimes it was hard to see, but it was definitely there.

Lucas on the other hand was more open with his affection; pulling you into hugs, asking about your day, petting your hair. All these thing he did daily. He, too, was incredibly sweet. Sometimes it was hard to comprehend that him and Weston shared DNA. They were so different. The only thing confirming their relation was little things how their eyes lit up the same way or how their smiles were similar(if you were fortunate enough to witness Weston smiling, that is). Lucas also had a protective streak. He constantly worried over your safety and wellbeing. Which was kind of nice, when he wasn’t nagging you about it every five seconds.

You better listen to them. It’s all for your best. Because if you don’t, you might end up walking into the barn, and then you might end up finding the remains of the mechanic you’ve been looking for. And that wouldn’t be very good now, would it?

[ridingthatd]

jjk men being a sex therapist

choso, sukuna, toji, nanami, gojo, geto, megumi, yuji, etc...

contains: fem!reader, kinks, masturbation, filthiness, he's down bad like really bad, humping, dirty talk, squirting, stomach bulge, rough sex, teasing, multiple positions, virgin reader, licking, sucking, dirty, my work is really filthy, choose your character, etc..

you never thought you would be visiting a therapist, you have always thought for a long time that it's bullshit to pay someone to listen to you rent about your problems when you can do it for free? but clearly things change.

here you were at the work office of non other then your dear friend;he was a professional. a type of man who was very serious about his work. at first when you take a look at him. you would think he works as a "normal" therapist as your parents call them.

your parents were a very religious people. ever since you were young they pushed their mentality into you. so imagine their shock once they knew that one of your dear friends worked as a sex therapist. well- you can say they weren't really pleased by that.

your parents always liked him- since you first introduced them to him. they had favoured him among all of your other friends, and of course you knew why. it was because of his money.

you snap out of your thoughts once you hear firm footsteps making their way toward your small figure. your poster stiffen as he tower over you, even when he takes a seat in front of you- he still looks huge as he always do.

"sweetheart, you don't have to be nervous" his rough voice mutters out as his eyes slowly trails your shaky figure. you take a deep breath and fidget anxiously with your fingers, not knowing how to start the conversation.

HIS POV:

he was fucked. he was fucking fucked. his heart beats echos loudly through his chest, his voice caught in his throat- unable to breath, afraid his next breath would scare you- would give you a hint of what a nasty beast your friend is. his eyes piercing through your small shaky figure. the way he can see your cleavage peeking through your cute little dress everytime you take a shaky breath out.

he couldn't help the way his fat cock stiffen in his pants as his mind run a mile with filthy thoughts about you. he hold backs a groans as he stares at your small little hands- imaging the way they would feel on his throbbing cock, they you would struggle to fit his fat cock in your palm. the way you would stare at him with your innocent eyes while your hands are filled with his leaking cock.

it was always this way. ever since he met you- it felt like his life flipped upside down. he was never interested in sexual intercourse, he never felt any passion in it. ever since he started his studies, his goal was to be a psychologist. he found it interesting the way the human mind worked- that was until you fucked up his mind.

he was so confused, flustered as he stares at his hard cock. it was the first time he met you, at the bakery he always went to after an exhausting day. and here he was hiding in the bathroom with his leaking cock out of his pants, red and throbbing ready to fill his boiling sperms inside of a girl he just met. it only took one stroke to have him groaning, he felt like he was on fire. like he was some animal in heat.

he wants to cum- no he wants to cum inside of you. he wants to fill you. he wants to feel your heated skin on his boiling one. he wants to taste you. he wants his face to be dripping with your juice. he wants you to squirt on it. he wants to feel your warm walls around his fat cock. he wants to suckle on your tongue. he wants to fill your boobs with his milk and taste it on his tongue. he wants to squeeze your sensitive nipples till they leak of milk. he wants to-

his thick thighs shakes as he slides down the bathroom door. his cock shooting throbs of cum hitting his abdomen. he whines- he never felt like that, he never did something like that. he stares at his already hard cock. it was red, angry, hard again ready to spill his seeds.

that was the beginning of it all. after that he deep dived through a lot of filthy stuff. a lot of kinks. he wanted to experience all of them with you- but he knew you were to innocent for him, especially from your family background.

and here you were. at his office, innocently staring at him. he wants to jump at you- he wants to know why, how, what did you want? coming to a sex therapist? coming to him? his cock painfully throb, excited for the out come of this. excited of what you filthy things the little mouth of yours is gonna say.

"well... i- i really don't know where to start" you mutter out biting on your lips nervously. avoiding making eye contact with your friend that was sitting opposite of you. "i really don't have any experience in... in these stuff but-" you lower your voice face flushing wondering if it was the right decision to come here and say what you're about to say.

his heart stops beating. he stiffens at your words. "but?..." he's scared he won't be able to control himself. his fat cock is already doing to much.

you take a deep breath and look at his half lidded eyes before speaking out. "but I want to learn". you were sweating, nervous on what your friend is gonna think of you. "my parents think it's sinful to talk about sex and- i- and i really don't wanna talk about it with a stranger so you're the only one i have.." you shakily whisper out your words.

"fucking hell" he growls, staring at you with so much hunger as he adjust himself. man spreading his huge thighs, while leaning back his eyes never leaving your figure. "you want me to teach you baby? hm?" he questions darkly.

your face flush at the nickname he always calls you. "i- yes". you flinch at you hear his deep chuckle this is the first time you saw him smirk in such situations.

"hm? so my little baby wants me to teach her about sex? how filthy" he growls out his last words. not being able to hide how aroused he is from the whole thing. your eyes slowly trail down his figure. admiring the way he slowly remove his tie and starts to unbutton the half upper part of his blouse, before rolling up his sleeves giving you a full view of his vieny biceps and huge chest.

you let out a gasp as you stare at the outline of his pants. he follows your eyes and groans as he palms his hard cock through his pants, stroking it as he admire the way you stare at him. so shocked. so innocent. "have you ever touched yourself baby?" he breath out, panting from the heatness running through his whole body.

you didn't even pay attention to what he said, to lost at the way his fat cock was throbbing through his pants under his huge palm. "fucking hell baby- pay attention you're driving me crazy" he whines out, going crazy at the way you were starting at him lustfuly.

you eyes snap to his, heavy breath leaving your lips, before you lick them dry whispering out your next words. "i- yes". he moans out to the ceiling at your words, he was sure he's gonna cum through his pants from how much he was leaking.

"show me baby, show me how" he look at you with pleading eyes, his hands still working on his huge cock, stroking it painfully.

you don't know how it got there. your tits were spilling out of your bra, leaving your nipples hard. while your skirt was rolled up revealing your wet pussy as you stroke your swollen clit. your juice was dripping down on the leather chair of his office.

while he sits on the opposite side, stroking his fat cock, squeezing it, milking it. it was your first time seeing a mans cock this close- and god it made you so filthy. he was huge, his tip was red, sensitive as precum leaks out of it, while the base of his cock was surrounded with veins plusing, needing to spill his seeds.

"shit- pinch your nipples like a fucking slut" he growls out his words, his eyes never leaving your body, drool sliding down his red puffy lips.

maybe it’s wrong.

but right now, you don’t care.

all you care about is the way his entire body tenses when you bring one hand up to your breast and squeeze. he grips the chair with one hand while pumping his dick with the other. the wood groans, threatening to splinter. nobody’s ever looked at you the way he is now- like he wants to consume you.

"don’t stop" you moan, spreading your thighs and pulling up the hem of your skirt as your fingers seek out your pulsing cunt. "baby- fuck i can't" he whines, breathing hard, his hair was messy, cheeks and chin entirely flushed soaked with his drool.

his chair groans as he ruts against it, flushed cock smearing precum along the edge of his hands, “need more”. you whimper. that all it takes for him to stand up and make his way toward you.

you gasp as he picks you up and place you on his chair instead of yours, and the next thing he does had you whimpering from how filthy it was. he bends down on his knees in front of the chair you were stroking your clit on, and he starts licking and suckling the mess you made on the chair, licking the wetness you left.

his office was filled with the wet suckling noises and the groans he made while he licked your juice off the chair. "you gotta excuse me for this, i can't let anything go to waste" he groans out, while he stand up and make his way towards you. immediately picking you up and placing you on his lap.

your back to his chest. you can feel his fat cock leaking on your back causing you to clench your thighs together, you can feel his hot breath on your ear. you whine as he sticks his tongue into your ear, kissing and licking every inch of it while his hand slowly trail his cock and place it directly on your clit- making your pussy snuggle on his cock.

it felt so dirty- it was sloppy as he gently rock you on it, your wetness and his wetness mixing together, while the only thing you can hear was his tongue eating your ear up. you have never felt this pleasure in your life. this heatness- it felt like you were burning up alive, being drowned in pleasure and he must have felt the same way. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunts, hips jerking into sloppily.

you suddenly feeling something building up inside of you, almost like you're gonna pee. "ah- no! i wanna- i wanna pee!" you whine out trying to move, but he beats you to it, locking you into him and moving you against his cock harder. "sh, sh it's okay bbag just let it all out". and thats exactly what you do.

your eyes roll back as your body start twitcing, you scream out before your body arch and you start squirting all over his cock- it seems like it will never end. the hot steam that was leaving you.

and that’s all it takes to send him over the edge, his body swiftly shifting upward and positioning his cock to dump rope after rope of thick, hot cum all over your pussy. you whimper, cunt clenching around nothing at the filthy sight of your juice and his dripping down both of your thighs into the ground.

and here you stay in his office. the only sound that filled it was the drops of cums landing from the chair into the ground, and both your heavy breath.

i didn't know which character to put so feel free to imagine it with whomever you want :p

[misspygmypie]

Meet & Greet... and more? Pt. 2

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Words: 2492 Click here for Part 1

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

It was a quiet evening at Lando’s apartment. The driver sat hunched over his laptop, his focus fixed on race strategies and upcoming circuits. His thoughts, though, were miles away from racing. They lingered on the Meet & Greet event from a few days ago, the moment he had met Y/N and her adorable 4-year-old son, Noah.

Lando had been smitten from the first minute he saw Y/N. Her genuine smile and the way she looked at Noah with such love had tugged at something deep inside him. He had given her his number with the hope that it would lead to something more, but as the days passed with no text or call, his hopes began to fade away.

Oscar had noticed the cloud hanging over Lando. During a break at the team headquarters he approached his team mate. “So, have you heard from Y/N yet?”

Lando’s eyes had lost their usual sparkle as he shook his head. “No, nothing. I’m starting to lose hope, to be honest. Maybe she just wasn’t interested.”

“You never know, mate,” Oscar had replied, “she might just be a bit shy or overwhelmed. Give it time.”

And so Lando had continued with his daily routine, a part of him still hoping, even if it was only a flicker. Then, on this particular evening, his phone buzzed, jolting him from his thoughts. It was a message from an unknown number and he frowned, unlocking the device and opening the text.

He glanced down, and his heart skipped a beat.

Y/N: Hi Lando, it’s Y/N from the Meet & Greet last week. I just wanted to say thank you again for the great time and the bear. Noah loves it and is always hugging it when he sleeps. Here’s a photo of him with his new best friend 😊

He looked at the photo and felt a huge smile instantly creeping on his face. Noah was nestled comfortably in his bed, the bear clutched tightly in his tiny arms. The sight of the peaceful sleeping child with the bear’s head peeking out from the covers made Lando’s heart melt.

He quickly started typing a response but paused, his fingers hovering over the screen. He wanted to convey how much it meant to him that Noah loved the gift but he also wanted to make sure his message came across just right. He was a professional at handling high-speed racing strategies, but this - this was a whole different kind of nerve-wracking.

Finally, he took a deep breath and typed:

Lando: Hey Y/N! Thank you for sending this, it’s absolutely adorable! I’m so happy Noah loves the bear and it was really great meeting you both. Is Noah usually this sweet when he’s sleeping or is he just showing off to his new bear? 😄 Hope you’re doing well!

He hit send and immediately felt a wave of nervous excitement. He glanced at the screen, replaying his message in his mind, hoping it didn’t sound too over the top or awkward. A few seconds later, he received a reply.

Y/N: Thanks, Lando! He’s usually a bit of a tornado during the day, so it’s nice to see him so peaceful at night 😄 We’re doing well and he keeps talking about meeting you. How about you? How’s everything going?

Lando’s smile widened and he felt a renewed sense of hope. They were actually starting a conversation and eagerly he tapped out a response with new found confidence:

Lando: Things are going great, thanks for asking! The racing is keeping me busy, but it’s always exciting. I’d love to hear more about what you and Noah have been up to?

As he hit send Lando leaned back in his chair, still smiling happily for the first time in days. The city lights outside seemed a little brighter and the race strategies on his laptop took a back seat for the rest of the night.

From that day on, each morning Lando would wake up and check his phone, eagerly scrolling through the messages from Y/N. Her texts were often filled with snippets of her and Noah’s daily life. 

One morning, Y/N sent him a snapshot of herself and Noah at a local park. Y/N was smiling brightly, looking effortlessly beautiful in a casual, sunlit setting.

Y/N: Just a day out at the park with Noah. He’s been running around non-stop!

Lando stared at the photo, struck by how stunning Y/N looked. Her natural beauty and radiant smile had him feeling a bit flustered. How does she manage to look this beautiful all the time? he wondered. And how is someone like her still single?

As their conversations continued, Lando found himself constantly impressed by Y/N. Whether it was a candid shot of her cooking dinner, playing with Noah, or simply relaxing at home she always appeared effortlessly beautiful. Another day, Y/N sent him a photo of Noah proudly showing off his latest artwork: a crayon drawing of a race car.

Y/N: Noah wanted to send you a picture of his latest masterpiece. He says it’s a McLaren, but I think he might be a bit optimistic! 😄

Lando chuckled at the message and immediately typed back.

Lando: That’s fantastic! I love it. Noah’s got quite the artistic talent. I’ll have to show this to my team, they might want to hire him for some design work!

In return, Lando shared stories from his life at McLaren, often with a humorous twist.

Lando: So, yesterday I was running late for a meeting and accidentally wore mismatched socks. Of course, I didn’t realize until halfway through the day when one of the engineers pointed it out. They’ve been teasing me about it ever since!

She replied with a laughing emoji and a playful message:

Y/N: Sounds like you’re fitting right in with the team! At least it’s not as bad as the time I tried to make dinner and ended up with something that looked like a science experiment gone wrong. Noah still teases me about it!

Their exchange of stories and photos continued and Lando loved hearing about their adventures and looked forward to the new stories they’d share. Then, one afternoon, he decided it was time to suggest an in-person meeting. He drafted a message and it took him nearly two hours to actually send it off.

Lando: Hey Y/N! I’ve been thinking about how much I’ve enjoyed our conversations these past few weeks. It’s been great getting to know you and Noah better. I’ve got a weekend off coming up in three weeks and I was wondering if you’d be up for meeting in person. I could fly out and we could grab coffee or something. Let me know what you think!

When he got Y/N’s reply it made Lando’s day.

Y/N: Hi Lando! That sounds amazing. I’ve really enjoyed our chats too. Noah would be thrilled to meet you again and it would be great to catch up in person. Let’s definitely plan for that weekend. I’ll look forward to it!

Lando: Awesome! I’m really looking forward to it. I’ll keep you updated with my flight details as we get closer to the date. Can’t wait to see you both!

________

As he settled into his apartment after a long day of working out and preparations for the next race he couldn’t wait any longer to share his next idea with Y/N. Over the past few days he had been thinking about how much he wanted to see them much earlier and he was nervous to find out what Y/N would say.

