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stevenose · 8 months

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𝖘𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 (18+)

kinktober: vampire!steve edition

summary: what’s so wrong with exploring the abandoned chapel in your hometown’s haunted forest?

contains: gender unspecified reader; body worship; predator/prey; virgin!reader; biting/licking; edging; desperation; heavy make outs; praise; pain/pleasure

words: 5.9k

a/n: this is not accurate to any vampire folklore. i wrote what worked for this horny little story... though there is some inspo from 'interview with a vampire'. nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!

“And what are you doing this weekend?”

You shrug, leaning into Robin on your right. The green couch below you is old and weak, and you both sink down into it. A little get together goes on around you - everyone’s either drinking, smoking, or watching Eddie play the guitar. It’s a little loud, a little annoying, and you can tell that Steve, sitting across from you on a much better couch, is brooding. Your eyes meet his, coffee colored and annoyed, and you smile in acknowledgment before you look back to Robin.

“I’m not totally sure. I was thinking of going to that abandoned Chapel out past Skull Rock?”

Robin elbows you just as Steve sits up and leans towards you, his elbows on his knees. He looks a little stunned, as does Robin.

“What?” you ask.

“Haven’t you heard the stories?” Robin asks, turning her body towards you and sitting criss-cross on the couch. “Why would you want to go out there?”

You feel scolded. “I don’t know,” you reply, trying to laugh it off. You look at Steve in your peripheral to see if he’s on your side before refocusing on Robin. “You know I’m a sucker for Victorian architecture, and it has really gorgeous stained glass -”

“Don’t you know what else it has?”

Now you roll your eyes as you turn to face him. He looks so serious, eyebrows slightly raised like he’s trying to say you know better. “Oh, what, Steve? Vampires?”

Now he rolls his eyes at you, leaning back into the couch and crossing his muscular arms. You aren’t unaware of the way his sweater hugs them. “No,” he scoffs. “The place is totally falling apart. It’s not even anything to look at anymore. You’ll probably get hurt and it’s at least a three mile walk from the nearest house. I promise it’s not worth it.”

You perk up. “So you’ve been there?”

“I - well, y-yes.”

“Oh, so you can take me?” you grin.

“When have you ever been there?” Robin asks, brows furrowed. Many times, they talk to each other like no one else is in the room.

“Not now,” he snips.

“You take a girl out there or something?” you laugh, trying to cut the awkward tension as Robin and Steve glare at each other across the room.

“Take a girl where?”

Eddie Munson has materialized, squeezing himself in between you and Robin. He throws his arms around you both, pulling Robin into him face first and you cheek into his shoulder. Robin shoves him away, making you both nearly fall over.

“That old Chapel in the woods,” you giggle, Eddie pulling you upright. “You know it, don’t you?”

“That place?” Eddie suddenly gets serious, sitting upright and looking at you with wide eyes. “That place isn’t safe for a little thing like you.”

“Thank you!” Steve says, throwing his hands out relaxing back.

You deflate. “Whatever, Eddie, you probably lost your virginity there or something.”

“Not quite,” he says quietly. You have to lean in to hear him. “One time, a few years ago, we tried to have a DND game there. Really set the scene for our campaign, you know?”

He pushes off the couch and starts pacing. Steve knows he’s bullshitting now and rolls his cocoa eyes, but you and Robin and other people around perk up to listen to him.

“We got everything ready. Candles, rugs… a joint for me. It was a cold November night, just after Halloween, and a full moon. And something just. Didn’t. Seem. Right. It was so quiet, you could hear the end of my joint burning. Our voices felt too loud. Even I started to get nervous. But we all brushed it off, thinking we were being influenced by the stories. Until….”

Eddie pauses for dramatic effect. A hush falls over the house. His lips twitch upwards.

“CRASH!”

Everyone jumps, save for Steve, who sits perfectly still in his seat.

“A deer came barreling in through one of the stained glass windows. And it fell. Dead. On the cold wooden floor. And when we went to check it out, it was covered in… what I could only describe as….” His voice turns low and even more quiet. “Bite marks.”

“Bite marks?” you repeat.

“Bite marks!” he sneers. “But these weren’t any normal bite marks. No… they were in pairs… two puncture wounds each… like fangs.”

Steve begins laughing, breaking the mystic tension in the room. Eddie deflates and turns on his heel, pointing an accusatory finger in Steve’s handsome face. “It’s against bro-code to ruin my stories, man!”

“So you really think it has a vampire haunting it?” Steve chuckles, batting Eddie’s thin finger out of his face.

“All I’m saying is,” Eddie says, turning slowly back to look at you. “You’d better take garlic with you when you go.”

===

“You’re not going.”

You and Steve stand on the porch, shivering in the cold. He insisted on driving you home, though you’re now certain it’s just so he can lecture you. You try to avoid that route.

“I’m not going alone,” you correct. “You’re coming with me.”

“I’m not going with you, either. It's off limits.”

You sigh, shoving your fists into your jacket pockets while you watch Steve light a cigarette. The flame makes his face glow for just a moment before it goes out and he puts the lighter back into his own pocket. His eyes are dark and brooding as he stares down the length of his cigarette at you. “Off limits,” he repeats.

“I’m going whether you want me to or not. You can come with me - be my guide and my bodyguard and all that. Since you’re so acquainted with the place.”

Steve continues to stare, squinting at you a little. You stare back, unwavering. He sighs out a cloud of smoke into your face and you force yourself not to wince. “If we go,” he begins, “we go when I say and you stay by me the entire time. You aren’t touching shit, got it? All the trash and broken glass could get you hurt, easy. No exceptions.”

You’re confused with why he seems so cagey about the place, and why there has been such an emphasis on you being hurt. “Are you actually scared of this place?”

“No,” he scoffs, shaking his head and ashing his cigarette. “Just worried about you, that’s all.”

Your face heats up and you have to look away from his intense amber eyes. “Okay,” you whisper. “I agree to the terms.”

Steve smiles a little. “Okay. Two o’clock on Wednesday.”

“In the morning?”

“The afternoon!” He looks at you like you’re crazy. “We aren’t going at night.”

“Well, that’s not fun.”

“It isn’t supposed to be fun. You just want to see the ‘architecture’, don’t you?”

You huff. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he repeats. “Now, let me take you home.”

===

Leaves crunch loudly under your boots. It cuts off the sound of your heavy breathing. Steve doesn’t seem to use the same amount of exertion, trapezing through the cold woods with ease. His big hands are shoved deep in the pockets of a blue Member’s Only jacket, one he likes to wear during the colder months.

“Should’ve worn a thicker sweater,” he observes, and moves in closer when he sees you shivering. “Want my jacket?”

“Can you stop daddying me for two seconds?”

“Is that a word?”

You bump into him hard, making him lose his footing. He smiles and bumps back into you, catching your arm when you nearly topple over. Things with Steve can be so easy sometimes. And other times, he’s a stressed, seemingly brooding man with an affinity for one night stands and cheap beer. His hand is cold on your arm, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean into him, walking in tandem.

“You make your dates walk all this way?”

“What’s more romantic than a walk?”

“Anything else?”

“I think you’re just high maintenance,” he says with a smirk, looking straight ahead at the orange and yellow leaves hanging limply from their branches and bunching on the ground.

“Don’t you take an hour to do your hair every morning?”

“That’s - that is not the same.”

“Sure.” You look up at him and beam and he finally steals a glance down at you. He smiles back, soft for a moment, before facing forward again.

“I don’t understand why you want to go to some trashed building in the middle of the woods.”

“I’ve seen old pictures at the Historic Society. It used to be so nice - I wonder why people stopped going?”

Steve shrugs a shoulder. “Probably the vampires.”

“You don’t strike me as the kind of guy to believe in hocus pocus.”

“You must not know me well enough, then.”

“I’d like to,” you say before you can think better of it. “I mean - it’s just - we only ever really hang out with other people. I only know you - you know. Not as much as I know Robin.”

He’s quiet. Your heart drops down to your stomach. You eventually open your mouth, looking to change the subject, but Steve finally speaks.

“Maybe we’ll just have to come out here together more often, huh?”

Your heart’s in your throat now, bringing a glowing heat up to your cheeks. You hug your arms a little tighter to you, thinking of something cute and witty to say, but Steve points ahead. “Up there. See?”

You have to squint, but through the red and gold maple leaves you see a tower extending upwards into the November sky. “Oh, wow. That didn’t take as long as I thought it would.”

“We’ve been walking for an hour,” Steve huffs.

“You’re used to physical exertion, aren’t you?”

The chapel is a small, nearly unimpressive thing. The highlight, the reason why you came, are the tall stained glass windows that adorn all sides except the front. Each one depicts - well, depicted - a scene from the crucifixion. Many of the windows are now busted out, though, save for two. Excitement shoots up from your chest to your lips and you beam broadly at Steve. “Look! God, it’s gorgeous. Do you know how long this must have taken? Such a shame it’s been busted out like this.”

“Sure,” he says simply. But he isn’t paying much attention to you. His eyes are scanning the woods and he seems more on-edge and agitated than usual.

“What?” you ask, bumping into him. “You scared? Did you forget your holy water?”

He rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t work, anyway,” he mutters.

“Oh, so you know?”

“I’m just saying,” he says quickly. “Whatever. I’m not worried about things that don’t exist. There are bobcats out here, and -“

“And bats,” you beam, wagging your fingers in his face. “Really scary stuff at three in the afternoon, Steve.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll just let it eat you.”

“Sounds fun.” You step towards the door of the chapel, wooden and splintered.

“W-wait,” Steve interrupts. “Can’t we just look out here?”

“No! We didn’t walk all this way to stand outside.”

“You said it wasn’t even that long!”

“Whatever, Steve,” you huff, walking again. He’s hot on your heels, stuttering excuses in vain. You still throw open the door, revealing a beautiful, one room interior. The back, where you stand, still has several rows of red pews, but beyond the sixth row is nothing but an expansive hardwood floor and trash. The front of the room holds a podium that’s been knocked over, and a strong, sturdy wooden table that still stands. It must be bolted to the floor. A deep, purple velvet cloth rests over it. It looks pristine, which gives you pause.

“It looks like someone’s been here,” you mumble, taking another step.

“So maybe we should leave.” Steve’s hand is gentle on your arm, and you’re quick to shrug out of it.

The floor is littered with broken bits of stained glass. You know immediately that you’ll grab a piece as a souvenir. “Steve,” you sigh, turning to face him. “Ten minutes. Just ten minutes and we can leave.”

“Ten minutes,” he repeats. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, pulling the sleeves of his shirt taught across his shoulders. He leans against the doorframe, illuminated from behind by the daylight. If he wasn’t so brooding he might look like an angel. “You promise?”

You extend a pinky, which he takes reluctantly. You squeeze it and turn back around, but his eyes still bore into your back.

“I’ll go stand watch. But whatever you do, don’t touch anything.”

“Fine, Steve,” you sigh, eyes roaming the expanse of the dilapidated chapel. A beam of sunshine makes the room shine and twinkle. You’re evidently not paying attention to him.

“I’m serious,” he says, stepping towards you and taking your wrist softly in his hand. You look at him now, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, and maybe a bit of panic. “Don’t get hurt.”

Your eyes widen slightly, fixed on his. “I won’t,” you promise softly.

He holds on to you for a few long seconds before finally unhanding you. He glances over you one more time before nodding and stepping outside.

You didn’t know you were holding your breath, but you finally exhale. His bizarre behavior puts up some red flags, but Steve can be an anxious, overbearing person in general. Even at the mall. You decide to grill him about it later and begin your exploration of the building.

You’re quick to notice a large red stain towards the front of the room. Is this where the deer came in and scared Eddie? And it must be, considering the ashtray on the floor. No joint, however - he must have taken it with him. There’s no carcass, either, just a large rotting stain. You don’t bother to think about it too much, though, especially since it was clear that other people had been here recently. Perhaps they’d cleared it out, or used it as a sacrifice in a ritual. Maybe that’s what Steve is worried about - cults and rituals, getting caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It’s pretty clear he hasn’t taken any dates here. You wonder how he knew it was dangerous.

A blue glint catches your eye on the other side of the room. This side seems a bit more clean, but glass riddles the space. You move towards it and stare in awe at the colors. Royal blue, magenta, bright gold, luscious greens. You know Steve told you not to touch, but you can’t help yourself.

Your hand reaches out, fingertips caressing a fragment of glass. It’s ornate, stained with green and pink and blue in what must have been la pieta - the Virgin Mary holding Jesus in her arms and weeping. You pick up the piece, looking around the room for Steve quickly, before holding it closer. You wish he was beside you, though you know he’d be pissed with you. You’d elaborate on the process, wonder aloud who had the craftsmanship in Hawkins to create something like this. Maybe have a real conversation with him, get him to lighten up.

A sudden crunch behind you makes you jump, clutching the glass into your palm in an attempt to conceal it. You immediately realize your mistake as the glass cuts harshly into your skin, slicing you open. You turn around, eyes squinting and brows furrowing in pain. You’re relieved it’s Steve for one fleeting moment until he recognizes the pain on your face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, stepping towards you in long strides.

“Don’t,” you whine, taking a step back. You’d rather avoid another lecture. But Steve meets you, takes your hand away from his chest and stares wide-eyed at the amount of blood pouring from your palm.

The atmosphere in the room shifts.

Steve’s eyes grow dark as he stares at your hand, unfurling it slowly. The shard of glass falls to the floor with a soft clink. He licks his lips and blinks. “Wh- what did you do?”

“You scared me,” you whisper. And he’s scaring you now, just a little, with the way he’s looking at you.

Has it really been ten minutes?

Steve takes a deep breath, his clavicles caving in. He looks conflicted, dark brows twitching together, mouth opening and closing.

“Steve.” Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, pain forgotten as you look at him. “I-I’m sorry.”

He swallows and blinks hard before his eyes flit up to yours. You’re knocked breathless by the look he gives you. Eyes narrowed and dark, his lips plush as he licks them again.

He looks at you like you’re prey.

“Does it hurt?” he asks quietly. His thumb swipes over your cut and you gasp.

“Yes.” He’s so mesmerizing. You forget yourself.

His jaw clenches and unclenches. “Let me help.”

You’re confused. Steve didn’t bring an entire first-aid kit with him. You’re more confused when he lifts your hand to his face. And you’re certainly bewildered when his tongue darts out to flick across the cut.

Instead of the pain you expect, his tongue soothes you. You watch in shock as Steve’s eyes drift shut, a small moan slipping past his lips as he greedily licks up your blood. Your blood. If you truly believed in the things you’ve been joking about - vampires - you’d run away screaming. Instead, you’re just perplexed. Especially with how his mouth seems to heal you. You watch with blown pupils as his lips wrap around your fingers to suck the remnants of blood off of them. Your middle finger leaves his lips with a soft pop and his eyes slowly open. They seem less brown and more maroon now, though it may just be the shadows.

You force your eyes away from his to look at your hand. It’s cleaner, certainly. Less bloody. But the wound is still there, even if it doesn’t hurt. You look back up at Steve, slowly licking his fingers clean of your blood.

You don’t know what to say, and it seems he doesn’t, either. It’s such a dramatic shift from who he was five minutes ago. Instead of anxious and fidgety, Steve’s confident, standing tall. He seems amused, not scared. He isn’t even lecturing you. And he’s always handsome, but now - it’s astonishing. As if he’s suddenly grown into himself.

With his tongue off of you, the pain gone, you’re now acutely aware of the ache between your thighs. Steve suddenly chuckles, and his teeth - his canines look much more pronounced, pointy.

“Did that feel good?”

His tone makes your legs squeeze a little closer together. Your mouth parts slightly and you nod in response. He smiles, predatory.

You’re not afraid of him. It’s just Steve.

He lifts your hand again, examining it, his finger tracing the thin trail of blood leaking from it.

“It looks so painful,” he whispers, before looking back into your eyes. “How about I take your mind off of it?”

As if in a trance, you nod. His tongue had felt pleasurable on your open skin. Tingly, warm pleasure that shot straight down into your lower stomach. You want more of that. You want more of Steve. You want it so bad your mind is clouded with it. He’s the only thing that matters. You can’t even remember why you came here in the first place, the ornate glass long forgotten.

Steve closes the gap between you, but he doesn’t kiss you. His head instead angles sideways, and he brushes his lips up against your neck. His touch feels electric. Your hands grab for him, your cut sharp and painful as you tug at his black sweater. He presses a gentle kiss to your skin before his teeth scrape the flesh, cutting you open. The pain makes you gasp and keen, your hands losing purchase on him - and then in a fluid motion, he licks your sore, and your eyes roll back in rapture.

“See?” he whispers, pressing his lips against your ear. You can smell the metallic tang of blood on them. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

You nod, holding him to you.

“Is this what you wanted?” His lips trail back down your neck, teeth grazing at another sensitive spot until they catch on the skin. He makes you bask in the pain for a moment before finally flicking his tongue against you. He moans, his hands traveling down to grip your hips and hold you to him. “This why you wouldn’t listen to me?” Steve sucks at the puncture harshly, forcing you to cry out. His words, his actions, it all makes you dizzy and horny.

“So - you?” you rasp, eyes falling shut when his tongue soothes the pain again. “You were protecting me from you?”

“These are my hunting grounds, honey," he says lowly. "Eddie's a great storyteller, isn't he?"

Oh.

"I tried to stop you. I knew this would happen,” he continues, pulling back for a moment to look at you. “Know how accident prone you are. Knew you’d get hurt. And I knew I couldn’t stop myself."

You gasp quietly. You search his eyes. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Steve shakes his head. “You’ve got such sweet blood, but I can feed in other ways.” He smiles. “Why do you think I fuck so often? I can feed on sexual release, too. Lust, desire… and I‘ll admit, this isn’t the first time I’ve fed on you.”

Your brows raise. Before you can question him further, his lips kiss down your jaw and to your collarbones. “Yeah,” he mumbles, cold hands moving under your shirt. “Knew you’d get yourself into trouble.” His teeth pierce your clavicle and you moan in pain. “And with how goddamn cute you are, all that teasing in the woods… could hardly keep myself off of you then.” His nose presses against your wound and he inhaled the blood deeply. “Y’smell so fucking delicious.”

His tongue licks you clean as your knees shake. You’re at a loss. So confused and horny and needy. You gasp and keen against him, hands tangling in his shirt and staining it with your blood.

“Are you scared?”

You whimper and shake your head. “No.”

He sighs with relief. “I’m so hungry. It’s been a while since I fed last. And you - you’re such a perfect victim for me, aren’t you? So willing for me, y’want me so bad. Don’t you?” His tongue licks a broad stripe across your neck before you can say anything. As you’re lost in that white-hotpleasure, he pulls you down onto the floor, tugging you into his lap. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

You do. Steve’s cock pulses through his jeans, thick and long. You feel it against you, right where you need him, and your eyes roll back. Before you can think better of it, your hips rock against his. He makes a sinful noise - something between a groan and a growl - and presses his lips to yours.

Your mind goes blank. It’s all just Steve. Steve, and his lips, and his tongue against yours. His cock straining under you. Every heartbeat makes you feel hornier, makes you pulse with need and desire. He tastes like blood. Your blood. And something sweet, too. He smells like pine and tobacco. He’s enveloping all of your senses, engulfing you in him and only him.

His teeth stab your tongue now. You cry out, but just as quick, he sucks it into ecstasy. “So good,” he praises under his breath, before his teeth bite into your bottom lip. He sucks it into his mouth, too, swiping his tongue over the raw skin. Steve’s hands move up and down your sides until he manages to squeeze them underneath your shirt. His skin is freezing against yours, and you shiver and grind on him harder. He bites you again, harder than ever, and you cry out.

Steve pulls back to watch you with blown pupils, his mouth bloody - but not as bloody as your own. You’re speechless on his lap, overwhelmed. Your lip is on fire, like it’s been stabbed with a hot knife. Thick, crimson blood pours down your chin and onto your neck. He lets it drip, let’s you writhe before he licks it up with a broad stroke.

“Please,” you beg softly. You let your fingers dig into his broad shoulders. The pain is beginning to spread into your cheeks and jaw. “Steve, please, it hurts.”

“Patient,” he mumbles. “Just be patient.”

But it’s so hard. Tears prick at your waterline, and your body stiffens. Steve grinds his hips up to stimulate you again, but it’s such a temporary relief. You wonder if he’s trying to turn you, and you panic, moving your hands away from him and towards your mouth. He catches your wrists in his big hands and finally kisses you again. The relief is immediate and stunning. Waves of pleasure crash through every single part of you, from your head down to your toes. You shake, thighs parting and grinding to prolong your pleasure. Your eyes roll and you moan into his mouth, relaxing your hands in his grip.

“I can smell your cum,” he muses, pulling away with a pink-tinged string of saliva connecting you. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to taste you.”

“Do you like me?” you ask suddenly, earnestly.

It knocks the breath out of him. “More than I’d like to admit.”

“Then - mmph - why d-didn’t you do something?”

“I don’t want to do this to you. Hurt you.”

“You’re not -“

“I’m rough, and you’re inexperienced.”

Your cheeks burn. “Th- that’s not true.”

Steve tips you backwards onto your back. You’re lucky to not fall on glass, but the floor is still dirty and gritty beneath you. Not that it would matter if you got hurt, anyway. Steve climbs on top of you, glaring, so intense you feel breathless.

“Don’t think I don’t know,” he says quietly.

Your heavy breaths fill in the pause. “Know what?”

“That you’ve never been touched before.”

You have no clue how he knows that. It’s not information you readily give out, nor is it something you’re ashamed of. But you’re sure you’ve never discussed this with him. Your eyes are wild and unfocused as you search his face for an explanation.

“Virgins taste different.”

Your face heats more, chest blooming with fire. “I-is that bad?”

“Bad?” he scoffs, leaning towards your lips again. “I could eat you up.”

His lips are soft and surprisingly warm. You wonder how it’s possible - is he warming up from drinking your blood? And the feeling of them once again knocks you out, makes you impervious to the outside world. Your hands tangle in his golden brown hair and he groans when you tug at it. Steve shoves a knee between your legs for you to grind on again while his hands trail back up your shirt. His fingers pinch and pull at your nipples. Your cries echo in the ancient chapel, a hint of sun pouring in.

Steve trails his soft lips down your neck again, but he doesn’t bite. Instead, he kisses and licks at you while his fingertips glide over your stomach. “Your shirt,” he whispers, breath tickling your ear. “Can I take it off?”

“Please.” You sigh in relief when he does. The room is cold but you’re so hot from his ministrations that it feels good. Steve bends down and moves his lips to your chest immediately. You laugh breathlessly. “A-always heard you w-were a tits guy.”

Steve smiles, then bites down. His incisors catch on your nipple, easily the most sensitive part of you he’s touched so far, and you grind harshly on his perched knee. “Steve!” you moan, twisting in agony as he lets you bleed before he wraps his lips around your nipple. You’re sent into mind melting bliss, to the point that you truly can’t take it anymore. Tears gather at your waterline and a moan is punched out of you.

“Both,” you sob, tugging at his hair. You feel crazy for it, for him. For his mouth to hurt and heal you where you feel pleasure most. “Both ‘f ‘em, please, Steve.”

“You’re so good,” he whispers, trailing his lips towards your other pec. “You take it all so well. So eager. Wish I knew….”

“Shit!” you shout, back arching off the ground - he’s bit hard into your nipple, a sharp pain that makes your blood run cold. And in the next instant he soothes it with his tongue, sucking on the swollen bud and pulling the pain and blood right out of it.

“Need to touch you,” he says urgently, hands moving to your pants. You lift your hips but he still asks, “Can I?”

“Fuck me,” you beg, spreading your legs and lifting your hips higher for him to get the hint.

He frowns. “Honey.” His fingers shake as he unzips your jeans.

“I need to feel your cock,” you moan. You do, so badly. To feel it split you open, for him to soothe the hurt back out of you before fucking it into you again. For him to be overwhelmingly apart of you.

“Honey,” he repeats, quickly shucking your pants down your thighs. “I’m not going to be your first time.”

“Why?”

He blinks, frowning still. His sadness is clear. “You shouldn’t have a monster as your first.”

He kisses you before you can protest, a hand moving between your bodies to touch you where you need him. You gasp, allowing Steve to slip his tongue into your mouth. You taste your own bitterness, but Steve’s hand distracts you from it. He’s as well versed as you always heard, as you’ve always been so jealous of. He doesn’t even have to look to know where you need him. You wonder if he can just tell where to go, the same way he can tell you’re a virgin.

“Do you want me?” he says, pulling back, lips glossy. His fingers touch a certain spot that makes your eyes roll. “Do you trust me to make you feel good?”

Your head lolls. “Please, Steve.”

“Shit,” he hisses, mouthing at your neck. “I’m fucked. I’m so fucked, sweetheart. Shouldn’t have brought you here, couldn’t help myself….”

“Did you w-want this to happen?”

Steve doesn’t have an answer. Or he can’t answer.

