#and why I made him hesitate before shutting the stable door

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. iv

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chapter summary: This time, it's different. He’s not here to help you fix something, or to drag Sarah home, or pick up something she’s left behind. At this point he’s stopped lying to himself – Joel’s here to see you.  pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 5.6k chapter warnings: some angst, marijuana use, suggestive thoughts and actions (but no smut -- as always, dm if you want specifics), divorce mention. a/n: The next few weeks of my life will be insane (and NOT just because succession is coming back). I want to keep updating this, but something's gotta give, because the way I've been writing is not sustainable unfortunately. So updates may end up being shorter and the fic having more parts, or updates might be less frequent with longer parts. Also, a question for my loyal readers: Do you make your shirley temples with ginger ale or with Sprite/7up? Because I came from a sprite/7UP family but once i discovered ginger ale instead i was HOOKED. So i am a Ginger Ale Shirley Temple Truther.

-May 5, 2003-

Please pick up, please pick up, you cross your arms in front of you, looking over your shoulder. The pointed toe of your heels clacks against the asphalt as you tap it repeatedly, a steady beat. You have no reason to be so nervous, right now. It must have something to do with who you are calling, not just why. 

“Hello?” the droning ring is interrupted by a voice that sounds skeptical, they don’t recognize your number.

“Joel?” you ask.

“Hey, you,” his tone evens out when he hears you say his name. He had given you his cell phone number a few weeks back, the night he’d caught you smoking on your back porch. In case I’m not home and something’s goin’ on with Sarah, he’d said. It made sense, though all it did was tempt you to call him many times before this, and not about Sarah. You were worried because…maybe this was out of line.

There’s noises in the background that threaten to drown Joel out – saws and various power tools whirring, a jackhammer, men calling out to each other. It’s loud. At your job, you close the door to your office if someone is typing too loud on their keyboard. “I uh- I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You hear a door shut in response, and the noise fades to a low purr. “Not at all. Everything okay? Sarah alright?”

“Yeah, this isn’t about her, though. I hope that’s okay.”

“It depends,” In your mind, right now he’s leaning against a messy metal desk, one of his hands planted on its surface to keep himself stable, the muscles in his forearm flexing under tension. He’s got a toolbelt slung low over the waistband of his Carhartt’s. He’s a little sweaty – it’s hot out, today – his cheeks flushed, pieces of dark hair clinging to his forehead. The image is doing something for you, and you have to take a deep, measured breath to reset before you can answer him.

“Do you…know anything about cars?” you ask. 

“A little….why?”

“I took my car to get serviced, and…I’m pretty sure I’m about to be swindled.” You hesitate, then qualify. “I didn’t have anyone else to call, and…you seem like you might be good with this sort of thing.”

There are a lot of things you know a lot about, and cars are just not one of them. From your perspective, a car is simply a means to get from Point A to Point B, and the less you know about the how, the better. Although your complete lack of understanding definitely doesn’t help you in your current situation. You’d considered calling your brother, and even your father – but you knew they’d be no help, having lived in Manhattan their whole lives. 

Bradley had a nice car, but you suspected it was more for his image, and less because he knew anything about them. Plus, you didn’t really ask for much of each other outside of sex – and if you started too, it might initiate another talk about where you ‘see him in your future’, and the thought alone is grating, because you don’t. 

Since you moved away from home, you’ve spent a lot of time asserting to yourself that you’re completely independent. But moments like this remind you that it’s not entirely true…it’s not possible to be on your own in the way you want, and you always end up needing someone. 

“I might be able to help.” Joel sounds unconcerned. “What’s goin’ on?”

“They just told me my car needs a new battery, and I need new tires.”

“How old are they?”

“I don’t know like-” your phone vibrates furiously in your hand, an incoming call from your coworker. “Oh my god, leave me alone,” you groan out loud. “-Not you, Joel, sorry. I stepped away for lunch and…you know how it goes. Anyways, I don’t think I’ve gotten either of them changed since I got my car.”

“How old is your car?”

“Seven years.”

“Good lord,” Joel mutters, and he sounds somewhat disappointed. “Yeah, you should get both those things.”

“They weren’t lying? It’s gonna cost a couple hundred bucks.”

“No, I doubt they were,” he gives a warm chuckle, and it melts away some of your stress, even if your wallet is about to take a considerable hit. “Where’d you take your car?”

“I don’t know, just…some place around the corner from where I work.”

“In the future, you should go to Robert’s place in town. He’s done some work on my truck. Probably will cost a lot less.”

“Noted,” you nod. “Thanks so much, sorry for catching you at work.”

“Not at all, I don’t mind…” Joe answers. “Shipments keep getting delayed, so…it’s been kind of a slow day.”

“I’m jealous,” you say. “Because I swear, lately, whenever I leave the office for more than two minutes everything explodes….or at least it feels that way.”

“Sounds like you’re important,” Joel says, you can hear his smile over the phone, see it, practically. 

Scoffing, you answer. “Hardly. But uh, thanks again. I definitely owe you one.”

You expect him to say goodbye, so you’re surprised by what he asks next. “What are you doing Friday?” 

“I don’t know. What are you doing Friday?”

“I’m assumin’ Sarah’s probably left something at your place….if you’re gonna be around, I might stop by to get it….”

“You want me to smoke you up?” 

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant,” You’re direct.

“Look, I’m just sayin’ if it happens, I wouldn’t be mad.”

“I already told you, you’re welcome anytime,” you say. “But won’t Sarah-oh wait, no, she has that school dance, doesn’t she?”

Sarah had taken to writing important events in her life on the calendar that hung on your fridge. It was usually blank, you were good enough at remembering your own plans without utilizing it. But she had told you the empty calendar made her sad, so now it was filled with her doodles and notes, scribbled with blue glitter gel pen. And Friday night’s event she’d underlined three times.

“She does,” Joel answers, seemingly amused. 

Another call comes through on your phone. “Okay, yeah, I gotta go. But I’ll be around Friday.”