Lando: Hey Y/N! I was thinking... instead of our planned coffee date, how about joining me at the next race? I’d love for you and Noah to come. What do you think?

He hesitated for a moment before hitting send, his heart racing. A few hours later, Y/N’s response appeared on his phone. 

Y/N: Wow, Lando, that’s an incredible offer! I’m sure Noah would be thrilled to see the race but honestly, I’m not sure if we can afford the travel expenses right now. It’s a bit beyond our budget.

Lando’s heart sank a little but he was determined to make this work. He quickly typed back:

Lando: Please don’t worry about the cost, I’d really like to cover everything for you and Noah. It would mean a lot to me to have you both there. Just let me know if that works for you!

He felt hopeful. He wanted to ensure that money wasn’t an issue and that they could enjoy this experience without any worries. Minutes felt like hours as he waited for her response. Finally, Y/N’s reply came through:

Y/N: Lando, that’s so incredibly kind of you. I’m sure Noah will be ecstatic about this! I really appreciate your generosity and can’t believe how thoughtful you are. I’ll talk to him and start making arrangements. Thank you so much!

Lando’s smile grew wider as he read her message. He quickly responded:

Lando: I’m thrilled you’re excited! I’ll handle all the details, flights, hotel and race passes. I want to make sure everything is perfect for you both. I’ll send you all the information shortly. Can’t wait to see you again soon!

The next day he coordinated every detail meticulously, ensuring that everything was taken care of for their visit. He could hardly keep his excitement to himself and it didn’t take long for Oscar to notice the change in Lando’s mood.

The two drivers sat together in the lounge area, enjoying a rare moment of downtime between team talks. While Oscar sipped his coffee and flipped through a magazine Lando practically radiated with joy.

“Alright, spill it,” Oscar demanded, setting the magazine aside. “You’re practically glowing. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

Lando’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Oscar, clearly unable to keep his emotions contained. “So, Y/N and Noah, right?”

“What about them?”

“Well,” Lando said, practically bouncing in his seat, “I Invited them to the race next week.”

Oscar’s curiosity piqued. “And?”

“And,” Lando continued, “they are able to make it!”

Oscar’s smile widened. “That’s fantastic news,” he beamed at his friend and meant every word. Lando had been talking about them nonstop since the Meet & Greet and especially after Y/N had finally texted him back. Lando would update him on their texts and show him the pictures he would get.

Lando’s grin widened even further. “It means a lot to me that they’re coming out. I’m really looking forward to seeing them again and showing them around the paddock properly this time.”

“I’m really happy for you, mate, it sounds like it’s going to be a great weekend.”

“Thanks! I can’t wait to see them!”

________

Y/N looked out the kitchen window, a soft smile playing on her lips as she imagined Noah’s reaction. Noah was sprawled on the floor, concentrated on arranging his small collection of toy cars.

“Hey, Noah,” Y/N called out, trying to keep her voice casual while she bubbled with excitement. “Can you come over here for a minute?”

Noah set aside his cars and trotted over to his mom, his tiny sneakers scuffing against the kitchen tiles. “What is it, Mommy?”

Y/N knelt down so she was eye-to-eye with him. “Guess what? Lando invited us to the next race!”

“Really? We’re going to see Lando again?” Noah’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Yes” Y/N confirmed, her excitement barely contained. “We’re going to fly out to watch the race and spend some more time with Lando!”

Noah jumped up and down, his little fists pumping in the air. “This is the best day ever! Can I bring my toy cars to show Lando? And my Lando hat?”

“Of course you can bring your toy cars and I’m sure Lando will be thrilled to see your hat.”

Noah’s excitement was contagious. “Can we start packing now? I want to make sure we don’t forget anything!”

“Not just yet,” Y/N said, chuckling. “We still have a little bit of time before we leave. But we can start picking out your favorite race car pajamas and making a list of what to bring.”

Noah nodded vigorously. “I’m going to wear my pajamas every day until we go! And I’ll make a special drawing for Lando too. Can I put it in his car?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’m sure Lando will love it.”

As traveling day approached, excitement filled the air at Y/N’s home. Noah could hardly contain himself, racing around the house with his favorite race car pajamas and a carefully packed backpack full of toy cars and race-themed items. Y/N, on the other hand, was busy with last-minute preparations, ensuring everything was ready for their trip.

Finally Y/N stood in the hallway, surveying the scene: a large suitcase packed with essentials, Noah’s backpack and a neatly organized tote bag filled with snacks and travel necessities. The sight of it all made her smile, but she had one more thing to do before they left.

With a grin, Y/N picked up her phone and snapped a quick picture. In the photo, a Lando cap poked out of Noah’s backpack and next to it was a little sign that read “Ready for the race!” She made sure to include a glimpse of Noah’s favorite race car pajamas draped over one of the bags.

She typed out a quick message to Lando, her excitement evident in every word:

Y/N: We’re all packed and ready for the big race! 🏁 Noah is beyond excited and insisted on showing off his race car pajamas and Lando hat. We thought you might like to see how ready we are for the adventure. Y/N & Noah

With a satisfied smile Y/N hit send. She knew Lando was busy, but she hoped the photo would bring a smile to his face.

A few hours later, as Y/N and Noah were finishing their final preparations, Y/N’s phone buzzed with a new message. She picked it up and saw a reply from Lando, accompanied by a photo of his own.

Lando: Hey Y/N! Wow, you guys are definitely race-day ready! 😎 I love Noah’s hat and pajamas. Can’t wait to see you both. I’ve got a little surprise planned for Noah! See you soon!  

Y/N showed the message to Noah, who was practically bouncing with excitement. “Look, Noah! Lando says he has a surprise for you!”

“A surprise?” the boy’s eyes widened. “What do you think it is, Mommy?”

Y/N shook her head with a smile. “I’m not sure, but I’m sure it will be something amazing!”

_________

Click here for Part 3

Tag: @barcelonaloverf1life @remmysthings

[mvth3r]

daryl doesn’t think he’s anything special. he never has. but to you? he’s everything.

or

5 times daryl feels your affection down to his core and the many 1 time he unconsciously returns the favor.

cw: 18+ MDNI, p-in-v, mention of injury, swearing, mostly fluff, 4283 words

a/n: this draft got the most votes in the poll, which was surprising tbh! next up medieval au, princess reader, forbidden romance?? hmmmm

one.

daryl hears you coming before he sees you. he knows it’s on purpose, so you don’t startle him (“and get an arrow in the tit or something, i don’t know!” you had explained, laughing). he’s long since taught you how to be quiet when walking over leaves and branches.

his eyes drifted in the direction of the noise, watching you melt out of the trees, water bottle in one hand and knife in the other. you had a bad habit of speeding through or ignoring your own duties in favor of tracking him out into the woods while he was hunting. the teasing looks from rick and carol when they saw the gates open in the evening, revealing the two of you instead of just him, were enough to have him blushing up to his ears, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop you. if anything, daryl found himself lingering closer to the prison when he was first setting out for the day and making his tracks a little easier for you to follow as he went on. he liked to think of it as a teaching moment, encouraging you to follow his lessons, but he knew what it really was.

he liked having you here with him, away from prying eyes and ears. daryl wasn’t big on pda, he’d never been, and you knew that, but you could be as affectionate as you wanted out here.

the smile that split you face when you saw daryl was blinding, creasing your eyes and cheeks, “hey, handsome.”

daryl felt his heart start to pound immediately in his chest and warmth radiate through his belly and down his limbs. he had the distant, bizarre thought that any walker for a few miles would probably be able to smell his blood as it rose rapidly to his face, coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

he scoffed quietly to keep the words he really wanted to say from spilling unbidden from his throat as you caught up to him, instead deadpanning, “handsome? really?”

you hummed, raising a hand to card through his long bangs, eyes tender when they met his, “mhm, very handsome. don’t i tell you every day?”

you leaned up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, no longer than a moment. you hand drifted from his hair down to cup his jaw as you did, and daryl found himself leaning into your palm, his own hand coming up to grip your wrist loosely.

you pulled away with a smaller, more intimate smile, one that daryl had only ever seen directed at him. and, if you had felt the pounding of his heart through his shirt or seen the intensity of his flush, you didn’t say a word.

two.

daryl was distracted.

this council meeting was dragging on much longer than intended. what was initially supposed to be a quick conversation about planning a run to get supplies for judith and a few of the other kids had turned into a heated debate about possibly opening up the council to a few of the people from woodbury. he could understand why. there was still a stark divide between their group and the new people, but daryl had been content to sit back and let the situation mend itself, so long as it didn't escalate.

the discussion was split down the middle. or.. maybe there were more in favor of maintaining the current council? daryl couldn’t tell because he couldn’t focus and he couldn’t focus because every time he tried to lock in on the conversation, he could feel your fingers brush over his knuckles.

earlier, when the meeting started, you had sat yourself right next to daryl, reached under the table, and grabbed his hand where it was resting on his knee. no fanfare, no lovesick gazes, just your fingers intertwined with his calloused ones like they belonged there. which, he mused to himself, maybe they do.

and so there your hand had remained as the meeting went on. every so often, you would brush your fingers lightly over his knuckles, or give his fingers a squeeze if you happened to catch his eyes… which would lead to you chuckling quietly to yourself when his neutral expression would warm over with a blush.

the meeting had been going on for at least an hour. god.

“daryl, what do you think?”

glenn’s voice cut through daryl’s thoughts like a knife. he jerked a little, almost dislodging your hand when he looked across the table, meeting the expectant stares of the council.

“uhh,” he grunted eloquently, “‘bout bringin’ some of them folks on?”

hershel nodded expectantly, his voice thoughtful, “don’t you think we could afford their input? after all, this is their home now just as much as it is ours.”

your fingers brushed again over his knuckles and daryl willed himself not to lose focus. not to allow his mind to run on with thoughts about the softness of your fingers and how much he liked the feeling of your palm against his. how comfortable-

no.

daryl blinked and cleared his throat, “we don’ even have rick on the council right now, i’on think it’s a good idea.”

glenn nodded along with maggie and, reluctantly a moment later, hershel did too, though his mouth had settled into a thin frown.

daryl felt your hand squeeze his twice, taking it as a nonverbal ‘good job!’, and paused only a moment before squeezing back his own nonverbal ‘thank you’. he saw a small smile flit across your face out the corner of his eye.

before the debate could start up again, you were leaning forward and speaking up, saying, “alright, let’s table this for next time then. the run is already planned for the baby stuff, so—?”

hershel’s eyes swept across the table and he nodded, “meeting adjourned, i suppose.”

three.

the woods were clear as daryl looked out over the gate. he could see everything from the watchtower, as was intended, but for once the calm darkness was not a comfort.

instead, every moment that passed heightened the panic that had been swirling in his gut since earlier that evening.

it had been roughly fourteen hours since you had left on a run with glenn and maggie. there was a small gas station a little ways out that looked to be mostly untouched, and you had been pulled to fill in daryl’s usual slot since he was already slated to go hunting.

he was regretting it now, though, as he continued to watch the road leading up to the gate for any sign of maggie’s headlights.

while the general rule of thumb was to be back to the prison before dark, everyone knew that sometimes shit happens, whether it be walkers appearing at the worst possible time, or not being able to secure the haul. hell, shit happened more often than it didn't, as far as daryl was concerned.

maybe the haul had been much larger than the three of you had planned for, and you had to hide some of it away for a return trip.

maybe y'all had come across a herd large enough to block the car's path and had to find a way around it to get home without leading them back behind you.

maybe the gas station had been a bust all together and you’d gone further out in hopes of not returning empty handed.

the thoughts swimming through his mind sent daryl pacing across the small area of the watchtower. back and forth he went, eyes flashing over to the gate of the prison every few seconds.

“you’re gonna wear out your shoes like that.”

oh right. daryl isn’t even on watch, not officially at least. he’d joined carol a little after the sun went down and been up here ever since.

carol continues on despite his brooding silence, “they’re okay. something probably held them up, it happens.”

daryl turned to face carol, scrubbing a hand down his face. he opening his mouth to respond, but before he could, the sound of wheels crunching across gravel made him whip back around.

he barely registered that it was maggie’s car before he was yanking the floor hatch open and climbing down. rick, who’d been poking around the farm despite the late hour, unwilling to admit his own anxiety, was already pulling the gate open to let the car in.

daryl stopped further up the hill to meet you, and, as soon as you popped the lock on your door, he was tugging it open with one hand and reaching for you with the other.

you went willingly, a sheepish smile on your face as you let him turn you this way and that, checking for any injuries or bites, neither of which you had.

“sorry i’m late, handsome,” you whispered, “i didn’t mean to worry you.”

daryl grunted in response, resisting the urge to press himself against you and feel your heart beat against his skin. he understood that you were capable, and that you had lasted just as long in the apocalypse as he had, but he can't help but wonder if he'll ever get used to this, or if he'll spend any moment you aren't within his reach on the edge of a panic attack.

by then, rick had made his way up the hill to the car and was helping unload their findings from the boot. all things considered, the three of you had brought back a pretty decent amount of stuff.

“everyone alright?” rick questioned, eyes skirting over the contents of the trunk to scan the three of you instead. "what held y'all up?"

maggie shook her head with a smile, “nothing like that. we found a good bit at that gas station, but there was a map of a small trailer park a little ways away, and we thought it was better to go for it while we were right down the road.”

“and we had the space anyway. didn’t make sense to waste a second trip, but it took a little longer to search than we thought,” you added. you had turned to face the group and, under the cover of the dark, you leaned back just slightly into daryl’s side.

carol, who had followed daryl down from the watchtower, hummed, and rick nodded thoughtfully. they both followed behind maggie and glenn, grabbing as much as they could carry from the car and heading up to deposit it for sorting tomorrow.

now alone, daryl took a moment to breathe you in, but he was moving soon as well, heading for the trunk to grab what was left.

he didn’t notice you coming up next to him until he felt your fingers slipping into his pocket.

“found something for you,” you said quietly, standing at his side.

daryl patted his pocket, feeling the dented box of what he assumed to be cigarettes and looked over at you, brows furrowed in confusion.

“i noticed you ran out the other day,” you answered his unasked question, a small smile lifting your cheeks, “combed through every trailer looking for ‘em.”

with that, you turned away from him and back to the trunk.

daryl stood speechless, his heart building up to that rapid thrum he only seemed to feel in your presence.

you had brought something back for him. had spent the daylight rummaging through dirty trailers on the off chance that you’d find a pack of cigarettes to replace his empty one that he himself hadn't even bothered to go searching to replace.

he wanted to think he didn’t understand why you would do something like this, why you would care, but he did. he’d done the same for you, time and time again on the road, if only to see you smile. he understood exactly why.

“‘preciate it,” he grunted, thankful that the darkness surrounding you kept his blush from being too obvious.

you hummed in acknowledgment, and daryl could your small smile growing out the corner of his eye.

four.

having sex in the prison was no easy feat, mostly due to the lack of privacy. a sheet could only provide so much, and even then it did nothing for the noise echoing constantly off the concrete walls.

as far as most were concerned, maggie and glenn had found the best spot early on, making the most unused watchtower their designated private retreat, but you and daryl knew otherwise.

deep in the tombs, which were no longer a threat as they had long since been cleared and sealed, there were a few tucked away offices that had sat empty even after the woodbury residents had been moved in. noise didn’t escape the tombs, and no one ever just wandered in, especially not in the middle of the night, so despite the cell that you and daryl shared, you both much preferred spending your more intimate moments here.

well, daryl did. you weren’t picky, and could be quiet when you really tried, but it made daryl more comfortable.

he’d like to think it was just because he was wary of any listening ears, especially with all the children roaming around, but he knew the truth of his resolve.

daryl had never been a selfish man, and certainly not after the world fell. everything he had, everything he was, he would give to his family in a heartbeat.

but this.. this was just for him.

your body arched beautifully under his, legs falling open to accommodate his weight settling against you. daryl’s hand left your heat, fingers dripping with wetness, to squeeze your hips, using them to guide you as your moved against him.

you were already bare, both of you having stripped each other of your clothes between heated kisses while you stumbled in the office. you hadn’t even made it to the double-stacked cot in the corner, daryl instead pushing you firmly down on the dusty desk and leaning in to mouth at your neck.

you moaned under him now, a breathy sigh of his name, and the sound sent a shiver down daryl’s spine.