“I want you,” he groans. His fingers twist and rub. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I… in every way. Your mind, your body, your soul.”

It makes you shiver. “Take me.”

Steve sighs, teeth grazing against your pulse point before he pulls away and trains his attention on his hand. On the slickness between your thighs that grows with each stroke. He swallows you, greedily, eyes widening to take in your twisting body. He can feel himself growing stronger, more energized and focused. The more your lust grows, the more powerful he is. And the more your lust is present, the longer it takes, the more he can feed.

Steve isn’t self serving, but it’s been a while since he’s had his energy repleted. And Sherilyn Perry had been a quick, boring fuck that lasted fifteen minutes in his bedroom. This - this is different. It’s so much stronger, his adoration for you on a nearly unholy level. And your virginity adds fuel to the fire burning in his veins. He feels better than he has in years, watching you fall apart under him. So he’s not selfish, he’s just… hungry.

He’s good at keeping you on the edge for him. His thick fingers explore you before he rescinds them. He gives you a few moments to catch your breath, staring down at you with blown pupils and a blush before sending you into the throes of pleasure again.

The only thing you can comprehend is Steve.

You’re once more in a trance. How could you possibly come back from this? With the way Steve looks at you? With the way he’s gentle and loving, how his fingers curl - does he feel the same? Is he as drunk on you with his crimson lips and garnet eyes? You moan as his fingers and, heart beating quick and hard. He leans forward again to bite down on your nipple, lapping the pain away after. Long, languid strokes of his fingers have you clenching and pulsing.

Steve can feel a pressure building throughout his body but resting heavily in his lower stomach. His cock twitches and pulses, begging to be buried inside of you. Steve’s true to his word, though. He refuses to ruin a pretty thing like you, to take away the intimacy of your first time. As much as he’d love to be the guy to be your first everything, he’s firmly convinced you deserve better. A human. A man you could grow old with. He yearns to be that so much it makes him sick. He forces himself to stop thinking about it and instead gives in to his peak.

“Give it to me,” he whispers, “feed me, honey. Let me see that gorgeous face when you cum…”

Let me be the first.

“St-eve,” you choke out, going rigid under him as the string between your stomach and thighs grows taut. It snaps, sending your body keening and trembling, your voice crying out. Steve’s eyes roll back as much as he’s trying to keep them on you. His own orgasm takes over, ruining (another) completely good pair of Levis, a life-force entering his body and punching out a climax. It makes his body shake and stretch. He doesn’t mean to bite down so hard on your neck while he ruts his clothed cock against the hand working on you.

Steve could keep you in that state as long as he wanted. An endless orgasm as long as he deemed fit, feeding on you until he’s taken you for everything you have. In pain and suffering from a bite. And you’d be happy to have it. But Steve is nothing if not a gentleman - so he soon withdraws his hand and licks gently at the last bite he’s left on you.

You still shake, even after Steve has pulled away. The exhaustion and bliss is overwhelming. Steve lays on top of you, caressing your cheek and frowning down at you. “It’s okay, sweetheart, just breathe for me. You’re okay, I promise.”

You nod weakly, weakly tugging him into you. “Y’r okay, too?”

He chuckles. “Uh-huh. I’m okay. I’m here.”

Your eyes drift shut. Steve watches with a smile, taking in every single inch of you that he can see. You suddenly tilt your head up and pout.

A kiss.

This somehow seems more intimate. You’re not in the process of fucking. It isn't the heat of the moment. You only earnestly crave his affection. And while he knows he shouldn’t if he doesn’t want this to happen again, he leans forward and presses his lips softly to yours.

“Does this make me yours?” you whisper when he pulls away. Your eyes stay closed.

Something fierce and unnatural tugs at Steve’s stomach. He’s never felt like he owns anyone he feeds from. He’s happy to send them on their way, blissed out and wondering why he doesn’t use his mouth on them. Now, though, the idea of owning you makes him feel something visceral. He doesn’t - he can’t - but his eyes grow dark as he looks down at your dozing figure.

“Mine,” he tries. The sound of it makes his skin crawl.

#stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve harrington smut #kinktober 2023

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0daylighthours0 · 2 months

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My Mother's Unbiased Byler + Milkvan Opinions - Viewing ST for the 1st Time!

(UPDATE)

My Mama has now witnessed Stranger Things in its entirety. Her favourite season was the third, her favourite characters Hopper and Joyce, her favourite pairing would be those guys too, and her most disliked pairing? Can only assume.

I wanted to write out her thoughts on the second to last episode previously, as she'd held many, but before I knew it we'd finished the whole show and I was forced to an income of NEW opinions which ruled out my memory of any old ones. Shucks. But boy did this lady have much to say. The only way I can break it down is by providing a sample of quotes she'd delivered, in order, a day after having finished the series.

All are just things she said about milkvan and byler, as they're this post's main focus. There's simply much to say about these relationships too, being so up in the air over where they ought be expected to turn out. These are all direct quotes too (as I typed as she talked, unkown to her) so you'll have to excuse the natural way in which some lines come off as unfocused, being written after real time conversations. Let's get into it:

Ok I really don't know whether she likes Mike very much. She actively disliked the guy earlier on, and now her feelings appear to be more mixed. A lot of her discussion was solely around this guy's actions.

"It's almost like he's [Mike] forcing himself like- ok Hopper he was kind of very passionate and kissing, you know he sort of instantly- with Mike, from being obsessed and spending so much time with her [El], suddenly he starts cooling off more and more and suddenly- they even separated right? I mean yeah that was out of his control but he, but he didn't really seem like he missed her you know it's like he just got on with it."

This point caught me off guard. I don't know how much I agree with my mother on this. It made me realize that during Mike and El's separation, there weren't many quiet Mike moments in which he expressed worry for her, beyond a couple that blend into him simply having breakup concerns. Any time Mike mentions distress for her whilst she's away, his talk evolves into him simply anxious over the state of their relationship. As a group, everyone in our Cali gang clearly wanted to save Eleven, but Mike really should have gotten more heartfelt moments in solitude (that means without Will you suffer bros) in which it is demonstrated to the audience that he really does miss her, as someone who is in love. Her being away shouldn't simply come off as a writing excuse for him to vent to Will. There wasn't enough of that tenderness milkvan desperately needs, and if anything I watched was an attempt then it really wasn't translated well - never trumping everyone else's familial or close frienship-like fret for El, never showcasing his concern to come from a more personal place. I mean how hard is it to have him in her room, staring longingly at a photo of hers, with a background composed of soft music. Then literally leaving it at that. I mean that is it. No Will rushing in there to insist, "you can tell her that thing when you see her k? It'll all work out trust me ight, you're the heart you're the HEART!" que affectionate gazes, constructs a byler scene for no reason I guess .

"I mean how do we know that he missed Will? He articulated it. Why didn't he articulate this the same way to El?"

True. I mean the fact that I can't remember a moment after they find El in which milkvan ask oneanother how they are, and communicate how much they missed eachother, does indeed say something. They shared a hug and touch when they first reunited, which was gladly interrupted by Will. That pineapple + pizza thing was not long enough, or sensitive enough, to be their moment. There was clear bonding, but it didn't breach a level of romance and chemistry nearly decently. It's good that they got at least that, I mean we need to know that these guys are at LEAST really close friends. And then the camera just felt like panning over to Will about to burst into tears in a corner. Like huh? Bruv you've now made it so that milkvan's pizza bit leaves a bad taste in our mouths. If I were a milkvan I'd be furious.

"You know what, I think it's done purposefully to create that sort of cold, distant, confused, you know they wanted to make people say he's [Mike] bisexual. For people to question. They want to get people to think that."

My Mama believes writers intentionally soured milkvan for viewers to "confuse" audiences, build up anticipation, make them question milkvan's relationship and wonder if our main man will spin to Will. I agree. They want that good ol' triangle comeuppance.

"They really are trying to bring that across- so that people start thinking Mike, you know he doesn't love El, he loves Will. They're really trying to, make people think that. Giving them [milkvan] a really nitty gritty relationship."

Yup.

"When you're gay. Coming out like that it's- it's terrifying. You have to be very careful. And Will could, he could tell. You know when someone is attracted to you. I think, things became sort of- sort of complicated. And Will sensed, he could feel that Mike is attracted to him. And that's why he could open up like that. Because you can always tell. You know, you just know, so that's why Will was able to confess these things to him [she sees painting scene as a confession, whether Mike realized it or not, and so do I]."

Well damn Mama. And there you have it folks. My.. I'm not gonna call her the h word but.. my- notabigfanofgaythingsandwouldbehappytopretendtheydon'texist mother, perceives Mike as a homosexual kid, and just that. Well bloomin heck that's all the confirmation I need.

I didn't expect this as a turnout, I mean so particularly. My Mama actually didn't like byler - I think. Well. Bloomin heck. She actually enjoyed Vickie x Robin, and this shocked me to my core. I don't know whether this is simply due to her being a fan of Vickie's actress (recognizing her from Anne With an 'E'), but I do know that my mother has a bias in gay relationships and sees ones involving females as more "pure" than that of two males. So her language when describing Will has changed since her realization that he loves Mike for sure (which became undeniable in the van scene). She describes him as being 'obsessed' with Mike, and says writers really wanted to get that obsession across. I agree with Will having been one note during season 4, him hopefully having more time to shine in the approaching season, but I thoroughly disagree with him coming off as obsessive. I suppose our camera man displayed the guy's little glances at Mike so often that my Mama felt it was overdone, and unable to be ignored. I also think she's just avoiding use of the word 'love' when describing anything homosexual.

She still doesn't think Mike demonstrates how much he loves El enough to leave no room for debate. According to her, his moments with her seem surface level. Just as a reminder she does not know my thoughts. She watched that entire 'I love you' thing and still isn't secure in any genuineness of the guy. I believe she supposes that we're intended to acknowledge milkvan's romance, but also probe it.

I now wonder whether my Mama was good enough representation for the average audience, because she actually does own a bias - this being that she usually actively dislikes gay things. So I puzzle over whether her brain overanalyzed any of the boys' highlights, wanting to "expose" their homo intentions. At first things were up in the air, but it became clear that Mike did not pass her gaydar, he was simply too intimate with Will to make that pass. And this wasn't the case in other seasons, she never questioned their friendship til now. She also hasn't acknowledged any supposedly queer relationships besides rickie (vobin?) and byler, meaning that other fan favourites such as elmax, steddie, ronance and such else didn't stand out as gay to her. This doesn't signify those other relationships to not have a chance, I'm elmax's personal cheersquad, it's plainly clear that my mother didn't have a tendency to point at every same sex relationship and yell suspicious. Byler was purely undeniable. You can thank Will's love being canoned for this, otherwise noone would have a need to read into Mike.

I don't know whether she supposes byler to have a chance moreso than the milk in the van, even with Mike's ambiguity. It would seem that as of right now her guess is that watchers are intended to second guess both relationships in order to build up interest. However, she doesn't know how unlikely Will's love life is to turn out negatively seeing as those damn writers manipulated crowds into consistently sympathizing for him. Dunno about the rest of you but that sounds like good news to me.

I have no idea how to close this analysis. Is it an analysis? There's much more I want to say, much more she said, but I fear this to be too jam-packed and aimless as is. I'm writing a third part to my most recent milkthevan failing relationship deep dive, and that'll possibly consist of thoughts I wish to input after gathering so much data from my mother.

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lixzey · 8 months

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Letters

warnings: child abuse, mentions of blood, starvation and dehydration of a child, locking up a child in a basement/cage, beating up a child, etc.

a/n: PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION ‼️‼️‼️This has very detailed scenes which may not be suitable for everyone. The next six letters will be the same, so heads up!

The Twelfth Letter

Timothée held the twelfth letter in his shaking hands. He wanted to go and just rip the damn letter open, but he was scared—of what he would read in the letter inside the tear-stained envelope. Timothée had an idea about what was written in the letter, making it harder for him. A part of him wanted to know about everything she had been through. But the other part of him was already furious and will not be sorry for what he might do to the people who hurt Y/N based on what he would read.

Timothée sighed, running a hand through his hair before taking a deep breath. He slowly opened the envelope, his fingers running over the adhesive, before pulling out the letter dated August 8th, 2023.

Dear Timothée,

So, where do I begin?

Can you please, please, promise me that you'll keep this a secret? Swear, this one you'll save?

Okay, okay, so here's the story of my life.

The day I arrived at my aunt's home, I had no idea how my life was going to turn out. At first, she was kind. She made me feel comfortable, like I was her own child. But after two weeks of being in her care, the nightmare started.

I was advised not to go to school for the time being because of the trauma I had gone through. I loved it, honestly. I stayed at home, ate cookies and chips, and watched TV—all that normal kid shit. But one day, when I was sitting in the living room, peacefully watching Baby Loony Tunes, my aunt suddenly grabbed me by the arm, dragged me all the way down to the basement, and threw me against the hard wall. As a little girl, I didn't understand; I was confused. What did I do to deserve this? Was I a bad girl? I had so many questions running through my mind at that time. It turns out that my parents' assets were repossessed by the bank. All the money, jewellery, and house are gone. My aunt only agreed to take me in because of the benefits of it, and once it ran out, she turned into the devil.

She left me in the basement for days without any food or water. And whenever I would cry, she would come down and throw me across the room and tell me to shut up, or she would beat the crap out of me. I was terrified. I hoped and prayed that it was just some sort of nightmare and that my parents would get me out. I spent my nights in that basement curled up in the corner, hugging my knees to my chest and wondering why I was being treated like that, trying as much as possible to sob silently until my body just gave out and I lost consciousness.

It went on for weeks. It got worse and worse each and every day. She treated me like an animal locked up in a cage. I was given, occasionally, mostly scraps and leftovers, and given my situation, I was grateful for that, even if my body was suffering from starvation and dehydraton. At that point, my mind knew what I was: an orphan who no one wanted to take care of. A burden, a waste of space, nothing.

I get beat up almost every day, like the time she lost a pair of earrings. I remember it vividly, like each and every one. She accused me of escaping the basement and stealing her precious jewellery. I told her I didn't; I begged her not to punish me; I begged and begged, but all of it was in vain. I got kicked in the stomach hard until I was spitting out blood. She split my lip, almost knocking out a few teeth. My face got bruised and puffy from all the slaps I got. After she was satisfied by all the blood, she tied me to a pipe in the corner of the room. She left me there for another week without food or water. The blood on my shirt dried on my skin, and every time I moved, it hurt so much that it felt like I was tearing off my skin every time I tried to move. Days later, I was jolted awake when my hair got yanked hard, pulling away from the corner. I was thrown into a cage—a real fucking metal cage—and doused with ice-cold water. The water felt like knives against my skin as I felt the dried, blood-soaked shirt tear away from my body. I screamed and cried as I tried to stay away from the water, like a tiny kitten. I was left in the cold and dark room, naked and curled up in the corner of the metal cage, whimpering as the pain settled throughout my body.

You might be wondering, “Why the hell did no one do something?”

Well, no one could hear me from the basement that was nearly three feet down. Or maybe no one really cared.

The basement didn't have that much stuff—only old books, magazines—which I've read to pass the time before I got thrown into a fucking cage like I was dangerous or what—and a full-sized mirror, where I used to sit in front of and look at my bruises. I often lay there in the dark of the night, fearing monsters like any other kid would. But the real monster was the person I called my 'aunt'. I kept holding on to a dream; maybe that's the one thing that kept me sane in that prison. I had nothing else left, only memories of the past.

During those days, the memories of the past gave me hope. That one day everything will be back to the way it once was, but it never happened—nevertheless, I kept holding on, like I said, because it was the only thing I had left of my past life. But now, the memories of the past haunt me. I keep on trying to leave it all behind, but somehow, life has got it in for me.

I was a kid. A kid who didn't know anything better. A kid who only wanted her parents to protect her from all of the monsters. But instead, I was left to fucking fend for myself in the cruel, cruel world. I didn't know how to cope with it, so all I did was cry. Which made my suffering much, much worse, whenever she heard me. So, as much as possible, I tried to muffle my sobs. Maybe there was a monitor down in the basement, because how the fuck would she hear me from three feet down?

Anyway, that's all for now, I guess.

There's still more, Timmy. I swear, the next years of my life were….I'll just write it down in the next letter.

Always remember that you are the light of my life, alright? The only good thing left in my life, even if you're not mine, is that I love you.

All my love,

Y/N.

Timothée felt his blood boil. Everything in Y/N's letter was far worse than he had expected. The anger he felt for Y/N's so-called 'aunt' was beyond words. How in hell could someone hurt a child? A ten-year-old child who had just lost her parents in an accident in front of her eyes, for fucks sake! Timothée took a deep breath, folding the letter and placing it back in its envelope before standing and walking to the plane's bathroom. As soon as he locked the door, he buried his face in his hands. He wanted to scream, so badly it hurt. He wanted to hurt someone, and that someone, who was first on his list in red marker, was Y/N's aunt. There was so much that Timothée wanted to do, but right now, he knew he couldn't. And it was making him crazy—crazier by each second, probably. He couldn't understand how Y/N lived through all the suffering. He couldn't understand why life made her suffer at such a young age. He couldn't understand what Y/N did wrong to deserve such misery.

Timothée slowly lifted his head and faced the mirror. Tears were streaming down his face as he realized the feeling of guilt that was eating him alive. Had he received her letters earlier, maybe he could've helped her. Maybe he could've been there for her in some way, making her feel better. But he didn't, because the letters came a year late. Anything could have happened in a year, or even in a month, for that matter. Timothée opened the tap, splashing water all over his face to ease the myriad of feelings that were slowly eating him up. He stared at himself in the mirror. His curls clung to his forehead and neck, water droplets cascading down his pale face, his eyes starting to get puffy and red, and his lips quivering. He sighed, grabbing the individually wrapped, warm towels from the nearby stack and wiping away the remaining water on his face. The warmth made him feel a bit better, though there was still a lingering feeling of guilt in the back of his mind. What was he supposed to do now? He had this sickening feeling about the last six letters. But he wanted to know more and understand each and every ghost of her past that kept on haunting Y/N.

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @lilmaymayy @ashlynnmalfoy @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @imnotoverlyobsessive @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29

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holdmytesseract · 1 year

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It's Okay To Be Scared [EoH]

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader feat. Teddy Dixon

Summary: A 'slumber party' ends in a distaster for you and your son. Can Daryl save you two?

Warnings: usual twd stuff, walkers, weapons, angst, panic? fluff! Daryl being an amazing dad, age gap

Set in Season 4!

Word Count: 2,5k

a/n: Here we go! 😄 This just randomly popped up in my head, when I watched this scene (I think you'll know which scene I mean.). I had to write it, hehe. ☺️ Also, Teddy's the cutest. I love him. 😍

Divider by my lovely friend @fictive-sl0th <3

Tagging: @km-ffluv @stitchintimefan @sweetpeapod @loz-3 @peaches1958 @fictive-sl0th @lou12346789 @bookofsecretjourneys @azanoni @fuseburner @hotgirlsshareaccounts @in-this-minute

Masterlist

"Mommy?" You turned your head at the sound of your five-year-old son's quiet, hesitant voice urging to your ears. "Hey, bud, what's up?" You smiled at the young boy, squatting down to be on an eye-level with him. The bright sun of Georgia shone through the barred windows of the C-Block, dipping the grey hallway in a soft yellow light. The sunrays got caught in the little boy's brown curls, causing them to shimmer. He may have inherited Daryl's hair colour, but not his actual hair. The kid definitely had your soft curls. Your eyes scanned your son's face and body. From his blue-grey eyes, which resembled his father's, over his little snub nose and rosy cheeks, all the way down his slightly too big clothes. His black t-shirt fitted him perfectly, but the jeans vest was definitely too big, just like his tattered and ripped jeans. You had to smile. He looked so much like his dad. Speaking of... "Where did you leave your daddy, huh? I thought you wanted to help him outside, checking the fences?" You wouldn't have let him join his dad, if you weren't aware that the boy was in the safest hands possible. He nodded, but looked at you with a sad and angsty expression. "Y-Yes, but... There were so many m-monsters, I-I got scared." Your expression softened, before you pulled the boy into a hug, "Oh baby..." and kissed his head.

It hadn't been easy for Teddy to understand, that the world was suddenly different now. Dangerous. Scary. He had been still a toddler when the world went to shit, but that didn't make it easier to explain. Why there was so much blood and death. Why there were suddenly scary looking people, who wanted to literally eat him. You and Daryl had a hard time adjusting Teddy to all of this. He had already seen so much. Things a kid should never see, but you couldn't change it. It wasn't in your hands. You never wanted this life for him, but it was how it was now.

Teddy looked up to his dad, of course, saw how Daryl helped the group, got food on the table and so on. His dad was his hero, without a doubt - and he wanted to be just like him. Be just as brave and fearless. The problem? Teddy was, after all still a child - and got scared very easily. Something he inherited from you. You were just the same, especially as a child and quite often even today. Some might say Teddy was a bit all bark and no bite - what you thought was quite cute. It was okay for him to be a child. He had to grow up into a man soon enough...

"You know that it's okay to be scared, yes? Always remember that, because being scared helps us sometimes. It's important." Teddy cuddled closer against your chest, both little arms wrapped tightly around you. "I-I know, but daddy's never scared..." You backed up from the hug, shaking your head. "Oh he is, Teddy. He's very good at hiding it." You said, running your hand through his long hair. It reached almost his shoulders by now. You could've cut it, of course, but Teddy looked way too sweet with longer hair. The boy nodded, although visibly not entirely convinced by your words and shuffled his feet nervously. "What was it you wanted to ask me, sweetie?" You decided to change the topic, distracting your son's mind from the walkers. It seemed to do the trick. Teddy smiled softly. "Can I stay at Nick's cell tonight?" Nick - one of the Woodbury kids and now Teddy's best friend. "Of course, bud. Does Nick's mama know?" Again, the boy nodded. "Uh.Huh... Nick said he's goin' to tell her." "Perfect." You smiled at him and stood up again. "Now go out play, while the sun's still out. I saw Patrick and Carl playing soccer outside. Maybe you can join, huh?" Teddy nodded, but tugged nervously on the red bandana around his neck, which his daddy had gifted him. There was something else occupying his mind. You could tell. "Is there something else, sweetie?" Once more he nodded, blue-grey eyes meeting yours again. "Can you, uh, stay with me tonight, mommy?" "At Nick's?" "Uh.Huh..." You smiled softly, tucking a few wild curls behind his ear. "I thought you are such a big boy already?" "Y-Yes, but... Please mommy..." Teddy looked at you with big, pleading eyes - and suddenly, you had a guess. "Are you having nightmares again?" The little boy nodded, grimacing, in order to suppress his tears. He tried so hard to be strong. "Oh no, I'm so sorry. Come here, baby." You opened your arms for Teddy again. An offer he took gladly. You lifted him up in your arms, not caring that he got pretty heavy for you to lift meanwhile. A few silent tears wetted your t-shirt. Teddy was plagued by nightmares almost regularly. He always had a hard time sleeping peacefully, but since the death took over the world, it became even harder for him - which was understandably. And whenever he woke up at night, afraid and crying from another nightmare, the only way to help Teddy was his dad. When Daryl wasn't here, you tried to help your son as well, but nobody was as helpful as his daddy.

"I'm coming with you tonight, okay?" Another nod. Teddy wasn't a child of many words - just like another important man in your life was. His small tear-stained cheeks glistened in the sun, causing your heart to ache. You knew exactly what you had to do now. "C'mon." You adjusted him on your arms, before you left the C-Block and made your way through the corridors out on the yard, eyes searching for your husband. Luckily, you found him pretty quick. He was preparing for the run he was about to go on, with Sasha, Glenn, Tyreese, Bob, Zack and Michonne. Daryl saw you approaching him, of course and was immediately alerted, since you were carrying Teddy. He wiped his dirty hands on a rug, stood up and met you on your way. "Hey, babe." Daryl looked at you and his boy, concerned. "Wha' happened?" "Nightmares," you mouthed, which was enough information for Daryl. He didn't need to know more. He placed a hand on the boy's back. "Hey, buddy, c'mere." Teddy didn't let himself tell that twice, unlocked his arms from around your neck and wrapped them around his father's, clinging to him for dear life. You gave Daryl a sorrow look, causing him to lean over to you and place a quick kiss on your cheek, "I got it." before he turned around and walked away with Teddy in his arms. Guess the run had to wait...

"Alright, baby, I'm going now, okay?" Daryl nodded from where he laid in the bed of the cell your small family shared, hands crossed behind his head. "Ya really wanna leave me alone tonight?" He almost pouted, causing you to giggle softly. Teddy wasn't your only child sometimes. "You know that Teddy asked me to, but you can join if you want." He scoffed at your words. "Nah, wouldn't wanna interrupt your girl's night." You giggled again and stepped over to him, in order to kiss him. "Love you." "Love ya, too." "Sleep tight, see you tomorrow." Daryl nodded, pulling you in for another kiss. "See ya." You grabbed your things, blew him a kiss and left the cell, tiptoeing down the dark corridors to cell block D. Little did you know, that staying with Teddy that night in the D-block was going to end in a disaster. A deathly disaster.