“Then maybe I’ll stop by,” Joel says, and you ignore the flash of heat through your abdomen – excitement – at the idea of him coming over.  “Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 9, 2003-

Joel arrives at your place before the sun sets, once again. But this time, it is different. He’s not here to help you fix something, or to drag Sarah home, or pick up something she’s left behind. Of course, he’s got his excuse, but really, at this point he’s stopped lying to himself – he’s here to see you. 

“Well, well, well…” you open the screen door, lean against the doorframe, and cross your arms over your chest. “If it isn’t the neighborhood space cowboy.”

“You’re one to talk.” 

You squint at him, but the way the corner of your mouth quirks gives you away. “Touche.” 

God, he’s already regretting this. Maybe he shouldn’t be here. But it’s become increasingly difficult to resist you, and that’s assuming that you’re even interested. He’s all-but kissed you and he’s still not quite sure where he stands. You’re not easy to read, but he has always enjoyed a challenge. At the end of the day it’s never a bad idea for him to brush up on his flirting, Tommy’s words from a few weeks ago have been getting to him. For much as he believes it’s bound to happen, Joel doesn’t want to end up alone.

“Come on in,” you push yourself off the doorframe and lead him through your house.

The last time he’d been here you’d been wearing some long-sleeved, satin pajama set. He remembered because he spent all night trying not to touch the fabric, though maybe he was just looking for an excuse to touch you. Tonight, with your back turned towards him, his eyes wander down to the curve of your ass in your low-rise, bootcut jeans. He feels the slightest bit of shame about doing it, before deciding that what you can’t see won’t hurt you.

“How was the mechanic?” he asks once you’ve entered the back porch.

“Oh fine,” you say, sitting down on the couch, gesturing to the spot across from you. “I’m just pissed I had to spend a bunch of money on a car battery and not something more…fun.”

“It’s a good thing you did,” Joel sits. “Honestly, I’m surprised you called me from the mechanic and not from a ditch on the side of the road.”

“This is my first car, Joel. I grew up in a walkable community,” you pick up an already-rolled joint, the faintest acknowledgement that you’d planned for this ahead of time – and lift it to your lips. 

“It’s okay, I’m teasing.” Joel assures, and lets his gaze linger while you smoke, just admiring, as he often does. When you pass the joint over to him, he speaks again. “I have to be good tonight, cause Sarah’s gonna be home in a couple hours.”

“Yeah, first school dance, big deal,” you raise your eyebrows. “Help me out, because I went to an all-girls school. It’s middle school. Do kids go with dates?”

Joel shakes his head. “Not that I know of. Sarah just went with a group of friends.” 

“That makes sense,” you nod. “Speaking of, I have to be good, too. I’m going to her soccer game tomorrow.”

Joel feels his brows knit together in confusion, and it causes you to continue on. “She keeps asking me to come to one, and I haven’t been able to, so I feel bad. I guess her season’s almost over.” 

“Tomorrow’s her last game…” Joel mutters, looking up towards the ceiling, where the smoke is collecting, and exhales. “But you know you don’t have to do that.”

“Obviously, but…” you shrug. “...I want to.”

He chuckles to himself, runs a hand through his hair, which is still damp from the shower he took before this. “You’re really prepared to put yourself through a middle school soccer game…” 

“Look, Joel,” Your eyes are half-lidded, focused on him, and your arm is slung over the back of the couch, fist supporting your temple. “In case you couldn’t tell…I’m doing this thing where I try to engage in the community I live in. But so far, your family members are the only ones who’ve included me in anything, so until I find someone else….” you trail off. “You’re stuck with me.”

Joel doesn’t want you to find someone else. Being stuck with you is hardly a problem. He wants to tell you, but instead, all he manages is: “We’ll be good tonight.” Still, he’s not entirely convinced that he can trust himself to make a promise like that. 

It’s a tad too early for the sun to be setting, but it’s early in May, so the weather is perfect, and he’s sort of itching to be outside. Maybe there’s something to be done before the light wanes. “Do you want to go for a walk?” he asks you.

You seem taken aback by his request, wrinkling your nose.”….I don’t know.”

“It’s a nice night, you might enjoy yourself. And we’re in good company.” 

The grimace on your face disappears, and is replaced by something more amiable. “We are,” you tilt your, make a decision. “Yeah, okay…let’s do it.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Once you’ve locked your front door, closed your windows, Joel walks side-by-side with you down your driveway. You only make it about halfway down when you’re both interrupted by the sound of someone calling out your name, then his. 

Your next-door neighbor, Denise Watson, leans over the railing of her front porch, while her husband John sits in a chair behind her, giving a lazy wave and returning back to his puzzlebook. Joel nods at him, and notices the color has drained out of your face. The Watsons have lived on this street since before even Joel and Sarah moved in. They’re in their late 60s, retired, all their children grown – which gives them plenty of time to get into everyone’s business. 

“Hey,” you offer the most unenthusiastic greeting he thinks he’s ever heard. You’re paranoid, and he’d laugh if it were just the two of you, alone. But it’s not, and he knows these just so happen to be neighbors you’ve been lying to.

“How are you doing, hun?” 

“I’m good,” you say softly, and Joel watches Denise’s eyes flick over his direction. 

“Same here,” he manages. 

“What are you ya’ll up to?”

“We’re just goin’ for a walk,” Joel answers, looking your way. You nod at him, wordlessly, then at Denise. 

“How lovely.” She smiles, and it’s sincere, so he knows she doesn’t suspect anything. “It’s nice to see you two getting along so well.” Even from where he’s standing, Joel sees her eyebrows lift suggestively.

You and Joel both answer the insinuation at the same time.

“Yeah, well-” 

“She looks after Sarah for me, so-”

You bob your head enthusiastically. “Mhm, yeah. Sarah. Great kid.”

Denise opens her mouth again, and you speak so quickly, Joel’s pretty sure it’s because you’re afraid of what she’s going to say next. “We gotta go,” you shuffle backwards a few steps, quickly, and collide with Joel’s chest. “Before it gets dark out,” when you turn, you’re looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. 

“Oh, alright,” Denise says, sounding a little disappointed. “Ya’ll stay safe, alright?”