“needy girl,” he grunted teasingly, reaching down to grasp his hardness. he dragged the head of his cock up your slit, collecting your wetness and smearing it over your clit.

your head knocked back against the desk and a loud groan burst out of your throat. your knees tried to close around daryl’s waist as if to keep him away, but you arms came up to wrap around him, pulling him closer to your body, and he leaned into you willingly.

your voice trembled when you spoke into his ear, want dripping from every syllable, “please, baby. need you inside me so bad.”

and god, daryl wanted to make you beg for it. he wanted to wait until he could see the desperation in your eyes and then wait some more, but he couldn’t. not when you looked so pretty spread out beneath him and your hands were petting over his shoulders and neck just how he liked. he almost thought you were doing it on purpose, but he knew better. this was just you.

you couldn’t stay off him when he was in you, always tugging at his hair or rubbing his chest, hands scrabbling for any skin you could reach. it used to send him reeling, flustered and blushing bright, but now he looked forward to it. he could feel the want in your touches like physical imprints of your affection.

daryl pushed into your slowly, groaning deep in his chest. your slick walls felt heavenly around him, but daryl was more focused on you right now.

soft whimpers fell from your lips as your hands drifted over his sweat slicked skin. daryl’s thrusts were slow but purposeful, and he ignored your legs squeezing around his waist, trying to urge him to speed up.

“relax, peach,” he soothed, hands drifting up and down your sides in pace with his thrusts, “i’ma take care of you.”

“kiss, please,” you whispered, voice floating past daryl’s ear. he would have missed it if you weren’t pressed together like this.

daryl would not describe himself as a selfish man. he might have had his moments in the past, but now, with the dead walking and a prison full of survivors to protect, it was virtually out of the question.

but as he leaned down to press his lips to yours, feeling your hands finally make their way up into his long strands, daryl thought that he might be a possessive man.

he’d sooner spread you out deep in the woods than have you where anyone could see you like this or hear the noises you make.

no, daryl thought, tongue sliding in your mouth to tangle with yours, this would always be just for him.

five.

daryl came into awareness slowly and then all at once. he startled, trying to sit up, but a searing pain made itself known in his abdomen. the pain clouded his senses, blooming out across his torso and down his limbs. he flops uselessly, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of him.

hearing bits of voices above him, daryl wills himself to focus. he’s hurt, obviously, and it’s pretty fucking bad, but he’ll have to suck it up and figure out a way home if he’s in bad company.

the voices start to filter in. the volume makes his temples throb in rhythm with his abdomen and his heart as the situation starts to force adrenaline through his body.

“—harder! put more pressure on it!”

daryl relaxes just a bit. that’s rick. frantic, angry, but rick all the same.

“what the fuck do you think i’m doing?!” the other voice, higher, snarls in response, “just drive the damn truck!”

and daryl feels his body try to relax all together. he would recognize your voice in his sleep, and this milky haze of pain is no different. he can feel your hands pressing a wad of something soft into his abdomen.

he can hear your panicked breaths and feel the way your fingers flex continuously against his skin. whatever’s wrong with him must be bad, and it definitely hurts like hell, but daryl takes comfort in the weight of your body against his. you won’t let anything happen to him if you can help it, you’d sworn that fiercely, and if you can’t help it then he doesn’t think anyone could have.

daryl can just barely make out the creaking of the gate being pulled open over the sound of rick laying on the horn.

as they pull in, the gravel of the path rocks the truck and daryl feels the ache in his abdomen bloom again, distracting him from his thoughts, but here, knowing he’s safe and back with his family, he allows himself to drift away.

—

this time, when daryl comes into awareness, the first thing he feels is fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently as if to untangle a couple of knots and snarls.

without even opening his eyes he knows it’s you. he can feel the heat of your body settled next to him and smell the soap you like to bathe with. daryl leans towards you, chasing the warmth of your hand against his skin.

the bandages on his stomach are wrapped tight, but it’s more annoying than anything and the pain has finally, thankfully, subsided to a dull ache. daryl stretches on the cot, trying to loosen him limbs from their inactivity, but what he focuses on is your fingers immediately pulling away.

“daryl?” your voice prods quietly, “you awake?”

he opens his eyes slowly, squinting at the sunlight that streams through the bars of the cell. the privacy sheet isn’t down, actually there’s no sheet at all, daryl notes as he looks out. he must be in one of the cells near hershel’s.

“‘m up,” he grumbles, a cough working its way out of his throat. before he can attempt to clear the dryness, you’re standing to grab a bottle of water off some boxes stacked nearby and pressing it into his hand.

your fingers linger against his wrist as you pull away, but you’re resuming your previous position anyway, in a chair brought right up to his bedside.

daryl hasn’t sat up yet, staring instead at you as one of your hands return to his hair and the other rubs down his arm.

a few quiet moments pass before you speak again, head bowed and voice a little choked, “we almost lost you. i almost lost you.”

“didn’t though,” daryl croaks. he feels your grip tighten on his arm and just knows. knows that you’ve been sitting right here every moment that you could since he went down. knows that you probably haven’t had your hands off him. knows you’ve spent the time, however long it’s been, agonizing over what went wrong and how to keep it from happening ever again. he knows.

“i didn’t,” you agree with a barely restrained sniffle. you refuse to allow the tears beading your waterline to fall, but daryl sees them all the same.

oddly, he feels that familiar warmth blossom in his chest. he hates to see you upset, but to see your love, your heart laid so bare for him? daryl thinks he can finally understand the depth of your affections.

plus one.

to anybody who knew what to look for, it was obvious that you and daryl were.. something.

you remembered when the woodbury residents had really began to settle in, how they began to whisper about ‘the hunter and his lady’.

it had confused you at first. the group knew, of course, nothing could be kept a secret from them for too long, but for strangers? it was odd, given that you weren’t very public with your affections.

regardless, with an entire prison to secure and almost triple the amount of people to provide for, it was nothing to think too hard about. there was always something that needed to be done or something bigger to think about. you couldn't afford to think about it now.

eventually, though, you ended up mentioning it to carol, and the older woman had laughed, a teasing edge to her smile as she considered you.

“i think it has less to do with you and more with him, if i’m being honest,” she said.

“more to do with.. daryl?” you said slowly, raising an incredulous eyebrow, “nah, no way.”

carol hummed, her smile turning knowing, “just watch. he’s more affectionate than he gives himself credit for.”

you’d left the conversation feeling like carol had no idea what she was talking about. later that evening, though, when you were sitting with the group for dinner and daryl was sliding a couple pieces of meat from his plate to yours despite your multiple protests, you understood.

your face must have been the textbook picture of a lightbulb going off because carol sent you a wink from across the table, lips twitching like she was hiding a laugh.

it wasn’t that the woodbury residents were over analyzing the very minimal physical affection that passed between you and daryl in a day, no. instead they were observing his quieter, more unconscious actions.

they saw the way that daryl always took care to come and find you before leaving for a run, even if it meant holding everyone up a little.

and how every so often they could find daryl sharpening a knife that was far too small for him to be wielding safely while you sat nearby, watching with a grateful smile.

and how whenever you were in the same room, you always had his eye. daryl had been adamant about keeping you within his sights while you were on the road, and the habit hadn’t left him just because you were behind walls now.

even now, months later, the newer additions to the prison were starting to catch on quicker and quicker.

they overheard daryl talking to glenn about taking your place on the run later today because you’d overdone it in the sun earlier and he wanted you to get some rest.

they saw you gush excitedly every time daryl brought you back any kind of gift, whether it be a pretty rock that he thought you’d like, or your favorite animal to cook into the stew.

they watched him watch the road every time you left for a run, regardless of who was with you, and also saw him come back to be the first to greet you when you returned if he could help it.

daryl was a quiet lover and a private man if you didn’t know what to look for, but if you did, you’d see that his affections ran just as deep as yours.

your thoughts brought a sleep smile to your face as you stretched out on the cot in your shared cell, waiting for daryl to shut off the lantern on your makeshift nightstand in the corner.

you could barely make him out in the dark, but the weight of him settling in next to you sent you right into his arms, your head pillowed on his chest while his arms came up to wrap around your back.

you tilted your head up to place a small kiss to the bottom of his jaw, mumbling a quiet, “love you.”

daryl’s arms tightened around you momentarily before loosening again. you felt him lean down to press a kiss to your hair in turn.

just over the steady thumping of his heart against your ear, you could hear him whisper back, “love you too.”

[jamiethebeeart]

“But it’s not gay if he’s dead.” Danny’s head whipped around to stare down the street at two guys walking on the other side. He thought he was free of hearing that phrase ever again. Heart thudding in his ears, he crossed the street to tail these two guys. There was no way? Right? I mean Danny was something like 1,000 miles away from his hometown. There was no way two random guys in the big city of Gotham would’ve ever heard of –

“I don’t know man, it’s never been confirmed whether or not the “big guy” was actually… ya know?”

Danny seethed in frustration at the vague conversation. He stepped around a group of kids as he barely made the end of the crosswalk countdown.

“Nah, Red makes too many uncomfortable jokes about death to not have died.”

Danny sped up, weaving in between people to catch up before he lost the conversation in the din.

“It’s Gotham, we all make jokes about death.”

“Ya, but not like him. He seems to revel in them, like he actually kicked the bucket, permanent-like, not like those people who – I don’t know – cardiac arrest and are technically dead for a couple minutes until the EMTs get to them or whatever.”

A car puttered down the road – releasing a huge plume of exhaust in between Danny and the guys. Danny sighed, fully intending to return to his original path with the reassurance that they weren’t talking about Phantom. Then the next damned sentence came out of one of their mouths.

“Ok sure let’s say you’re right. Is it necrophilia if his body started decaying before coming back?”

‘Fuck it’ Danny thought as he turned back around. He had to see how this conversation ended – definitely not because the answer to that question kept him up night. Absolutely not. Call him a cat because he was just curious and not all at invested in the answer.

“Oh! Dude, shut the fuck up! Why would you – that’s disgusting! Are you kidding me!”

“Answer the question Mr. It’s Not Gay if He’s Dead – necrophiliac: yes or no?”

“No? Have you seen Red’s body? No way a dead guy could have muscles like that – I mean you gotta have working bodily functions right? To build muscles or whatever the fuck? Like have you seen his abs? Or, shit, just his arms - I mean swoon worthy, what I wouldn’t give to have him hold -”

“…….”

“- me…. What are ya looking at me like that for?”

“When, exactly, have you seen his abs.”

“Aaaah - that’s not the point –“

“Sure as hell hope that’s the point.” Red Hood stepped out of an alleyway they were walking past. Even with a helmet on, Danny swore the guy stared straight at him. He was so fucked getting caught listening in to this conversation – could he play it cool? Danny was cool right? Yeah, he could totally pull this off, act totally normal and keep walking. Hunching his shoulders some and turning his body away from the three men, he walked past. Or tried to. Red Hood caught the back of his shirt, stopping him from getting away. Unless Danny was willing to expose his powers to get out this situation, the best he could do was play dumb and hope Hood let him go without too much hassle.

“Boss!”

“Hey Boss – you didn’t happen to only hear the second half of that, did you?”

Red Hood growled, “the part about necrophilia or the part about my abs?”

Danny twisted his head back to see Goon #1 turn pale. “Uuuh – uh- um,” met Red Hood’s question.

A choreographed roll of the eyes, “Better question, why are you talking shit out on the streets and not paying attention to your little stalker,” Hood gestured to Danny.

“I’m not a stalker!” Danny huffed. His eyes widened. All three guys looked over at him. ‘SHIT’ Danny thought. He did not want to catch anyone’s attention more than he had, much less all three.

Goon No. 2 looked at him, as he resumed his squirming in Red Hood’s grasp, “So who are you?”

Danny glanced up to see Red Hood staring down at him. Today just wasn’t his day. “Hood,” Danny blurted out.

Silence. The tips of Danny’s ears turned bright red

“Uhm, I mean, a tourist?” “In Crime Alley, kid?”

"I'm not a kid," Danny muttered.

Hood shook Danny’s shirt hard enough to also shake Danny himself. “Try again. I’ve seen you around often enough to know that’s a lie.”

“It’s true!” Danny lied. “I was visiting the city, my wallet got pickpocketed with most of my money, so now I’m… kind of…. Stuck here? Indefinitely?”

Goon No. 1 laughed at him, “do ya think we’re dumb? You have a cellie right? No way you’re ‘stuck here’.”

“Exactly, so who do you work for? Penguin?” A jab towards Danny’s face. “Riddler?” Another jab and a step towards Danny. “Is it Two Face?” Another, even closer jab. Danny went cross-eyed looking at the finger in front of his nose.

“Back off,” Hood said. Danny breathed a sigh of relief at being given some space. And then the next words came out of Red Hood’s mouth, “Get lost you two – and stop gossiping on the street. And you-“ Hood turned back to Danny, “ – you’re coming with me.” Danny gulped. Today was going down as another shit day in the books for sure.

[blackwidownat2814]

Pairing: Tyler Owens x female reader, Tyler Owens x shy!reader, Tyler Owens x insecure!reader

Word Count: 1408

Summary: You begin your new job as a Tornado Wrangler (remotely), and meet most of the team. It isn't until you suffer a little mishap that you meet the man himself.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the wonderful response to the Prologue!!! I didn't think it'd be that much of a hit, so I was surprised with all the love. After finishing this chapter, I feel like it could've been part of the Prologue, but oh well. It's been a while since I've written as well, so bear with me. As always, thanks to my awesome beta, @buckysdollforlife, for their help with this and for creating the header for this story (I LOVE IT!!!!) and bestie, @13braincellsonly, for allowing me the use of their son's name and personality when I needed to come up with a horse. **All descriptions of Ziggy the horse were approved by his momma.** And as always, I will be cross-posting this to AO3. If you see this story anywhere besides AO3 or Tumblr, it's stolen.

City Girl Knows Her Stuff

You became a Wrangler near the end of the season that first year.  Kate picked you up at the airport with two members of the team: Lily and Dani.  Lily immediately pulled you into a hug, chatting a mile a minute about how excited she was to have you on the team.  Dani (perhaps picking up on your shyness) offered a handshake and big smile, welcoming you to Oklahoma.  Kate was more than happy to let Dani and Lily talk your ear off on the drive to Sapulpa, where you’d be staying with Cathy until you found a place.  She knew it was somewhat difficult for you to make friends, so she was happy to see you enjoying a conversation with two new friends.

You got to meet Dexter when he came by in the van to pick up Lily and Dani.  You thought he was funny and enjoyed some very science-centric conversations with him.  Before they all left, Lily let you take her drone for a spin.  You enjoyed it so much that for your birthday later that year, she gifted you a smaller drone that wasn’t quite like hers, but it had a small camera and small, tinny sounding speaker.  She even had it painted in your favorite color.  That would become one of your absolute favorite gifts.  It made you cry.