That night, you slept way too tight, to hear the soft snarling and growling of the polite and kind young man Patrick had once been, nor the heavy, slurping footsteps which passed the empty cell you were sleeping in, right beside the cell Teddy was sleeping in with Nick and Anne - his mom. You were completely exposed to the threat, lurking in the shadows of the night - but you didn't know it. Nobody knew it.

Daryl had been up quite early that day, just like Rick and Carl. He had just slipped into his beige shirt with the torn off sleeves, as he heard a loud noise ringing through the corridors, causing everyone which was still asleep to wake up - without a doubt. He furrowed his brows. It sounded like a... gunshot! Without hesitation, the archer grabbed his crossbow and stormed out of the cell, just like several others. Carol for example. "What was that?!" "Sounded like a gunshot." "Where from?!" Just after the words had left Carol's mouth, another gunshot was echoing through the walls. The answer of Carol's question was quickly answered, causing the man's eyes to widen and heart to run a hundred miles per hour. The D-Block. It came, without a doubt from the D-Block. "It comes from the D-Block." Daryl breathed out, before he started to run like a mad man, straight towards the block; Carol following him.

The scene he walked into wasn't one he hadn't seen before and yet it scared the shit out of him, because he knew that his wife and son were somewhere in the middle of it... There was blood everywhere. Dead and bitten men and women laid on the floor. The still living people ran around in panic, trying to flee from the walkers, which were trying to get another bite out of the people. There were screams and cries everywhere. "Shit!" The archer cursed, his mind immediately wandering to you and Teddy. He desperately hoped that the both of you were alright. Without wasting another second, he threw himself into the fray, killing every walker on his way. "Teddy! Y/N!" He screamed out, eyes frantically scanning his surroundings. It wasn't easy to overlook this chaos. "Daryl!" He heard Rick shouting at him. "I got it!" Signalling him, that he had the door situation under control. Not that Daryl cared about this in that moment. All he cared about was you and his son. Nevertheless, he gave Rick a short, hasty nod, before he continued his search.

"Teddy! Y/N!" He screamed from the top of his lungs through the loud noise. "Daddy!" Daryl heard a child scream out - his child. He would recognise Teddy's voice everywhere. "Teddy!" He yelled again, looking around to find him and point out where the voice was coming from. To his sheer luck he found him - just in time. The boy sat on the ground, crouched into a corner, crying, with a walker stumbling straight into his direction. Daryl's eyes widened in shock, but nevertheless he reacted fast, ran over and rammed his knife in the back of the walker's head, carelessly throwing the dead body aside. "Teddy!" The archer fell to his knees in front of his son, pulling his small, trembling body immediately close to his. "Are you okay?!" Daryl's eyes scanned Teddy's body for any bites or injuries. The small boy nodded, yes, and clung to his father, still crying. Daryl held him close to his body with his free arm, standing up again. "Teddy, where's your momma?!" "I-I dunno." Cried Teddy. Once again, Daryl looked around frantically, still not able to find you - but he found Carol. "Carol!" His best friend turned to face him. "Can ya take Teddy somewhere safe? I-I gotta find Y/N!" Carol nodded, of course, took the boy immediately in her arms. "You go with aunt Carol, okay? I'll go, find momma." Teddy cried even more, but let himself got carried out of danger from Carol. It broke Daryl's heart to leave his son like that, but he had to find you. "Y/N!" He ran to check the cells, killing another walker on his way. Remembering, that Nick's and Anne's cell was on the second floor, he was quick to run up the stairs, checking the upper cells as well. "Y/N!" "Daryl?!" He heard your voice calling out immediately, causing relief to wash over him. You were alive. He found you locked up in a cell, with a dead walker to your feet and another one in front of the barred door, trying to get its filthy hands on you. Daryl was quick to get disposed of the walker and opening the cell door with shaky hands. "Daryl!" You cried out, running into his arms. You were utterly rattled, covered in blood. "You okay, sunshine?!" Daryl asked you, strong arms keeping you close to his body. "Y-Yes, b-but I lost Teddy. I-I don't know where he is!" You cried, sobbing into your husband's shirt. "W-What if he's dead! Oh g-gods!" You felt how your knees gave in, but Daryl caught you. He immediately shook his head, trying to comfort you. "Hey, hey, hey, Y/N, stay with me, 's alright. I found him. He's alright. He's with Carol." "O-Our baby's o-okay?" "Yes, sunshine. He's safe. Teddy's safe." "O-Oh thank g-god... I-I was so afraid of him, b-but I couldn't leave to search for him. T-This walker had me trapped a-and- oh gods..." "Shh, shhh, it's okay, 'm here." Daryl's calming voice urged to your ears, despite the loud noise. "We gotta get you outta here." He said, before hoisting you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style down the corridor, the stair and past Rick. "You got this?!" Rick nodded. Glenn had joined the chaos as well in the meantime. "We got it! Look after your family!" Daryl gave Rick a thankful nod, before he left the horrendous scene and took you back to the C-Block.

The archer laid you down on the bed in your shared cell, before he called out for his friend. "Carol?" No minute later, she approached with a still shaking Teddy in her arms. "Did you find her?" Daryl nodded, taking Teddy back in his arms. "Thank god. She alright?" "Yeah, jus' quite rattled." Carol nodded in understanding. "I'll go, take care of the other survivors." "Thanks." "No need to thank me," she said, giving Daryl a small smile, before she left.

"Daddy... Where's mommy?" His son asked, voice trembling. "She's here, buddy. She's okay. We are all okay, alright? Everything's goin' ta be fine." His words seemed to calm down the boy a bit, but not as much as being back in his mother's embrace. Daryl stayed with you and Teddy for a long while, even after the boy had passed out from all the exhaustion, sleeping tightly. Hopefully without having nightmares...

Now Daryl sat behind you on the bed, while you leaned against his chest, hands intertwined. "What happened?" The archer asked in a quiet voice, eyes trained on the sleeping Teddy. You shrugged your shoulders. "I don't know, honestly. I was sleeping and suddenly I heard those screams. I got up quickly, looked outside - and there were walkers everywhere. People we knew, suddenly turned. Then everything became chaotic. I tried to react and look for Teddy, but then there were those two walkers..." You said, shaking your head at the vivid memory. "Do you know what happened? What caused this? Did Rick say something?" "Not yet, but we're gonna find out."

#daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon oneshot #twd #twd fan fic #twd oneshot #twd fanfic

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thesamoanqueen · 1 year

Text

Let me down

Raiting: 16+

Warnings: Soft SMUT; Fluff; Angst(maybe?!).

A/N: I had to give him another win on the WM night... because like he said "Sometimes bad guys win"

They really hated him now. He'd felt their eyes on his back like eighty thousand snipers as he walked up the ramp for the third time at the biggest event in the business with titles still on his shoulders. He had come out there knowing he was tearing their hope away, aware that he was the real sniper. When he had thought of that story, his story and had talked first with Paul and then with Michael, they had all agreed that it would be as close to reality as possible. Life isn't fair, that was reality and that was his story. Good guys don't always do well, no matter how much effort you put in or how hard you work, sometimes things don't go as you hoped. It had been like this for him for many years. For them and their hero that night, it was like this. You make sacrifices, you use shortcuts, and do everything you can to keep what you have when someone or something threatens it. He had watched them from the top of his mountain, all of them, a few seconds, before taking the exit to come to terms with something else.

- Good job. Well done. - Michael Hayes was the first to pull him into an hug, like always.

Within seconds, chaos erupted around him. Everyone had something to say, Hunter had already taken off his headphones to reach the room where the press conference would take place, they only had a few minutes. He had to settle down as best he could, tape a short promo and join them. He heard Paul behind him give a quick indication to Solo, but Roman already had his eyes elsewhere.

He wanted to see her, he needed to see her, if only for a second before going out there again, because for him it wasn't over yet and what awaited him was what really worried him. But Y/N anticipated him as soon as he set foot out the gorilla, placing a towel on his shoulders and Roman instinctively pulled her against him, feeling her give in to the tension to cling to him.

- God… - she breathed into the hollow of his neck and Roman tightened his grip, almost until it hurt, without even wondering why that muttering.

If only he could, he would have cut off the rest of the world in that instant, but Paul's voice calling back softly, with a little guilt, reminded him that he still couldn't. They had so much to talk about, him, so much to apologize for, but first he had to close the night.

- Wait me, kay? – he muttered against her hair and Y/N immediately broke away from him to adjust the shirt she had under her jacket, one of his merchandise.

At least he hadn't soiled her with all that sweat.

- A doctor!

- We shoot the video and then, to the conference.

- Three minutes, cmon everyone!

She looked at him once more as she backed away down the hallway amidst the chaos that still reigned behind scenes and he saw her nod slowly, before turning away, disappearing who knows where without saying anything.

He had joined her after changing into something more cozy, body struggling for the last effort and mind suddenly blank. He'd thought for weeks about what to say, how to do it, but right now, sitting next to her in his suite, all he could think about was how she'd left after the match. It would have been easy to make excuses, justify everything with his busy schedule, distract himself with lockeroom rumors, try to pick up where they left off last time, but it wouldn't be honest, it wouldn't be fair and Roman didn't want anymore to go down that road. They had to talk and they had to do it once and for all, because there was too much now between them, for too long and the situation had taken a wrong turn without him wanting it. Y/N had proved it to him without putting on a scene.

He wasn't sure how she felt about their relationship. There had been moments in almost a year, when he had sworn he had seen everything from her and others, when he had heard her throw the emptiness of a fuck in his face. They had always been comfortable together, with an almost surreal simplicity, the attraction and physical bond, extras that both of them have accepted without holding back. But you don't build something stable just out of that, and Roman had always been careful not to be fooled or to take things lightly. Y/N had never been a game for him and he hadn't spared himself once in treating her as she deserved, yet here they were.

- How's your back? - Y/N asked softly and for first, dragging him out of his thoughts and Roman only realized at that moment that he had a hand gripping the band around his back and that it had probably been there for too long.

- One week and I won't think about it anymore – he tried to reassure her, but her caramel colored leg dangled a bit in air, before she wrinkled her nose and he knew she wasn't sure at all.

- It was a bad blow. He could have done better, even on the ramp. Too fast, it wasn't necessary.

She had a good eye and both blows hadn't been the best for his back actually, he couldn't hide it, but it wasn't bad enough to put on that face of hers and he knew her well enough to anticipated that moment. And it was for that moment that he had blown everything maybe.

- You've been watching me all the match – he noted, with a small smile and Y/N rolled her shoulders.

- There wasn't much else I could do.

It was definitely that, the reason. And she was throwing it in his face after waiting more patiently than necessary, without scenes or accusations, after being there for him anyway. He deserved it, honestly he deserved more than this for treating her like that.

- I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything.

It wasn't a lie, he was really sorry. The habit of telling her everything and involving her, had been the fastest vice that Roman had acquired in his whole life, even going against his own reserved nature. By now she was the first and often the only person he thought of when something happened to him, at work or not, but on that occasion he had had to make a choice. One that he would have wanted to avoid with all his heart and that he had in any case imposed himself out of a sense of responsibility, towards the company and above all, towards her.

He looked at her as she leaned back on the sofa saying nothing, her eyes fixed on his hands, but not on him and he nodded slowly, while beyond the windows the lights of Los Angeles continued to put on a show.

- There's a lot to work on and after tonight a lot will probably change. We have agreements, my family and I and I will make sure they stick to them, I'm in a position to do that. The story takes priority, we've been working on it for a long time now and tonight was important. To show everyone that we are giving something out there. It was a delicate situation… – he remembered seriously, frowning at the thought of what he had found in his hands together with the most important main event of the year.

He was still the face of the company, his job was not just to play the role of the champion or pose for advertising campaigns. The management relied on him, so that the external impression was solid and successful since often, in the last period, they had sabotaged themselves. In that circumstance it had been something that no one had ever faced, the beginning of a new era and Roman had tried to do everything possible in his role to make things go better.

Beside him, Y/N nodded before he could even finish speaking, her expression as serious as his.

- I get it. – she knew the background and even if she didn't have to deal with that story firsthand, he was sure that she understood its importance, but it was not the only reason behind his behavior and it was what he had to make her understand.

- I know… but I also know that you have my back and I didn't want you to end up in the middle. – he admitted with a heavy breath and Y/N's gaze was immediately on him, on her face an expression that Roman never wanted to see - I don't mean it that way. - he tried to calm her down.

- Then explain to me in which sense you mean it, because it seems exactly the wrong one. - she retorted, her tone even too calm and detached and Roman took another breath, looking at her without hesitation.

Not only had he kept the outcome of the match a secret, he had been careful to keep her away from everything in recent months, recommending Paul and the twins the same. He had cut her off. It hadn't been a way to get rid of her or to push away the distractions that might have ruined his focus, but the opposite. Keeping her close was all he wanted now, Roman needed her like the air he breathed and the run to WM wasn't an exception just because there were more meetings to keep him busy. He never wanted to deprive himself of having her beside him, but he had made that choice for her more than for anyone else.

- I didn't want to cause you thoughts for months. It's the heaviest time of the year, you've had your meetings too, I wanted to see you continue on your path, reach your goals without feeling obligations for me and the boys, I wanted to keep you away from problems. You would have tried to be supportive, you would have gone out of your way, we both know that and I couldn't allow it. - he explained, his brow furrowed - and I'm not saying that because I don't think you're capable of doing it. I know you can, that you would not have seen it as an obligation. I know you can handle the tension, I never thought otherwise.

Y/N was the strongest woman he had ever known, in some ways even stronger than his mama. Life had not been kind to her and yet she was able to become the beautiful woman near him. Roman knew what she was capable of, but he had had to do it. He had felt the visceral need to shield her from what would only weigh her down, the responsibility to protect her from the worst that would spring out during those moments and give her priority over his needs. In his mind Y/N was on top of everything, she was his priority and he had acted upon it.

Her dark eyes surveyed him without hesitation, for a moment giving the impression of softening, but it was an instant and Y/N sent it away, hands folded together, shoulder lifting a lit.

- But you thought that not telling me anything would help? I had no idea what was going through your mind, Roman, it didn't make me feel better or keep me focused – she pointed out to him and Roman took her disappointment hands down.

Silently, he watched as she stared a hole in the darkened tv screen on the opposite wall, trying to calm her mood and swallowing whatever reached her lips, to take another moment.

- I was sure that something was happening to you… everyone was talking, they were freaking out out there and behind it was even worse during the shows… I know how heavy it is usually, I see you and that atmosphere was building up a bit too much, I didn't like it and yeah, maybe I wouldnt have the right approach and you did right, but i wanted to be there for you. I know it's not my place, it's not up to me, you don't have to talk to me about everything or drag me around, but I wanted to be there for you, it was important because I was sure it was important to you – she finally said, abruptly and without warning, looking straight back at him.

He knew that shadow in her eyes and the slant in her tone. For almost a year he had done nothing but fight to obtain them, for a few seconds or for whole nights, they had become his personal challenge, his obsession. It was one of those moments when Y/N seemed to want everything from him, good and bad, but it was the first time she'd admitted it and the fact that she almost seemed to regret it, that she wasn't even angry, because of his wrong choice, makes Roman snap.

- You were there, whenever I needed you and you're here now. - he said, voice hoarse and his face serious, trying to control himself to go through with it, to show her otherwise.

Roman had gone from listening to her stories about bad dates into some arenas to waiting for her to return to the hotel. From not bearing not knowing where she was to blocking her by any means with him somewhere. He had had the wrong attitudes, he had become possessive and had been on more than one occasion on the verge of exploding when he had had to deal with reality between them. And he had certainly made bad choices, remaining silent, taking advantage of moments and letting others go, but he wasn't going to do it tonight. Her place had always been beside him, for Roman it had been since before she had that meltdown at the gym and he wouldn't leave her in any doubt about it. Not even seeing that expression disappear from her face again and change into a nod that would put off that story.

- C'mere - he pulled at, searching and finding her hand to bring her closer to him.

He wouldn't let go without putting that point inside her head, not even if it was the last thing he did before seeing life give him a bad lesson too. He would or he wouldn't have gone down, there was no other plans. There was no plan B with Y/N, she was the only plan.

Y/N didn't resist, she never did it with him, but one heavy breath lifted her chest as Roman forced her to sit on his lap. A few months ago that would have been enough to put pieces back together and now Roman suspected she was not sure about what to do. She was holding back, he felt it even though she didn't move her hand away from his and he moved instinctively, running his other along her tight to comfort her and draw circles on her soft caramel skin.

-No – he stopped her and Y/N's eyes moved from his fingers running over her, to him.

- What?

- I know what's going on, stop it. – he said, even more serious than before and Y/N quickly went from being confused to sighing, a slightly bitter smile on her full lips.

- Im just- she tried, but Roman pulled her closer to him, hand this time digging a lit into her skin, head bobbing for a second.

- I fucked up, but your place is here. We told each other stories, we pretended nothing happened and we stayed on our own enough… - he complained hoarsely - but there’s no red flag and there won't be any, stop thinking about it. If you don't want to continue, because you really don't want to, say so. I’ll let you go. But if that's not the reason… we'll find a way. Us, this time, ya hear me?

He had never thought of getting to that point with her like this. He'd hoped to do it differently, to do it the way Y/N deserved to happen, regardless of how it might have ended up, but the damage was already done and they hadn't raised him to hide from the odds. Life had taught him otherwise.

-Roman – she called him back, almost in a warning and he wrinkled his nose, nodding.

- You said you wanted to be with me. You are with me and I want you to stay there, but you have to be sure because we not going to continue down that road – he repeated, looking at her from below his position, not wanting to give up on that condition.

Hiding and flirting was fun, exciting, but they weren't kids. They couldn't do it indefinitely and it had lasted long enough to push them in a bad mood anyway.

- Ya serious? – Y/N asked confused, seeing that he didn't give up, voice less firm for a moment, almost as if she hadn't expected it.

- Im positive.

Y/N didn't move, didn't even try to take her eyes off him, her body still tense and Roman hugged her a little tighter. She was trying to put the pieces together, he knows that…

- I can take your no. Say it if thats your choice now.- he said her, suspecting it was the problem behind her sudden silence and though that wasn't true at all, Roman again felt he had to cover her back, this time even giving her permission to give him the shot of the century.

- No.

And the shot came. Quick and unexpected even having called it, prompting Roman to nod his head, but his fingers refused to let go and unexpectedly found Y/N's.

That one was some bad, bad, heavy shit-

- No, it's not my choice.

He heard her clear up and brought his eyes back to her in time to see her duck. The contact with her lips caused him as always a discharge throughout his body and his arms snapped quickly, dragging her against his chest with no desire to hold back. Felt her breasts pressing against him, her endless legs keeping her on top of him and her nails slowly scratching his face, creeping into his beard. A growl, almost dangerous came out of his throat, vibrating through Y/N which had finally softened and Roman squeezed again, unable to control himself after being apart for so long and now having her all to himself. But Y/N taked back control, escaping his kisses that threatened to devour her, to place a hand on his chest, an expression suddenly threatening.

- If you try to put me against a wall again, I'll do worse than say no to you. - she warned him, still letting him swing her by her hips and even if those words would have required more, Roman still let out a grin.

Mood was now mounting out of control and his hands couldn't stay still, reclaiming everything that was now finally his.

- I thought you liked when I do it - he joked, making her raise an eyebrow.

- Ya know what? … no. - she pushed him, regaining the mood that she seemed to have lost before.

- Stop saying it. - It was strange to hear her say that, he wasn't used to it.

- No.

- Babygirl.

- Nope – she snapped with her lips and Roman grabbed her, determined to make up for lost time and maybe even wipe that smirk off her face, to replace it with another kind of expression.

But, even if he was used to much heavier weights than her, the fatigue of that night and the blows he had taken on the back unbalanced him and Y/N quickly put her feet on the floor, grabbing him by the shoulder despite him having managed to keep the position and hadn't thought to let her go.

- It's better if we give your back a break...

Y/N was right as always, he couldn't risk making the situation worse, especially when the following day had to show up for the first post WM show and give the impression of having a match. But he wouldn't be a good guy for anything in the world that night, the idea didn't even cross his mind.

- We will find a way – he proposed, pulling her against himself anyway to wrap his arms around her hips and Y/N turned spitefully, looking at him from her shoulder, while he planted a kiss on her neck and another one, sucking her soft spot.

- Only one? – she moaned, pulling him towards the bedroom with her and Roman cackled dangerously.

- You don't know what you accepted woman.

He had certainly done a lot wrong in a short time with Y/N and the lesson had come for him too that night. But sometimes the bad guys were given another chance to be right.

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#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x you #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns one shot

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azari-31 · 7 months

Text

Two worlds collide - Namor x OC/reader

A/U: so.... it's finally here. Im bad at writing a romantic non angst things, cuz i love angst. I had no idea how to write some scenes, but maybe in a few weeks i'll update it with this missing scenes. For now - enjoy this "masterpiece". Sorry for some mistakes, but i'm not good at english as i want to be. the end. now...

Enjoy!

words; 3700-ish

She hid behind the column and prayed to any deity to stay unseen. Tears ran from her eyes and a silent sob escaped her mouth. She wanted to come back home, to hug her mum. She wanted to reunite with her mother!

The blue people were killing everyone one by one. Screams of guards and priests hurt her ears. She covered them with her small hands, but it didn't help much. That was horrifying. Unconsciously, Azula called to her magic and a fire ring appeared around her protecting her from anyone.

Soon after everything ended.

Screams and yanking of steel; everything went silent. The only sounds were grunts of dying soldiers. Girl managed to open her eyes and looked at the battlefield. Flames slowly went out and left a burned mark on the ground.

A young boy looked at her and offered his hand. He spoke something to her in an unknown language. Terrified, she was looking at him for a relatively long time until one of her fellow prisoners said to her.

-He's asking you to join him. - the closest woman translated the newcomer's words. - He said he sees your talent and that he can provide you with shelter.

-Why? - she turned to this boy and the chains on her ankles crunched. Azula felt as the blood flowed down from wounds. She was weak. Very weak. Girl stumbled, but quickly regained her balance. Chains weighed her down and irritated her wounds. Pain was almost unbearable. She clenched her teeth.

In a matter of seconds one foreign warrior came to her and broke her shackles. With no word she grabbed the warrior’s arm and rested all of her weight on him. Girl didn’t even notice K’uk’ulkan walking towards her.

-Friends? - she looked surprised at the boy's hand and then at him. He wanted to be her friend? It was strange and uncommon for her.

She took a glimpse at the surroundings and finally answered:

-Friends. - flame in her eyes ignited with joy in her heart.

~*~

Many years have passed. Azula has excelled at magic as a witch. Her body was adjusted and used to do more demanding and experienced magic. A curse of fire in her blood was still a problem, but thanks to Namor it wasn’t that much of a problem.

After all these years her friendship with the king of Talokan grew stronger. They were inseparable. They could end each other’s sentences like they read their minds. This bond was something they needed. Both of them had time and no biological family to love. Two kids from different worlds – the surface and underwater. Something no one could think would work. Their feelings grew stronger and suddenly they couldn’t live without each other.

Azula was doing some ancient ritual when Namor came out of the sea. Spirits of the dead were surrounding her and the campfire. It was the time of year, when the spirits of ancestors wanted to meet with the living ones, but in Azula’s tradition it was about giving power to the dead. Her clan believed spirits had to consume their descendants’ magic to be able to survive.

Namor sat down on the rock silently and watched her moves with admiration. This woman was graceful and delicate despite the power that was surging inside. He saw a few burns and wounds from her fire. They made beautiful marks like tattoos, but painful. Many times he had to tend to her wounds, because she was exhausted.

-I got you, Mi Reina. - he said as he caught her. The love for her was so strong.

-K’uk’ulkan. - a smile appeared on her face at the same moment as she saw his face. - Thank you.

-You know I could burn the world for you. - he caressed her face and kissed her forehead.

-It’s my thing, Elio. Your domain is water and stick to it. - she winked with greater smile.

~*~

She barged into the ruined throne room right after M’Baku. She looked around and her eyes stopped at one point. There he was, in the broken window, looking at the young crying princess. For a second she laid eyes on the floor and saw Ramonda’s unconscious body. From that moment everything went silent.

-Bury the dead. Mourn your losses. You’re the Queen now. - Suddenly, the meaning of Namor’s words came to the witch. One look at the scene; Shuri stopped by M’Baku, Okoye and Nakia trying to resuscitate Ramonda and Riri. This was enough for her. K’uk’ulkan looked at Azula for the last time before he decided to go back. Her rage turned into blue-ish flames covering her arms.

-Estas muerto, Namor. - she threatened and sent a fireball at him. Before Namor disappeared, she could see the betrayal in his eyes. When he was already gone, she snapped out of trans and didn’t think twice of what she was doing. The flames vanished spontaneously leaving her skin burned.