“Of course,” Joel calls over his shoulder, managing a halfhearted wave before he’s trailing you around the bend in the cul-de-sac that takes you out of view from The Watsons porch.

The second you’ve made it you whirl to face him, your jaw drops, and you both erupt into laughter. You grip his bicep and lean into him, pressing your face into the cotton of his t-shirt to stifle the noise. He’s tempted to pull you under his arm all the way, but he resists the urge. Would that be okay? He’s not sure. And he’s not necessarily in the best headspace to make the decision.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, swiping under your eyes as you pull back, and start walking a few steps ahead of him. 

“It’s like I’m back in high school,” Joel says. Neither of you decide to mention what your neighbor had insinuated, but it is objectively funny. 

“Oh, I’m sure you were trouble.”

“Not as much as you’d think,” Joel says. “Although I did sneak out quite a bit. But it was only to see girls – well, one girl.” 

“Sarah’s mom?” you ask. 

“Yeah.” Joel isn’t sure why he’s mentioned it. It’s not really something he’s interested in speaking on now – or ever – for that matter, even if every person he’s mentioned it to has questions. What happened? What did you do? You poor thing. Above all else, he hated being pitied. 

But you don’t press him, and change the subject. “So…a few weeks ago you had said you and Tommy had a work project you were gonna book. Did that pan out?”

Joel cocks his head, surprised you remembered. “Actually, it did. Funny you ask. Things moved slow but…we signed the contract today. I’m sort of celebrating.”

“Congratulations,” you look over your shoulder slightly to give him a genuine grin. “But uh…you should’ve told me. Had I known we were celebrating, I would’ve tried to make things more exciting.” 

“Can’t think of anything better.”

You pause, because you’ve reached the end of your cul-de-sac. “Suit yourself.” you say. “Are you gonna lead though? I don’t know where we’re going.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.” Joel expects some kind of quip in response, but you just shake your head and narrow your eyes. Tucking your hair behind your ears, he senses a bit of uneasiness. “You alright?”

“I’m fine I just…” you shake your head. “I don’t love being stoned in public.”

“You’re alright.” Joel puts his hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you to fall into step beside him. “Come on, darlin’, just walk with me.” It’s terrible how easily the term of endearment slips out – and he waits for your reaction. But all he feels is the way your body loosens under his touch. 

That brings him some satisfaction, but as usual, it’s not enough. Because if you’re not going to stop him, he longs to push the hair off your neck, kiss along your pulse point, feel you melt even further as his thumbs work at the muscles in your shoulders. Joel fantasizes about what his name might sound like, coming from you, in a breathless sigh. The image works him up a little too much, and he lets his hand fall back to his side.

For a while, you both walk in silence, your fingers brushing against his every so often, but neither of you acknowledge it, apologize, or decide to step further away from each other to keep it from happening again and again.

It’s a beautiful night, the warmth of the day dwindling under the blanket of thinning clouds tinted pink in the sunset. Joel is amazed at how content he feels, can’t remember the last time he’s felt this way – not worried about someone, or something, or letting anyone down. 

It’s May, so almost all the native flowers are in full bloom. Tulips planted in gardens, pansies overflowing from pots on porches, dandelions dotting pristine green lawns. Stepping away from Joel, you pause in front of an empty, overgrown lot that’s basically turned into a wildflower patch. 

“This is nice,” you say, decidedly. “It’s pretty.” 

“I told you.”

Once more, he expects some clever retort, but your eyebrows are pinched together, and you crouch to look closely at some bluebonnets that are the same color as the tight-fitting henley you’ve got on. “I know you mentioned it back there but… Sarah’s told me…about her mom.”

Joel feels himself stiffen. “Yeah….well, she never really got to know her.” 

When he’s feeling particularly remorseful, his brain replays a memory of Sarah, only four years old, toddling around the tiny apartment they lived in and calling out for her mother. His ex had left when she was so young, so he had known there was no way Sarah actually remembered her. But all her classmates had two parents, all the movies she watched at home depicted loving, complete families. That night, after tucking her in, he’d retreated to his room, and cried for the first time since his divorce. Ever since then, it was impossible to shake the feeling he wouldn’t be enough.

Sometimes, he felt better about it then others. Sarah grew out of that phase, and Joel thought that’d be the last of it. When he finally bought the house, he felt like he’d proven he could do it alone. They would be fine. That was until Joel found an old photo of him and his ex underneath Sarah’s pillow while he was changing her sheets. The discovery left him with the same feeling all over again. 

Now, in the wake of the excitement that he’s signed onto his first real contracting gig, a promotion, a raise – this information from you deflates him all over again. 

“You don’t like to talk about it?” you guess correctly. 

“Not particularly.” Normally, Joel would shut something like this down. But he can’t bring himself to be cruel to you. “We were young. What happened was for the best. I wish Sarah understood that.”

“You don’t give her enough credit. She’s a bright kid,” you answer, standing up and putting your hands on your hips. “Anyways, I get it. When you cut yourself off from a bad situation, it's hard. The alternative is worse, though. People forget that part.”

Joel feels a little reassured by what you’re saying. Why he immediately went on the defense when you brought it up, he’ll explore later. “I wish more people understood,” he murmurs. 

“Me too,” you nod, and you nudge him gently to keep walking. “And people process things differently. It makes sense she's curious. It’s a very human thing.” 

“I know.” What was it that you had said a few weeks back? They’re always with you, no matter what. That’s not a sentiment Joel can completely wrap his head around yet. “It does make me think sometimes…maybe she needs some else….someone who isn't…me.””

“Oh, come on, Joel,” you halt in your tracks, almost like he’s offended you in some way. You look up at him from under your eyelashes. “You’re a good man.”

Validation. He doesn’t get it often – ever, really. And he doesn’t need it, but….coming from you, he feels like he just wants more. And more. He can think of a few ways he might get it, too. Some less innocent than others. 

“Should we turn around?” he asks. You nod. 

There’s a bit of light still remaining in the sky by the time you round the corner to Joel’s street, but the sun has set long ago. He’s probably supposed to say goodbye, standing at the end of your respective driveways, but he finds that end to the evening rather disappointing. 