Like most storm chasers, you had to have a job in the off season, so you got a remote data analyst job with the NOAA offices in Norman and moved out to a place just out of Sapulpa.  This would allow you to visit Cathy at the farm and work on data in the barn workshop the Wranglers had set up.  You even got yourself a cat.  Abandoned due to his looks and runt status (according to the shelter), you snatched him up the first time you saw him.  Black cats didn’t scare you.  Life with Roach (you’d spent quite a bit of time watching The Witcher) was idyllic and you were happy.

By the time you met Boone, the Wranglers felt like family…and Boone felt like the brother you never had.  Like Boone, you were an only child and didn’t have much of an extended family and it was a bit lonely in the beginning.  The difference, however, was that Boone was an outgoing guy and it was easy for him to make friends and talk to people he didn’t know, whereas that scared you half to death most of the time.  You loved his boisterous way of being, but you also appreciated that he (like Dani) could tell when your social battery had run down and turned it down and would sometimes sit with you in a quiet environment.  Sometimes he’d sit and nap while you read or he’d pick up the latest meteorological article (or sometimes the latest comic he picked up at the shop).  He didn’t even make fun of your nickname like others had before, so you trusted him.

The day of Cathy’s pre-tornado season bbq, while cleaning some dishes, you confessed to Boone that you were nervous about meeting the head tornado wrangler himself, Tyler Owens.

“T’s a sweetheart B, you got nothin’ to worry about.  Why are ya nervous?”

“Boone!  He doesn’t know me, what if he doesn’t think I’m a right fit for the team?  What if he doesn’t like how I do work?  Y’all are famous ‘round here, what if he gets irked by the fact that big crowds make me nervous and it takes me forever to become comfortable with people?  You know it’s not easy for me to talk to people I’ve never talked to before”, you cried in exasperation.

“B, imma need you to take a breath, okay?” Boone reassured you as he placed his hands on your shoulders.  “If Ty thought any of those things, I would definitely not be workin’ with ‘em.”

You were so busy trying to get yourself to relax that you missed Kate wandering into the kitchen.

“B, are you freakin’ out about meetin’ Tyler again?” she asked.  You and Boone nodded.  “Well, you don’t have to worry.  He won’t be able to come today, said he had to drive down to Texas to see his parents.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, sending some of your hair floating up.  “Good, I have time to relax about it.  Thanks Kate.”

“Thank Tyler’s parents.”

“Thank you, Mr. & Mrs. Owens!” you said to no one in particular and dried your hands, as you looked over at your friends.  “See you two out there!”

Kate and Boone followed, but stayed on the porch, both taking twin sips from their beers.

“You think either of them has any idea what’s about to happen to ‘em?” Boone asked.

“Meaning that Tyler is going to become enamored the second she opens her mouth?”

“Yup.”

“And that she’s going to have the same thing happen to her the second she comes into contact with that cocky cowboy swagger that he exudes when you meet him the first time?”

“Yup.”

“No, I don’t think either of ‘em knows what’s coming.”

A few days before the chasing season began, you brought Roach down to Cathy’s, where he would be staying while you were out with the Wranglers for your first season on the road.  

While there, you asked Cathy if you could saddle up your favorite of her horses, Zig, nicknamed Ziggy.  He wasn’t the brightest of the bunch; he was the type of horse you’d see in a video because someone thought he was dead but in actuality, he was just sleeping.  You swore that his mother, a horse named KJ, rolled her horse eyes every time someone caught him playing dead.

Ziggy may not have been the sharpest pitchfork in the barn, and may not have enjoyed doing much of anything besides looking dead when he slept, but he enjoyed riding through fields with you.  He knew whenever he saw you approaching with a bowl that he was about to get one of his favorite snacks: ice cubes with apple bits in them.  You put Ziggy’s snack bucket down so he could munch while you brushed him and got him saddled and ready to go for a ride.

When Ziggy let you know that he was done with his snack, you popped in your earbuds and shuffled your favorite classical music playlist on Spotify.  You found it was one of your favorite ways to relax.  After you climbed on Ziggy’s back, and kicked him into gear, you took off for the open fields near the road leading up to the farm.

You’d been out there for a while when you started hearing the faint rumble of an engine, but ignored it because trucks passed near this area all the time.  You probably shouldn’t have ignored it though, because when that modified-to-withstand-tornadoes red Dodge Ram 3500 turned on to the road and took off towards the main house, Ziggy took off after it.  By now, you shouldn’t have been surprised that he recognized the truck or the person in it, but you were…and because you were so thrown off by it, your hands (stupidly) had not been holding the reins.  And because you had not held on, you went flying off Ziggy’s back while he just followed the familiar truck.  Lucky for you, the fall didn’t cause you to go unconscious, but it did knock the wind out of you after you landed hard on your back.

As you attempted to take deep breaths, you heard someone yelling and running towards you, so you tried to sit up.  The voice yelled for you to not move, so you listened and stayed on the ground, with your eyes shut.  You just lay there, waiting.

All of a sudden:

“Are you okay?” the voice asked.  You knew that you knew who the voice belonged to but you were so thrown by being thrown that your brain wasn’t focusing.  You blinked your eyes open, and your vision swam before focusing on the most beautiful face.

“Wha-”

“Are you okay, darlin’?” he asked as he helped you sit up.

“Uh…”

“Did you black out?”

“No.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Cathy’s farm, in Sapulpa.”

“Do you know your name?”  He smiled when you told him.  “Where’d you come in from?”

“New York City.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m the new data analyst for the Wranglers.”

“Well…looks like we got another city girl that knows her stuff.”

Tagging: @ladybirdbeetle7 @omgbrianab @itsdesiree86 @avengersfan25 @keyrani @thedonswife13 @lonelyghosts-stuff

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Main Masterlist

[tinythebunni]

bratty baby

Bratty Reader x ages up!Earth 42!Miles Morales

Pink is readers texting/speaking

Purple is Miles texting/speaking

Miles is 18 in this one!

🐾🎀🧸🎀🐾

“Ion give a fuck what plans you and your lil friends had tonight, I said don’t go out so you’re not goin out.”

For the past two months, Miles has been getting more and more controlling over what you can and can’t do and telling you when you can go out with your friends. It’s been getting on your nerves and while it’s very, very attractive, it’s pissing you off. You barely see your friends anymore and you hate being inside.

“You’re not being fair Miles! I never get to see my friends anymore and I miss them and they miss me!” Even through text he could tell you were pouting right now. Miles could just imagine you kicking your feet on your bed.

“So what, I’m just not enough for you? I’m all you need amor, why do you wanna go see them so badly? You don’t need them.”

“Miles, you know that’s not at all what I’m saying, I’m just saying that I miss my friends and I wanna see them!”

He didn’t understand why you couldn’t get what he was trying to tell you. He just needed you to not go out at night, especially tonight. He couldn’t tell you about him being the Prowler, it’d break your hot pink heart.

“And what I am telling you is that you’re not going out tonight.”

“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do Miles. I’m not your fucking kid!” You were getting angrier by the minute, every word, burned and angered you even more. Usually you’d just listen to him and stay inside like he asked, but tonight you wanted to see what would happen if you pushed his buttons just a little more…

“You talkin real crazy right now, mamí. Ima let it slide tho because I know you’re just mad and in ya feels. But don’t ever say sum crazy shit like that again, because I remember what happened last time you wanted to be bad and go against what I say. Why not run it back, whatchu say ma?”

You stayed silent, fuming and thinking. He was being so unfair and you had no idea why. You didn’t like being left in the dark and he knew this.

“Now this conversation is over, I got shit to do.”

“You right, this conversation is over. Fuck you Morales.”

You silenced your phone and with a shaky hand and butterflies in your stomach, you put your coat on and walked out your house.

After about 20 minutes you started to feel bad. You didn’t know why you were so mean and disobedient to him. You knew he only wanted what was best for you, all he ever did was spoil you and make you feel special. Even though you felt guilty, the fire in your stomach from the anticipation of what was to come made you feel even better.

You had just walked out the door of the club you and your friends went to and started your route home when you heard a noise behind you. You looked around but found nothing. You sped up your pace and started to walk towards your house when you heard it again, this time next to you.

When you looked over, you saw nothing but an empty street and a few lamps on. You continued your walk when something hit your head. You could feel yourself falling but didn’t feel the concrete below you. The last thing you saw being purple AF1’s.

🐾🎀🧸🎀🐾

When you woke up, you were back in your house, an ice pack under your head and blankets pulled up to your chin. You heard your tv on in your living room and quickly got up to investigate. When you opened the door, you were met with the sight of your boyfriend in your couch, sitting there like nothing had happened. His legs spread, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. The thing that caught your eye was the mechanic claw on his right hand.

When he noticed your presence he looked up at you and tilted his head. The glare on his face reignited that fire in your stomach. He stared at you, saying nothing at all as you shifted on your feet, nervous.

When you finally did decide to speak, your tone came out nervous and shaken and not at all like how you meant for it to sound.

“Why are you in my house Miles?”

“I can’t just come over when I wanna?”

“Answer my questions for once! Why are you in my house and why do you have on that same claw that the vigilante on the news wears?”

He knew you were a little daft but he didn’t expect this kind of idiocy.

“C’mon baby, put two and two together. I know you’re smarter than ya look.”

You knew the truth but you didn’t wanna believe it. You stayed silent, staring at him and fiddling with your hands. You were overwhelmed with fear and arousal, confusing you even more than ever.

Once he recognized the look of understanding on your face, he leaned back and curled his finger towards you in a demanding way.

“C’mere, we gotta talk.”

You sat down on the couch next to him, thighs touching and your gaze locked on the ground.

“Don’t be like that, look at me mamí”

When you looked at him, he could see the betrayal in your eyes. But he could also see the need and wanting. Feeling naked under his gaze, you looked back down at your floor,

“You’re him? You’re the guy from the news?” You voice quivered as you spoke, shaking from either fear or the amount of need and attraction you’re feeling right now. This man has killed people, he could kill you at any point! So why does that thought turn you on so much?

“Oh so now you wanna talk?” He asked, a lilt in his tone that let you know he was smirking without even having to look at him

“Don’t be mean Miles. This isn’t the time for jokes.”

“Yea I’m him, what’s it matter to you?” You knew that under the anger and accusation in his voice that he was feeling vulnerable. You crawled on his lap and laid your head on his shoulder and hugged him.

He froze at first, confused with the random affection, but slowly accepted the warmth. “I love you regardless of what you’re doing and who you’re killing.”

Miles almost wanted to scream at you to be afraid of him. He’s killed people. He’s hurt people, innocents even! Why weren’t you running?

You pulled back and reached up to cup his face and inched closer to him, looking down at his lips for permission. He closed the gap between you two and kissed you softly, like he missed you. It was warm and passionate, it wasn’t like this often. You didn’t often get this softness from him. But when you did, it made you feel like the most special girl in the world.

When you pulled back for air, you smiled, giddy with the thought of having your boyfriend back and not mad at you. But when he spoke to you, you knew you were in trouble.

“Don’t think I forgot what happened earlier. I was the one who brought you home, laid you down and tucked you in.” Miles looked down at you, smiling as if something was funny. You couldn’t move, the grip he had on your hips was tight, almost like a warning.

“Are you gonna hurt me?” You knew the answer, you always did. You knew what happened when you disobeyed him and what he says. You remembered what happened the last time.

Miles laughed, a loud hearty one, head tilted back and canines exposed. He chest shook with laughter and you shook in fear on his lap. When he looked down at you once more, he looked different, almost predatory.

“Oh chiquita, Ima do so much more.”

[jlheon]

𝓒𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 ୨୧ 𝐏𝐉𝐒

(𝓹airing) — pjs x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓼ituationship ; angst & fluff (𝔀ordcount) one thousand five-hundred 𝓹eng's note. for my event! + new layout 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. a year later and you still miss park jongseong

you have a recurring dream that happens maybe once a week.

always about the same guy and living the same day. you’ve had it so often that you can recite every little detail that happens if someone were to ask you. though the only person who knows about this dream you keep having is your dream journal. which admittedly seems pointless now if you keep having the same dream, there’s no variety. 

you’ve stopped recording your dreams since it's the same every night that you have a dream worth remembering. you only dream of him.

you wake up next to him, a child that you can only presume is yours jumping on top of you excitedly. she calls you mom and him dad. the three of you get ready, eat breakfast, he kisses you goodbye, and you take your daughter to school.

you drop off your daughter and go to your ordinary office job. then in the late afternoon you drive to pick up your daughter and go home. dinner is premade from the night before and you two wait for your husband. 

a nice family meal. he’d do the dishes while you’d carry the load of laundry.

then eventually you fall asleep in his arms. 

whose? park jongseong, or jay.

you met him in your last year of university. so about two years ago now, but it’s been a year since you saw him.

you knew from the start that he was only spending a year here. 

so the time you spent with him was admittedly short. 

meeting through a mutual friend and spending a lot of time in group settings for the first semester. you still aren’t sure what shifted but you and jay started hanging out in the last semester before graduation alone, which bled into the summer after university until he left the country. 

in those last few months, there was an undeniable amount of chemistry and tension between the two of you. 

it stayed unspoken as you both knew that soon you would be miles apart when jay would leave to start his job for working for his father and you would be running around the city looking for a job, a relationship didn’t fit in the picture. 

you just kind of just acted like a couple without the label or conversation. 

it did more harm than good to your yearning to be with jay. he held you at night like a boyfriend would, took you on dates, and kissed your face. 

you can’t wait to get married. ever since you were a child you’ve fantasized about meeting your husband. when you met jay you were certain it would be him.  

jay is business driven. he wants to continue his father’s company and focus on work for most of his life. jay isn’t looking for anything serious, he doesn’t want to settle down just yet, and he doesn’t do long distance. 

your plans for the future never once intersect with the other. you don’t want the same things. 

you can’t stay away from him though.

one night, the week before jay’s flight, you had the closest talk to about what you were. a conversation that should have happened earlier.

“do you think you’re going to date when you move away?” you ask him while eating the dinner he had made you at his apartment. 

“no,” jay says bluntly, taking a sip of his drink. “i don’t think there’ll be anyone there for me.”

“do you really want to work for your dad?” you pick up a bite from your plate. 

“there’s no one else but me,” he shrugs. “i’ll have to take over eventually, so i might as well start now.” 

“i guess you’re right,” you mumble. “is there anything that would make you stay?”

“you.” jay says honestly. “but we both know it’s too late.”

“i guess you’re right,” you sigh, playing with your food, your appetite is gone. 

“sorry,” he apologizes. “not to get your hopes up or anything.”

“it’s fine, i figured you’d say that,” you get up and walk towards the kitchen to put your dishes in the sink. 

the next day you ask jay when his flight would be leaving at the airport. he tells you that his plane leaves at twelve. you make sure you’re there by ten. 

“jay!” you call out in the crowded airport when you spot the back of his head, his birthmark on his neck showing it’s him. 

“____!” he quickly gets up from his seat at his gate. “you’re early?” 

“i wanted to get you alone before everyone else comes!” 

“oh,” jay scratches the back of his neck. “it’s just you that’s coming.”

“what! why?” you say shocked.

“i said bye to everyone else yesterday, i wanted it to just be us.”

“what if you’re forgetting someone?” you frown. 

“i’m not leaving much behind,” jay shrugs. “moving brings me closer to my family and friends”

that bitter feeling started bubbling up inside of you. it was wrong to want to beg him not to leave you but there was a part of you that always wanted to be just a little selfish. enough to make him stay and commit to you, even long distance would suffice for you, but it wouldn’t for him. you knew that better than everyone. 

“oh,” you look at the ground. “are we not friends?”