Okoye was still trying to resuscitate Ramonda, but her efforts were in vain

-She has passed. - silent words came out of Nakia’s mouth. Everyone heard it, but not Azula. Witch forced her whole body to move. As she was close, she pushed Okoye away and kneeled beside Ramonda. Azula took a knife out of her pocket and cut the inside of her hand. Then she put it on the queen’s chest, tainting the material of the dress.

-It’s not too late. - Azula said to herself. - There’s still hope. I feel her spirit. - she wiped tears away from her face and started some incantations. Her voice was cracking, breaking every few words. Even breath control didn’t help. She put everything in that spell; her emotions, feelings, even her soul. Damn it, she would sell it to Satan himself if she could. She couldn’t fail this time, she just couldn’t.

Witch felt the curse kicking in, but it didn’t stop her, even made her sacrifice more for a friend. The feeling of her magic devouring her from inside was excruciatingly painful. At some point she heard her scream. Azula forced every molecule of her body to do as she commanded. The flames subtly covered Ramonda’s body and pumped life energy inside.

Suddenly she encountered a void. An empty vessel without even the smallest signs of life. Azula’s magic hasn't had anything to become an anchor. Nothing worked. Even draining from her life forces didn't help. Flame in her dangerously dimmed inside.

Like behind the mist, she saw Shuri crying over her mother's corpses. She failed. Again. Tears started to flow from her eyes and blurring her vision. Drained out of energy, Azula barely stood up by herself. She looked at the ruined throne room and tragedy in front of her before she left them. She had unfinished business with someone.

~*~

Azula entered Namor’s chamber like it was her own. Inside she encountered his third-in-command. They weren’t friends for a long time, but now this “not caring about the other” turned into hatred.

-Leave us alone. - she commanded with her strong voice, but the warrior didn’t even flinch. Commander waited for her King’s reaction. He nodded and the talokanian warrior left the room. From now on they were the only people inside. The silence between them was terrifying and tension was almost touchable.

-Long time no see, Zaz… - he wanted to greet his friend, but didn’t have a chance. She pushed away his hands. Next thing she did was attack him verbally.

-Cut that shit, Namor. We both know what you did.

-So it's no longer 'Mi Corazón'? Not even Elio? - he asked playfully, with a little bit of sarcasm. But under this facade he hid the little fear. She had magic in her possession. Five hundred years of magical experience and knowledge.

-You attacked Wakanda against our agreements. - The witch's voice was harsh and washed from emotions. - The country of my beloved friend!

-They didn’t pick a side and that was my warning. And now I need you to help me destroy them once and for all. - the calm in his voice sent chills down her spine. For a moment she forgot how dangerous he was. Underwater, in his domain, she had low chances for winning in a direct fight. Of course Azula could beat him, even kill him, but it required time. And he wouldn’t give her that in a fight.

-You killed their Queen! - she shouted, but her voice seemed flat, once again washed from any form of emotion. Her eyes were piercing his very soul. He wanted to flinch, but his pride didn't let him. When he looked at her, in her irises he saw something that he didn't think he would see again. It was something primal, something wild and untamed. Something from her past.

-That was necessary. And I don’t owe you any explanation. - he said and looked away from her piercing gaze. It was often fascinating, but this time it was paralyzing. Sometimes he felt like beneath Azula’s skin a monster was hidden. Like she was a monster in human flesh. Or rather unsatisfied, ferocious flame.

-I can curse you forever and you will never experience the feeling of water again. - she started her tirade on him. She didn’t even try to hold her magic anymore. She wanted to do a scary spectacle. - I can make you as weak as the human race is, even weaker than them. - woman threatened him with magic focused in the palm of her hand.

Her fingers touched his skin subtly as the magic tightened its grip on his throat. Suddenly he felt like his power and vitals left him. The feeling lasted only for a short amount of time, but it was strange, almost frightening for him. Now he knew Azula thrived as a magic user and was much more powerful than before, when she left Talokan and him for the surface world. But still he didn’t know her full potential, neither did she.

-Even then I will not change my decision. - he hissed through his teeth. He couldn't let her know how scared he was. - My people will follow me and do everything to protect Talokan. - he answered with confidence and calm worthy of the greatest king and warrior.

-You’re ready to start a war with the surface? - Azula was surprised by the decision of her friend and the idiocy of the plan. But the rage was more powerful and it quickly covered every other thoughts and emotions. - Fully knowing the consequences of not having an alliance with Wakanda? Or any powerful ally?

-I won't make a pact with them anymore. They had their chance. - he turned to the paintings and it looked like he studied it for a moment. The picture showed a short story about how Azula met him and became the Protector of this city. And his heart. - And they rejected my offer.

-Why? - she asked while holding her anger and grief in check. They both knew bad emotions were the best fuel for her dark magic, even better than sacrifices. He learnt it the wrong way a long time ago and didn't want a reround.

-One of them killed a guard. - as the meaning of words came to her, she looked at him stunned. Someone didn’t tell her all the facts and truth. She knew Talokanil meant everything to Namor. He could do anything for them, even die if that meant he protected them. The fact that someone killed one of his subjects was terrifying. For sure it was Nakia, because Shuri and Riri had no weapons to execute anyone. - That is the real reason for my aggression towards Wakanda. That’s how Talokanil and K’uk’ulkan return the favor.

-Tell me one thing. - she asked, fighting with the urge to destroy something and crying from helplessness. She kept her composure with the last piece of energy she had left. - Why am I not even surprised by what you want to do? - the pain in her voice was almost touchable for the ruler of the underwater kingdom. - You killed their queen, destroyed their capital and you want more?!

-I'll bring justice for my people.

-That’s not justice! That was pure revenge. - she hissed. Magic flames almost covered her irises for a brief moment. And yet he took a step towards her.

-I must secure Talokan’s future. That was always my goal and you knew it from the beginning of our relation. - K’uk’ulkan answered confidently, trying to keep his emotions and feelings hidden. Now he wasn’t sure about which side Azula picked. Just in case, he must’ve been prepared for everything. - And Wakanda will be our warning for the surface world.

-I could kill you right now ‘cause of your broken promise. - she warned him while she stepped further from him. The feeling of her magic surprised him again. It was climbing from his feet. They looked deeply in each other's eyes fighting a wordless battle. The face of a man she loved so deeply for years; now she didn’t recognize it, like it belonged to a completely different person.

-We were friends once. Why can’t we go back to those times? - he asked, and his look softened. He tucked a strand of her hair in his fingers and gently put it behind her ear. She knew he was trying to make her choose him, but she already decided. - Join me and … - he started, but the witch stopped him in the middle of the sentence.

-In the name of the friendship we once shared, from the respect to each other we once had I won’t kill you this time. - she said and turned her back to him. She made a few steps to the doors, but stopped about 1 meter in front of the exit. - Next time we’ll meet on the battlefield… We won’t fight on the same side. And I won't be that merciful as I am today. - K’uk’ulkan noticed gathering tears in her eyes. Instincts forced him to wipe them away, but he resisted this urge. It wasn’t appropriate and wanted by her. It would end terribly for both of them.

-Azula… - he tried again, but he failed once more. All his thoughts were focused on this woman and how he could persuade her to stay with him and fight by his side. He couldn’t lose her as an ally, but mostly as a friend. Not because she was powerful, but because she was the closest person he had after his mother. But something she said next broke his heart into a million pieces irrevocably.

-You really are a niño sin amor. - she said before vanishing from Namor’s chamber. A one single drop of tear rolled down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. Today she lost two of her friends. How much must she lose before she can live peacefully? - she asked herself while she went back to her room in Wakanda's palace. She only prayed that the upcoming war won't end by his or Shuri’s death.

Why does she always have to suffer? Why can’t anything go strictly as it was planned? And why does it always involve hurting someone close to her?

~*~

She sat alone on a rock for a long time now thinking about everything that happened. She knew she did everything she could, but couldn’t help herself. She blamed herself for Ramonda’s and T’Challa’s deaths. She could prevent those events from happening, but she failed. And now she had to pay the price.

-Zaz? - he asked, surprised while walking out of the water. He didn’t expect her coming to Talokan nor even calling him ever again. They were enemies with a shared, and maybe for her, unwanted past. But there she was, waiting for him.

-You came. - she smiled slightly. Namor could only see her right profile. Her eyes were directed into the sunset. The beach she chose meant something to both of them. They met here for the first time and became friends.

-You called. - he answered and took a few steps in her direction. He stopped right in front of her and sat beside the rock. They watched the sunset together in complete silence. Instinctively she put her hand on Namor’s head and started playing with his hair.

In this precise moment there was nothing else, but them and the setting sun. He gently put his head on the side of her thigh. Namor just wanted to be a normal man, even for a short while. And all that mattered for her was to be with him.

-Mi corazón. - she whispered, still looking at the horizon. It felt like they went back in time, when they were just lost, abandoned kids. - Do you remember our talk about our lifespans? - he nodded in agreement. - I wasn't entirely honest with you that day.

-What do you mean?

-You can live for about how many years more, huh? It's gonna be at least 500 years. We don't know that. - she shrugged without any other move - On the other hand, I knew that you would outlive me. I use dark magic and this type of magic focuses on sacrifices, like plants or animals. Or the user's life force. I did it to extend my life, but it was only temporary. I always knew that.

-But you perform sacrifices every time. You were very cautious about it. - a sad smile showed on her face for a second and quickly faded.

-I told you this a long time ago and I'm gonna tell you again. Every…

-What did you do? - he asked, scared of what she could do or already did. He couldn't afford to lose her now. Nor ever.

-...thing has a price. And I didn't pay the price for defying death twice.

-What do you mean by "defying death"? - he asked, terrified. As the last words came out of his mouth, Azula turned to him and showed her full face. The left part was missing. It looked like it was burned. Namor looked at her in shock.

-Year ago I tried to bring T'Challa back to life. It didn't go well and from that moment I balanced between life and death. Second time was right before Shuri took the throne. I struggled with resurrecting Ramonda, but that went even worse than I expected. - she spoke last words shyly, like she didn’t want to admit it to him. Admit that she failed. Even if it was his fault.

-How long… - the man tried to ask, but he couldn't say anything.

-I have a few minutes, maybe less. - she replied shortly. - If it's about how long I hid this from you and others… - she pointed at the scarred part and tried to smile, but it didn't work. - More than a year. It became worse after T’Challa’s failed resurrection.

-No… - Namor said, still not believing in Azula's words.

-You craved for an answer why I called you today. So here it is. I wanted to see my old friend and the love of my life for the last time. - she smiled slightly. Her answer seemed honest and genuine; no hooks or hidden meanings.

-I asked you once if you could be Mi Reina. - he smiled and joined their hands together. It felt good, like they were meant for eachother.

-And I said 'over my dead body'. - woman chuckled quietly.

-But you already were the queen of my heart. - He confessed and looked at her. In her eyes he saw joy and tiredness. Both feelings were fighting with each other for dominance, but neither could win. For now, all she felt was overwhelming joy. She'll die in the arms of a man she loved for so long.

-Can I ask you for something?

-Anything for you, Mi Reina. - he couldn’t hold back his tears anymore, but he had to. That was her goodbye to the world and to him. And he couldn’t stop it.

-Try to love the surface and its people. They've changed, the world has changed. And you will find someone worth trusting. Just give them a chance. - she asked him. All she ever wanted was to be with him. Just like now, only two ordinary people, no more nor less. But that was a dream, and her dreams never came true.

-You are the only part of the surface world I love. - his attempts to hold his tears failed. Soon one tear ran down his cheek and after this another came. It shocked Azula to her core. Last time she saw Namor crying was after his mother’s death.

-But not the last. - her words were full of hope and kindness. He couldn’t believe how she could be so kind and happy and hopeful in her last moments of life. He barely believed that moment existed and it was real.

-I always loved you, Mi Reina. - he said with a fading smile. He did not hold back his tears. - And I always will. - he gently put a kiss on her forehead.

-See? They were wrong. - she smiled through her and his tears. - You can love. - he watched as she took her last breath and her eyes closed for eternity. Her grip on his hand loosened up and the heart stopped beating. With tearing eyes he hugged her dead body to his own. All those years lost because of thought he knew better. Her death was caused by his selfishness and not listening to his best advisor. The flame in her was gone. And with that his last piece of love for the surface world.

~*~

He already missed her heartbeat and her smile. Her true happy smile. Everyone he loved was dead. But Talokan still existed. And with it her flame and dream did too. That was the only thing that mattered now.

The funeral ceremony was made with great respect.Talokanil farewelled her like a Queen, whom she was for them. He wanted to bury her underwater, near him and his people. But that was his selfishness speaking.

Long time ago she confessed to him about her wishes of last destination. She mentioned one place. A small city by the sea, near Alicante. Her hometown. That, he remembered. And she deserved this, to be buried in her ancestors’ home. Nevertheless, she deserved to live even more.

-K’uk’ulkan. - Namora greeted her king. Even she felt grief. Azula gave her heart to this kingdom and its people.

-Yes?

-Queen Shuri is asking you to take Azula’s tomb. What shall I say?

-That I’m going with them to make sure her last wish will be executed properly. - Namor commanded. He took a glimpse at the mosaic of him and Azula. Kids from 2 different worlds marked with violence for the rest of their days. Even after 5 centuries he would do the same thing; he would still ask Azula to be his friend. And he would finally ask her to become his queen.

#namor x reader #mcu namor #black panter wakanda forever #wakanda forever #marvel mcu #witch #fire witch #mcu fanfiction #namor fanfiction #friends to enemies #enemies to friends to lovers #lovers to enemies #angst #oneshot

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emisprocrastinatingbywriting · 2 months

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Alone and Forsaken

Chapter 7 Summary:

Two weeks after your heat and Joel Miller remained by your side constantly but refused to touch you. Promises are made but after an outburst, can Joel finally open up to you?

Warnings: Past Trauma, Minor Injuries, Angst and Fluff, Smut, Reader & Joel need hugs fr, Local middle aged man tries to open up, Fluffiness overload, Joel gets injured.

A/N: I'm back! Third year at uni is in the bag but exams almost killed me. It's a long one so buckle up for more backstory on the reader, more loverboy Joel and painful confessions. Fluff and smut galore, as always. Warning that some of reader's memories include physical assault and Joel dives into some of his trauma. Take care of yourselves as always!

Chapter 7/20

Chapter 7: Home

“Bring her around back, I want to talk to her.”

A pair of arms wrapped around you and hauled you out of the trunk. A dull throb was pulsing behind your eyes as the guard threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Blood dripped from your face and you watched through bleary eyes as it splattered against the back of the guard’s coat.

Two months. Two fucking months of being free, and they had found you because of a mistake. After a month of keeping fires low, slinking around the outskirts of towns and leaving no traces behind, you had been lulled into a sense of comfort. Escaping Paul had been the easy part, traveling alone as an unmated omega was the hard part. After too many close calls with roving bands of raiders that picked through the wreckage of the world for anything they could steal, or anyone, you decided that cities were not for you.

After walking for days along a cracked interstate with nothing but trees to keep you company, you came across a weathered town that looked like it had been dilapidated long before the outbreak. Most of the buildings were barely standing, years of neglect making them shake and shiver in the wind. You walked for nearly an hour before you found a structure that didn’t look like it was going to be torn down by the next rainstorm.

Sat at the very edge of town, away from the main road and any of the residential buildings was a small diner that looked frozen in time. As you pushed open the front door, the bell that hung over it announced your entry. Freezing for a moment with your ears peeled for any indication of danger, the dust covered space greeted you with silence. You relaxed and crept slowly through the diner.

The checkered floors and leather booths reminded you of the Archie comics that your dad used to keep in the bathroom before the outbreak. It was a little run down, with dusty windows and peeling pink paint on the walls, but you loved it. You swept the building for any infected that could be lurking in the shadows, hands shaking as you braced for a stalker to attack. However, you found that your only company was a lonely skeleton in the back office. The shotgun was still propped between their knees and a jagged hole glared at you from the back of the stranger’s head. You winced at the brutal scene, quietly apologizing to the stranger as you eased the gun from their grasp.

The gun felt weird in your hands, too long and heavy with your only previous experience in shooting being a handgun. Still, dodging infected and raiders for the last month with nothing but a hunting knife had been close to impossible. You thought of your close calls. You thought of the shoe you had left behind in a department store after barely managing to squirm out of the grasp of an attacker. You thought of the night you had spent hidden in a vent while a ruthless group of alphas grew progressively angrier as they tried, and failed, to sniff you out. Suddenly the unwieldy 12 gauge felt like a luxury compared to your inevitable fate without it. As gently as you could, you flicked the safety on and placed it on the desk before looking around.

The office itself had clearly doubled as the stranger’s hideaway after the outbreak, with a cot left still unmade and jugs of water left from the previous occupant. The kitchen was still mostly stocked and had semi salvageable expired cans of food left on the shelves. Cobwebs caught in your hair as you moved through the place. The front windows were cloaked in dirt and overgrown shrubbery, effectively shrouding the inside of the dining room from prying eyes. After a month of constant running, this place felt like a sign that you were finally safe from the place you had once called home. You were free.

The month you spent living in the abandoned diner was the first time you felt like yourself. Days were spent pilfering through the abandoned town for anything of use, trading the modest clothes you escaped in for more breathable fabrics. After tossing the old outfit, you managed to get lucky finding some more shells for your gun, some soap and even a pair of boots that could replace your threadbare sneakers. Despite the growing pile of treasures in the tiny office, the real winner was the stash of smutty romances you stumbled upon.

The banned books that Jake had slipped to you back at camp were nothing compared to these. After two weeks, you had already burned through at least six. The best one, in your opinion, was the one with the handsome, older crime boss who finds a lonely bookkeeper and whisks her off into his chaotic life. After your second time rereading the story you decided it was time to pick up a hobby that wasn’t going to throw you into a heat.

You were unsure if Paul or Josiah were still looking for you but they were not the only threat. After some deliberation, you decided it was time to brush up on your self defense. For the next few days you jabbed and sliced at the air with your knife, trying to perfect your form in case any raider jumped out at you. With that perfected, you moved on to practicing your shot.

The first attempt was rough, the force from it nearly knocking you over, but you kept at it. Before long, trees, buildings, mailboxes and stop signs all became your targets. You walked freely through town with a gun in your hands and nobody to answer to. It made you feel powerful. A stupid feeling to have in hindsight.

Two months of dodging your fate ended with one of Josiah’s men taking you by surprise. The moment you returned from a stroll through town, the nameless alpha had slammed the but of a rifle into your nose. You tried to reach for the shotgun but it was kicked away, after which a boot entered your field of vision and knocked you unconscious. A bump in the road had awoken you in the trunk. After a cramped ride where you tried to not pass out from the pain in your skull, you were finally back home.

You could only assume that what you were being carried towards was your own dramatic execution. Josiah’s future words rang in your ears as you imagined him declaring that no one, not even family, was above his word. You imagined the tightness of your mother’s features as they hung you and hoped Rachel knew enough to keep Miriam away. She would be kicking and screaming at the guards. You could see it all so clearly and it didn’t even scare you anymore. In this world, there were worse fates. At least you had tasted freedom for a moment.

The wind was knocked out of you as the guard dumped you onto the ground. You groaned, a sharp sting growing on your side as you tried to get your bearings. Before you could place yourself, a large hand came down and wrenched your head backwards. Tears formed in your eyes from the sting in your scalp and you struggled to focus your bleary eyes.

“Welcome back Angel, you’ve been missed.”

As the fogginess in your vision dissipated, Paul’s pale face appeared with his thin lips pulled into a sinister grin. His blue eyes raked over your figure as you struggled weakly, amusement and sick lust making him smile wider. Paul tightened his grip and you winced. At that moment, you hated him so much for everything he had done and hated him even more for everything he was bound to do. Before you could even think about it, a wad of spit flew from your mouth and landed on his pale cheek.

Paul cussed and you laughed in his spit soaked face as it shifted into something much darker. In an instant he slammed your body down to the ground. Your skull thumped back against the earth and your ears started to ring. A groan bubbling up from your throat was cut off as Paul wrapped his hands around your neck. His eyes were cold in comparison to the sick pleasure portrayed on his face. You used every bit of strength to fight him off but it was no use. Paul laughed and leaned over you, his face inches from yours as he spoke.

“You know, if it was anyone else I would have let it go. But you,” your eyes bulged as his grip tightened, “You’re different. Sneaky, mouthy, and such a fucking tease. I knew you needed a strong alpha like me to train you, someone who wouldn’t spare the rod on your entitled ass.”

Despite the dots speckling the corners of your vision, you fought him as hard as you could. The smacks to his arms and chest got progressively weaker as your body succumbed to his grip around your neck. Your chest burned with the need for air, but you tried desperately to stay awake for as long as you could. This is it, you thought, this is how I’m going to die.

Just before the lack of oxygen finally took you under, Paul leaned down and whispered in your ear, “It’s okay Angel, you’ll be mine soon enough.”

A cry echoed in the quiet room. Your heart raced painfully in your chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe as you choked down sobs. The walls shrunk around you and the need to flee your surroundings suddenly became overwhelming.

As you moved to get up, a heavy weight across your chest stopped you. Terror pierced your racing heart as the warm object pinned you to the sheets. Paul’s grip on your neck still lurked in the corners of your mind and you started to thrash against the weight. A masculine grunt came from your left and you screeched, wrestling your way out from under the stranger. Clumsily, you dropped onto the floor and rolled away, scuttling back until your shoulder blades hit the wall.

“Darling? Wha - Hey, where’d you go?”

Your eyes snapped back up to the bed and the memory you were trapped in moments before began to slink away. A shaky sigh escaped your lips at the sight of a very groggy and confused looking Joel. He blinked down at you as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Joel’s curls were adorably flattened on one side of his head, meanwhile the other side looked like he had suffered an electrical shock. You sighed at the sight. The softness he exuded in the mornings suited him. You smiled weakly at him and his eyes narrowed at your trembling form against the wall.

Slowly, like a hunter trying not to scare a wobbly deer, Joel eased himself onto the floor. You tried to focus on tracing the scars on his burly chest with your eyes, unwilling to look at him head on as he knelt before you. Joel cupped your face, his rough hands making you hum as he tried to tilt your face towards him. After a few moments of dodging eye contact, you relented and slid your gaze up to meet his.

“Baby,” was all he said before you immediately broke down.

Joel shushed you as you burrowed your face into his neck, crying against his skin as he leaned back against the side of the bed. Gingerly, he pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his strong arms around you. He began to rub soothing circles against your hips, letting you snuffle at his musk as he whispered sweet nothings. You cried and Joel held you, pulling you back into his embrace each time you tried to pull away prematurely. After the third time that you tried to pull away from him, he snapped.

“God dammit honey, just cry. I won’t judge ya, just stop pulling away for Christ’s sake.”

You laughed at his words. It was like Joel knew you better than you knew yourself, like he knew that you had always had to be strong. He wanted you to be soft with him and so you let yourself cry. After a few minutes of sobbing against him, the shaking slowly ceased as the dream receded from your mind.

“Had another dream huh?” Joel asked quietly.

He sighed at your silent nod.

The dreams were a new addition to your night and they had taken a toll. After your heat had petered out, his rut had followed. You were worried at first, scared that he would retreat back to his place on the couch and pretend that nothing had happened. Joel had said he loved you during his rut, but he couldn’t have meant it. Right? The fear of losing him had plagued your mind the first morning. However, after a mere ten minutes of needless worrying, you were pleasantly surprised by a kiss dropped into your hair at breakfast.

“No oatmeal, as requested darling,” was murmured against your bedhead as Joel placed the plate in front of you.

Once you had bugged him about his promise that you could help out, the two of you had cleaned up in peaceful silence. Joel seemed to be in good spirits, even rolling his eyes when you whipped him with a towel halfway through the task. Despite the stern look on his face, you could see the small smile that pulled at the corners of his lips. The first night after your heat with Joel was perfect. With the burning need that raged through your bodies finally quelled, the two of you had slept soundly in each other’s arms.

It was the second night that a nightmare about Paul jerked you from sleep. Despite Joel’s vehement assurances, you were mortified at the memory. He had woken up that night to you kicking and screaming at him. As you fought against him, he had expertly rolled the two of you over and caged you in. Joel was patient that night, using gentle words to coax you back to reality until you were crying in his arms.

After that first nightmare, two weeks passed and every night the memory of Paul would come back to haunt you. The recurring dreams made you dread sleep. Each night, you tried everything to ignore the urge to rest. You read, you tried and failed to play guitar, you drew terrible caricatures that made Joel laugh, and you even risked his wrath by asking him about his past. Unfortunately for you, Joel had learned how to dodge your questions and began to take that as a cue that you needed to sleep. You tried to evade it but eventually he dragged you to bed, no matter how many probing questions you sent his way.

With two weeks gone, nothing had changed. Paul appeared each night to torment you and Joel comforted you afterwards. You felt guilty but he refused to accept any apology.