“You know what I can’t stop thinking about right now?” you ask, Joel. He’s a little hesitant to answer, based on the ornery glint in your eyes. All he has to do is raise his eyebrows, and you continue. “A shirley temple.”

Joel can’t help but laugh, and he sees how you light up at the sound. “You serious?” he asks. 

“I know they’re….for kids, but…I don’t know. They’re really fucking good.”

“They are,” he answers, and you’re at the end of your driveway. He hesitates for a second, thinks you might say goodbye, but you just check over your shoulder to make sure he’s following you. He does. 

“This is probably the weed talking, but I’m going to make some.” You unlock your front door, and he holds it open to let you step inside, before following. 

“You have the stuff to make them?” he questions. 

Yes, you bob your head, then walk to the corner of your front room and flick on a light. Warm light floods the room, and you walk through the archway into your kitchen. When he follows you there, your back is towards him, opening a glass-doored cabinet containing various liquor bottles, wines, cordials, and accoutrements. 

“You want one? I have to say, I’ve been making them a lot lately, and I think I’ve perfected the recipe.”

“Well in that case, I’ve gotta try,” Joel wanders to your small kitchen table, about a quarter of it covered in neat piles of paperwork. There’s a messenger bag slung over the back of a chair, and in front of it is there’s a thick contract. The page it’s opened to is riddled with blue ink, crossing through sentences, scribbled in the paper’s margins. He can’t make out any of the jargon in the fine print. Next to it sits a pair of thin black reading glasses, and a sleek fountain pen engraved with your name. 

His eyes fall next to a stack of old photographs sitting atop an opened envelope. With two fingers, he pushes the top photo off the stack, once, twice, three times, until he gets to the bottom of the pile, and they’re spread out in front of him. Maybe he shouldn’t be snooping like this, but his curiosity is getting the best of him. 

Joel doesn’t recognize the people in most of the photos. One of them is a school photo of a young boy, with Spring ‘03 printed in the lower right hand corner. But the remaining two…he realizes are of you, but you’re young, your cheeks rounder, features not quite as defined. Younger than Sarah, if he had to guess. In both, you’re wearing the same thing – a black turtleneck, a plaid skirt that hangs past your knees, and black Mary Janes. 

In one, you’re cheek to cheek with a teenage boy who you’re giving bunny ears. Your brother. Has to be. You look too similar. His arm is across your shoulders, and you’re smiling so wide your eyes are closed. 

In the other photo, though, your face is blank. A wide, empty stare, straight into the camera. Behind you, his hands on your shoulders, is an older man whose gaze has the same determined set Joel has seen on you before. Something about the photo, the haunted look on your face, makes him feel like he’s seen something he’s not supposed to, and he slides the print underneath a stack of papers.

“If you’re gonna look at those papers, I’m gonna need you to sign an NDA,” you say over his shoulder, and Joel is startled by the sound of your voice, and the feeling of a glass, cold and damp with condensation, being placed in his hand. “Here.”

You peer around his shoulder, face brushing against the side of his arm as you see the photos. “Oh,” your voice drops slightly when you realize what he’s looking at. “My brother sent those. That’s my nephew, Ethan.” You point to the school photo of the little kid, but don’t offer an explanation for any of the others. 

Joel clinks his glass with yours and notices that you’ve balanced a toothpick with two maraschino cherries on its rim. It’s refreshing, delicious, and the fizz tickles his nose as he takes the first sip. 

“Restaurant quality,” he tells you. You lean back against your counter, studying him. When you stare at him like this, as he’s caught you doing a handful of times before, it always makes him feel feral. Like some kind of animal, the way he has to hold himself back from pouncing. You look at him like there’s no one else around, and yeah, there’s no one else around right now, but even when you’re in public, you’ve done it, too. And he doesn’t know how to tell you to stop – he doesn’t really want to. “How’d you perfect the recipe?” he asks. 

“Practice,” you glance at the bubbles dancing through the ice in your glass before focusing back on him, sheepish. “Sarah likes them.”

So you’ve made them for her. Joel sits his drink down. “She does.” 

“Are you hungry?” you ask. “I think I need a snack or something.”

“You don’t have any ice cream, do you?”

“Uhhh…check the freezer?” you say over your shoulder, rummaging through your cabinets for a bowl, and Joel rises to do so. “I think I only have coffee-flavored, though.”

“Good choice,” he answers. His favorite.When he opens the freezer, he’s met with a blast of cool air, a cloud of steam. 

“You have a sweet tooth, don’t you?” you tease, coming to stand next to him, but Joel is too focused on the box of orange popsicles he sees in front of him, and pulls them out to look at the box. “You like these?”

“Not really. I’m partial to cherry.”

“Sarah loves these,” he remarks. 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t buy them for her anymore, because one time she ate twelve in one day.”

You sniff, grin. “She told me that.”

He studies the drink that you’ve set on your countertop, the box in his hand. “So you bought these for her?”

“Yeah, why?” you cross your arms, almost defensively.

“Are any of the other snacks here just for her?”

“...No,” he can tell you’re lying, and your eyes flick over his shoulder for a second. “Don’t look in that cabinet, though.” 

Joel can’t help the incredulous smile that breaks out over his face. “God, no wonder she’s always over here so much. You’re givin’ her all the junk I don’t let her eat, aren’t you?”

You hold your hands up. “I think she deserves to be comfortable here. Do you want her to starve?”

Joel’s sure he’s staring at you slack-jawed. Not because he’s upset with you, no. It’s quite the opposite. He shakes his head, grins, and starts laughing.

“Don’t laugh at me,” but you’re giggling, too. “It’s not funny.” You reach to swat at him playfully, and something inside him snaps. 

Joel is sick of coming up with excuses to see you. He’s sick of holding you at arms length. He’s sick of not taking what he wants to. He’s sick of pretending he hasn’t thought about you every single day since he first saw you, standing in this very kitchen, leaning over the island and chatting with Sarah. He wants to walk in your front door and know that he can have you however he likes, that he’s allowed to. He realizes if he doesn’t act, he’ll never find out. It’ll eat him alive.