“that’s not what i meant-” 

“it’s okay,” you can’t fight the frown on your face. “we’re not anything anyways.”

the rest of the time at the airport you sit at his gate in silence. a spot between you both as an invisible barrier. you badly want to leave and forget about jay but you won’t let him go until he has to get on the plane that will take him thousands of miles away from you. 

you want to talk to him but cannot find any words. tongue-tied next to the boy you’ve grown to love in the short remaining semester of your university career. 

jay cannot seem to find the right words either. you’re here right in front of him and he can’t just hold you close for the last hours you have together. anxiously checking the time on his phone leading up to boarding. 

“boarding starts in 20 minutes,” jay says quietly. 

“oh,” is all you can respond. 

“do you want to go for a walk?” he asks, you nod. 

the two of you walk side by side in circles in the area around his gate. in an uncomfortable silence, you are not used to having with jay. 

“i have to get going,” jay pauses, stopping the both of you in his tracks.

you’re voice is still lost, tears brimming your eyes, you can only wrap your arms around his torso and cry. 

“baby…” he whispers, drawing you in closer, if that was even possible. 

you can’t stop crying, hugging him as your vision turns blurry. 

“i’m sorry,” you finally stutter out, clutching a handful of his shirt. 

“for what?” jay asks in genuine confusion. 

“loving you when you said you weren’t looking for anything.”

“don’t say that,” he replies, feeling his own eyes getting teary. “it’s neither of our faults. time just wasn’t on our side. if i could i’d do anything just to be with you.” he says into your hair. 

you reluctantly let go and find your way out of the airport and to your car. once climbing into the driver's seat you let the rest of it out. sobbing until you could no longer produce any more tears. while jay does the same while he gazes out into the sky from his airplane seat. 

jay regrets not trying with you with every day that passes. he knows that the both of you could have made long-distance work but at the end of the day he knows he cannot live up to what you want. so he deems it best to ghost you while he’s in an american state. for work he claims but it seems more like a form of self-torture.

he can keep it together for the first couple of months of work, but soon his father notices something is up. he becomes frustrated with his son’s work, he hasn’t shown any growth in months and seems overall out of it. he sends him back home and tells jay to find himself before he even thinks about becoming a ceo. 

there’s a knock at your door on a late saturday night. you’re slightly tipsy from some wine you had been sipping on, walking to the door calmly with no idea who it might be.

on the other side of your door is park jongseong. suitcase behind him, with a bouquet with your favorite flowers. 

when he sees your face for the first time in a year he can only hope you’ll let him in to make up lost time.

“jay?” you say in disbelief, rubbing your eyes and wondering if the alcohol has already taken over your system. “you’re home?”

“i'm sorry if i'm coming home too late,” he says handing you the assorted flowers.

“why are you here?”

“‘cause this time i won’t be late.”

[strkie]

is it really you? logan/wolverine x male winter solider variant reader

logan has never really met a winter soldier before, and you’re not entirely what he expects. he’s not complaining, though.

notes. i love both these characters so obviously i had to mash them up - i actually like how this turned out ^_^

details. deadpool and wolverine spoilers, 1,500+ words, he/him pronouns, soft angst, depression mentioned, blood mentioned, winter soldier canon truama.

They meet you in the Void, naturally.

It's not easy to see nor tell what you are at first— you stay clear of them for a few miles after they escape Cassandra, but Logan can smell your dull and metallic scent on the winds and is aware enough of that to keep an eye out, but either Wade doesn't know or doesn't care and keeps distracting him. Logan only knows you're actually a living thing and not just a trick of his mind until he meets the survivors group of hero's that got pruned in Gambit's hideout, seeing you standing in the back shadows like some kind of menacing monster and instantly recognizing your smell. You wear your mask and combat gear, but the most noticeable thing to Logan is your entire left mechanical arm. The metal plates and gears shift together whenever you move, sparking wires when you push your arm a certain direction.

No one really acknowledges you except Laura and Wade, but he only gives you a big gasp and a quip of "the Winter Soldier too?!" before getting caught up in the task of convincing everyone to take down Cassandra. Even so, Logan can't help but stare at you sometimes, acutely aware of your presence and how dead silent you are. You don't talk, you hardly move, but Logan can tell you listen to everything with a vivid sense of attention.

When the hours pass into night, when Laura talks to Logan by that fire pit, he follows her back into the camp after a few long moments and into a separate room overlooking the forest that surrounds the back. It's easy to follow her but he's sure that's just because she knows he is, walking into the room to see you hunched over a table and digging into the machinery of your arm. You clink around with a screwdriver and welder, moving your metal fingers occasionally to see if you fixed anything. When you see Laura though, you pause, letting her grab the screwdriver from your available hand and helping you. You do not flinch when she pokes and prods, so Logan can only assume you don't feel anything or have the pain tolerance near Logan's own, but either way it's an interesting sight to see the two of you huddled together.

Logan shifts his weight on the doorway, rubbing his knuckles distractedly. Your mask is off, letting him see your face clearly, your eyes staring hard but not entirely unkind at him from your spot by the table. You're attractive, in a begrudgingly way to Logan. He's not used to being attracted to someone, no matter if it's a man or not, and it freaks him out a little— so he buries that feeling deep within himself to ignore.

When the fight comes the next day, when everyone is in the middle of their own world and killing, is when Logan actually sees how deadly you are. Your fast, strong, and take the fight on like you have nothing to loose or gain. When the fight ends though, when Cassandra is gone and everyone is crammed into Wades shitty apartment, Logan thinks about you with a heaviness he doesn't expect. You are there too, of course, but for some reason he doesn't know how to interact with you, especially since he hasn't heard you talk once all this time and how you have this brooding demeanor that rivals Logan's own.

But you interact with Laura with hand gestures and sometimes a whisper to the ear, but he never hears and never tries to actually listen since it's not him you are talking to. Still, you cling to Laura's side unless she's in the middle of a bigger group or conversation, and it's only when Logan gives Dogpool to Wade again is when he fishes you out.

You're by the boxed off kitchen, leaning against the wall near the fridge with a red solo cup that Laura obviously is making you drink, just holding it awkwardly in your hand. You have your combat gear still on but there's a red flannel on your shoulders over the rest to hide your arm, not that it really matters in this crowd, but you seem insecure about it. Logan pretends to be there for something else, obviously— getting another round of fruit punch before he acknowledges you.

"So what's up with you?" He tries not to actively be an ass, but it's hard considering you acutely remind him of himself. Your eyes turn to stare at him, and even without your facial mask covering the bottom half of your face you are still stoic and nonchalant. You don't answer him for long enough that Logan almsot shrugs and calls the whole attempt off— but then you answer in a quiet, albeit rough voice.

"I don't know how to socialize." You say it so pitifully that Logan stops all his movements to consider the situation. He nearly wants to groan in frustration because, even though he is trying, he really doesn't want to try sometimes. But you stand there sadly and still and Logan does internally groan this time.

"Well," He says going to stand next to you, though a comfortable distance away. "How do you know Laura?" You don't turn to the side to look directly at him, but he can feel your surprise radiating off of you at his attempt at socializing. Shifting from foot to foot, you answer slowly.

"I was pruned when I didn't kill Howard Stark, so I'm not- I wasn't in a good headspace. Laura found me before Cassandra did and helped me be... human again." You continue to look forward awkwardly, but you do seem more comfortable the more Logan listens to you.

Logan sits with your explanation for a moment, letting himself have the opportunity to think over his next words. It's not everyday someone like you comes into his life, and he doesn't even mean that you're attractive— he means how complex you are, especially with your long past and how you're trying to find yourself again. He can relate, honestly. When he met the X-Men— Charles— for the first time, Logan wasn't anywhere like he is before they died, or even who he is nowadays. He was a shell walking through life with no help, only looking to survive instead of live. So, yeah, he can understand, but actually seeing someone else be like that hurts in a very vulnerable manner.

"Do you have a place to stay?" He blurts out, surprising himself. You don't show much emotion besides what you reply.

"Laura said I could stay with her." You pause for a moment, pondering. "But I'm not sure what I'll do in this world, especially if their Winter Soldier is still... here." You talk slowly, trying to keep up the conversation yet also trying not to be depressing.

"I'm sure Wade wouldn't mind an extra roommate." Logan says, not caring if Wade actually cares or not because either way he's sure Wade can be persuaded by a couple good stabs.

You actually turn to look solely on Logan now, obviously shocked at the prospect, but you don't seem unwilling either. You let it sink in for a moment, and that's when Logan sees you smile for the first time.

It starts like that, although slowly. You eventually do talk to Laura and Wade about the apartment situation— Laura is obviously very pleased with this outcome if her expression is anything to go by, and Wade is actually quite happy too— but you do talk to Al about it too, who says you and Logan eventually do need to make an income if you can live here. You're not surprised nor upset by this— if you're gonna live in this new world you need employment unfortunately, but you also know the TVA set you up with your own documents to help with that.

You sleep on the couch that rolls into a bed and (some awkwardness on his part aside) Logan eventually bunks with you. You're not complaining at all— when you were in HYDRAs hands the situations were very vastly different and worse, so loading up with someone is not uncomfortable for you, especially when this person is not actively trying to kill you. But also because of this, you are used to curling up into tight spaces despite your bigger size and you don't understand why Logan finds that sad at first, so you stick to one side of the couch bed easily. When Logan realizes the reasoning for this, he slowly starts to move into your space each night. You're not complaining with this, either.

When you're not asleep, you've found yourself a bouncer job at the local nightclub down the street, just near enough that you can walk there. With the Super Soldier Serum still in your veins that grant you heightened senses and strength, it's a relatively easy job, though you get home at weird hours. This isn't really a problem since Logan hardly sleeps, Wade is Wade, and Al has a separate room. But if you're not sleeping before work, Laura has taken it upon herself to teach you how to bake and do laundry the "normal" way, which basically means not just stealing someone else's clothes or washing out primarily blood.

But it's... nice. It's domestic and healthy, two things you aren't accustomed to, and it gets even better since Logan always joins too. At first he didn't— he made it very apparent that he knew how to do these things and found no fun in it, especially baking— but then he joined anyway and hasn't left since. Maybe it's for you, maybe it's for Laura or maybe it's for other reasons you don't know, but you're happy he's around. He's never really involved with the process, but he always stays around to quip or talk about whatever Laura talks about, sometimes just asking you about your job.

Since you technically have no name in his dimension, it's easy to blend into life and start new, but honestly Logan is the one that makes you realize that. He's not nice, he's mean and tough, but then he asks about your day or makes sure you're comfortable when there's a crowd or finishes your dinner plate secretly just so Wade doesn't get offended that you didn't have a lot of his food. You don't understand immediately that you love him, and he can say the same. You just do, and he just does, and it's perfect, even when it's not perfect.

Overtime, you gradually heal your inner wounds and Logan does too, if not slowly, but it happens nonetheless. You kiss him one night coming home from work after waking him up by bouncing on the couch bed, making him grumpy then happy when you suddenly kiss his face. It's obviously unexpected, but it's too easy to continue kissing and loving on him, especially when he reciprocates, and that's how you fall asleep: tucked under him as he sleeps nearly on top of you, nose in your neck and smiling. You both sleep in til one in the afternoon, only waking up from the Dogpool climbing over you both.

[explorevenus]

addicted ♡ re2r!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call the cops

word count - 2.9k

description - by the end of the summer, you're bound for college and your boyfriend leon is bound for his shiny new police officer job in raccoon city. knowing your relationship could be threatened by the distance, your need for each other has become insatiable.

tags/warnings - porn with plot, soft dom leon, car sex, cunnilingus (f receiving), fingering, p in v, creampie, breeding kink, mildly angsty, no use of (Y/N)

a/n - this was a request by my beautiful goth puppy wife chaos baby @nexysworld <333 special thanks to @dollfacefantasy for beta reading and believing in me and also being my momager <3

recommended listening - addicted by saving abel

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w; <3

-venus ♡

Young adulthood felt so scary and new and weird.

You and Leon had been dating since high school and now you were fully legal adults, figuring out what to do with your lives and pretending you would both fit together seamlessly in each other’s plans. Just weeks ago he had graduated from the police academy and you had until the end of the summer to spend as much time together as possible before he would move into the city to become an officer, and you would be moving states away to attend college.

You told each other you would visit as often as possible, that you would call every day, that as soon as you finished school you would move back to Raccoon City to be with him, or he would find a hiring police station near you to settle into, and you would live happily ever after.

But there was a silent, knowing melancholy that hung over you all the while, and it intensified every day. Neither of you wanted to address it, for fear of spoiling what little time you had left, so it just hung there unspoken as you clung to each other for dear life.

Leon knocked quietly on your door, hoping not to wake your roommates. It was a crisp, clear summer evening and the forecast indicated a meteor shower would be visible, so as soon as he finished up at work, he took the top off of his Jeep, loaded the back with blankets and made his way to you.

His heart softened at the image of you wrapped in a blanket, ducking out of your apartment to follow him out to the car. It was nearing midnight and you were already in pajamas, but it felt right that way. Comfortable. 

Soon enough you were sipping slushies from the gas station, your sneakers kicked up on the dashboard and the wind rushing through your hair as Leon drove the two of you up the base of the Arklay Mountains. There was a little lookout tucked away less than five miles up, one you frequented together practically since you met. This lookout had seen numerous makeouts and unquantifiable hours of conversation, silly and stupid and serious and solemn.

The car slowed to a stop and Leon threw it in park, moving his seat back so he could get comfortable. His lips were stained pink with cherry slush as he looked over to you with a gentle smile.

“Pretty, huh?” He asked, watching as you stared up at the sky, awe-filled eyes searching every gap in the void for a shooting star. His warm, broad hand still rested on your thigh, thumb skimming over the soft fabric of your sweatpants in a gentle caress. 

Relaxing into his touch, you nodded, looking over at him now. Your own lips and tongue were tinted blue and what remained of your slushie was cold in the palm of your hand. It was funny, you thought, that you’d driven all the way out here to watch the meteor shower but still, you couldn’t help but watch each other. The breeze blew warm and the radio played lowly.

“You’re pretty,” You replied quietly, playing with his fingers. Even having been together for years, he still managed to make you shy.

Leon let out a soft laugh and shook his head, his other hand coming forward to tip your chin up. “You’re pretty too,” He began, and you were just beginning to blush when he added, “Pretty corny.”

You threw your head back and groaned dramatically, swatting at his chest. “You’re pretty annoying,” You griped, but before you could continue your playful rant, he guided you back toward him and pressed his lips against your own, and just like always, you melted almost instantaneously. 

At the start the kiss was quite tender, communicating a sense of longing and connection that you had only ever felt with him. His thumb traced your jaw while his grip tightened on your thigh in an affectionate little squeeze and you felt as though you could sit here with him forever, craning your neck over the center console of his Jeep just to kiss him beneath the stars, just to breathe him in, to be with him. Leon was your safe place and even the thought of being away from him sent you into withdrawals.

Your shaking hand came up to cradle the back of his neck, fingers curling into his golden hair as you took it upon yourself to deepen the kiss, wanting to get as much of him as you could. You wanted to horde him all to yourself, you wanted to sink into him and have him sink into you, to pause time and keep him there until you were sick of each other, though you knew no length of time together would ever feel like enough. Tongue swiping against his lower lip, you flattened your palm over the crotch of his jeans and massaged gently.

“F-Fuck, baby,” Leon grunted into your mouth, feeling all the blood rush to his cock in response to your touch and your languid kisses. “I’m gonna miss this…”

“Don’t,” You whispered, “I don’t wanna talk about it… Just wanna feel you…”

With a short nod of understanding he reconnected your lips, sliding his hand beneath the waistband of your sweatpants to dip a finger into your folds, delighted at the realization that you had gone without panties for the evening. He grinned into the kiss and slipped his tongue past you, the pads of his fingers quickly finding your clit with practiced ease.