“S’not real darling. You’re here, you’re with me. I gotcha baby,” Joel crooned as you tried to match his steady breaths.

The shakes slowly petered out and you sighed, kissing his shoulder in thanks before you leaned back to look at him. Joel’s face nearly always remained schooled but his emotions were plain as day in his eyes. Worry, sadness, anger, and love, all danced in the pools of brown as they raked over your figure.

“It was him again, from when they caught me. He was choking me and no matter how hard I -,” you stopped and shook your head before the sobs started again.

There were a few other memories that had resurfaced in the past two weeks but that was the only one that came back consistently. Joel had listened to your account of the memory in full the first night it appeared, and you watched as he tried not to burst the blood vessel in his forehead. Rage poured off of him and soured his comforting scent, pulling a whine from you that forced him to soften his anger. He had remained soft every night since.

Joel pulled you from your thoughts as his forehead knocked against yours gently. You closed your eyes, breathing the same air as him for a moment as he brushed his hands up and down your sides. The warmth that radiated off of his skin eased the chill of the early morning and you sunk further into his lap as Joel tried to gather his words.

“I know that… I’ve… Well, you know after Sarah, there were a lot of nights where… Fuck… And with El- no… Shit honey, m’sorry, I’m real bad at this.”

You giggled and Joel huffed a laugh before he tried again.

“Memories have a bad habit of chasing you. And I’ve deserved mine for everything I- … Well, anyways, I know how it feels to have dreams make you feel like you did when they happened, but they’re not real. Not anymore, even if it feels like it,” he said.

Without opening your eyes, you asked quietly, “What happened to yours? Will my… Do they ever go away?”

Joel stiffened for a moment and you winced, rubbing your face against his neck until you felt him slowly relax again. His rut had certainly forced him to be vulnerable with you and after it was over, Joel tried hard to not close himself off again entirely. Whether it be through fleeting kisses or soft words, Joel Miller was trying for you, even though you could tell it was hard for him. It made you love him all the more.

“Honestly I don’t know. I had them every night before we… Well -,” he cleared his throat, “- before we - er - got together. But now I - I don’t know. They’re just gone. Maybe they’ll come back one day. I hope not, but who knows.”

You snorted.

“You have literally knotted me and you can’t bring yourself to say that we fucked? I can. We fucked. Easy as that, see?,” you jabbed.

Joel rolled his eyes and leaned forward to bite playfully at your shoulder as you squealed.

He tsked, “Tryin’ to be a gentleman here darling. Christ, you’ve got some mouth on ya.”

You laughed at his words and Joel smiled at your change in demeanor before you grew serious once more.

“I really hope my dreams go away too,” you whispered.

Joel made a sympathetic noise as you sat there sullenly, carding your fingers through the salt and pepper hair that covered his chest as you tried to blink away tears. Before you could sink too far into yourself, he snatched one of your hands from his chest and brought it to his lips. The small act made you forget the misery that panged in your heart and you smiled at him.

“Made you something,” he murmured.

Excitement rushed through you and you perked up. Joel laughed and lifted you back onto the bed, placing you gently on the soft sheets before he moved to get up. Before he could escape, you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. Joel let out a surprised noise as your lips met his, freezing for a millisecond before he leaned in.

One calloused hand pushed you forward by the small of your back while the other held your neck in place. His tongue ran along the seam of your lips and you moaned, granting him access to your mouth. You whined at the heat that radiated off of Joel, all you could think about was how his warm body felt against your own while he slammed into you. Need crept up from your core, different from the need you experienced during your heat but no less demanding.

Before the two of you could get too carried away, Joel broke the kiss abruptly. His cheeks were dusted with pink and his lips were swollen. A string of spit connected your lips as you parted and you whined at the sight. You watched as Joel’s dilated pupils looked down at your lips, his irises slivers around the all consuming black that sent shivers down your spine.

You wanted this. You wanted him so badly that you could hardly think but as you moved to lean in once more, Joel cleared his throat and stood up. The whine that left you was embarrassing but you didn’t care, and it seemed neither did he. Without another word, he leaned down once more, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek before he stood up.

“Just gotta go get it, one sec.”

Joel spun on his heel and waltzed out of the room, leaving you with wetness gathering between your legs. You tried not to be annoyed but it was hard. He had been more open in his feelings for you since his rut but kept his body off limits.

After days of his tongue, fingers and cock making you cum until drool dripped from the corners of your mouth, he cruelly shut off the tap. It was frustrating, but you tried to make due with the sweet words and heated makeouts. It was better than nothing. You needed Joel in any way he would have you, which made you feel progressively more pathetic each time he rejected you but you ignored the sting in hopes that he would break someday.

Joel interrupted your sulking as he came back into the room. He cautiously stepped forwards and smiled nervously. You swallowed a laugh at the alpha’s boyish demeanor as he stopped in front of you. Joel sighed and thrusted the gift out from behind his back.

“It’s not much darling but I - Well, I don’t know. I just think that if we had met before the outbreak I would’ve gotten you flowers. But I mean, I can’t just go to the store anymore so I don’t know, I made this,” he explained shyly.

In his hand was a wooden carving. It was not unlike the carvings that adorned the living room, except this one was delicate. It was a rose made of a light colored wood with petals carved to perfection. They bloomed outward from a skinny stem that was adorned with two small leaves. You gasped and took it from him, twirling the gift in your hand before you spied small lettering under one of the leaves. In careful lines, he had carved a small I love you.

Joel cleared his throat and you looked up. His jaw was set with his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he analyzed your reaction. You opened your mouth to praise his gift when he suddenly reached out and tried to snatch it back.

“Joel!,” you admonished, slapping his hands away.

“S’nothing darling. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea. You don’t need to guard my feelings, it’s a dumb gift. Barely even a gift really,” Joel rushed out as his cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

After placing the gift down on the bed, you crawled over to the edge and rose to place your hands on his cheeks. His dark eyes snapped to yours, breath catching in his throat as you pressed a soft peck to his lips.

“I love it Joel. I haven’t been given a lot of gifts but that one is definitely my favorite. Thank you. And, um hello? You can’t just give me a gift and then take it back. That’s like against the rules or something. I love it. I love YOU,” you chided.

A small smile bloomed on Joel’s face and he looked away, scuffing his feet against the floor for a moment before he looked back up at you. The redness in his cheeks grew as his teeth worried his bottom lip, guarding the goofy grin that threatened to break out on his face at your praise.

“Well alright then baby, m’glad you like it,” Joel murmured, leaning forward to brush his mouth against yours.

Jumping at the chance, you dove into him again. You pressed the front of your body against Joel’s as your lips met. He groaned and placed his rough hands on your hips, yanking you into him as his tongue mingled with yours. Heart pounding in your ears, your shaky hands tugged at Joel’s soft curls and drifted down his abdomen. Just as you reached his belly button he stopped and pulled back. A pinched groan rattled your chest as he placed his forehead against yours again.

“Dunno if it was worthy of THAT big of a thanks baby,” he chuckled.

You giggled and nipped at the scruff on his jaw as you whispered, “Maybe not, but what if I want you to fuck me anyways?”

Joel groaned as you worried the skin on his neck between your teeth, the action making his hips twitch forward on impulse. You felt his resolve slipping and you pulled back, eyes full of longing as you waited for him to do something. Anything.

“Darling I -,” Joel halted and sucked his teeth.

He stared at your lips for a moment, seemingly at war with himself while you squirmed before him. The impatient whine that rang out seemed to sober him and Joel sighed.

“I should get to making us some breakfast. Can’t have you starving on me when we’ve got chores to be getting to.”

Joel raised your hands to his lips and kissed the backs of them. He ignored your groan, leaving you high and dry on the bed for a second time that morning as he practically jogged out of the room. You sat there slack jawed and frustrated, staring at his hulking frame as he scampered down the hallway.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you scoffed.

A booming laugh echoed from the end of the hall and you cussed. You hadn’t meant for your distress to be that loud but your desperation for Joel had loosened your lips. Sighing, you slipped from the warm sheets.

Save for the undergarments and pants, the clothes that Joel had originally intended to be yours were all but abandoned. Instead, you found yourself in one of Joel’s sweaters or shirts constantly. You loved it and he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his eyes had lit up the first time you came out in his clothes and continued to since. Plus, the act of wearing his things was like a cheap replacement to the mark you hoped he would one day claim you with.

A chill ran down your spine from the frigid air and you threw one of his flannels over a pair of jeans, tucking the excess fabric into the waistline to keep it from swallowing you whole. You weren’t tiny by any means, but Joel’s broadness meant that his shirts were practically dresses on you. After you shoved your feet into some knit socks, you combed through the knots in your hair. Looking into the mirror, you sighed at your appearance and cursed the outbreak for leaving you without beauty products. Prodding at your hair only seemed to anger the unruly strands so you gave up and turned away from the bedroom.

As you padded into the kitchen, the savory smell of Joel’s cooking wafted in the air. He stood at the stove, humming an unfamiliar tune as he stirred the leftover stew in the pot. He turned and smiled, nodding towards the mug of steaming tea that he left on the counter for you. Shrugging off your thanks, he turned back to the stove.

You eyed the muscles in his strong back flex as he stirred for a moment before you crept up behind him. He chuckled as your arms wrapped his midsection, burrowing your face into his shirt to huff at the deep aroma of sandalwood and bergamot. It tickled your nostrils as you breathed in deeply, making you hum as you swayed against him. Joel squeezed your hand and swayed with you for a moment.

“How ‘bout you get the table set and I’ll finish up?,” Joel asked.

You sighed, giving him one last tight squeeze before you let go and moved towards the cutlery. The front end of the cabin was bursting with light as you strolled towards the table. The morning light shone down on the scuffed wood as you placed the cutlery. Your mind wandered as you worked.

It was the same scuffed wood that had rubbed against your front as Joel had fucked you stupid two weeks prior. The thought of it made you smirk as you remembered his animalistic thrusts. The both of you had been so desperate for each other and now the lust in Joel was just gone. You tried not to dwell on the loss, instead focusing on the thought of him slapping your pussy and forcing you into a mind breaking orgasm as you tried not to cry.

Joel interrupted your thoughts as he emerged from the kitchen with two steaming bowls of food. Picking up on your heated expression immediately, Joel’s eyes darted between the table and you before he chuckled. He shook his head at you, giving you a playfully stern look as he placed breakfast down on the table. You gave him a nervous smile as he pulled out your chair and leaned down to kiss the top of your head. The small act of pulling out your chair was something that he had taken to doing every day, but it never failed to make you blush.

The meal was shared in comfortable silence. His foot knocked against yours and you knocked him back. After one too many nudges, Joel reached down and grabbed your ankle, playfully yanking you forward off your seat.You yelped and dropped the spoon that was halfway to your mouth as you grabbed the edge of the chair to keep your ass on the seat. Joel looked very pleased at the shock on your face as he returned to his food.

“Alright, now eat. We’ve got some chores to finish before the day gets too gone,” he chuckled, placing your foot back on the ground before he moved to shovel stew into his mouth.

You poked him with your foot one last time and giggled at his pointed look before you returned to your breakfast.

- Joel -

Joel watched as the wind ruffled your hair, the sunlight accentuating the high points of your cheekbones as you stooped down towards the river. He tried not to stare but he couldn’t help it.

He was enamored with how you moved and how carefully you treated everything you touched.

Even him, the man that had burned Salt Lake City to the ground with his bare hands. The man that poisoned everything he touched. You even treated him with the utmost care. It made him feel warm and wanted, as well as slightly guilty. Joel didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you. He knew that, but his feelings for you made it all so much more complicated.

You moved to fill the bucket with water. He watched the muscles in your arms flexing as you drew it back to the surface and up over the bank. There was a part of Joel that wanted to go over and chivalrously offer his assistance but he knew you would just shoo him away. It wasn’t that he didn’t think you could lift it, he was well aware of how strong you were. It was just that he liked having someone to fuss over. It gave him purpose.

Joel sighed wistfully as he watched you stand and wipe at the sweat that covered your brow. As he watched you bend over to pick up the bucket, the breath stalled in his lungs. The jeans that you chose today did little to hide the curves that had filled out since your arrival and he cussed as he felt himself harden.

For two weeks, Joel kept away from you. The memories of your curves, your pretty moans, and your tight cunt all haunted him. Joel wanted nothing more than to stomp over and tear the bucket from your hands. He wanted to tear your pants down and pound into your wet heat right there amongst the snow until you screamed, but he refrained.

Why? That was a question Joel asked himself more and more with each passing day. He had already had you more times than he could count, with each time better than the last, but it wasn’t enough to convince him. He couldn’t do it because he needed to make things right.

Before the outbreak happened, he hadn’t dated much. When Sarah was small, she was an easy excuse. Nobody ever expected the unmated alpha to give up time with his precious pup. However, the older Sarah got, the harder it became to attribute his unwillingness to try on his increasingly independent preteen.

Joel had really tried a couple of times but it never seemed to work out. He even let Sarah and Tommy convince him to sign up for one of those god awful dating sites once but that was also a failure. Joel chalked it up to lack of chemistry or his gruffness each time, but the truth was that he simply didn’t want to sit in a dimly lit restaurant and make small talk with someone who would blanch after he told them about Sarah. He couldn’t stand anyone blanching at the thought of meeting his favorite person, it made him feel sick to his stomach.

Two years before the outbreak, after a date told him that he needed to be realistic about his prospects as an unmated alpha who already had a pup, Joel had simply stopped trying and resigned himself to commitment-free hookups. He preferred it that way anyways. He had his little girl and his idiot brother, what more could he ask for? Once the world had ended, dating and love in general vanished in his mind. It was all about survival. Any dreams of romantic interest or mating was set aside for quick fucks to keep himself from slamming his head through a wall. Nevertheless, after meeting you, Joel remembered how he used to dream about it before Sarah died.

He remembered imagining what it would be like to meet his true mate. His mind would drift off on worksites, thinking about how he might treat them while he waited out a burst of rain in his truck. Joel imagined giving his future mate flowers, opening doors and pulling out seats, giving them soft kisses at the end of a nice date.

He wanted to be the guy that did things just to make his mate smile, all while keeping his touches fleeting until the moment was perfect. That was how he was raised. That was how a gentleman would approach someone they wanted to mate. That was who you deserved. Joel wanted so badly to be that alpha for you, despite the fact that his rut had foiled part of the plan and he now spent most of his time around you hiding his raging boner. He was so close to breaking, and he knew that you were very aware of it. It drove him nuts.

When you had crawled to the end of the bed and wrapped yourself around him, dressed in nothing but his shirt and a cute pair of blue panties, he had nearly lost it. Joel had tried not to think about the slick that undoubtedly pooled in the fabric. He tried not to think about loosening you up with his tongue before driving his cock deep inside of your tight cunt. Practically keeling over with the effort, Joel had barely managed to peel himself away from you so he could scamper off to the kitchen under the guise of making breakfast.

As Joel stood before an unchecked trap in the afternoon sun, he tried to inconspicuously re-adjust himself before you had the chance to look up at him. When he agreed to let you help him with chores he didn’t think about the fact that he would have to listen to your grunts of exertion and see the sweat glistening deliciously on your body as you worked. Day in, day out, it was the sweetest form of torture. A form of torture that made him lock himself in the bathroom at the end of each day to pitifully tug at his cock in the shower, muffling his groans into his fist as he came shamefully to the thought of you.

As you approached him, Joel quickly flipped himself into the waistline of his pants and smoothed his coat over his front to hide any evidence of his arousal. The last thing he needed was to see your knowing smirk at his hard dick. It would only give you more ammo to pierce through his already weakened armor. For years Joel had gone without so much as a twitch from his cock, and now the damn thing never knew when to rest. He was powerless when it came to you.

“I’m gonna head back and shower if that’s it. Do you need any help with the trap? You’ve been standing over it for a hot minute,” you asked sweetly.

Joel’s cock throbbed painfully against the confines of his jeans at the sweet words and the way you looked up at him. The whine that clawed its way up his throat was covered in a strangled cough as he knelt down to mess with the trap. Joel felt your gaze on the back of his head but he elected to ignore it. He knew that if he looked up he would be burying his face in between your pillowy thighs in an instant.

“Yeah uh, that’s fine. M’ just gonna be another minute out here and then I’ll be in,” Joel mumbled as he prodded at the empty trap.

Joel waited for you to leave but your feet stayed rooted to the ground in front of him. With no other choice, he stood and slowly met your gaze. A line formed between the brows of your pinched face. He watched as you wrestled with your thoughts and tried not to puke from nervousness.

“You could… um… You could always join me. In the shower, I mean. If you wanted to,” you proposed.

The hopeful look on your face was too much. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Fuck yes, is what he wanted to say. But instead, Joel stood there dumbfounded as your cheeks grew redder with each second that passed. His stomach twisted as your hopeful expression fell and still, Joel said nothing. His mind screamed at him but he felt like he was locked in himself, unable to move, unable to talk, unable to think. Instead, he watched your crumpled face turn back towards home.

Joel watched you leave in silence, unsure of what to do until a breeze laced with your soured scent slapped him in the face. With his instincts screaming at him to keep you safe and cared for, he surged forward. He dropped his tools and clumsily ran after you. The muffled cries that Joel heard made him wince. He shakily reached out to touch your back, but dropped his hand when you wheeled around to face him.

Your face was red and splotchy, with tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you frowned at him. Joel froze again. An overwhelming feeling of guilt dizzied him. He tried to think of something to say as he stood before you but words failed him.

“Are you ever going to touch me again? Or am I that horrible?,” you snapped.

He stumbled back as if you had slapped him. His mind reeled at the questions.

You sniffed, shaking your head again as you continued, “I know that I’m not what you might have wanted for yourself, I know that I’m… me. But you can’t just promise to mate me one day and then be done with me the next. Was it just the rut talking? Are you disgusted with me now? Because if so tell me or else it’s… It’s mean Joel! You’re being mean to me.”

The words hit slammed into Joel’s chest like a ton of bricks. Pain nipped at his heart and he roughly yanked your face towards his. He searched your eyes as he tried to comprehend how you could possibly think he felt that way.

“Baby, I love you because you’re you. You’re everything I could have hoped for. I just haven’t hoped for anything in a long time sweetheart, so I ain’t great at it. But all I do, day in and day out, is think about you and how good you look in my bed,” he urged, thumb coming down to trace over your lip as it trembled.

“Then, why -,” you started to ask, only to be cut off by Joel’s rushed words.

“Because! I - shit honey. I wanted to do this right, I wanted to treat you like a lady - my lady. I know we already… fucked, as you worded it but you deserve a gentleman. Someone to treat you with respect, someone to court you and all that before claimin ya,” he said, the words strained and clumsy.

You stared at him silently as Joel’s eyes searched yours for any sign of understanding. Just as he opened his mouth to keep going, he was cut off by laughter. His brow furrowed in confusion as you chuckled in front of him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me Joel,” you wheezed in between shaky breaths.

Joel gawked at your reaction.

“What is this? Is it 1847? Are you gonna ask my father for my hand? Gonna make him pay a dowry to you? Gonna mount me in front of the whole wedding party to make sure the bond is consummated?,” you teased.

Joel scoffed and placed his hands on his hips. Cocking his hip out, his lips came together in a tight line to keep his annoyance at bay. He knew you couldn’t possibly understand what it was like before so he kept his snarky words to himself. When Joel looked up, the previous laughter turned into a sweet grin and he melted. Your arms wrapped around his neck, effectively shutting off his brain as his senses were overwhelmed by you.

“Joel, I get what you’re trying to do but there’s no need. You’re good to me everyday. I’ve never had anyone love me like you do. But I just… I miss you and you’re right in front of me. Don’t you miss me daddy?,” you asked, the last part coy as your eyes twinkled with mischief.

He choked on his spit and coughed as your fingers tugged at the curls on the back of his neck. Joel closed his eyes and groaned with every ounce of restraint leaving his body. He felt as one of your hands moved from his hair and dragged down the softness of his abdomen. The hand grasped his belt buckle, pulling his hips flush with your own. Joel’s eyes snapped open and he growled as your fingers inched along his waistline.

“Fuck it,” Joel sighed as he threw you over his shoulder.

- You -

You squealed as Joel’s rough hand swatted your ass. His strides were long and determined as he moved through the trees. He ignored the way you giggled and begged him to put you down. The daddy card was a cheap card to play but you knew it would work.

“Just HAD to say that,” he griped, “Tryna do something nice for ya darling, tryna treat you right. But all you want is for me to treat you like my little slut, is that it? Need my cock in you that fucking bad huh?”

His dirty words made you squirm and moan. The squirms earned you another quick slap to your ass as Joel reached the stairs to the cabin and took them two at a time. The door was practically ripped off of its hinges on the way in from the force of his pull. You gasped at his strength, half turned on by the spectacle and half pissed that he would risk tearing the door off the cabin in the middle of winter.

“Joel!,” you meekly scolded through a thick cloud of arousal.

He didn’t answer you. Instead, Joel simply smacked your ass once more before he slammed it closed. His determined strides reached the bedroom in seconds and he tossed you on to the bed. You bounced against the mattress from the force of his throw and scrambled to position yourself in a more alluring way. Anticipation boiled in your gut, and you watched as his eyes zeroed in on the wet spot on your panties.

“Strip and lay down on the bed,” his gruff voice demanded.

You paused for a moment. His quick shift from caring mate to domineering alpha both excited and dizzied you. All Joel had to do was give you a pointed look and you sprung into action, clumsily tearing off of your clothes under his stare. He smirked, slowly taking off his leather belt and unbuttoning his flannel as he watched your desperate movements.

After kicking the panties off, you laid back against the cool sheets and tried not to lose your mind. Joel shrugged off his flannel, letting it fall to the floor before he unzipped his jeans. Your mouth watered at the sizeable bulge in his boxers that peaked out from his pants as he stalked around the bed. Joel reached down and softly moved errant strands of hair from your face. The smile that he gave you as you nuzzled his hand made your chest ache.

“Sweet girl,” he praised quietly.

Joel leaned down and kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger before he grabbed both of your hands. You whined as you realized the purpose of the belt. Need rushed through you, slick starting to stick to your inner thighs as Joel expertly wrapped the leather around your wrists. He stopped, kissing both of them softly before he secured them to the headboard. He quickly checked the hold, making sure they weren’t too tight before he loomed over you.

“If they are too tight or if you want to stop, just let me know m’kay? Want to make you feel so good honey,” Joel drawled as he left a soft peck on the tip of your nose.

Blushing at him, you nodded enthusiastically at his words. He smiled and moved to stand at the end of the bed as you squirmed. Joel reached down and pulled your legs apart, his ravenous gaze trained on the slick that dripped onto the sheets. Your face burned at his unflinching gaze. Suddenly overwhelmed by the attention, you tried to snap your legs closed but Joel stopped you.

“Don’t you dare hide from me sweetheart. You’re fucking perfect,” he chastised as he eased your legs back apart.

A strained moan came from Joel at the sight of you laid bare. One of his hands moved to palm his cock through his boxers. Joel pulled himself from the confines of his jeans and your cunt clenched around nothing. The sight of his cock made you yank at the restraints again as he slowly dragged his hand up and down his length.

“What baby? See something you like?”

You nodded, giving Joel the best puppy dog eyes that you possibly could as he tugged at his length. He indulged the sight of your desperate state before he let his cock go, reaching forward to coast his hands over your thighs as they shook. Your hips rose slightly from the bed and he forced you back sharply.

“Use your words,” Joel snapped.

The harshness of his words broke you.

“You! Please, I can’t go any longer. I need it, need you too fuck me so bad” you cried.

Joel dove in between your legs, kissing and biting his way up your right leg as you groaned. His teeth reddened the delicate skin on the inside of your thigh. The marks he left would undoubtedly turn to bruises later and you loved it. He stopped just before the crease in your thigh, allowing his breath fan out over your glistening lips as your clit twitched. Your breath caught in your throat and you silently willed him to lean forward. Joel licked his lips, staring at your seam hungrily for another moment before he turned to kiss up your other leg.

“Ugh, please! Just fucking touch me, I can’t - shit, please Joel,” you whined, kicking your feet as Joel chuckled darkly against your skin.

“I am touchin ya darling. Dunno whatcha mean,” he drawled, lips brushing against your skin with every syllable.

Before you had a chance to answer with a clear mind, Joel returned to sucking and biting marks into the soft skin. The headboard banged against the wall as you thrashed against the restraints. You panted as Joel moved up your leg, trying desperately to find the words to beg for what you needed as he neared your clenching heat.

“F-fuck me! Please fuck me! I need your cock in me - shit, daddy please!,” you suddenly wailed.

Tears of desperation slid down your face as you cried and Joel quickly crawled up your body, kissing every inch of skin he came across before he met your lips in a soft peck. He pulled back and met your gaze, cooing as he brushed away tears of frustration.

“Such a good girl for telling me what you need. So, so good for me. You look so beautiful like this babygirl,” he murmured.