So before you can make contact, he wraps his hand around your wrist, draws you in closer. It catches you off guard, sure, but your eyes are locked, and he sees that you’re not shaken in the slightest.

“You know,” he says. “You’re nicer than you think.” 

The energy in the room has shifted. But it doesn’t seem to phase you, and when he’s this close, he can study every freckle on your face, the color of your eyes – can remind himself, again, though he hardly has to – just how beautiful you are. You lower your arm, and at first – he panics, thinks that you might be pulling away. He’s read it wrong, all wrong. But all your doing is giving yourself a better angle to grip his wrist in kind, hand clasping over his broken watch.

“Keep it to yourself, Joel.” you whisper. And it's supposed to be a joke, but you can't seem to tear your gaze off his lips. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“I will.” 

Joel kisses you. Hard. It’s like a dam breaking, every time he’s held himself back from you comes barreling forward, and it’s all right there. Everywhere. Overwhelming. But he can't stop. He moves with purpose, cupping your chin. He winds his other arm around your waist, crushing you against him. You taste sweeter than he’d imagined, cherry-flavored syrup lingering on your lips. You groan against him, your head tilting back as he moves in closer, jaw relaxing, lips parting.

It’s just enough for him to slip his tongue inside your mouth, to continue to explore, to claim. The things he’s going to do to you…It could be the weed, but every nerve in his body is on high alert – his skin scorches in the wake of your hands raking up his biceps, tangling in his unruly waves. It could be the weed, or it could just be that good.

More, he wants more, and he’s crowding you back towards the counter next to the fridge. Somewhere, distantly, he hears the freezer door fall closed – and probably not all the way – the ice cream long since forgotten. The moment your back hits the granite, you pull away with a ragged inhale, only enough to look him in the eyes.

“Took you long enough,” One of your hands rises to his face.

Joel presses his cheek into the warmth of your palm. “I thought it might be better to keep you waiting.”

You only shake your head, pulling him back into the kiss. He shifts his weight to hook his hands behind your knees and lift you onto the counter. It’s a bit overzealous, and your head bumps the cabinet behind you, but you don’t seem to notice. Both your legs hook around his hips, drawing him in further. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on just from kissing someone – not even for that long – but it’s just so fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot. 

But, he’s capable of one rational thought. This can’t be how it happens. You’re worth more than an animalistic fuck on a kitchen countertop. There’s so much more he wants to do that can’t be done here, like this. And…it’s you. You deserve better, although the frustrated noise you let out when he draws back indicates you think the opposite. Another time.

“I’m sor-I-we can’t,” Joel manages. 

Your face drops, you look….almost angry at him. The second he sees it, he realizes what he said was all wrong. “No, I mean we can, we can, just not….not now.”

The anger dissipates, you shift back, but reach out, pushing a piece of stray hair off his forehead and running your thumb along his sharp jawline. “Why not?”

“I just…I didn’t-” he shakes his head and looks down. “I’ve wanted this for awhile now, but….this isn’t…I wasn’t expecting-” Fucking spit it out, you dipshit. “Can I take you out or something first?” 

You don’t answer, just shift forward, your forehead bumping into his chest. Joel he brings his arms around your shoulders despite himself. And then your lips are on his neck, teeth scraping, teasing, working up to his ear, where you whisper. “You don’t have to.”

He fucking has you. He could. So easily. “I want to.”

You pull back, and there’s a split second where he swears you look a little ashamed, and then it vanishes. “You are a romantic.”

“Not entirely…” Joel says. “I just…would rather do things right. For someone I like.”

“Someone you like?”

“Yes.” Obviously. 

“Okay, yeah,” you murmur softly. “I would like that.” 

“Next weekend?” 

“That long?” 

He chuckles. “It’ll be worth the wait.” But you don’t seem convinced. “I promise.”

For a split second his eyes flick over your shoulder to the microwave, and he sees what time it is. “Shit. Shit. I’m sorry. It’s late. Sarah’s gonna be home any minute and if I’m not home-” he pauses, gestures between you. “We shouldn’t uh…we shouldn’t mention this to her. Not for now, at least.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it,” you shake your head in agreement. 

Joel leans in to kiss you again. This time, he keeps it slow, tender, lingering. Even though he knows he’ll get to see you again, he still finds it hard to tear himself away.

----

part v

taglist: @yaskna@venomous-ko@lomljigg@yeehawbitchs@ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done@melancholicmelanin@reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer@superflymaterial@mikkorantanev@zbeez-outlet @nadja-antipaxos @strawberri-blonde @jabbajambler @ponyboys-sunsets @kyuupidwrites @r4efromvenus @loveatfirstsight-atlastsight @korianderbandit @nicoleoeoeoe @hotgirlsshareaccounts @madisonred88 @crustyrustydusty @sflame15-blog @issybee0611 @darkemeralddiamond @grandmana @totallynotastanacc @ay0nha @virgogaia @lunarxeclipse @marysucks-blog @jabbajambler @surazim @naiomiwinchester

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter sixty one

close to home | chapter sixty one

plot: daryl finds out what happened to the reader

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 3,790 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd, injury, daryl being daryl A/N: thank you for reading!! how the fuck did I write 60 chapters of this I'm insane

Daryl thought about you every second of every day for the past five and a half years. He was too stubborn and pissed off to go after you the first few days, and then it got harder and harder as time went on. He tried to. At least once a week every week since you left, he tried to go to you, to Alexandria. He’d even made it as far as getting to the outskirts of the surrounding woods. But then he saw you on watch, laughing with a guy he didn’t know, and he turned around and went back. 

But he thought of you regardless. He cried almost every night in his self-pity and threw himself into trying to find Rick’s body. And after you screamed at him, and hit him, and cried to him about the other woman, he never saw her again. It didn’t matter that nothing happened, that it was only a few brief conversations in passing, but it hurt you so deeply. And he knew he fucked up. Which is also why he stayed away from you. 

Still, it hurt him. And because of it, he had several burn scars across his forearm from cigarettes. 

He even took a knife and carved your name with his last name into his crossbow because he knew there would never be anyone else. He gave you up after hurting you so profoundly and destroying the one thing in the world he cherished above everything else. He would’ve burned the world for you but ended up burning you. 