Your lashes fluttered and your thighs shifted together, a quiet mewl of pleasure tumbling from you as you bucked up into his hand. With each passing second your heart was beating faster and you could feel the wetness collecting beneath his touch.

“Mm, my pretty baby,” He sighed out, the pad of his thumb flicking at your clit while his middle and index fingers petted at your hole. “Put your seat back. Let me taste you.”

There wasn’t a beat of hesitation as you reached down to recline your seat and push it back, and as you did so, Leon was making quick work of climbing over the center console to join you in the passenger seat. He gripped your thighs and pushed your legs up to rest on the dashboard as he yanked your sweatpants down in one swift motion, wasting no time smothering your plush inner thighs with kisses.

His pupils dilated by the scent of your cunt alone, and while he initially planned on taking his time with you, he just couldn’t help himself. Cramped down on the floor of his own passenger seat, Leon’s fingertips printed into your thighs as he dove forward to kiss and lap at your wetness, drinking you up with a deep, wanton need. 

You tensed at the feeling, glittery heat washing over you before you relaxed into his mouth and brought one hand down to tug at his hair, encouraging him further. Your hazy eyes blinked open to look straight up at the sky, the cool night air foreign on your most intimate parts, but not unwelcome. It was quiet out, serene, private, as though you and Leon were the last two people on Earth. A shooting star cast across the sky in a blur, and you quickly realized that your wish was for you and Leon to be the last two people on Earth. Maybe that would be nice. At least your time together wouldn’t be so limited.

Losing Leon felt like losing a limb, even if he was only moving a few hours away to the other side of the mountain. Another shooting star streaked across the night sky, and you barely even noticed you had said something until you already finished speaking, “I wish you could stay… I feel like I can’t breathe without you…”

He hummed into your slick pussy, tongue swirling over your bud before pulling back just far enough to respond, “Not talking about it, baby, remember?”

Your face scrunched up a little bit as you realized your mistake and nodded, returning your focus to the glittering stars above you while your boyfriend sucked and licked at your cunt like he was starving. Soon enough his middle and index fingers were prodding at your hole, tracing the shape of you before sinking deep into your sticky, wet heat, your needy walls sucking him in.

What you didn’t know was that Leon had been focusing so much pleasure on you over the summer because it felt like making up for what he wouldn’t be able to do from thousands of miles away in the fall. You were the only thing he could bring himself to think about since roughly halfway to graduation at the police academy, when he was beginning to pester Raccoon City Police Department with his exemplary test scores and ever-growing resume– by the end of the year you would have both gone so far in separate directions, and long distance wasn’t something you ever excelled at. He knew that the day he left for Raccoon City, he would be effectively nailing the coffin shut.

So he bided his time by fucking you senseless almost daily, eating you out, pinning you down and driving you to tears with your toys, feeling every inch of you beneath his hands just so he wouldn’t forget. Every moan, every mewl, every whimper and sob and plea from you was like music to his ears, like pure heroin directly to the vein. Just like a drug, the better it felt in the moment, the more he knew it would hurt you both later on.

He felt you bucking into his nose and whining quietly, and every twitch of your muscles made his cock throb in his jeans. Leon couldn’t take it anymore, he needed you now.

Pulling back from your core, Leon moved quickly to undo his belt and shove his jeans down his thighs, desperate for some relief from the pressure and intoxicating desire. He was already dribbling precum just from the taste of you, a distinct wet patch growing at the front of his soft blue boxers that soon joined his pants down his legs, and shortly thereafter he was clumsily crawling over you in the passenger seat of his Jeep.

Almost like muscle memory, your arm fell behind you in a blind search for your purse in the back seat. You quickly retrieved it, digging through its contents as Leon’s hands shoved their way up your shirt to paw at your breasts, devouring your throat with kisses, making it a little difficult to maintain your focus. Finally you found what you were looking for, fingers coming into contact with that trusty little box… only to find it empty.

“L-Leon… mm, babe, hey,” You panted in an attempt to gather his attention. He hummed a barely noticeable sound of acknowledgment, but otherwise didn’t budge. You let him continue for a lingering second before breaking the news in a near whisper, “Leon, we’re out of condoms…”

He paused, breaths short and hips rutting into your own with need, his woefully hard cock grinding against your slit. While his body acted on its own in search of any friction he could get, his mind was spinning. He knew you weren’t on birth control and he knew a risk like this could ruin everything you’d both worked so hard for… but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

In fact, it sort of spurred him on.

He buried his face into your neck again and sucked a harsh, dark mark into your skin, a feeling of possessiveness taking root in him. “Then we’re gonna risk it,” He said definitively, his voice low and almost growling in your ear. “Just think about it, sweetheart… Maybe if you let me knock you up, you can forget all about college… I could just whisk you away to the city with me and take care of you for the rest of our lives…”

A rush of heat struck you like a moving car and knocked the air out of your lungs. You knew it would be stupid to throw away your scholarships and every dream you’d had for yourself on a whim, but it was admittedly a nice fantasy at the very least. Arching into the palm of his hand, you relented.

“F-Fuck, fuck… Fuck me, Leon, please, just fuck me…”

And just as you anticipated, he took you up on that. A cool breeze rushed through the open vehicle as he lined himself up at your hole and drove into you, his vision going white for a second just at the intensity of the pleasure he felt, being engulfed by you again. Your body was heaven on Earth to him, you were heaven on Earth to him. 

He sheathed into you down to the hilt with a low groan, one hand clutching your hip and the other tangled in your hair. Leon tugged your head aside by your hair so he could speak directly into your ear, “You’re mine, you hear me? All mine. My girl, my wife, my pretty little baby mama…”

Each declaration was punctuated by a thrust of the hips, his swollen, leaking cock stuffed so deeply inside you that it was almost like you could feel him in your throat. Any and all concerns about your future, individually and as a couple, burned to ash in the far back of your mind as he fucked into with fervor. In this moment, Leon was all that mattered.

You quivered and writhed beneath him, your gummy insides pulsing and clenching around his length, and even with the top off the Jeep, the windows were beginning to accumulate a subtle fog on them. The two of you were hot and slick with sweat, drowning in the heat of each other and the late summer air.

“Leon,” You moaned, nails biting into his shoulders as you clung to him for dear life, for any shred of stability. “Make me yours…”

At this point, you couldn’t even tell if you were serious, and similarly to Leon, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were drunk on him and everything about him, the warmth of his skin, the pheromones that clung to his sweat, the strong grip of his hands and the sound of his breaths and the feeling of him railing into you like you were made for each other. 

“Plannin’ on it, baby,” He said in response, words breathy and a smug grin tugging at his lips. He let go of your hair to plant his hand against the window as he increased his pace, plunging into you with ardor, his balls heavy and aching for release. “Gonna keep you all to myself, give you everything you ever wanted.”

The hand of his that was holding your hip just a moment ago was now wedging itself down between you to rub steady circles into your clit. You jolted at the contact, an incoherent cry tumbling from you, molten heat pooling up in your stomach. His earlier ministrations left both him and you especially sensitive and nearing your climaxes.

He could feel your peak approaching through the way you were convulsing around him, your wet cunt tightening and pulling him deeper with each stroke until he couldn’t even think anymore. Every last one of his senses was clouded– no, drenched with you. His pace stuttered just a little bit as he decided he couldn’t possibly hold back any longer.

With a loud, pleasured groan of your name, Leon stilled inside you as a torrent of cum flooded your waiting womb, warming you from the inside. What finally pushed you over the edge into your own release was Leon’s sly fingers tugging and pinching at your bud with expertise.

“G-God, fuck,” You sobbed, breaking skin as your nails raked down his strong back and gripped him as close to you as you could manage. Tears were pricking at your eyes as you coated his cock with your release, leaving behind a creamy white ring of arousal at the base of his softening sex.

Silence fell over the car as you clung to each other, broken only by your gasping breaths for oxygen. Leon buried his face into your shoulder and kissed the sizable hickie he’d left you earlier, still fresh and stinging.

“Did so good for me,” He huffed into your ear, nibbling at your lobe. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Eventually he pulled out, a sticky mixture of your juices dribbling out of your spent hole and down to the leather seat below you. As Leon climbed less than gracefully out of the passenger seat with his pants around his knees, you were both startled by the unexpected sight of headlights traveling up the very same mountain road that led you here, and the vehicle was pulling into the lookout.

“Shit,” Leon grumbled, rushing to fix his pants and toss you a blanket from the back seat to cover up with, given your sweatpants were lost somewhere on the floor of the car.

The intruding vehicle pulled up right behind Leon’s Jeep, headlights shining into the cabin as a person got out of the driver’s side… with a flashlight. Of course it had to be a cop.

Leon took a deep breath before rolling his window down with a polite smile. “Evening, officer… Nice night, isn’t it?”

[selyeji]

conversations

joão félix x reader (requested)

summary : falling inlove with someone you barely knew wasn’t on your list, especially when a simple search could be done.

(based on “a dream with a baseball player” by faye webster)

warnings : none

friday afternoon, the park was quiet and almost empty. people still working their shift and high school students still not released from their classes. the only sound that could be heard were footsteps and gushes of wind.

you sat on a wooden bench, legs crossed, with your book on your hand. the tree that stood near provided shade, protecting you from the sun. your mind consuming each word typed out on the pages, eyes darting from line to line.

bark. bark.

snapping back to reality from your reading session, you turn your head to see a short brown dog standing beside you, the little bell on its collar ringing. the dog walks up to your lap, circling around.

a bit surprised, you started to pet him. scratching his chin, based on his expression, it seems that was his favorite spot. before you could move him, you heard gasping and footsteps.

“floki… sorry for disturbing you, accidentally let him go and he ran.” a young man approached “may i?” he asked, gesturing to the empty spot next to you. you nod.

carrying the dog, who is floki, to the mans hands. his paws started to reach out for you. “seems like he likes you alot.” the man pats flokis head while giggling.

“he runs fast for a small dog.” you mumbled, showing a cheeky grin. “i forgot to introduce myself, sorry, my name is joão félix.” he said, handing out his palm. his thick accent slipping out, you assume he wasn’t from around here.

“y/n, nice to meet you.” you responded. his soft moist skin meeting yours as you shook his hand gently.

“are you from around here?” you ask, once your hands separate from each other. “no actually, here for work reason.” he responded.

“oh, that makes sense.”

“how’d you guess?”

“the accent im pretty sure.” you giggle off.

before you knew it, the conversation kept on going. your book long forgotten and floki being ignored. you both leave when the sun was no longer in sight.

you sat in the bathtub, the hot water surrounding your body. you were thinking about the entire day, you couldn’t stop thinking about the man you met, he was handsome and was a nice person to talk to. his hair was a nice shade of brown, although he wore a cap the entire time. he had a nice bright smile, you could recognize it from miles away.

you splashed some water in your face, trying to bring yourself back to reality. there was no way you could meet him again, it’s more likely this would be the first and last time you’ll ever meet. you couldn’t fall inlove with a stranger, you barely knew him.

once you dried up, did you skincare and laid in bed. you shut down those feelings from earlier. you never expected yourself to like someone so easily, it was best to never have high expectations. you wrap yourself under the blanket, slowly drifting to sleep.

…

saturday lunch, you were in the bookstore, organizing the new stock. working here wasn’t all bad, most customers were quiet and humble, not too much problems aside from people not properly returning books in the right shelf. the job didn’t pay well nor bad, it helped you get through your last year of college.

the door bells chime, indicating someone entering. you still continue with your work, most people didn’t really want employees talk to them unless they approach first. you respected this privacy until you felt a small tap on your shoulder.

there it was, that white and straight teeth smile. “joão? i didn’t expect to see you here.” you said, disregarding the books you still didn’t place back.

“same here, i was actually hoping to see you later, the same spot.” he said, hands in pocket continuing to smile. he had his hood on, still covering his head. you were surprised especially with todays weather. you shrugged it off, continuing the conversation.

“and i was hoping to see floki, poor boy must miss me alooott…” you said, acting dramatic and sad for the dog. wiping away your fake and non-existent tears.

“hey im still here…” joao pouted and brows curved.

“you’re not a cute dog, but close enough.” you shrug, keeping your smile on. “no but seriously, joao can i help you with anything? i need to get back to work.”

“just need to buy this book actually…” he said, showing a picture on his phone. you immediately recognize it, it was one of the books you restocked.

“heres a magic trick actually,” you said pulling out the book without moving a step. your face showing a cheeky grin as you raise your eyebrows, before the both of you giggle quietly.

“thanks.” he said, leaving you to go up to the cashier. you quietly continued with your work, humming while joao walks pass. “i’ll meet you later?” he yelled once his hand held the door handle.

you hummed but loud enough for him to hear. he soon left, the bells still chiming. you guessed he heard your response. before going to the back for more stock, your co-worker elbowed you.

“ow… what was that for?” you said, annoyed. “i definitely did not expect you to actually fall in love with someone.” he said.

“i don’t like him like that, plus we just met.” you replied. ignoring his comments, it was always like this during work. both you and him gossiped about university, helping in removing weight from your thoughts.

hours passed, your shift ended. meeting at your new usual spot, he was already there waiting for you. you quietly sat down beside him. leaning your back relaxingly. this time you saw floki but sat between you too.

“you brought floki?” you said with a smile across your cheeks. petting the dog as he jumped to your arms. patting the brown skin and massaging his cheeks.

“of course. he likes you alot after all.”

the conversation passed, words exchanged and before you knew it, it was already late. even street lights started to turn on. illuminate a yellow light across the neutral blue sky.

you went back home, changing clothes and researching on some papers. but it felt like you couldn’t intake any information at all, no matter how many times you repeat it in your head.

it felt impossible when the only thing you could think of was the next time you met joao. you thought about what you two would talk about. would it be about food? music? art? sports? who knew.

you started to think about your co-workers words from earlier. perhaps he was right, you were inlove. but you kept how, there was so many things to unpack about him and how could you even fall inlove?

days passed, each and every day was the same spot, same time, and same person. each word that came out was filled with genuine emotions and truth. you two were each others personal journal, instead of writing it down.

wednesday, your co-worker invited you to a football match. it was hosted in the stadium nearby so you gladly accepted. you barely knew anything about it aside from the world cup and ultras seen walking in the streets.

you two sat near the field, getting a closer view of the match. at first you didn’t pay attention to the players, just watching the ball whether it went in the net or not.

the crowd cheered, goal scored for barcelona. the name felix was yelled around, that name rung a bell. there was no way, i mean, it couldn’t hurt to check? and you were horribly wrong, joao felix the same guy you talked to everyday celebrating. hugging his teammates and yelling.

you two locked eyes, you of course gave a mad confused look to him. he responded back with a wink and a smile. you rolled your eyes at him, until your co-worker looked at you.

“did he just wink at you?” he screamed through the crowds screams. “that fucker…” you sighed out.

“he was the guy yesterday!?” he kept yelling even more.

“i thought you knew what he looked like?”

“i wasn’t even wearing my glasses!”

you just laid back to your seat, covering your face with your hoodie. contemplating about every single word you said to him, how embarrassing it was. you didn’t even search his name just to find his instagram.

the match ended, people started to find their way out the stadium. the both of you sat still, waiting for lesser people in the exits so you could go out smoothly.

“hey! y/n!” a voice yelled. you raise your head to see joao leaning towards the railing.

“joaoo… you didn’t tell me you were a professional football player…” you whined out while walking towards him.