Cradling your face, Joel leaned down and kissed you softly. His tongue teased the inside of mouth and you sighed, letting him in as your body relaxed against the bed. You nibbled on the inside of his lip and he groaned.

The kiss grew in intensity with both of you desperate for each other in seconds. Joel’s chest hair brushed up against your nipples and tiny jolts of pleasure ran down to your core. When he finally pulled away for air, you glared at him in annoyance. He laughed and kissed you once more on the cheek before he leaned into your ear.

“Still doing ok sweetheart?,” Joel whispered.

“Mmmhmmm, now can you fuck me already? M’getting bored up here,” you sang.

Joel chuckled and bit at the gland in your neck with more pressure than he had ever done before. It was still not enough to claim you, but it had your back bowing and eyes rolling anyways at the intensity. He took your incapacity as an opening and moved down to your core. As you tried to come down from the hormonal response Joel had torn from you, he threw your legs over his strong shoulders and positioned himself between your legs.

You looked down just in time to watch as Joel licked a long stripe up your seam, ending his stroke with a flick against the throbbing bud. He closed his eyes at the taste and a devilish smile graced his weathered features. In an instant, his mouth was back on you with soft kitten licks to your sensitive clit. As the need grew his soft licks turned to strong calculated strokes and you squeezed your eyes closed from the pleasure.

The moans that came from Joel were downright pornographic and you fought against the heaviness in your eyelids. Forcing your eyes open, you looked down at the beast of a man that was making the most wanton noises you had ever heard. The sight of him alone almost made you cum on the spot.

Joel ground his hips against the bed, rubbing his crotch into the sheets as he devoured you. With his brow pinched and eyes closed, he sucked your clit into his mouth as he held your twitching hips still so he could push you closer and closer to the edge.

“J- oh fuck! You look so good like that - ungh - M’gonna, you’re gonna make me -,” you squeaked as you barreled towards your end.

Just as your walls began to clench, signaling your incoming orgasm, Joel pulled back and returned his lips to your thigh. You gasped and bucked your hips into nothing as the pressure faded away. With a fresh wave of frustration at the ruined release, you thrashed harder against the restraint and whimpered.

“But I-I don't understand. I was gonna -”

Joel bit down hard on the supple skin of your thigh and a sharp cry bounced off of the walls. He laughed and you debated the benefits of cussing him out. Maybe that would get him riled up enough to fuck you. Before you could complain, Joel broke through the anger with the two thick fingers that thrusted into your core. You yelped at the sudden fullness. Slick dripped down Joel’s wrist and he grinned as he moved his face towards your center once more.

With Joel sucking on your clit at a steady pace, your orgasm rose from the depths of your core embarrassingly fast. He hadn’t even started to move his thick fingers yet before your thighs started to shake again. As your walls twitched, a burst of panic rushed through you at the thought of him pulling away. Quickly, you clamped your thighs around him and pleaded. Joel chuckled against your seam, the vibrations of it almost sending you off the edge before he effortlessly moved away.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” you shouted as yet another orgasm was ruined by Joel.

“Just Joel is fine darling,” he joked.

Joel chuckled and sucked the slick off his fingers. His fingers retracted from his mouth and he reached forward to pop your jaw open. Joel pursed his lips, letting a wad of spit fall from his mouth onto your tongue as you whimpered. The lewdness of it made your eyes roll back and you swallowed without even thinking.

“Jesus baby, don’t even have to tell you what to do. Like you were made for me or something. All fucking mine, aren’t ya?,” he growled.

You nodded and breathily whined, “Yes, m’yours. Want to be yours so bad, please! Please make me yours, I need it so bad. Fuuck.”

Joel moaned and moved to devour you once more. His fingers prodded at the outside of your twitching hole and you lifted your hips to encourage him. You felt him pause and looked down at him, only to be met with a serious look on his face.

“You're already mine baby and I’m yours. Don’t you ever forget that,” Joel grunted as he slammed his fingers inside.

Something between a growl and a sob rolled off of your tongue as his fingers ruthlessly thrusted into you. He sucked your swollen bundle of nerves between his lips and batted it with his tongue, the overstimulation making you shiver as he moaned into your folds. Joel’s fingers crooked up inside of you and rubbed at the devastating spot along your front wall. You convulsed against the sheets, whining and pleading as his free hand held you to the mattress.

Joel looked devastatingly handsome between your legs. The possessive stare, coupled with the way he thrusted his hips against the sheets in time with his fingers made you feel like a goddess. His movements grew slightly jerky and you knew that he was close. The thought of Joel cumming from humping the bed at the taste of your cunt was all too much and you came hard. You screamed and pulled at the leather wrapped around your wrists so hard that it creaked under the pressure.

Overwhelming pleasure erupted from your core and sprayed him with a strong gush of slick. Joel whined as your release covered his face and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Nonsensical pleas and jumbled cries fell from your lips as you clenched around his thick fingers. You watched through hooded eyes as Joel’s hips stuttered against the bed before he thrusted down hard, crying out into your pulsing folds as he came into the sheets.

The strength of your orgasm made your pelvic muscles burn as he pulled away. Joel kissed his way back up your body as you floated. He smiled and continued his attack on your face, distracting you as Joel’s free hand untied you from the headboard. With your hands free from the leather, you quickly dug your fingers into his curls and pulled him closer.

The kiss you gave him was full of love, passion, longing, and desperation. It held a million emotions, a million promises, and a million requests. The kiss begged him to never go so long without touching you ever again. Joel responded fervently to your anguish and his lips promised that he would never leave you wanting again.

Joel broke from the kiss and the two of you panted into each other's mouths. You looked up at him and brushed the hair off of his forehead. He needed a haircut badly but you had begged him not to cut it yet, loving the way the length showcased his beautiful salt and pepper curls. You knew you had to do it soon as Joel threatened to shave it all off every day, but you wanted to enjoy the length as long as possible.

He kissed the indent on your wrist and continued all the way down the length of your arm. Joel reached the crook of your neck and leaned forward. You waited for the final kiss but it never did. Instead, he blew a wet raspberry against your skin. You screeched and squirmed, shoving his head away he laughed. Joel removed himself from your neck and watched you giggle.

“That was - shit Joel, that was so good. I missed that,” you sighed once the two of you calmed, which earned a hum of approval from him.

Joel rolled the two of you over, moving so he was underneath while you straddled him. He moved his fingers into your hair and rubbed at your scalp. Boneless from his soothing circles, you draped yourself over him and placed your ear against his chest. His strong heartbeat lulled you into a meditative state. Grabbing his free one in yours, you squeezed his hand three times.

“I love you too darling, more than you could possibly imagine,” he answered as he nosed at your hair.

Completely drunk off of him, you smiled and rubbed your face into his chest. He hummed as you scented him. Your nose moved up from his chest to huff at the spot beneath his ear and Joel shivered. The spot called to you, his deep scent coating the back of your throat as you licked and nipped at it. It smelled so good but you couldn’t help but wonder how much better it would be if his scent was mixed with yours.

The vibe of the room changed as you laved your tongue and dragged your teeth over the same spot with more intent. Joel’s hand tightened in your hair but it didn’t move to stop you. Instead he made a desperate noise and pushed your face deeper into his flushed skin. You took that as a green light and sunk your teeth into his skin. Joel howled as you made your claim on him. His body shook and his softening cock kicked up against your leg as blood filled your mouth. The taste of him alone made you groan as you licked over the wound, sealing the bleeding puncture marks and your hold over him as he twitched beneath you.

“F-fuck baby,” Joel panted as blinked away tears.

Before you could respond, Joel had flipped you over and shoved his face into your neck. He snuffed at the skin as he tried to locate the right spot. He found it almost immediately, almost like he had scoped it out beforehand. You didn’t blame him if he had, you had known the exact spot on Joel that you wanted to bite down on for weeks.

“P-please omega, tell me please,” Joel begged as his mouth hovered over the left side of your neck.

You could have cried at the sound of his voice. Your alpha, so strong yet so caring. A whine fell from your lips and you pushed his face forward.

“Make me yours Joel.”

Snarling, Joel clamped his teeth down hard. Euphoria burst from somewhere deep inside of you and you sobbed. The all encompassing feeling of finally belonging made tears fall from your eyes. You could hear Joel, as if from far away, as he coaxed you through the intense emotions. Love, devotion, and an overwhelming desire to never be away from him rushed through you. It was not unlike what you had already felt for him. Only this time, you knew for a fact that Joel felt the same way. You felt it through the bond.

After the waves receded, your eyelids fluttered open and it felt like you were coming up for air after being underwater for your entire life. Joel’s smile matched yours and the both of you erupted into a fit of giddy laughs.

Pure joy radiated off of you as you sniffed the air. Your scents changed with bond, mingling together to advertise to any interested parties that the both of you were taken. It made you excited, even though you knew there was nobody around to smell it. Joel noticed a change as well and lifted his nose into the air, his grin splitting his face in half as he smelled it too.

“Joel, I don’t even know what to say,” you croaked through the emotions that tightened your throat.

He rubbed his nose against yours and whispered, “I know honey, I don’t either. I love you, that’s all I can think of to say. I fucking love you.”

You sobbed and threw your arms around Joel’s neck, murmuring a soft I love you too into his mouth before you captured his lips in a searing kiss. Tears of happiness fell from your eyes as your lips moved against each other, tongues mingling and hands caressing every inch as the pair of you reeled from the enormity of what just happened. Your heart felt like it was going to explode with your love for Joel, the intensity of it almost too much as your mouths greedily took from one another. He broke away for air and you panted against the sheets, overwhelmed by the newness of it all.

“I know baby, it’s too much isn’t it? But it’s just us finding the missing piece. Me and you, that’s what the feeling is. Until my last breath, I’m yours. Hell, I would’ve been yours anyways but this is so much better,” Joel murmured.

An overwhelming need overcame you at his words and you flipped Joel over again. He landed on his back with a surprised oomph. He blinked and you had already straddled him. Joel wheezed as your hips grinded down on his quickly hardening length. He pinched his eyes closed and dropped his head back against the pillow while his hands skimmed along the fat of your hips.

Moving from your hips, Joel reached down to grasp handfuls of your ass and used his grip to slide you back and forth against him harder. Whining, you draped yourself over him again and writhed against him.

You grew desperate for him and reached down to grab him. Holding him steady, you slowly sunk down on him. A sigh fell from your lips once you were fully seated, with every aspect of the both of you now melded together. It all felt so right.

Joel’s hips twitched under you and he grabbed your hips once more. He worked you on his cock, the fat tip of it brushing up against that spot that had slick gathering in his lap. You whined at the size of him, the stretch bordering on painful as he bullied his way in. His place was slow and hard, making the burn quickly give way to burning need as Joel somehow brushed against every sweet spot inside of you.

You needed more.

The air in the room was thick and your bodies were sticky with sweat as you pushed back up again. Planting your hands on his belly, Joel watched through glazed eyes as you swirled your hips in mind numbing circular motions. He cussed with his expression pained as he watched your glistening body undulate over him. You leaned forward and kissed him once more, licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue as the desperation grew.

The way his wiry curls scrubbed against your clit made pleasure shoot up from the base of your spine. Joel noticed as your legs trembled with your incoming release, making your thrusts lose their rhythm. As your legs failed, he pulled his lips from yours and sat himself up against the headboard. The same hard and slow grind as before continued with Joel’s capable hands setting the pace as you whimpered and shook.

“Alpha,” you keened as you felt the incoming pleasure.

Joel’s eyes met yours as he ground your cock into you, teasing your entrance with his knot to make you tremble. Needing him to claim you in every way, you whimpered his name and pushed your hips down.

“Yeah pretty girl? You want my knot omega? It's yours now, all you gotta do is tell me,” he growled with his length tunneling deeper inside of you, carving a space for himself as he thrusted up from underneath.

You panted and cried out, “I want it so bad. You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this. Everytime I - ha, fuck me - Everday in the shower, I’d use the showerhead so I could, oh shit! Alpha, please.”

He groaned and slapped the fat of your ass before he gritted out, “You touchin yourself to me in the shower baby? Fuck me, you know how many times I fucked my fist in there thinking about you? Nearly every day darling. I can’t believe I wasted it when I could’ve been cumming into this sweet pussy.”

Pussying clenching at his admission, you cried out and clawed at his shoulders. Joel’s thrusts became more erratic and he reached one hand down to your clit. As his calloused thumb strummed at your pulsing bud, the shaking in your thighs doubled as your walls began to milk him. Groaning, Joel brutally slammed you down onto his knot, locking himself inside of you as you both exploded.

Spurts of cum painted your insides as your cunt sucked him dry. Everytime you thought he was done cumming, another wave would splash against your walls as they twitched around him.

“F-fuck, gonna keep filling you up until it takes baby. Need it,” he growled.

You weren’t sure if he even knew what he had said but it didn’t matter. The thought of it threw the both of you into another round of blinding pleasure and you cried out as his seed continuously splashed against your cervix. Shuddering and breathless, you slumped against Joel’s body as the last shocks of pleasure ebbed away. His hands rubbed at every inch of available skin as he soothed the fresh mark on your neck with soft kisses.

“We should have done that two weeks ago,” you sighed as you purred from his attention to your neck.

He snorted before he mumbled, “Pardon me ma’am, didn’t mean to vex ya with my attempts at being decent. Just how I was raised, I suppose.”

You laughed at that and tilted your face to plant a quick peck into his hair.

“Well old man, you made me cum two weeks ago by slapping me in the pussy. So, I really don’t know whose decency you’re talking about. Plus, did you have a good time not touching me? Because I hated it. Pretty sure I’ll die if you take your huge dick away from me again,” you said.

Joel scoffed and shook his head at your words.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as ridiculous as you baby. You’d give Tommy a run for his money,” he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes before you said, “You’ve never met someone like me, period Joel. That’s why it’s my mark on your neck and nobody else’s. Plus, um… me crass? Who was the one that was doing the pussy slapping? Who literally just tied me up? Pot and kettle Joelie.”

“Uck, not Joelie, anything but that. Two people have called me that, my meemaw and my dumb brother when he was trying to piss me off. Don’t you even start with that,” Joel grumbled.

You hummed and brushed your thumbs along his cheeks.

“But doesn’t it sound so much better coming from me Joooellie - ah!”

He pushed you deeper on to his knot, eliciting a guttural cry from you as a weak orgasm pulsed from your core. The force of it made Joel hiss but it worked, effectively shutting you up and zapping the remaining energy from your body you melted him to him. After a brief silence, Joel spoke again.

“The mark on my neck, it couldn’t be anybody else’s. It could only ever be you,” Joel said truthfully.

Overcome with love and exhaustion, you kissed his neck and whispered, “Back atcha cowboy.”

He chuckled and you nuzzled at his fresh mark. A peaceful silence fell over the room as you wrapped yourselves around each other. Joel’s hands rubbed soft circles into your skin, drawing sighs from your lips until you drifted off into a dreamless sleep for the first time in weeks.

- Joel -

One day.

One day since he had purpose again. All of the voices in Joel’s head that screamed at him every waking moment were silenced when you had claimed him. With sharp teeth burrowed into his neck, all he could only think about was you. After a lifetime of running from his past and himself, it felt like he was finally home. Joel ran his thick fingers over the mark, smiling at the memory.

With the bond solidified, exhaustion had pulled you into an impromptu nap against him. Joel watched you sleep, tracing the outline of your face over and over again with his gaze but couldn’t bring himself to join you in rest. The thrill of being somebody’s mate had slowly morphed into shock. The surrealness of it all dizzied him.

Joel survived being a single dad, he survived the outbreak and his daughter dying in his arms, he even survived the death of his adoptive daughter. And he had done it all on his own. For 56 years the thought of drawing someone else into his shit was unthinkable but now he had you, and you would be with him until the day he died. The thought both excited and terrified him.

He didn’t know how he was going to do this. How would he take care of you? How could Joel look you in the eyes and tell you the truth about him? Would you leave him if you knew? Surely not, the bite mark dug into your neck assured him of that. But would you resent him for claiming you after the truth came out? The thought of your resentment made his stomach roil.

His racing thoughts were interrupted as you woke from the impromptu nap. The smile you gave him cracked the shell around his broken soul and allowed warmth to shine through the cracks. Butterflies erupted in Joel’s stomach and made his heart thump harder against the walls of his chest. Without a second thought, he leaned forward and kissed both of your cheeks. You yawned, mumbling something about food as you roused from slumber. Joel leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours, indulging your sleepy kisses for a moment before he jumped into action.

As Joel rose from bed, a strained groan forced its way out from behind his clenched teeth. A deep ache bloomed in his back and hips, making him lock his knees to keep himself from falling forward. He knew when he did it that he probably shouldn’t have picked you up at his age. You were a fully grown woman and he was an old man with a lifetime’s worth of sore muscles and creaky bones but he couldn’t help it. The pain that pricked at his nerves was worth it to see how your face scrunched up everytime he slammed you down onto his cock.

He tried to play it off after the groan crawled its way out of his mouth but you were his mate. That meant that you felt his pain like your own and after a round of pointless bickering, he somehow ended up taking a bath for the first time in nearly fifty years. Hesitancy clung to Joel at first but the sight of your naked body slipping in after him made any trepidation slip away in an instant. The water was warmer than he was used to but the heat pulled all of the tension from his muscles and made him groan into your hair.

Joel tried to be romantic and wash your hair but he almost immediately got his thick fingers stuck in the tangled strands. You laughed it off, gracious with his rusty affections even though he practically waterboarded you later on. He meant to simply wash the soap from your scalp but instead he accidentally poured the hot water directly over your face. He vehemently apologized as you sputtered and tried to explain that he was pretty sure the reason Sarah learned how to do her own hair so quickly was that she was tired of her dad getting styling cream in her eyes.

Afterwards, you washed him and Joel tried to keep note of your technique in his own hair for future reference. He suppressed a moan as he felt fingers rubbing the product into his scalp with soothing circles. The ministrations released the tension from his muscles and made him blink sleepily at you. You smiled and pecked Joel’s lips before tilting his head back, carefully rinsing his curls as he sighed.

Once the bath was over, the two of you had spent the rest of the day in each other's presence. He cooked and you watched from your spot on the counter, reaching out every so often to pull him into a sweet kiss. It was a miracle that the food didn’t burn. After lunch you had lured him back to bed for a few more hours, only letting him go when you collapsed from the devastating sixth orgasm he tore from you. Joel tried not to look too smug when he had to bring supper to you in bed that night as your legs shook and twitched.

After a peaceful sleep wrapped in each other’s arms, Joel woke to the sound of you making breakfast for him. He smiled and rubbed his eyes, letting his fingers trail across his newly marked neck before he leapt from the bed. There was a pep in his step as he dressed and he suppressed a smile at the giddiness growing in his chest. The simple thought of you making food in the kitchen made his cheeks hurt. It was madness.

He paused as he left the bedroom. His eyes fell to the rose on your side of the bed. Your side of the bed. Joel’s grin widened at the thought of it, of you having a space in his life forever now. The thought would have made him run for the hills a couple of weeks ago but now, his greatest fear was losing you.

Looking around, he saw traces of you everywhere. Dog eared books on the bedside table, dirty clothes mixed with his in the hamper, hair ties strewn across every open surface, a drawing of a wonky cat that you had drawn tacked to the wall on his side of the bed, even the rainbow quilt that adorned the bed had you written all over it. Joel never cared about which blankets he used but you insisted on using that one because of the bright colors. He didn’t mind the brightly colored blankets if it made you happy.

As Joel stepped into the hallway it was filled with the smell of something delicious. His mouth watered from the sweetness drifting in the cold air. Stomach grumbling, he walked into the kitchen and was slapped in the face with what he saw. He froze in the doorway. Flour covered nearly every inch of the counter and Joel trembled at the sight. Sweat pricked at his hairline and his heart lurched in his chest.

Suddenly it was 2003, his thirty second birthday, and Sarah wanted to make him pancakes. They were one of her favorite foods but that day he forgot and had left for work without a second thought. What had they eaten instead? Joel couldn’t remember. All he remembered was that the last two things that Sarah wanted in this world were pancakes and birthday cake, and she never got either.

“Joel! Oh my god, please breathe. Look at me, you have to breathe”

The words rattled around in his mind as he fought against the fog. Your panicked face came into his field of vision, face framed with black dots as your shaky hands held his cheeks. Joel’s chest burned and he wondered momentarily if he was having a heart attack before he realized he wasn’t breathing. He gasped, sucking in air as reality bled back into his consciousness.

“That’s it, breathe for me. There you go,” you soothed.

Joel lifted himself to his knees, ignoring your protests and attempts to shove him back down. He needed to get out of this room. The smell of the sweet batter made his mouth fill with water and he retched. You swore and stepped back at the sound of his gags. Joel staggered out of the room and you quietly followed.

Sarah’s laugh echoed in his haunted mind, followed by the sound of her choking on her final breaths. He looked away when she died, crying out for his brother only to be greeted with her still face when he looked back down. Why did he do that? Tommy couldn’t do anything. And Ellie. Was she scared after the tunnel? Did she look for him after she woke up? Did she wish Joel was there before they put her under for the surgery?

Was everyone he loved doomed to die afraid?

Was Joel doomed to watch?

“Joel, please. You’re scaring me. What’s going on? Are you - Is it your heart?”

Your nervous tone cut through his panicked state and Joel whirled around to face you. He felt like some sort of raging beast as adrenaline raced through his veins. He tried to conjure up an explanation but couldn’t, so he just turned away. Joel sighed as he heard your tentative steps towards him. You walked around his body and placed your hands on his aching chest.

“I don’t want to talk about it darling, I got chores to be getting to anyways. Just eat and I’ll see you later on, okay?,” Joel tried.

You blinked and prepared yourself to press him again. He wished you wouldn’t.

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

Joel pushed away from you, stumbling back as anger boiled up from deep within him. He didn’t need your help, he didn’t need anybody’s help. There was no fixing this. It was something that would remain broken until the end of time, like him.

“I don’t need your help. M’not your little project sweetheart,” he seethed.

The moment the words were out of his mouth he regretted them but there would be no taking them back now. Not when your face morphed into a scowl and your arms crossed over your midsection in defense. Joel schooled his face and tried not to wince at the fury that buzzed through the bond you shared.

“I never fucking called you my project. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to wonder why my mate collapsed in the kitchen and then literally ran away from me when I tried to comfort him. But what do I know?” you spat.

Joel stiffened at your tone and matched your anger as he said, “Maybe it’s none of your fucking business. Ever thought of that?”

A dark laugh peeled out of your mouth and he felt the room shift. He knew that he had chartered into dangerous territory but he couldn’t help it. Joel clenched his jaw and he tensed for an attack that was never going to come from you. His body couldn’t tell the difference between discomfort and danger anymore, gearing up to protect him despite the fact that he knew you would never hurt him.

“None of my business Joel? None of my fucking business?! You, Joel Miller, are literally my only fucking business. You’re my mate and I literally know fucking nothing about you. And you know what? That’s my fault, I should have pushed you but I didn’t,” you snarled as you walked back towards the kitchen.

A lump formed in his throat and Joel blinked away tears. He was failing you and he didn’t know how to stop it, but he knew he had to try.

“You don’t want to know me baby. I’m a bad man. I’ve tortured and killed so many people. Hundreds probably, and I don’t even care that some didn’t deserve it. That’s how shitty I am. Murdering folk ain’t even what keeps me up at night,” Joel choked out.

You stopped in the doorway and turned back. Joel watched your socked feet take tentative steps towards him and winced when they stopped inches away from him.

“Tell me.”

How could he? How could he put his loss into words? How could anyone?

“Tell me,” you repeated.

The conviction in your voice snapped Joel to attention and he grabbed your hand. He wasn’t sure why he was doing it but he led you down the hall towards the one place he had banished you from. Pausing for a moment, Joel sighed and pushed the creaky door open.

The room itself was largely the same, with flowers still painted on the walls and comic books still stuffed in the bookshelf, but it was torn to pieces.You stepped forward into the wreckage and gingerly surveyed it. The railings on the bunk bed had been torn off. He didn’t even remember doing that. A lamp was shattered in the corner of the room and the nightstand had been kicked over. Joel swallowed hard as you picked up the broken frame, studying the picture before you looked up at him.

“Sarah wasn’t the only daughter you lost,” you stated.

Joel nodded in response and braced for the big questions. How did Sarah die? How did Ellie die? How did he fail? How would he fail you?

“What was her name?”

He blinked.

“Ellie,” he whispered before he cleared his throat and tried again, “Her name was Ellie. She… I met her when she was fourteen. Pretty well grown but she was… If they hadn't killed her I would’ve taken care of her. She was my kid even though - ”

You cut through his rushed words, “Ellie was your daughter. Maybe not through blood, but she was your pup.”

He nodded again and looked down at his feet. Hot tears blurred his vision and he failed to force them down. Joel’s chest broke open. Ellie was his pup, Sarah was his pup, and they were both gone. The ground shifted beneath him and he lurched forward onto his knees. He didn’t even feel the hard wood, but he felt your arms around him after the fall.