So he stayed by the river and tried to find his brother’s body. 

***

It was fall, and there was a bite in the air. Daryl sat by his morning fire with Dog beside him, staring at your name in the crossbow. He hadn’t eaten a thing in a day because of the guilt he felt. 

Then he heard a horse running and his name being yelled. It took him a second to realize it was Carol before he jumped up. 

“It’s (Y/N)!” Carol yelled, out of breath as the horse trotted in a circle. “She’s hurt.”

Daryl chewed on his lip as anxiety filled him. “What happen'?”

“She was shot.” 

The muscles in his face dropped. “Take me to her.” 

“She’s not stable yet, and Siddiq is coming in from Alexandria, but it’ll take hours.” 

“Take me to her, now!” Daryl swung his crossbow over his shoulder, mounted the horse behind Carol, and whistled for Dog to follow. 

***

It took longer than Daryl ever would’ve imagined to get to the Kingdom. He hadn’t realized how far out he was. But when he saw the approaching gates, he felt like throwing up. Carol didn’t slow down as the gates opened, and she led the horse straight to the medical building toward the back of the community. 

Sitting outside were Ezekiel, Henry, Jerry, and a man he didn’t know. 

“What happened?” Daryl yelled as he got off the horse. “What the fuck happened to my wife?”

“They were on a run. She got shot. One of our men was killed as well.” Ezekiel said. “She’s inside, follow me.”

Daryl walked anxiously behind Ezekiel into the building and directly to a room toward the back. The door was shut, and he hesitated for a second before he walked in. 

The room was quiet, aside from an unsteady beeping. You were lying in a bed hooked up to a machine. An oxygen mask was over your mouth, and Daryl saw two discarded tanks in the corner of the room. 

Tears burned his eyes as he walked closer to you. You were out, of course, and thick, white bandages dried with blood were wrapped around your middle. Your hair was braided back like always, and sweat was dotting your face. Your skin was paler than he’d ever seen. 

“How did this happen?” Daryl asked angrily and turned around. “I wanna know right fuckin’ now!”

“She got shot, Daryl. There is nothing anyone could’ve done.” Carol said. “You being angry right now is not helping.”

The door pushed open, and a man named Adam walked in; Daryl knew him as the Kingdom’s doctor. Or at least the best they had. 

“Can you tell us again, Adam?” Carol asked. 

The doctor walked up to your body and checked your heartbeat as he looked around the room. “The bullet went through what I can assume is her appendix, and with no exit wound, it’s still in there. The bruising on her stomach leads me to that conclusion as well.”

“Why ain’ ya take it out?” Daryl yelled. 

“We can’t cut her open and remove it without putting her under. Her body will go into shock, and I won’t be able to operate. Siddiq from Alexandria is bringing medication, and he’ll be better equipped with the surgery.”

Daryl rubbed his forehead. “Is that it? Ya just a waste a damn space!”

“Daryl!” Carol yelled. 

Adam looked at Daryl, your body, and Carol and Ezekiel. “I’ve radioed Alexandria, and Aaron told me Siddiq has already left on their fastest horses, but…”

“But what?”

Adam hesitated. “She lost too much blood on the way here, they were too far out. We don’t know how long it’ll take Siddiq to get here; it’ll be hours at the earliest. We’ve done a few transfusions already.”

“So what does that mean?” Ezekiel asked. 

Daryl was already shaking his head.

“If he doesn’t get here soon, she won’t survive the night.”

***

“Daryl… Daryl, stop!” 

The chair broke against the wall, and Daryl paced around the room and grabbed another one. Within a few seconds, it was broken against the wall. 

“You aren’t helping anything!”

“It’s my damn fault!” Daryl yelled, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. “If I had been there… if I wasn’ such a piece of shit!” He kicked the wall, leaving a dent the size of his boot.  

“Back off,” Carol told the guard that was standing by. “Daryl, this is not your fault. You couldn’t have known this was going to happen.”

But all Daryl could see was red. “I shoulda been there!” He nearly screamed, punching the wall. The old drywall crumbled against his fist, and he struck it twice before blood showed up on the wall. 

“Daryl!” Carol grabbed his arm. “Daryl, you need to stop.”

The archer pulled his arm away from Carol with a grunt and looked at the guard who was staring at him. “Ya got a problem, asshole? Who are ya anyway?”

The man swallowed the lump in his throat. “Me? My name is Ryan.”

Daryl’s face dropped, and he walked up to the guard and grabbed him by the shirt collar. “What the hell ya doin’ here? Huh? Why you waitin' for her?”

“She’s my friend.”

Daryl slammed the man into the wall. “Did ya sleep with her? Tell me right now, asshole.”

“No-No-I mean, I asked her out a few times, but she always said no. Said she was married.”

“Ya lyin’ to me?”

Carol grabbed Daryl’s arm and pulled as hard as she could. “Daryl, if you do not calm down, I will have them lock you up.”

Daryl shrugged her off and slammed Ryan into the wall again. “Did ya fuck my wife? Tell me the fuckin’ truth!”

“No, no!”

Daryl grunted and pushed away from him as he began to pace back and forth. Carol sent Ryan out of the room and told him not to let anyone else in. 

“Daryl, you have no right to be acting this way. You left her.”

“I didn’ leave shit!”

“Yes, you did!” Carol seethed. “You don’t think I know what happened between the two of you? How you pushed her away until she was nothing but a crumbled pile of mess because of you? You two aren’t together anymore.”

“Then why the hell ya get me anyway?”

“Because when she was bleeding out on the ground, she was crying for you, you asshole!” Carol yelled. “And I don’t know why she’s still hanging onto you after so long, but I owed it to her to get you. Now you can either man up and sit by her side or get the hell out of my Kingdom!” 

Daryl paused at her words. “She really was cryin’ for me?” His voice was soft.

“Yes. She was.”

He couldn’t stop himself from crying as he sank to his knees. “What did I do? How can I fix this?” He cried. 