“i guess i told you everything about me except that.” he laughed it off.

joao took off his jersey, his hair wet from sweat and his arm muscles defined by the lights. he took out a marker and signed the jersey. wrapping the shirt around your neck.

“keep it for me.” he said, running off before you could say a single word.

“holy shit. y/n l/n with the joao felix. do not fumble that man.” your co-worker said, holding on both of your shoulders.

you walked out the stadium, still thinking about what happened. the two of you walk your separate ways, once you arrived home, you threw yourself on the couch.

unfolding the jersey, flipping it to see the back. joao felix, 14, his signature… and his phone number. you were wondering the past days whether you would exchange phone numbers, you immediately took your phone and typed in the numbers. texting with a simple hey.

you decided to take a shower, not expecting a response right away. after all he’s probably busy celebrating. the entire time in the shower, you thought about his message, aswell as your response. ready for any possible message.

once you got out, you laid in bed. reading his message and replying back. this went on for hours, quickly typing back as your phones brightness glowed in the dark room, lighting up his message. still wearing his name on your back. this was just the start of a prospering relationship.

daily click to help palestine

a/n : 2 jamal fics and a fermin fic coming up… im doing the requests i swear im just reaaaallly slow 😭😭

i’ll probably make a part2 of this but based off another song

[prettyboykatsuki]

I LIKE IT BETTER WHEN YOU CAN'T KEEP WARM | ODXNY

✮ tags ; heavy themes, gender neutral reader, mentions of past suicidal ideation, getting together, romantic tension, angst to fluff, extremely lovey-dovey ending, some implicit and suggestive content (lit one paragraph n non descript), themes of touch starvation, small height difference (reader is shorter)

✮ wc ; 6.3k (this is so shameful bye forever)

✮ a/n ; every time a semester ends i lose my mind and me writing this in several hours straight is evidence. if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a character study with the central theme of loneliness, i'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

i will spare you the insane rambling for the authors note at the bottom of this fic.

✮ synopsis ; he wants something. to live maybe. and if he could be a little selfish, to be with you. he wants that, too.

Bright.

Could just be the dark room he keeps himself in talking. His computer system and encrypted Internet browsers are all in dark mode - and his desktop set-up doesn’t have any L.E.D. strip lights to keep him company. He prefers it that way, the ambiance a better environment to work in  when he’s doing his usual rounds. Down to the programs U.I. - Odxny spends most of his time in perpetual darkness. Cozy and familiar - totally safe and secure. Nothing but the low whirrs of a computers fan and the faint blinking of routers to keep him company.

You’re the brightest thing he’s had on his screen in a long time. You’ve got white walls and no precaution, really. You’re sitting at your own desktop - and he can see everything of your life in the background of where you sit. There are photos of you graduating high school, being around unnamed friends, vacations and trips, and head shots like the kind you take for a resume. It’s all so personal. Bookshelves, trinkets, poorly made clay sculptures. Posters of musicians you like and Studio Ghibli movies. Evidence of life surrounds you like a halo.

Awful. Angel comparisons to someone he’s only known for a day make him wonder if he’s more pathetic than he thought. He probably shouldn’t think so hard about a stranger, a real stranger. Thrim generated randomly, though he thinks it sounds like a name. Finds it fun to say, for better or worse.

Natural light pours in from a window nearby, casting shadows in your room. He already knows you, in a way. He did the background search. Where you were born, raised, grew up.  The schools you went too, the career you seek. Bits and pieces of you are all scattered in his memory and are not at all thorough. He wasn’t really trying for that at the time, just needed to know if you were dangerous. There’s a cognitive dissonance. To know a life so thoroughly and to witness it is completely, and utterly different.

There’s miles between you. Must be thousands. He can’t remember the last time he’s really met someone, though. It’s hard not to notice that this feels akin to that. Like the embers of a campfire, glowing but not burning. A comfortable warmth.

Bright. His screen is very bright talking to you. Even obscured behind the mask, it’s a little difficult to look at it and leaves him on edge - restless and mildly painful.

When his vision adjusts though, there’s clarity. A person, a stranger - with an exceptionally nice laugh and who is exceptionally trusting. Odxny tries not to think too hard about the feeling of warmth that flutters at your overflowing sincerity.

The conversation is easy.

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

Odxny pretends to think on it. “Enough to keep you around.”

“See you later.”

“See you.”

You accompany your last words with a wave - short and sweet. Darkness pulls him in, back where he started. He has a mild headache from all the light.

__

You pick up on the language better than he thought you would.

He underestimated you. Can you blame him? Your choice is language is ArnoldC, for fucksake. Sure, he has limited knowledge on esoteric languages but can it really be in-depth enough to show you the basics.

(It can. Or at least, Od presumes this to be the case because you’re rather helpful in Incri’s hacks and Incri is hardly helpful to anyone in the world, no less the server.)

You pick up on things quickly with little guidance - always to the point and not usually making many errors. He has to commend your abilities and give you credit where it’s due. It’s not a hard language to learn, but for anyone with no familiarity with coding at all he’d expect there to be a learning curve. Even if you had coding language, it’s not like you knew SQL coming in.

You fit strangely well into the server somehow. You’re happy to learn and nonplussed about helping with small things, though you don’t know these people at all and have no reason to participate in their nonsense. You talk to Incri fine, and manage to get Pep to accidentally reveal telling information. Odxny finds all of this rather… entertaining maybe. More than impressive, really.

He has a hard time making sense of the feeling. He would hope you don’t think you’re under duress - given the fact your relationship in two days has been pleasant. Then again - maybe he’s missed some social cue and you do think that. It’s possible. After all, he doesn’t actually remember the last time he’s spoken verbally to anyone with very, very few exceptions.

He manages to call you again after the fact - opens the call with sincere and heartfelt congrats and feels pleasant seeing you take the compliment in stride.

You land on the subject of programming again, inevitably. He interrogates you a little more over your choice in language - almost like he can’t help himself. It’s basic curiosity. You had said you were the best in ArnoldC. A little research proved that to be true, presence of you in the forums of various esolang pages. He landed on many things. You’re the best at ArnoldC, but you also know Brainfuck for some ridiculous reason.

He thinks you’re a little ridiculous in general.

“It’s really for the love of the game, huh?”

You nod when he asks this. Smiling, bright and unbothered with a soft edge of smug pride that makes the muscles of his face twitch up. “Mhm. I like my little collection.

Odxny doesn’t doubt it for even a minute. He’s seen the proof, but perhaps he doesn’t need to mention that. “Your trophy case of ridiculous language?”

Your eyes come to life all of a sudden. “Wait. A real trophy case would actually be so cool.”

He pauses, blinking as the words sink before a smile breaks onto his face helplessly. “That was not to enable you.”

“Too late. I’m already looking up the ugliest wood trim display cases I can find.”

The laugh comes naturally. “You really are just like this?”

You look proud again. “What? Fun?”

Yes, Odxny thinks but doesn’t say. “Baffling.”

You ask Odxny to elaborate and he does. The conversation flows with frustrating ease. So easily that he mouths off about his plans to you without a second thought. He doesn’t know why he does it. Not really. He’s thought it through over and over - so it’s not like he needs to disclose it. He made his choice.

He thinks about moving it along. About ending the call or simply brushing past without going into any detail.

When he glances at the screen, you’ve got a pillow in your lap and your eyes completely focused on him. There’s that feeling again, alarming clarity in your gaze and brightness that causes him immense unease in the world he’s made of nihilistic, apathetic darkness. There’s a plan, always has been. He’ll do this and disappear and the world will soon forget him. If it happens that way, than at least this loneliness is a choice he’s made for himself and not something the world has cruelly decided for him.

His lips move faster than his head, than even his heart. Compelled by a nameless and brilliant force. “I don’t have any reason to stay. I’m just — tired. Of everything.”

“No reasons? Nothing makes you happy here?”

His response is measured. Quiet. It’s not secret. He finds his voice crumbles around the words anyway as if they’re a confession. “Not for a long time. I don’t feel much of anything, really. It is what it is.”

You frown. He’s seen it all before. Heard it all before. “That’s…”

He cuts you off quickly.

“We just met. And we’ll be strangers again soon enough.” He says with as much conviction and resolve as he can possible manage. Who he’s convincing remains unclear. “So, not to be cold but..you know.”

The disappointment in your face leaves an impression, but you relent. He tries to make amends for the depressing conversation of talking again and you perk up so genuinely it makes want to cry, in a distant and foreign way.

“Catch you later, then.” He says, and closes at out the call. The room falls dark for the second time. He blinks a few times to get rid of the light clouding his vision.

__

Wnpep is eager to teach you on the third day.

You’re eager in reply - matching energy with sharp wit and enthusiasm. Wnepep is a better teacher than Incri by several miles. Evident in how much faster everything falls into place for you. Not that you really need too much help in the first place. You break down the crumbling walls of an insurance scam with ease and come out of the other side more accomplished.

It’s a noble last hack, Odxny thinks.  Not unsurprising from Pep - unofficially the most sane and likeable member. He figured it’d be something like this less than a matter of personal vengeance.

You go back and forth for a bit in admin chat. Od types an apology about winding you up and tries not to read too much into the innuendo of it as you reply back with your own faux offended replies. He insists he’s somewhat sorry, and you’re far from believing him.

He finds himself grinning at his screen while he texts you mid conversation. When the realization hits, he almost curls into himself from embarrassment - a hand covering his mouth like it’ll do away with the grave sin.

The inneundo happens twice in one conversation, before you get to call under the premise of a victory toast.

A brief conversation about the last hacks barely leaves room for much else except Odxny plans of total isolation.

“Mm. I should’ve known it would come back to this. Why do you care what I choose to do with myself?”

That baffles you in a terribly genuine way. “Am I not allowed to care about another person?”

Odxny speaks honestly. “You are but I mean…” He trails off. He knows how he feels. “I’m not really a person anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no one. I’m going to be no one. You have other things to fill your life with.”

There’s a vulnerable edge to his voice that he winces at when he hears it. It’s true isn’t it? All of it is true to Odxny, but especially where he says you have other things to fill your life with. You might share the same hobbies, but he’s seen it. He’s seen how different you are - your livelihoods, your existence. You’d be missed if you suddenly disappeared. Odxny knows the same isn’t true for himself. It’s been like that for a long while now.

(It’s crushing. That’s what makes your very ephemeral existence feel like a burden. Why it casts the shadows of doubt on choices he made, about how he would live so long ago. You care, don’t you? At least, more than anyone else in his life in the present. You care so undeniably, and so obviously and it is all so simple to you.

He almost envies it. Almost resents it, too. It’s such a small shred of humanity, the barest forms of sincerity but it is painfully raw. A split nerve. An open wound It’s not like the server, all of whom have accepted this distant fondness. It’s a delicate thread - spider silk accuracy and just as much strength. There’s conviction in your missing him and it haunts him.)

You think of what to say for a long time before landing on it. “I do. But I can care about multiple things at once,”

It sounds like I care about you too closely. He finds himself shivering. He’s truthful with you, unsure of how else to be when it comes to these conversations.

“That sounds burdensome.” He says. “Isn’t that exhausting?”

You don’t lie to him either. “Sometimes. But it’s worth the trouble.”

“Why?”

“Because I like your company,” You reply. Soft sincerity in your words. More clarity. More painstaking light.

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Why not?”

“If it was that simple then -“ Then it makes it seem like things could be different. He doesn’t say that. Stops himself before it can happen. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. Why do I feel like I need to prove this to you?”

He’s almost afraid to look at your face, wincing when he sees how knowing you look. Not in a condescending way - but genuine, full blown understanding. Like you see through him.

He wonders if he knows you as well as he thought he did.

Your face is so sympathetic. “Are you sure it’s me?”

He cuts the conversation short on his own - making an awkward transition from the topic at hand into whatever he can manage. It’s an awkward fumble - a poor attempt at distracting both of you from this line of thinking. You’re kind enough to let him have it. He asks about your hobbies. You tell him about how you like to try the weirdest things and combinations you can find in a restaurant.

He finds it suits you.

A lot of things suit you. Even your piss poor attempt at the Terminator that he quickly mimics - possessed by god knows what.

You laugh when he does. Brilliant and bubbly and characteristically warm. You say the words through giggles.

“That was so bad!”

“It was a lapse in judgment,” He replies back defensively, smiling against his will. He finds himself laughing too.

“I like your laugh, by the way.”

He pauses caught off-guard. “Oh? My laugh. Oh, uhm. Thank you.”

You make a face that he can’t read. Knowing. In a different way than the last. He feels nervous.

“I have been laughing quite a bit, haven’t I?”

You grin. Smug and deliriously happy. “Sure have.”

He looks away from you. “Ha...Odd.”

You giggle again. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, nose scrunched in genuine delight. It’s a pleasant sound but not because it’s particularly wispy or floaty or delicate. But it’s real. Pleasant in the way the white noise of park during summer. Pleasant like the varied playlist overhead in a record shop. Pleasant like a moment of humanity tucked between everyday. He clears his throat.

“I like your laugh, I think.”

You laugh again, gasping with faux offense. “You think???”

He tries not to feel so grounded by that sound and fails. “Yeah. I think. Laugh again.”

He tries not to add please. You shake your head like you’re reprimanding him.

“No, no, you have to earn that. Make me laugh.”

“Nevermind. Shut up.”

You do laugh again that time. He joins you soon after. “And now you laugh? At me?”

The conversation moves again, comfortable like a tide. You ask about his favorite language and he tells you as much. You’re quiet and growing cheeky, listening to him talk.

“So you do like coding.”

“Maybe a little.” He replies, not giving in. “You remember far too much of what I say.”

The conversation comes to a close again. He thanks you for how nice its been and you make an off-handed attempt to get him to change his mind. You could always talk more. The implication delicate beneath it.

We don’t have to forget each other. Odxny brushes past it - but says he’ll see you tomorrow anyway.

__

Extorting Elimfs childhood friend (?) is an easy enough endeavor. Odxny texts you through out - to ask advice on what things to take when he leaves.

He calls you again when its over too. He can’t find a reason for it - nothing that makes sense. He just wanted to call you. He hasn’t wanted something like that in a while,  but he tells himself its fine. This is the last time you’ll ever know each other.

So its fine. He won’t waver.

He’ll just.. call you.

He asks you on your weed habits, mildly surprised when you tell him you smoke and take edibles sometimes too. The conversation loops back to the fund at one point. You don’t hide your displeasure about the whole thing today.

You’ve talked about it already. No need to keep bringing up. But you seem to feel so strongly and Odxny can’t figure out why. Can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know why every single time.

“Is it really so hard to believe I’ve come to like you in a few days?”  You ask, after probing.

“In a way that matters, yes.”

You frown at him when he says that. It’s the most upset he’s seen you look, if he can call it that. You’ve never been upset when he’s been rude or insulting - but this is bothering you. It doesn’t help him pull away from you.

He says it again. Reinforces how temporary this all is. He’s trying to convince one of you. Both of you, maybe, of his unimportance.

“I don’t think that little of you.”

He finds it hard to reply to that. It’s that feeling against. It makes him uncomfortable. It’s not empty platitudes or some vague sense of responsibility for his life. All of it is real, and all of it is meaningful in how plain it is. You make it seem easy.

“It’s life. It’s normal. People come, people go.”

You shake your head. “Not for me. I can’t forget you that easily.”

He wishes you would. He’s painfully, painfully relieved that you wouldn’t it. He voices neither thought.

“Then- try! You’re putting so much on yourself, and for what? You don’t stand to gain anything.”

You shrug. “Peace of mind. Knowing you’re still out there.”