“They died and I couldn’t fucking do anything. The outbreak happened and that goddamn soldier shot Sarah. He shot my baby girl and she died, and I didn’t do anything besides yell for Tommy,” Joel sobbed into your chest.

A soft comforting noise came from you and your fingers rubbed circles into his scalp. He cried hard, choking on memories as they gathered behind his eyelids. You remained silent, allowing him to cry as your hands soothed him.

“Ellie was just cargo. That’s all she was supposed to be and then she wasn’t anymore. The fireflies wanted to use her for some bogus cure but I c-couldn’t - fuck - I tried to get to her but her head was just split open on the fucking table and I-I,” he broke with a pained whine.

Years of shame rolled off Joel and landed on your lap. And you took it without any complaint or accusation. His admission just made you hug him tighter to your chest as he cried. A breakdown of this magnitude would have embarrassed him normally but he didn’t care. Joel needed you like the air he breathed. He needed you and if he had to admit his deepest darkest secrets to keep you, then that was what he would do.

You let him cry until the tears ran dry and his pained cries turned into soft whimpers. The hands in his hair tugged his head back. Joel blushed as you examined his damp face. He knew that he was probably a mess but you still looked at him like he had hung the moon.

“They knew you loved them. That’s what matters Joel. How they died was… It was awful and I can’t even imagine how you feel, but their death isn’t what’s important. Their memory is what matters, the love is what matters,” you said softly.

“But I was supposed to protect them and I failed. I’m a failure. And that’s why I… I just don’t want to fail you darling.”

You scoffed and pinched his sides, forcing a sharp grunt out of his mouth. He balked at your harsh treatment as he rubbed at his reddened skin.

“Joel Miller, you are a lot of things but don’t you dare call yourself a failure. A grump? Sure. Secretive? Undoubtedly. A miser when it comes to your friggin peanuts? One hundred per-”

He cut you off before the list could go on.

“And I thought I was bad at comforting people. Christ darling just pile it on, why don’t ya?” he snickered.

The tension in the room fizzled out as the two of you laughed. The pain that he felt moments before was still there but as Joel looked up at your smiling face, it felt a lot more manageable.

“What I’m trying to say is that you act like you’re some sort of monster but it isn’t true. Everything you do is with love. Joel, love literally exudes from your very being.You’re so many things, but a failure just isn’t one of them,” you explained.

Joel breathed in, allowing the words to settle in his soul as you pushed his hair back from his wrinkled forehead. There was a part of him that wanted to push back. A dark voice lurked in the corners of his brain and begged him to deny your kindness, but he stopped himself. Swallowing hard, he nodded and hugged you tightly. You grunted at the force of it but wrapped your arms around him anyways.

“Sarah wanted pancakes the last day she was alive. It was my birthday and she wanted to make them. They were more for her than anything else, she loved anything sweet. I guess I haven’t really seen anyone make them since her. It just surprised me baby, that’s all,” he mumbled.

“No oatmeal and no pancakes, aye aye captain,” you affirmed and leaned back to give him a mock salute.

A watery laugh bubbled up from Joel’s chest and he kissed you. Tears from his face dampened your cheeks but you didn’t seem to care. Instead, he felt you pour all of your affection into his lips. His heart throbbed and he whined. The kiss was growing in intensity but Joel cut it short when his nose picked up on something.

“Is that?”

“SHIT!,” you yelled before scrambling into the hallway.

Joel ran after you, eyes widening at the smoke that clouded the air. As he rounded the corner, he was met with the sight of you standing still in front of the flames that roared on the stove. He cussed, nervous system spiking his adrenaline once more as he snatched the water from the fridge and tossed it on the flame.

A sharp hiss resounded through the room and steam exploded off of the blackened circles in the pan. He reached around the billowing puffs of heat and quickly turned off the burner.

“You didn’t turn off the burner?” he asked dumbly.

You scoffed, “Well no, I thought you were having a heart attack Joel.”

Annoyance surged within him. Joel’s hands came up to his hips and he popped his left knee out.

“M’not that old,” he grumbled.

You threw your hands in the air at his petty bickering but he knew you loved it.

“Oh, I’m sorry Joel. You are so right. I should totally assume that when my 56 year old mate clutches at his chest and then falls over, that actually means he’s completely fine. My mistake!” you sassed him.

Joel bit back a laugh. If there was one thing that the two of you would do, it was bicker and he loved it too. The tenseness vanished and now you were just fucking with eachother.

“Plus, at least I wasn’t the one who just used all the water in the fridge to put out a itsy bitsy stove fire,” you added.

“Oh, I’m sorry darling. You are so right. I should totally assume that when you start a fire in the kitchen, it’s actually because you wanted to burn our home to the ground. My mistake!,” he retorted, throwing the words right back in your face.

A beat passed before you both erupted into laughter again. The tenseness of the situation deflated even greater as Joel watched you toss the charcoal colored dough into the trash. With the offending pancake gone, he sighed in relief.

After the pancake incident, Joel fired you from breakfast duty and opted for the easier option of ramen noodles. The prep was too minimal for your assistance so he shooed you away to the living room. When they were done, he brought the bowls of noodles to the couch and pulled your legs onto his lap. A smile tugged at his lips while he ate. The heaviness in Joel’s chest was gone and he was sure that he would’ve floated away if it wasn’t for the weight across his lap.

When the bowls were empty, you took the dishes back to the kitchen and commanded Joel to go refill the water from the fridge. He jokingly bowed to your demand, which you rolled your eyes at as you walked away. Joel smirked and reached out to slap your ass hard.

“Joel!” you scolded.

He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you laughed. The sound of your laughter was something that Joel knew he would savor until he died.

“Water cowboy, then we’ll talk.”

Joel flashed you a devilish grin as he quickly shoved his feet into his boots. Grabbing the first jacket he could find, he zipped up and turned to sprint towards his task. As he gripped the door handle, your voice calling out from the kitchen stopped him in his tracks.

“Love you!”

His heart stuttered at that. It didn’t matter how many times you said it, everytime made his mind fuzzy.

“Love you too honey,” Joel called back as he strolled into the frosty morning.

The walk was brisk but the sun shone down through the trees and warmed his cheeks. He barely took notice of whether the traps he passed needed to be reset or not. All of Joel’s thoughts were centered around you back in the cabin. Back home. Being away from you for even a minute tore him in half.

The river roared with swelling waters that licked at the banks as Joel stooped down to fill the bucket. The current was strong this winter, with thick chunks of ice that raced along the surface and slammed into each other. Summer came to mind. A grin came to his face as he thought about how nice it was to cool off in the calmer waters. He was excited to share the perfect swimming hole that existed just a short walk away. Joel shook his head and tried to focus on pulling the bucket up on the bank. He knew he would ditch his task if he thought about swimming alongside you for too long.

His ears pricked at a rustling noise behind him. Joel heard the distinct sound of footsteps coming out from the treeline behind him and smiled. Relief filled him. It was good to know that he wasn’t insane for missing you from the moment he stepped outside.

“Listen, I missed you too darling. But Christ, s’cold out here. You’re gonna freeze,” he teased.

You didn’t answer and Joel turned his head, only to be met with the but of a rifle as it slammed into his face.

#alpha!joel miller #angst #joel miller fanfiction #comfort #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #omega reader #a/b/o dynamics #tlou fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel x reader #joel needs a hug #reader needs a hug

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1000punks · 25 days

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bonding. ¹²//tending MASTERLIST.

pairing: spawn!Astarion x named!Tav (non-binary OC)

warnings: 18+. nsft. mdni. this chapter is fluffy angst, little hurt/comfort! no specific cw's!

word count: 3,379

summary: two gays remodel a house domestic fluff and some character background building, set in post-game baldur's gate. two people who are weird and traumatized work on their relationship and reclaim their sexuality through a shared kink. lots of gooey romantic smut while these two slowly figure out their future together.

named!Tav is my non-binary tiefling ranger, Festé. i was seeing far too few fics with tiefling!Tav and i thought it was crucial, nay, critical to include them in the headcanons. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

header credit: i'm no graphic designer, but i made it!!

The smile had melted from his face when Festé launched into their story; and in no time at all, he was hugging them closely, rocking them gently back and forth on the bed. Whenever they paused, or their voice broke, he winced, hugging more tightly. The tiefling trailed off into silence after a time, and he glanced down, noting their blank look and tense posture. Quietly, he asked if they were okay. A small smile crept over their lips and Festé shook their head.

"I murdered him, Star." They looked up, and chuckled. "He can't hurt me anymore." He stroked through their hair, chewing it over for a moment. Astarion tried to picture the scene as they had described it, considering all of the rage that must have built up inside their heart. How the cold, callous treatment of their body and mind had been the catalyst. How anyone in their right mind could have hurt the dearest person that he had ever met. The elf paused, wincing again when he remembered how he had treated them when the two first met; how he had thought they could be so easily taken advantage of. What he could have become, had they not touched his heart.

"Well…" he sighed softly, "Maybe not, but the memories can, darling." He spoke tonelessly. "In your situation, I would likely have done the same." It was only when his imp had laughed wetly into his chest that he sheepishly realized what he had said.

"That's why I stood aside when you…" Festé looked up, giving him a half-smile and falling silent. Astarion huffed a chuckle through his nose and nodded. He relished the memory for a moment, thinking of the weight he had borne for years suddenly being lifted. How relieved and lost he had felt, all at once.

"I… Darling, I'm glad that you trust me enough to share. I realize how hard it is, to…" He stumbled, searching. "It's hard to open up about it." Slowly, he lay his cheek against the top of their head, practiced enough to avoid the jut of their horns; and he whispered, "Thank you for telling me."

Astarion held them closely, rocking slowly back and forth until their breathing evened out and deepened. Then he gingerly leaned back against the headboard and pillows, closing his eyes. Some time later, Festé began to snore softly, and he smiled to himself. He wondered if they knew they snored. He blinked his eyes open and watched them drift off; and he wondered how many people they had kept at arm's reach before now. How many had the privilege to see their deepest parts? A tiny, cynical voice in the back of his mind even wondered: how much of themself were they still hiding? The elf scowled at the thought. He just wanted to know all of them. Astarion began to absentmindedly stroke their back, and thought about what they had said about when they kneeled in front of that half-elf's hearth. Deftly, he reached down, cupping Festé's curled-up hand and examining it in the dim light. Marred, but subtly, with faded scars from burns. Had it only occurred once, or many times?

There had been so much information to take in, he thought, laying their hand gently back against his stomach. And yet, so much left unsaid. Astarion smiled sadly to himself. Knowing what he knew now about their past, he could only imagine what the imp's first impression of him had been. Festé hadn't alluded to it, he suspected, for fear of hurting him. He reclined with a sigh, watching the curtains shiver from the open window. Fitfully, he wrapped his arms more tightly around his imp, as if they would slip away. How was it that they trusted him, back then? He turned his head away from the sunlight peeking in from behind the heavy curtain and closed his eyes once more, drifting away uneasily.

When Astarion lifted his eyelids the next evening, he was surprised to find them crusted with sleep. It didn't happen very often, but it had been happening more now that he and Festé had been in one place for months. Sparsely enough, still, that it made him feel particularly slow and hazy when he got up. The pale elf flexed his hands, blinking and looking down to find the bed empty save for himself; and he lifted his head, listening carefully. Humming, soft splashing, the scratch of cloth on skin, the slide of soap. Astarion was on his feet, faster than he meant to be, and making for the bathroom. He smiled widely when he saw them, facing away and slowly resting back against the edge of the tub with a satisfied sigh. He had already crossed the room in silence, crouching and planting a kiss on his tiefling's forehead. They startled.

"Good evening, darling," he murmured, dodging their horns when their head snapped up, and kneeling at the tub's edge.

"Evening, my love," they turned, chuckling and dripping, to look up at him. "I was lost in my own world." They leaned up, and he bent forward to give them a proper kiss. "I got up early, and planted the garden," they covered a yawn with their hand. Astarion leaned in, nose inches from theirs, and smiled. He rested his elbow against the edge of the tub, and nodded, getting comfortable.

"What did you plant, my dear?" he asked softly.

"Carrots, potatoes, lettuce, and leeks," they mirrored him, resting their opposite elbow on the tub's edge. "And in mid-summer, I'll plant the pumpkins." The tiefling beamed at him, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Pumpkins, darling? Whatever for?" The imp wrinkled their nose at him and chuckled.

"Of course! Haven't you ever carved a face into a pumpkin for Harvestide?" At this, he had to laugh, and shook his head in disbelief. "When I was young, my parents taught me how." They shrugged, and continued, "I'd like to do the same with you, love."

"Well," Astarion lifted his free hand and checked his nails, and caught Festé rolling their eyes. "I suppose I could try it," he teased them with a pompous tone, and the pair laughed together. "Turn around, dear, let me do your hair." He stood, pulling the bathroom stool close before sitting and combing his fingers through Festé's damp hair. They hummed in muted pleasure, and the elf smiled, beginning to braid it. It really was getting long, he noted, even since the last time he had commented on it. If he let them wear it loose, it would be almost to their hips, but he loved braiding it for them. He loved that they let him braid it for them. The elf lost himself in the moment, watching his pale fingers weave through the dark curtain of their hair until suddenly, he was finished.

"It feels so good when you do that," Festé murmured sleepily, looking up at him upside-down. "You have such a gentle touch." He glanced away, embarrassed, before bending forward to kiss their forehead.

"Don't flatter me, darling," he sighed, sitting up. "Not yet, at least. I have a gift for you." The imp raised their eyebrows, turning in the bathtub to face him once more.

"A gift, hmm?" They drawled, grinning widely. The depth of their voice sent a shiver up the elf's back; and he chuckled, more out of nerves than anything else. "I suppose we had better choose a date then, shouldn't we, love?" He watched their tail flick back and forth slowly under the surface of the bathwater, and they turned halfway to pull out the drain. "I'm betting you won't let me see it until the day of, will you?" Festé stood slowly, dripping and reaching for their towel, but his hands found it first.

"I… not a chance, darling," Astarion hissed playfully, wrapping them up. "You'll have to keep your eyes closed." He leaned down to lay a peck on their cheek. "Come with me." They grinned, following without protest.

Astarion glanced back at them, making sure their eyes were closed once they both reached the top of the stairs. As if they sensed his gaze, they whispered, "I won't peek, love. Lead on." He felt a flutter in his stomach, letting out a breath to steady himself before he opened the door to his room. The elf took his imp's hand once more, leading them into the middle of the room and silently giving thanks that they couldn't see the mess of fabric piled high on every flat surface. He paused, looking around before grabbing a dark strip of silk hanging over one of the unused mannequins. Festé scowled a bit and sighed dramatically when they felt him tie the makeshift blindfold on. "Don't you trust me?" they teased, catching his wrist in one hand when he brought it down again. He cursed himself momentarily for all the training he had been putting them through.

"Oh, hush and let me work, imp." He tutted, and Festé let out a full-bodied laugh. "Stay right there." They released his wrist, waving him off, and he turned to one of the other mannequins in the small room, starting to gather the fabric up. "Tell me more about the garden, won't you?" He murmured thoughtfully. If they were going to be travelling this summer, why would they bother? Especially if there was a chance they wouldn't be back, he thought grimly. With ease, he lifted the nearly-finished dress from the mannequin body. "Drop your towel, and hang on to my shoulders, dear."

"I didn't plant much, honestly. Just things that would grow over the course of a few weeks while we're gone." They let the towel fall, hands finding the elf's shoulders when he moved close. "It's going to be a wet summer this year, but I'm worried about the weeding…" Festé hummed.

"Oh, I see." They were so casually optimistic, and it was contagious, as usual. He tried a light tone, wondering in passing if it was convincing. "Well, we'll just have to take care of it when we come back from Candlekeep, won't we? Step," he said, catching their ankle and guiding it into the proper place in the mess of fabric. "Other foot," he breathed, repeating the motion.

"I know what you're thinking, Star," they sighed softly. "But we… we'll make it back." They dragged their fingers lightly up the sides of his neck, and he shivered. "I promise," they breathed; as if sensing the tension in his shoulders; and he straightened up slowly.

"I'll take your word for it, I just…" Astarion paused, gazing down. "Arms down for a moment, like… Yes. Perfect, darling," he smiled, adjusting the sleeves of the garment. "I'm just worried. I can't shake the feeling that we're walking into a firefight. What if something happens to you? What if you get…" he cleared his throat. It was too easy to confess in such a cramped space. The elf busied himself with the buttons, doing each one up deliberately slowly, letting his fingers linger against Festé's chest. What if that heart stopped? "What if you get separated from me? What if one of those spawn bites you? What if, gods forbid, you get turned?" An uncomfortable silence descended on the room as he stepped away to look the tiefling over. Astarion sighed harshly, feeling the itch of shame creep up his back. "Turn for me, my dear. Slowly." Festé obliged, and they lifted their arms halfway from their sides.

"I've been thinking about that possibility, Star," they whispered once they were facing away from him. "Would forever really be so bad? Well, if it were with you, I…" Astarion watched a tremor ripple through them, and he recalled their last discussion on the subject. Silently, he moved close to them once more, ghosting his hands over their hips before he tied the sash up at their waist.

"Have you changed your mind?" He murmured, lips flush against their ear. Their hands found his, and he noticed that they were trembling, if only slightly.

"I don't know, Star. It's complicated, I…" they sighed deeply, their head bowing.

"If I could change you myself, darling, I would. If you wanted it." He bit his lip. Shit. His mind was racing, imagining the fury he would feel if someone else touched them as he had. If someone else bit them, if their blood danced along someone else's tongue. He stiffened, arms locking even more tightly around them. Festé lifted their head.

"Is that what you're worried about?" Their voice was soft. Astarion kept silent, and his imp turned around to hug him properly. Something in him softened, then. "Are you worried that I wouldn't be yours anymore?" The words were a punch to his gut, and he felt something, a sort of liquid heat, flood his chest. Several moments went by as they held each other, and Festé spoke up again. "Star? Talk to me, please…"

"I… I am," his voice sounded hollow, far away. "I'm worried about you becoming someone's mindless spawn," he spat. "But, I'm also worried about being left behind if you die," he finished, harsher than he meant to be.

"It's complicated, right?" Festé whispered into his shoulder, their arms tightening around his waist. "I'm sure the jealousy makes it worse."

"I'm not…" his voice faltered, and they chuckled.

"You don't want anyone to know me like you know me. It's okay, Star. But you have me, and I'm not going anywhere, if I can help it."

They were right on that front, he had to give them that. Even the jealousy he felt when the tiefling had told him about their long foray with that despicable half-elf had been hard to tamp down, and the man was long dead. It felt like a white-hot fire iron in his middle; and he no longer wanted to think about the irony of Festé standing with him in the wedding dress he had made specifically for them, being jealous over an imaginary vampire sinking its fangs into them. He shook his head, exasperated with himself, and moved away from them. "Gods, you should see yourself," he breathed, crossing his arms and taking in the dress.

"How bad is it?" Festé breathed, mock-serious.

"Simply terrible, my love," he chuckled. "Turn again for me?" He focused, eyes darting right to left as they revolved slowly on the spot. It was so very nearly finished. It was just the finer details, like the hem, and a few stitches around the waist, that remained. He congratulated himself silently on getting their measurements almost exact by sight, and hummed. If had had more time, he would have stitched the entire bodice in lace, but the sheer white fabric he had chosen was perfect against Festé's rosy skin. It hugged their chest, moving up into a high neck, but the sleeves fell open and flowing at their shoulders. "Lift your arms again, pet," he murmured, moving closer and kneeling in front of them.

"Like this?" They raised their hands and rested them on top of their head. "The sleeves seem long, I hope that's…"

"That's perfect," he praised, smiling even though the tiefling couldn't see him. He spotted a loose thread in the intricate stitching of their right sleeve, reaching out and pinching it between his fingers. "Hold still," he leaned in, audibly snapping the thread against his fangs.

"You're doomed to put your fangs on me every-" they started, and he shushed them, stifling a laugh. They chuckled above him as he worked, pulling at the skirt's fabric. It was a simple black satin, with dual slits to expose the imp's thighs. He sat back on his heels, humming a bit while he adjusted the waist. Finally, he took the pins out, cinched the fabric slightly tighter before pinning them again. It only took a few moments for him to stitch each side securely, and he set to work removing all of the pins, smiling to himself. Festé seemed to know when he was finished, and pushed their fingers into his hair, enclosing him in the white curtain of their sleeves. Astarion sighed again, pleasured by his accomplishment as well as his lover. He leaned in, pressing a messy kiss to the inside of their thigh in return. When he stood again, he took their hands.

"Aren't you going to pester me with guesses as to what you're wearing?" They grinned, shaking their head silently. He leaned in, drawling softly in their ear. "Really? Not even a peep? Don't you want a hint, darling?" A moment passed, and the imp nodded. "Yours," he said, dropping one of their hands, "Is white and black," he traced his fingers from their shoulder to their waist, over the intricate phoenix he had stitched. "With a black skirt." He reached down, squeezing their hip. "And mine is matching in black and white."

"I knew it!" Festé cried out, laughing wildly. Astarion let out an exasperated scoff, and they found his cheeks with their palms. "No, seriously, my love; I'm much too red for anything else to go nicely with my skin. I knew it had to be-"

"Wrong," he interrupted with a hiss. "You would look stunning in anything. But especially so in this." He pulled them close and pressed a chaste kiss to their lips, making them flinch and chuckle softly. "I can't wait for you to see it."

Festé was silent for a long time, and Astarion studied them closely as they pursed their lips. "Star…" they started, trailing off into silence again. Another long moment passed, and the elf waited. "Star I… I hope you know this, but regardless of what happens…" they came close to him, and he turned his head deftly to dodge their horns when they pressed their cheek to his shoulder. "Regardless of whether I'm mortal or not, I'm yours, If we ever come to be separated, I will find my way back to you." Astarion lifted one hand, smoothing it over their back. "What I worry about, secretly," they continued, swallowing thickly, "With changing, is that I wouldn't be warm to the touch anymore. That I…" Festé sighed harshly, "That I would no longer be alluring to you. This is the first time that I've felt, well… wanted, since my parents died. It's stupid, but I…" Astarion flinched, and his imp fell silent once more. Finally, they whispered, "What if you found someone more appealing than me?" They laughed humorlessly.

"Darling…" he whispered back, "It's not your blood, it's you." Wasn't it? Astarion's mind felt clouded. What if it was only their blood that made the tiefling so alluring to him? Their initial relationship had been characterized by it, after all, he thought. The way it had spilled over his tongue that first time, the unexpected swell in his chest, the absolute elation he had felt over the next few days. No. He pushed away the notion entirely. "Gods below," he shook his head, chuckling a bit. "We're a pair, aren't we?" He squeezed them, and Festé shivered. "We're both being given a good thing, for once; and we're both so worried that it's going to slip through our fingers."

"Star, what do I have to do to convince you that I'm not going anywhere?" The tiefling mumbled into his neck. "I'll do anything," they sighed. Astarion was surprised by the anxiety that seeped into their usually calm and even voice.

"Well, I…" he shifted his weight slowly from one foot to the other. "You're wearing the dress I made for you, aren't you?" Festé nodded, clinging to him. "In the townhouse that we both live in together. You could… Oh, I don't know… marry me?" They chuckled wetly, and sniffled.

"I can do that," they whispered, their arms locking around his waist.

"What can I do, little love, to assure you that I'm not going anywhere?" The pale elf asked, lips brushing their earlobe.

"Tell me you love me?" Festé pulled back, stiffening when Astarion gently gripped their jaw.

"I love you, and I'll tell you as often as you like," he breathed against their lips, before pressing a light peck to the corner of his imp's mouth.

author notes:

well well well, i guess it's all out there in the open now, more or less

these two are idiots but they're my idiots and they're just doing their best

thank you for waiting out this hiatus, and for supporting the fic! you rock! you matter! you get the wedding episode as a reward!

#.fic #fic: bonding.#otp: bloodfire #oc: festé #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion acunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #spawn!astarion x named!tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x oc #spawn!astarion x oc

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anxiouslynumbme · 26 days

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Will I ever be able to watch the final season of Criminal Minds and continue with the show after that season 14 finale? Well, it's been years, and I honestly don't think I can, which sucks, 'cause I've been watching that show for so, so long and I wanted to see its conclusion. I mean, I assume they address the atrocious JJ "big confession." But they don't go anywhere with it, right? Please tell me they don't. I've managed to avoid spoilers for this long and honestly, I just don't want to know.

Do they even realize what they've done to the characters they've disrespected and ruined?

I just genuinely don't understand. If they had ever wanted to take Spencer and JJ that route, they'd had so many opportunities over the years to make it work believably.

For example, before she'd met Will, or even after, but maybe it didn't work out between them. They could've shown Reid jealous, or given any kind of indication that he still felt something romantic for her. Any indication that she'd felt something romantic for him, which JJ had never once shown, even when he had a crush on her.