Carol’s face softened, and she walked over to him. “Well, for starters, you can go pick flowers for her to put by her bed. And then you can get the only chair you didn’t break and sit next to her until Siddiq shows up.”

“I can’ lose her…”

“You already have, Daryl. But if you want her back, then start with what I just told you to do.”

***

It was past sunset, and Daryl was pacing back and forth in your room. Your body was lying there, helpless, but the beeping of your heartbeat was music to his ears--even if it wasn’t steady. 

Fresh cut flowers were in a cup sitting on the table, and he looked at them every few seconds, trying to decide if he should get you more before you woke up. But it was getting late, and Siddiq wasn’t here yet and he needed to be by your side. 

His eyes were red and swollen from crying, but that didn’t stop him from shedding tears every time he looked at you. The only thing he could think of was how much of an asshole he’d been to you. He’d wasted five and a half years chasing after ghosts when he had you right in front of him. 

Daryl kept thinking about the day he left you crying in the mud after begging him to come home. More than anything, he wanted to go back to that moment, scoop you up and never let you go again. He was so stupid. 

The chair scraped against the floor as he sat down next to you. He carefully leaned against the bed and took your hand. It was littered with old cuts and scars, and he could remember each one you got over your time together. 

“My crazy girl,” He mumbled, kissing your hand and then holding it against his cheek. “Please fight, darlin’. I can’ live in this world without ya. ‘M so sorry for bein’ such an asshole to ya. I’ll do anythin’ if ya just keep fightin’.”

His eyes started to burn with tears again, and he laid his forehead against your bed as he sobbed. “Please, God, don’ take her. Ya can take me, I swear it. Won’ put up a fight or nothin'. Just don’ take her, please… please….” Daryl hadn’t prayed in a long, long time, but he kept repeating himself and to a God he hoped was still up there. 

When he sat back up and looked at your face, he felt anger coursing through his body. “Darlin’, please don’ leave me.” He cried. “I’ll do anythin’ to fix up, anythin’ I promise. Just stay and let me. Please, (Y/N), please.”

The beeping quickened, and he watched your chest expand shakily as you took a deep breath. His heart pounded as he thought you would wake up, and his prayers were answered. 

But then you exhaled, and the beeping stopped. 

“(Y/N)...” Daryl stood as he shook your hand. “(Y/N)!”

Before thinking, he ran to the door and started screaming for Adam. When he heard footsteps, he ran back over to you. “She stopped breathing!”

“Daryl… she’s lost so much blood. She wasn’t going to make it through the night without an operation. Even if we get her heart beating, it won’t last without the operation. It’ll be cruel to do that to her. There’s nothing I can do now…” Adam said with sorrow. 

“No, no,” Daryl shook his head. “Ya get over here right now and start pumping her chest. Now!” He screamed. 

Out of fear, Adam did what the archer asked. Daryl took off your oxygen mask and waited until Adam gave him a nod before breathing air into you. The two of them repeated the cycle a few times before the door opened, and Daryl heard Michonne and Rosita yelling your name. 

“Oh my God,” Siddiq said. “Get out of my way, now! Get out of the room!” 

Daryl stepped back, shaking his head as he watched Siddiq and Adam start to try and bring you back to life. He let Carol drag him out of the room in his hopefulness, and he leaned against the wall as he started to cry again.

“‘M gonna lose her tonight, I know it.” 

Rosita shook her head and wiped away her own tears. “You lost her a long time ago, asshole.” 

***

Daryl was sitting in the corner of the waiting room. His eyes were stinging from how swollen they were, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. It had been hours since he watched you die before him. But he hadn’t heard anything else. Siddiq and Adam hadn’t come out of the room, and he had to believe that was good. 

He kept thinking of your laugh and that beautiful smile that had him in love with you before realizing it. He thought of your soft hands in his and the way you giggled when he kissed you. He could feel your touch on his skin, rubbing circles in his back, or your fingers playing with his hair. It would kill him if he never got it again. He wouldn’t survive your death. He’d put an arrow through his skull. Or maybe he’d go insane and drag you around as a walker just to keep you with him. 

It was morning when Siddiq and Adam walked out of the room. They had blood on their clothes and looked exhausted, but they walked out with relief. 

“We had to remove her appendix, but that was where most of the internal bleeding came from. She’s got two broken ribs, one from the impact and the other from chest compressions. She’s heavily sedated, but she’s stable. She’ll probably be up tonight or tomorrow.”

Daryl started crying at the news; he wasn’t the only one. 

“Thank you,” Michonne said and hugged them both. “Thank you both so much.”

“You guys can sit there, but it’ll be a while before she wakes. We all should get some rest. I’d like to give her blood before, though. Is anyone an O?” Siddiq said. 

“I am,” Rosita said. “You can take as much as you need for her.”

Daryl followed Rosita and Siddiq into the room and watched quietly as Rosita donated a bit more blood than a typical amount. But he was thankful for it, and he thanked her quietly. She didn’t respond. 

He insisted on staying with you, so after everyone came in and made their peace with you being alive, they went to rest. 

Once the door was closed, Daryl carefully grabbed and kissed your hand a few times. “Thank you for fightin’ darlin’. That’s my girl.”

***

A few hours later, Daryl was asleep with his head on the bed next to your hip when he felt you stir. He was immediately up and staring at you as your eyes opened for the first time.

“‘M here,” Daryl said, taking your hand.

You looked around the room with hazy eyes, the sedation running through your veins still. When your eyes finally met Daryl’s, he sighed with relief. “Hi, beautiful.”

“This… dream…. Daryl….”

Your head hit the pillow again, and you were out. But he didn’t care. You were going to be okay.

***

The next morning, you were awake. Michonne, Rosita, and Carol were in the room with Daryl, and when he heard you waking up, he let the women stand before him. He was scared of what you would say to him without the sedation. 

“Michonne?” Your voice questioned whether you were awake, and he wanted more than anything to hold you.

“I’m here, (Y/N). We’re here. Me, Rosita, and Carol.”

He heard you moan, and then you started to cry. “It hurts, everything hurts.”

“I know, I know. Do you remember what happened?”