It’s heavy. The implication is heavy. He’s not going to kill himself. He doesn’t want that anymore, though he thought about it. At the beginning. Loneliness is more painful when you have memories of what not being that way was like - he thinks. At the start of all that loss, the hollowness bared an almost painful gravity inside of him.

It’s like being told to breathe or blink - becoming conscious of what was once a natural function, how full life was once when it’s escaped. He doesn’t want to kill himself, but living is meaningless.

��These things aren’t paradoxical to him. They haven’t been for all this time.

(They weren’t until he met you at least. A mirror of wanting. Odxny looks at you and sees life reflected back. Despite it not being his, its moving. It’s beautiful in a human way, reachable. Tangible. Earned.

Wherever you are. Whenever you’re together, the black hole inside of himself seems to fade back into average planetary darkness. He becomes cruelly human again, feeling warmth and laughter.

He’s tells himself he’s not afraid of dying and that’s mostly true. He’s most afraid of living. Afraid he won’t be able to learn it again.)

 He manages to tell you some of what he’s thinking. He has no clue how to start over. He doesn’t know if it’s possible. You don’t feed him any false hope, but he tells you how he sees it. You’re feeling pity for him right? And you should figure that out sooner rather than later.

“Is it really that easy for you?”

You shake your head. You’re smiling but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “It isn’t. But I have to try.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?”

“What?”

“Is this…?”

He cuts the call off when he hears himself, unsure of what answer he’s hoping for. The realization dawns on him too much, too quickly. The feeling of hope is loud in his chest but there is another feeling, embarrassing in it’s swiftness that follows shortly after.

Oh.

Oh.

__

The servers shuts down after a mildly sappy adventure to close up shop. The closest Odxny has gotten to flirting with you in his own way. He’s sad to see everyone go, despite there being no other choice.

It’s easier than he thought it’d be. To give you his number he means, even after shutting the entire server down. After leaving everything behind. He gives you the choice to make. Call me if you still want it - a silent promise.

 Maybe because deep down - some part of him always wanted to make this choice. Just maybe.

Your voice is different over the phone line. A little clearer, spoken softer. Just as lovely as it was the first time he heard it. Maybe more. Maybe.

The city beneath him is bright. So bright. It doesn’t hurt to look at, he thinks.

__

You call him every day.

You’ve been doing it for months.

He thought, at some point, you’d let up or start to forget. He’s been waiting on it to happen as horrible as it sounds. Like some self-fulfilling prophecy, he’d slip back into the background as is natural. A proof of his nonexistence, if you will.

You don’t forget though. He almost wonders if he’s dreaming when it happens. There’s a routine between you two, these days. You have your own life that you’ve been living the same as normal. When it’s night time for you, though - you hop onto your desktop and call Od like you’re two very average people.

There’s nothing solid to define your relationship aside from friendship as is. This is less frustrating than he expected it to be. Getting to know you better has only made him like you more. Your relationship is solid in a strange way. It’s been about six months total, and as corny as it sounds - Odxny feels like he’s known you for his entire life. You understand him in an intimate way, with vulnerable tenderness and radical acceptance.

He kind of misses the privacy of his old stomping grounds, but he doesn’t mind speaking though discord. It feels… normal. In a not displeasing way. You mostly talk to talk about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it’s your job search, other times it’s  your part-time or friend drama. You’re vibrant as always. Without the wall of anonymity, Odxny gets to know of you like he’s just your average person. He finds he really, really likes that.

You play games together frequently. He’s never been interested in cozy gaming, but you play Minecraft and Stardew Valley together per your request. Odxny streams himself playing Ocarina of Time for you on Discord in the background sometimes too, and you keep it on when you’ve got work to do or you’re cooking or something else. There’s something very mundane to it.

You’re not doing anything with him today though. You’re calling him on facetime, rather than at your desktop. You’ve made the executive decision to laze around and Odxny has no problem joining you though you speak less than usual as a result of being sleepy. You had a long shift yesterday so perhaps Odxny can’t blame you.

“Need to get better shoes. For walking and stuff.” You say thoughtlessly. The corners of his lips twitch up.

“Yeah?”

You nod. Your face is smushed against your pillow at an unflattering angle. He smiles a little.

“Yeah. I’m on my feet for like nine hours when I serve and it hurts wearing flats. Need something sturdier even it diminishes my drip.”

He laughs at that. “Please never say that again.”

You continue onwards. “Decreases my aura, even. But alas, utility comes first.”

He snickers as he glances at you through the phone. You’re propped against one of his monitors as he does work on his computer. He’s getting back into programming for the love of the game, just seeing what he can do.

“Want help looking?”

“Feels a little ridiculous asking a super pro-hacker to shop Sketchers with me.”

“You seriously thinking of buying Sketchers?”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I’ll get tipped more if I get the light-up ones.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hater.”

You break out into genuine laughter as Odxny shakes his head in despair. It’s something you’d do, no doubt. You sigh.

“I really do want a break from work.” You roll around on your mattress. Odxny can hear your rustling but can’t see you much. “The chains of capitalism shackle me in place. Woe is me.”

Odxny thinks on what you’ve said for a long while in silence. The question comes up every now and again though he’s never brave enough to ask it. His ludicrous amount of disposable income however is still sitting in his bank, collecting dust. It’s been six months and he’s hardly made a dent in it.

“Do you want to come visit?” He asks, cringing at the sound of his own voice. The words are strained and a little too eager. “I can pay the difference for expenses for wages and stuff. And, uh. Uhm,”

He loses his train of thought trying to speak, worsened by the way you pop onto his screen when he says that. Your expression is unreadable to him, comfortable and even. You smile a little as you lift the phone so he can see what you look like laying in your bed. Your face is in full view.

“It’d be a little weird to visit you before we start dating officially, no?”

His eyes go wide at the implication. You grin, mischief and mirth making your eyes practically beam. He can feel a blush crawl up his neck as soon as he registers it.

“Excuse me? Why are you saying that like it’s already been decided?” He bites back, not sure what else he could say.

“So you don’t want to date me?”

“I didn’t- you - damn it,” He groans at his own bluster as he giggles on the other side of the line. So cheeky. Damn him for liking it and damn you for being cute. “…You are saying you like me right?”

Your face softens. He can feel his heartbeat quicken. “Uh-huh. Just wanted to take it slow. But I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“How long is that, exactly?”

You shrug playfully and the fact he can’t be within reach to kiss you feels especially harrowing. “A secret.” You smile again, all trouble. “So. Wanna date?”

“Terrible confession. Zero stars,” He says petulantly. He leans back in his chair and finds himself smiling uncontrollably. “Fine. I guess.”

Your laugh fills his room. He doesn’t get tired of hearing it. His face hurts from smiling.

__

He manages to stave off on the anxiety of you coming to see him for a lot longer than he thought possible.

Making arrangements proves to be a little difficult. You have to tell your roommates that you’ll be gone for a while but promise to still pay rent and explain to your boss where you’re going. You have a good enough relationship and have been working long enough for them to agree to keep a spot open so you can start working when you come back.

After that, there’s the matter of Visas. Odxny goes out of his way to make that process go much faster than normal, though he doesn’t actually tell you. Once all of that’s sorted, there’s living arrangements. Try as you might to insist to live somewhere else, his place is too spacious for him to let you stay anywhere else. You can take the guest room.

He pretends that all of this is just happening in his imagination. He doesn’t even know the last time anyone came over, let alone lived with him. He does his best to make things presentable, and makes a guest room for you to live in should you desire. He even buys more decor (plants and things) to make it look… less like a cave and more like a home.

Nothing really feels real until the day arrives though. It’s a long flight and difficult trip. You refused to let him pay for the tickets so he moved it around to get you into first class both ways through other methods.

You text him the terminal, the arrival time, any and all delays. Still. None of it feels real until he’s already waiting for you near the bags. He can feel his heart race, his lungs short of air. He’s never experienced something so ridiculously contradictory in his entire life. He wants to run away while feeling stuck in place.

The anticipation nearly kills him.

He would recognize your voice anywhere though. Like he did for so many days alone in the dark. A hand waves high, shouting as loud as it can.

“It’s you!”

The sound of sneakers skidding across tile floors make his breath hitch. His eyes go wide as you stand still in front of him, luggage in hand and a million-watt smile on your face. He feels his heart beat so loud, he wonders if he’s going to throw up.

“Hey.” He says, dumbly.

“Hi!”

__

The adjustment period to living together isn’t what he expects.

It’s been a long time since he’s been so close to another human being. It becomes clear that you’re really living together though when your things end up in the bathroom completely incidentally. There’s something about finding your sleep shirt on a towel rack that makes reality settle in. You’re living together.

He’d be stupid not to notice the purposeful distance between you. An attempt to be thoughtful and not overwhelm him. It’s never awkward when you’re together. You eat together, watch movies and play games while sitting too close on the couch. You’ve been on a date in the two weeks you’ve spent, and it barely took any convincing on your end to make him go along with you.

Isolation aside though, Odxny is not clueless to the conventions of modern dating. You avoid touching him too casually. He doesn’t blame you, but he can’t help but crave your presence with a little more bittersweet longing as the days pass. He has to get past it or bring it up eventually, but it feels like something he’s never going to get over somehow.

The opportunity to do so gets thrown at him all at once. You’ve been living together for sixteen days. A conversation about love languages is what undoes it.

“Whats your love language, Od?”

He gives you a quizzical look. “Dunno actually. Never bothered to look.”

“I’d guess… hm. Quality time maybe? Or words of affirmation.”

He shrugs as he sits next to you on the couch, glancing at your phone as you read through the different ones. “What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. I’m super touchy. With anyone who will let me, honestly. Bad habits.”

Odxny gives you a long look as you say it. He debates if he should bring it up.

“You don’t have to be so careful around me, you know?”

You look up at him, startled by the comment. Several things pass over your face before you settle on an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s not like I don’t want to. I just don’t want to be too much for you.”

“That wouldn’t happen.” He says automatically. You laugh good-naturedly.

“Your confidence is assuring, but you underestimate how touchy I am. I’m afraid of I get my hands on you, I’ll never let go again,”

He thinks he wants that more than is normal. He shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”

You give him a long look, seeming struck by an idea, before humming and standing up. You turn around with your hand out towards him. His brows furrow in bewilderment.

“Have some faith.”

He takes your hand and stands up with you. He likes that he’s taller than you. Staring at you, he feels your fingers clasp around his hand and his heart thuds - loud and messy.

“Your room or mine?”

“What?”

You laugh. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Or don’t actually, but I don’t bear lewd intentions.”

He crinkles his nose at the word usage and laughs. “Shut up.”

“Just trust me, okay?”

He concedes with embarassing swiftness.

“Okay.”

__

You lead Odxny to the guest room you’ve been living in for the last two weeks. The bed is well-made and all the new furniture he bought is occupying so many of your belongings. It makes him dizzy. You shut the door behind him as you lead him in. It just feels especially surreal.

Wordless, you let go of his hand and hop up onto your bed. Once you’re laying down, you prop up on your side with your elbow and pat the empty space next to you, smiling at him as you do. Once it clicks what your asking, he can feel his face grow hot. He can’t refuse it though, and he doesn’t want too.

The sheets you bought together smell like you. Between there’s practically no distance between you at this angle. He’s gotten to look at you plenty through these few days but it’s different. You scoot impossibly close to him until there’s nothing separating you.

Your breath is warm - a soft exhale leaving your lips as you inch closer.

“What’re we doing?” He asks in a murmur, stone stiff. You smile, coyly.

“Touching each other.”

He frowns at the joke. Your expression goes a touch serious right after. The sincerity is debilitating. “Can I touch you?”

He nods. Can’t do much more than that.

He stares at you with impending, long-suffering longing as you bring a single hand to his face and cradle his neck. He flinches unintentionally, but pulls your hand back when you try to move it. He wants this. You relax a little when he does that.

Your hands are softer. Softer than a heartbeat. He can feel the various cuts and scars from years of working against his skin but they’re still so soft. He can feel how warm you in such a brief touch his chest aches. Your hands cradle his face tenderly, thumb brushing across his lip with a smile brighter than thousands of lights. Something in your expression wreaks havoc on his heart. Something so raw and so gentle and so full within it - all directed towards him.

It’s been so long. So long. He’s never wanted something so bad  he couldn’t remember needing. He’s never wanted to be closer to someone than he does to you in the moment.

“You’re handsome,” You say, so sweetly. Not a confession, but gentle appraisal. It’s rare he cries but he wants too. “I like looking at you. Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” He rasps, gravel in his voice unfamiliar.

You hum a little. Closing the space between you with a press of lips. It’s not chaste. Odxny is grateful for how long and how deep you linger. He wants it so badly. He wants you in some damning and unforgiving way. How could a human being feel so warm? Feel so pleasant with so little?

You press your foreheads together. His hand trembles when they grip onto your waist but you encourage him just a little. It’s just a kiss. His heart might beat out of him. It’s just a kiss. He thinks he loves you.

Your hand moves away from his face. You let it go underneath his loose shirt to touch his shoulder, running your palm down the plane of his chest. You squeeze his waist, and wrap your arms around his back and pull him to you until your bodies touch somewhere in the middle.

You guide his face to your neck and chest as you hold him. He grips onto you tight in response, a gasp in the back of his lungs at the sudden sensation. You coo above him, soft and light - your fingers threading through his hair and nails massaging his scalp.

Your voice sounds above him, despite how deep in a haze he is. He can’t do anything but cling to you with impossible longing. You speak softly as you pet him. Your heartbeat soothes his.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You tell him. There’s that familiar clarity that makes him want to cry. “I’m glad you let me come with you.”

He can’t think of anything to say back. It’s a soul-shattering emotion. “I love you.”

You laugh wetly above him. “I love you, too. So much.” And then much softer. “Let’s be together for a long time.”

__

You lay in each others arms until sunset. In small talk and silent murmurs. It takes him hours to work up the courage to kiss you again - but only minutes to take it further.

It’s desperate. Terribly. Inevitable. You’re beautiful in a way that is undescribable, best expressed through his teeth on your neck and his hands all over where he can reach - each grip and thrust and bite a reminder. You’re pretty when you’re pleased, warmth reaching up inside of him whenever you make the right face.

He buries himself in you. You’re soft and warm and beautiful and he wants to stay with you. Time is a thief. He damns the sun when it tears you from him come morning.

__

He decides to make breakfast when you wake up. Nothing complicated. You go to shower after him and he plates up toast and eggs and other various things. It’s half done when you come downstairs.

Your skin is still damp, and you smell of vanilla and soap. Your coffee sits in a cup on the table as you pad over to him. He turns to look at you as you reach your hand up and cup his face. You pepper a kisses along his cheeks stopping at his lips for the last one before you’re satisfied.

He fails in his attempt not to blush.

“Morning.” You grin. He tries not to be sick at the domesticity of it all and fails.

“Yeah. Morning.”

You sit at the counter and drink your coffee, glancing outside the window. “It’s bright outside.”

Odxny can’t tear his eyes off of you. “Yeah...” He agrees. He’s not torn his gaze away. “Very bright.”

✮ a/n ; i want all real life compsci men to kick rocks but odxny sweeped me off my feet in a way i can only describe as humiliating. he is a bit like astarion for me in that i see a lot of myself in him at least in the past. he is also incredibly babygirl and uhm . other things (fine. he's very gorjus.) but i truthfully was most compelled by his idealized idea of isolation. as the fic will show it resonated with me as a fellow compsci dork who also tends to isolate like crazy LOL

this fic was like a demon that possessed me. literally no meds, no caffiene - just balls to the wall demonic possesion of needing something out of my system LMAOO. and adhd of course. im working on all the other stuff too i promise. consider this a short interlude 👍🏾