But she fell in love with a wonderful man and got married and had kids. And you want to tell me she'd done all of that as a means of settling for second best because she was too "scared" to tell Spencer her feelings before? Why was she scared? Seriously, there's no reason for her to hide her feelings if she'd actually felt them. They didn't even give a proper reason for that supposed fear that made her start an entire life with someone else instead of just letting Spencer know how she felt. What was so fucking scary, writers? Why did she start an entire relationship/marriage if she was secretly in love with her best friend? Am I supposed to believe that JJ is that selfish, cruel, and dumb? They really fucking ruined her character in a way that's really hard to come back from.

This is a TV show, things have to be shown to the audience to understand a character's motives and actions. You can't just make a character say something after years of nothing, and tell us that was how they'd felt all along. The audacity to even imply that it was some kind of a slow-burn love story.

Have you ever watched or read a slow-burn story before? JJ and Reid did not have a slow-burn arc, in any way. Shape or form. We'd had nothing to show or indicate that for 14 seasons.

And I know that some people think their scenes were a bit more insinuating and hinting at something in later seasons. And you know what, yes, I can honestly pinpoint the moment the writers were like, we need to add a few more hugs to their scenes in case we decide to make them suddenly fall in love. And that was when Reid was in prison. They had given them a lot more scenes together where they hugged and touched a lot. But we, the viewers, had no reason to read into it because at that point we completely believed their best friends/siblings' relationship that had been going on all that time. It had been 12 seasons at that point. She's in a loving marriage with kids! Oh, and then after that, they decided to wait two more seasons to, you know, ruin their characters.

And giving them more hugging scenes does not warrant the potential of something romantic. Friends hug each other. Especially, JJ and Reid, actually. So I think the writers were just lazy, or just wanted to do something shocking for ratings or whatever. If they'd wanted to go for it from the start, they would've shown way, way more from the characters to convey hidden/secret romantic feelings and mutual pining over the years.

What a waste of a beautiful and pure friendship. They honestly went and threw 14 seasons' worth of character development, moments, and awesome dynamic down the drain.

I know that some people ship it, and that's fine, of course. But personally, I don't think I'll ever forgive it. This kind of reminds me of how I met your mother a little bit, only this is way worse. Because at the very least, Ted and Robin were together at some point, and you know, actually had romantic moments throughout the show. But Criminal Minds had no grounds to stand on, in my opinion.

#should I try and continue watching? That is the question #criminal minds #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #dr spencer reid #dr reid #jennifer jj jareau #jj jareau #cm #matthew gray gubler #mgg #aj cook #I just kind of really miss the show and the characters; but I wouldn't be able to take it if they continue with that storyline

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vilevenom · 3 months

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New chapter for "Together Burning Bright"! This one is a ~flashback~ chapter. Specifically, Hickory's birthday party, when he and JD got together the first time. This particular scene has been rotating around my brain since I wrote "Let's Be Us Again", but it didn't really fit in the main story, so now you get a +4K word fic of just that, all on its own, lol This chapter is just a touch spicy. It's gonna bump the AO3 rating to 'M', so just an fyi. Nothing is explicitly described, but it's hella obvious as to what they're doing. Enjoy!

A trolls twenty-first birthday was a special one. At least, for the yodelers it was. It was considered a coming of age celebration, and it was when trolls were encouraged to take on more responsibility within the community. It was also when the biggest birthday parties were thrown.

As the community hall was the largest indoor space in the village, it was most commonly used to host such large events, to avoid the cold of the mountain. Flowers adorned nearly every feasible surface, and tables ladened with food were pushed up against the walls. Streamers and twinkle lights hug from the ceiling, while nearly every troll in town was crammed onto the main floor, singing, dancing and carrying on in celebration.

Nearly, being the key word. One troll with teal hair and a distinct pair of green goggles stood to the side with a lazy smile, drink in hand as he watched the party carry on. John Dory had, unfortunately, missed the beginning of the party. He'd been guilted into going, even somewhat late, by the trolls who were hosting his stay in the village. They'd told him it was bad luck for the birthday troll in question for someone to willingly not attend, so he made a little fuss about it but followed along shortly behind them to the party. He'd honestly just wanted to go to bed and sleep, but a party was a party, he supposed. And as a pop troll, he'd been told many times over the years that he should love parties, much to his chagrin.

He idly sipped at his drink as he watched trolls nearly trip over themselves as they swayed across the dance floor. He did have to hand one thing to the yodelers; they made a mean fermented nectar. The cup in his hand was definitely stronger than the strange yeasty concoction the rock trolls had made him try. From said experience, he knew better than to drink too much, or too quickly. He was not keen on a repeat performance, if he was going to be honest with himself.

Truthfully, he was planning on staying just long enough for a majority of the attendees to get a little silly, before slipping back out to the house he was staying at. He'd figured, since he didn't know who the party was even for, and he'd made an appearance to appease his superstitious hosts, that no one would fault him for wanting to get some rest. He'd only managed to get into town the day before, after all.

What John Dory did not expect was for a tall troll to suddenly appear next to him, lean a hand on the wall, and tilt into John's personal space with a little smirk on his face.

Hickory hadn't expected anything for his birthday. His parents were long gone, his brother had disappeared on a job of some sort for who knew how long, and he was old enough now that he wasn't even living with anyone who would potentially take notice. So, he'd been more than a little surprised when his friends had offered to host a party for him at the community hall.

It seemed like everyone in town had turned out, bringing food and drink to share. They'd adorned him in a flower crown and accessories made of dried flowers, while everyone wished him a happy birthday and good luck in the coming years. The reveal of the large five tiered cake his friends had baked for him had nearly brought him to tears. He truly felt like he was the luckiest troll in the world.

"Hey, hey! Who's that?"

"Oh. That's the troll staying with us. He's a traveling pop troll. I guess he's been here before, because…"

Hickory let the voices of his friends fade into the background as they prattled on next to him. Scratch his previous thought, now he felt like the luckiest troll in the world. John Dory, the troll he had been crushing on for the last four years, who he'd thought he'd never see again, was leaning against the wall. At his party! A thrill ran up his spine, making his fur practically stand on end.

"I'm going to go talk to him," Hickory stated, pressing his half finished cup idly into the hand of one of his friends.

"What? Why? Wait…No way, Hickory. That can't possibly be the same troll."

"The one I would not stop talking to you about a couple of years ago? It most definitely is," he said with a nod, fussing with his hair and straightening out his suspenders.

"Ooo, get some, Hickory," one of his friends jeered, earning an eye roll from Hickory.

He waved as his friends started to get rowdy, quickly walking away from them while trying to keep a flush from forming on his cheeks. He hadn't seen John in nearly four years, and they had only spent a couple of months together at the time. Would he even remember? Well, Hickory reasoned, you missed one hundred percent of the shots you didn't take.

He sauntered up to John Dory and placed his hand on the wall next to the pop trolls head before leaning into his space with a smirk. "Guten abend."

John looked up at him, confusion clear on his face. Hickory felt like an idiot. He tipped himself back up to stand upright, letting out a nervous laugh. "Sorry. You don't speak german, do you?"

"Can't say that I do, no," John said, arching an eyebrow at Hickory. "Can I help you?"

Hickory cleared his throat, already feeling like this was going poorly. "I said 'good evening'," he fumbled, suddenly wishing he hadn't handed off his drink so he would at least have something to do with his hands. "I, uhh…you're alone."

John's expression went from confusion to disinterest almost immediately. "Yes. I am. And, if you don't mind, I was actually pretty okay with that situation."

Hickory bristled, wincing at the clear dismissal, but he couldn't just let John slip through his fingers like this. "We met! Before! Sorry, I'm making a mess of this," he quickly babbled, fiddling with one of the floral bracelets he'd been gifted, "I showed you around the last time you visited the village."

John stared at him for a moment, before realization slowly dawned on his face. He stood up straight from the wall, giving Hickory a cursory once over, gaping slightly. "Hickory?!"

Hickory let out a quiet breath, a wobbly little smile on his face as he gave a short nod. "That's right."

"You got tall!"

That startled a snort of laughter out of Hickory. "Ja, and older," he added, waving vaguely at the party. John looked dumbfounded for a moment, glancing around before his gaze snapped back to the yodeler.

"This is your party? Oh, man. Happy birthday!" John said, giving Hickory a friendly punch to the shoulder.

"Thank you," Hickory chuckled, rubbing at the spot that John had hit. "I don't imagine my birthday is what brought you back to town?"

John laughed, shaking his head a little as he leaned back against the wall. "Nah. Not that the party isn't great! But, I just got board with the classical trolls. I kinda vaguely remembered where this place was, and I wanted to come back for another visit. Got a little lost in the mountains for a couple of days, though. I have to admit, I'm a bit exhausted and I only came to the party because I got guilt tripped." John paused as he noticed the somewhat crestfallen expression that flitted over Hickory's face, before a smile was forced back onto it.

"Well, don't let me keep you! You should not feel obligated to stay if you would rather be in bed," Hickory offered, taking a short step back from John.

"Wait, hey, no," John stood back up, reaching out to catch Hickory's wrist. He offered a soft smile to the other, nodding towards the door. "I know this is your party, but why don't we step outside. I'm tired, but I'd love to catch up with you?"

Hickory returned the smile with a genuine one of his own, giving a short nod. He pulled his wrist free of John's hold, only to take his hand properly with a quiet, "I would love that." He turned and began to lead John through the crowd, while doing his best to ignore the cat calls that followed the two of them out.

"Sorry," Hickory muttered once they were outside, his breath puffing up in a tiny cloud in front of him. "My friends can be a bit…lewd."

"Hey, no worries," John said, walking along next to Hickory as they trundled through the snow towards a couple of benches just outside the community hall, "Pop trolls have a reputation, I've been told."

"It is a ridiculous reputation to have, since you are one of the only pop trolls that has even been through town in the last two decades," Hickory scoffed, only to flush in embarrassment at the look John shot him. "I just…it's not right. To make those sort of presumptions. Do you not agree?"

"Oh, I fully agree. It's just kinda nice to have someone else share the sentiment," John admitted, a grin forming on his face. "So," he flopped down to sit on the bench once they reached it, setting his cup on the ground, "What've you been up to since I was last here?"

Hickory eagerly took the seat next to John, and the two began to talk. Once Hickory had caught John up on the relatively uneventful list of things that had occurred in the village, John began to regale Hickory with tales of his travels, which the yodeler took in eagerly. He gasped and cheered in all of the appropriate places, peppering in the odd question to get John to elaborate on details, while John sprung from his seat to enact some of the more daring acts from his time on the Neverglade Trail. After a particularly energetic performance, John fell back onto the bench next to Hickory, quiet pants leaving a trail of wispy condensation in the air behind him.

"Your life sounds fantastic," Hickory hummed, watching John catch his breath with a dopey little smile on his face.

"It's pretty great," John grinned up at Hickory from where he was half laying on the bench.

"I wish I could have adventures like that," Hickory admitted quietly, picking at one of the blooms on his bracelet.

"What's stopping you?" John pushed himself to sit up, leaning into Hickory, "It's your life. And you're old enough now. Heck, you've been old enough for a while. I was eighteen when I went out on my own."

Hickory shrugged, a sardonic little smile on his face. "My brother, mostly. Even though he's not even here right now. But, truthfully? I am not brave enough, I don't think."

"Sure you are! You just gotta put your mind to it," John said encouragingly, nudging Hickory's shoulder with his own.

"No," Hickory shook his head, "I'm a coward."

"Hey, come on. Start small, then. Baby steps. Pick something little that you're scared to do, and just do it!" John grabbed Hickory's knee and gave it a little shake. "I believe in you."

Hickory looked down at the hand on his knee for a moment, before turning his gaze up to John Dory's face. He was smiling brightly at Hickory, open and reassuring in a way very few trolls had ever been to the yodeler. He swallowed thickly, placing his hand over John's, and hoping the pop troll would blame the cold for the flush that adorned his cheeks. "Just…go for it?" he reaffirmed, licking his lips nervously as John nodded encouragingly, "Okay."

To John's credit, he only startled slightly as Hickory leaned into his space and pressed their lips together. It was chaste, and short, but that didn't stop his face from heating up.

"I'm not too young, now," Hickory murmured against John's mouth, his eyes kept shut to save himself from any unsavory expression the pop troll may be making.

"You…what?" John sounded dazed.

"I'm not too young. You told me last time that I was too young, but I'm not anymore." He lifted both hands to cup John's cheeks and press a more determined kiss to the pop trolls lips. He very nearly pulled away, until John began to reciprocate the kiss.

They broke apart from each other after a moment, their breath mingling and turning into delicate fog between them.

"This isn't because-" John began, only to be muffled by Hickory peppering a couple quick, short kisses to his lips.

"No! No, of course not. I told you, I think that is ridiculous. No. It's because I have not been able to get you out of my mind since we last met. And I feel like this, you appearing on my birthday, is nothing short of a sign from the universe for me to at least try," Hickory admitted, letting his fingers lightly trail from John's cheeks, over his shoulders and down to his hands. He finally sat back and opened his eyes to find a flustered looking John Dory sat before him. "You did encourage me to be brave, after all."

John chuckled, a lopsided grin on his face. "I suppose I did, didn't I?"

"You did," Hickory nodded, before he stood from the bench, offering a hand to John. "Come with me."

"Where to?" John asked, not hesitating in the slightest in taking Hickory's hand and standing from the bench.

"Home," Hickory stated simply, leading John through the village.

It was a relatively quick walk through town, especially as most trolls were still at Hickory's party. Hickory lead them to a small, modest house towards the edge of the village. It was adorned with the same floral trim pattern along the awnings that all of the other buildings in the village had, with a well cared for little yard, and a short wooden fence surrounding the property.

As Hickory opened the gate and began to pull John up the short path to the door, the pop troll paused, tugging back on Hickory. "Wait."

Hickory stopped, turning around quickly with a look of worry on his face. "What is it?" he asked, tone concerned.

"I think I remember you mentioning…you have a brother? Does he live here?" John asked, looking towards the door apprehensively.

"Oh," Hickory visibly relaxed, a low chuckle leaving him, "Dickory, yes. He does live here, but he is not in town right now. I'm by myself."

John gave a little nod, nerves leaving him as Hickory tugged him the rest of the way up the path and into the house. He only paused once to wipe his feet on a large mat near the front door, encouraging John to do the same, before he continued to lead the pop troll through the house. He only let go once they had entered a sparsely decorated bedroom, and the door was shut behind them.

"Nice digs," John commented idly, looking around the room briefly, before he found himself being pushed back into the door, Hickory's hands slipping under his vest to trail over his chest.

"I can think of much more interesting things than my bedroom," Hickory chuckled, pressing a kiss to John's cheek.

"Gettin' right to it then, huh?" John joked, lifting his hands to rest gently over Hickory's hips.

"Is that…not okay?" Hickory asked, shifting back slightly but not lifting his hands from John's fur. If this was the only chance he had to soak up the pop trolls presence and touch him, he was going to take advantage of every moment he could.

"Never said it wasn't. You just seem real eager," John teased, easy grin on his face.

"I have waited four years to be able to touch you," Hickory murmured, pressing in close to John while pushing the pop trolls vest from his shoulders, "You will need to forgive my eagerness."

John's grin faltered, his well practiced boy band charm guttering at Hickory's words. "You weren't kidding about that?"

"Kidding about what?" Hickory asked, distracted as he tugged the vest free and tossed it aside.

"Thinking about me. For all that time."

Hickory paused, frowning as he tipped his head back to get a look at the almost hopeful expression on John's face. "Why would I ever joke about something like that? The time we spent together meant a great deal to me. You mean a great deal to me."

"You don't even really know me," John said with a short shake of his head.

"Then let me?"

John stared up at Hickory for a moment, taking in the flower crown that sat askew on his head and the earnest expression he wore on his face as he waited patiently for John's response. He swallowed thickly, before giving a small nod, digging his fingers more firmly into Hickory's hips and pulling him in close. "Okay."

The brilliant grin that John got in return for his consent nearly made him dizzy. He gasped as Hickory ducked his head and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, slowly sinking to his knees as he trailed kisses down John's chest and stomach. He let his head fall back and hit the door with a dull thud, groaning quietly as Hickory all but worshipped him.

As Hickory reached John's hip he paused, tilting his head back to look up at John imploringly. "Is this okay?"

John tipped his head forward, letting out a slow breath as he lifted his hands to tangle his fingers in the yodeler's hair, dislodging the flower crown and causing it to fall to the floor. "More than," he murmured, momentarily distracted as the crown rolled across the room, only to snap his attention back to Hickory with a soft hiss as the yodeler tugged at his shorts and continued his trail of kisses down.

"You okay?" John asked, a lopsided grin on his face. The two had eventually migrated to Hickory's bed, where John currently found himself devoid of any of his clothes, laid back in a pile of pillows with a rather flustered looking Hickory between his knees.

"Es tut mir leid," Hickory murmured, licking his lips quickly as he sat back on his heels, "To be truthful, I have never done this before."

"Seriously?" John asked, stretching his arms above his head, grinning a little as he watched Hickory's eyes trail down over his chest. "Strapping young troll like yourself? I find that hard to believe."

"It's true," Hickory said with a self depreciating little laugh, "I think you are the first troll to ever use the word 'strapping' to describe me."

"Aw," John cooed, sitting up and taking Hickory's face in his hands, "Well, I think you're real handsome." He grinned as Hickory flushed, quickly taking the opportunity to kiss the yodeler deeply. When they broke apart, while Hickory was looking a little overwhelmed, John pushed him down into the pillows, swinging his leg over the yodeler to settle in his lap. "Let me take care of you now, okay?" He preened as Hickory's hands settled on his hips, fingers digging in slightly.

"All right."

Hickory wondered if this was what it was like to be in paradise. The troll of his dreams was in his lap, a dark flush coloring his cheeks as he panted, looking absolutely lost in the moment as he moved above Hickory. "You are so beautiful," he murmured, reaching up to cup John's jaw. The pop troll looked momentarily startled by the sentiment, only to let out a low moan and sweep down to catch Hickory's lips in a kiss.

"You're not too bad, yourself," John teased as he pulled back, earning a light chuckle from Hickory and a roll of his hips that left John gasping.

John huffed as he rolled off of Hickory, flopping back into the mound of pillows next to the yodeler. He looked rather pleased with himself, while Hickory stared up at the ceiling in a daze, both trying to catch their breath.

"That was…"

"Not too bad, huh?" John chuckled, turning his head to smirk at Hickory.

The yodeler blinked, turning his head slowly to frown at John. "Not too bad? John, that was…absolut vollkommen. You were - that was incredible," Hickory stated, pushing himself up onto his elbow to lean over the pop troll. "This was the best birthday I could have ever hoped for."

John's smirk melted into a genuine smile at Hickory's earnestness, reaching up to brush his fingers through wavy orange hair. "I'm glad I could make it memorable."

"The most memorable," Hickory agreed, leaning down to press a kiss to John's lips. He shifted and squirmed amongst the pillows until he managed to maneuver himself over John, pressing in between the pop trolls knees, somehow without breaking their kiss. When he did finally pull back, John let out a low chuckle, arching an eyebrow at Hickory.

"Again?"

Hickory flushed in embarrassment, gasping quietly as John wriggled his hips. "I…only if you'd like to…?"

John snorted, lifting a leg to wrap around Hickory's hips, tugging him close as he stretched his arms above his head and arched his back. "Only if you do all the work this time."

When John woke up in the morning it was to an empty bed. He grunted as he felt around the covers, finding the blankets cold. He scowled as he smacked his hands over his face, groaning as he rubbed at his eyes. He should have known better. This was not the first time someone had managed to sweet talk him into bed and then fled in the morning. It was, admittedly, a bit odd that Hickory had taken him back to his house, instead of where John was staying, but perhaps there was some unspoken rule between yodelers that one simply got up and left without a fuss the morning after a fling. He had hoped Hickory would be different, but who was he kidding. He was a washed up ex-boyband member, and because he was a pop troll a lot of other trolls seemed to think he was some sort of traveling strumpet.

He sighed as he spread his arms out over the expanse of the bed, frowning as he began to notice the faint ache in his hips, and the odd way some of his fur was sticking to his skin. As soon as he got back to where he was staying, he was taking a long, hot shower. But first, he needed to get there. He let out another grunt as he rolled out of bed, wincing as he stepped on his discarded goggles. He muttered a quiet curse to himself as he picked them up, cleaning them off with a blanket, and giving them a quick inspection to find them relatively unscathed. He slipped them on his head, before hunting around for his vest and shorts.

John had managed to pull on his shorts and was trying to figure out where Hickory had tossed his vest last night, when the bedroom door began to open. He stopped short as Hickory walked in with a soft little smile on his face, carrying a tray ladened with assorted breakfast foods. Hickory froze when he noticed John standing in the middle of the room, his smile turning into a confused frown.

"Mein liebling…? Did you need to go somewhere this morning?"

John simply stared at Hickory for a long moment, his brain needing the time to register that Hickory had not, in fact, run off on him. That he had, instead, made him breakfast, and brought it to him in bed.

"I…" John began, watching as the confusion on Hickory's face slowly shifted into realization, then resigned understanding. It suddenly felt like a weight was on John's chest as he watched Hickory set the tray aside, a sad little smile on his face as he shuffled across the room to tug John's vest from beneath a few pillows that had been shoved off the bed the night before.

"Here," Hickory offered the vest to John, tucking the thumb of his free hand into the waistband of the sleep pants he was wearing, "I take it you were looking for this?"

John took the vest, but was hesitant to put it on. He held it to his chest instead, tipping his head slightly to try and catch Hickory's gaze, but the yodeler was looking anywhere but directly at him.

"Hickory, I…" John floundered, not knowing what to say to fix the hurt look on Hickory's face. He was supposed to be a lyrical wordsmith, but his mind was drawing an absolutely blank.

"It's okay, schatz," Hickory said, shaking his head and gesturing towards the door. "I understand. And I am so very happy that I could have the time with you that I did. I don't regret it. And I hope you don't, either."

John felt like he'd been sucker punched in the gut. This sweet troll, who'd confessed to thinking about him for nearly four years and had showered him with nothing but compliments and sweet nothings all night, honestly thought John would regret spending the night with him. He dropped his vest and stepped quickly across the room, cupping Hickory's cheeks so he could force the yodeler to look at him. He wanted to kick himself at finding tears in Hickory's eyes.

"No! No, no, Hickory," John brushed his thumbs against the yodelers cheeks, finding his walls quickly crumbling at the way Hickory's expression turned a little hopeful, "I'm sorry. I thought you had left. I wouldn't've…If I'd known you were making me breakfast, I…" He cursed under his breath, squeezing Hickory's cheeks gently, earning a sound of confusion from the yodeler. John cussed again, a little louder this time, before stating quickly, "Can we try this again?"

Hickory gently extracted his face from John's hold, frowning slightly. "Try what again?"

Instead of answering, John picked up the breakfast try and pushed it into Hickory's hands, before ushering the yodeler back out the door. "Here. Wait, like, a minute. Okay? Just…one minute, and then come in again."

Hickory stumbled slightly as he was pushed out the door, turning with his mouth open to speak, only to find the door shut in his face.

Meanwhile, John hurried to slip his shorts back off and toss his goggles to the side, clamoring onto the bed quickly. He arranged the bedding just so around himself, managing to flop back into the pillows and hoping it came off as somewhat alluring, just as Hickory began to open the door again.

Hickory poked his head in first, still looking confused, only for a smile to bloom on his face as John made an exaggerated yawning sound and stretched across the pillows.

"Oh! Did you make breakfast?" John asked, propping his cheek up on the palm of his hand, a coy little smile on his face as Hickory walked across the room and set the tray on the bedside table.

"Ja. I thought, after last night, you might need the energy," Hickory teased easily back, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out to pick something off the tray, but paused as John's hand landed on his wrist. He turned his head, letting out a startled little moan as John surged up to press a kiss to his lips.

"Join me?" John asked as he broke the kiss, patting at the pillow next to him.

Who was Hickory to deny such a request? He stood from the bed to slip his sleep pants off before crawling under the covers with John, a pleased little smile on his face as the pop troll draped himself over his lap.

"Now… Feed me," John all but demanded, gesturing vaguely at the breakfast tray. Hickory snorted at the demand, but obliged, snagging a berry from the tray and feeding it to John, who made a show of licking his lips and moaning lowly while he ate.

"Oh," Hickory breathed, offering John another berry, only to find his fingers being drawn into the pop trolls mouth with another self satisfied moan. He swallowed thickly as he pulled his fingers free to reach for the tray again, only to be stopped as John sat up and properly sat himself in Hickory's lap. He blinked owlishly up at the pop troll, who simply grinned down at him.

"Again?" John teased, squeezing his knees around Hickory's hips.

"Yes, please."

#trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls fic #hickdory #trolls hickory #trolls john dory #things that i wrote #trolls band together #trolls world tour

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