“I remember those guys coming out of the woods… and I remember looking down and seeing so much blood. And then Carol and Ryan trying to stop the bleeding…” You said through tears. “It hurts, something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Rosita said. “Siddiq looked at you this morning. You have two broken ribs, babe; it’s gonna hurt for a while.” 

He heard you let out a sigh and then groan in pain. “Is Henry okay?”

“He’s just fine.”

“Okay…good…” 

You were out again.

***

When you woke up later that day, Daryl was the only one in the room. He heard you stirring and was anxious but had to talk to you. He had to. 

You groaned in pain as you adjusted on the bed before realizing who was sitting next to you. When your eyes met him, Daryl felt his heart in his throat. 

“Get out.” 

“(Y/N), please,”

“Get out. I don’t want you here. You shouldn’t have come.”

Daryl tried to grab your hand but you pulled it away. “Darlin’-”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your anything.”

He shook his head. “Ya still my wife, ya still my girl. Ya always will be, even if ya don’ think so yaself.” 

“Fuck you.” You muttered and then groaned in pain. “Why are you here? Don’t you have a river to be in or that woman to fuck.”

Daryl sighed and moved from the chair, getting down on his knees beside the bed. “Crazy girl, I was never with that woman. I swear.”

“I don’t believe you. Get the fuck out, Daryl.”

“I swear on my life, on everythin’ I have which I know ain’ much. I only spoke to her a few times, and that day ya came by, the last time… I never saw her again. I never fucked her. I promise ya.” You turned away from him and stared at the wall. 

Daryl started crying again because he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take what he’d done to your marriage and to you. “‘M so sorry, darlin’. I hate what I did to ya, what I did to us. I love ya so fuckin’ much. I’ll do anythin’ to make it right. Just tell me how.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked at him. “I will never forgive you. I gave you everything. Everything. And you threw it in my face. I hate you.”

“Don’ say that. Ya don’ mean it.”

“Oh, I do.” 

Daryl hung his head and tried to calm himself down. “Just tell me what I can do…”

It was silent for a long time, and Daryl was too afraid to say anything else in fear of you telling him to leave and never come back. His heart wouldn’t be able to handle it. So he stared at your clenched hand for a second before slowly grabbing it. You tensed but let him hold it, and he rubbed it the same way you used to when he was angry. 

“I don’t hate you.” You whispered. “I’m sorry I said that.” 

“I deserve it.”

You didn’t argue, but you did pull your hand away. “I don’t know what you expect me to say. If I had known all it would’ve taken for you to talk to me was getting shot, I would’ve done it long ago.”

“Ya almost died. Ya did die.”

You sighed and leaned your head against the pillow. “Why did you come?”

“Because I love ya.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

Your words caused his chest to hurt, and he felt tears slip from his eyes. “I love ya, I do.”

“Stop.”

“I love ya more than anythin’ else in the world, and I was the biggest idiot for lettin’ ya go. I ain’ gonna do it ever again. Ya my wife and I was a shitty husband, but I’m here now, and I’m back, and I’m beggin’ ya for just one more chance.” He met your teary eyes and felt you grab his hand again. “Please say somethin’, darlin’.”

“Kiss me.”

Daryl didn’t hesitate to do so. He could taste the salt from his tears, but more importantly, he could taste you. It was so familiar even after all these years, and it made his chest beat ferociously. All he wanted to do was wrap himself around you, hold you, cry, and beg for forgiveness.

His lips moved against yours slowly, and when he pulled away, he saw tears falling from your face. 

“You should leave.” You whispered.

“No,” His voice cracked. 

“That was goodbye, Daryl.”

“No.”

“You don’t get to just say no.”

“‘M ya husband, through thick and thin. Ya my wife.”

“I gave you the ring back years ago.”

Daryl sat back down and held up his necklace. “I still got it. I kept it. It belongs to ya. Please take it, darlin’. Please.”

“What happened between you and her?”

“Nothing,” Daryl said as he got down to his knees. He felt his heart quicken at the change of tone in your voice. "I swear to ya. I just knew Dog, and he followed me home.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

Daryl blinked back tears; you were slipping away again and he didn’t know what to say. “‘Cause ‘m desperate. And ya the only woman I’ve ever looked at. The only one I ever cared about. Ya know that, (Y/N). Ya know I would never do that.”

“Why wasn’t I enough?”

Your question broke his heart and his tears started falling again. “Oh darlin’, ya was always enough. More than enough. More than I deserve… I don’ know what happened. All I know is that I regret it, and I wanna spend the rest of my life makin’ it up to you.”

You groaned in pain as you moved on the bed and Daryl looked at you with concern. “I’m in a lot of pain, and this is a lot for me to handle right now. I wanna sleep.”

“Can I stay? Wanna watch over ya.” You glanced at him as he intertwined your fingers. “Please darlin’, please, let me stay.”

Finally, you nodded. 

[hardcoverho]

hi, so what about dark aemond × maid reader?maybe she is trying to leave the relationship but he will not let that happen

STILL MINE

Pairing - dark!Aemond Targaryen x maid reader

Warnings - NON CON. Aemond being an asshole, slapping, degradation, choking, size kink, murder, oral sex (M reciving)

. . .

Aemond stared down at you as you messed with the edge of your dress, your eyes on the ground and you forced yourself to say the words. You felt horrible. Aemond had always been the perfect gentleman. He never tried to take your innocence and only pressed his lips to your knuckles. He had been good to you.

"We can't do this anymore, my prince. My father...he promised me to someone."

"Who, my sweet?"

"The stable boy," I whispered, your voice shaking. "He wouldn't want me if he found out about our...friendly relations. He'd think I am ruined and my father wouldn't be...happy."

Aemond tipped your face up with two, long pale fingers. You looked into his eye. His face was void of any emotion. He stepped closer, just one tiny step that made your heart beat faster.

"Fetch him for me."

"W-What?"

"Fetch him for me. I would like to talk to him, my sweet. I will not disclose the nature of our...relations. I merely want to make sure whoever gets to make you their wife knows that the prince will not be pleased if you are mistreated."

You gave him a small smile. "You are so good to me, my price."

"Of course, I am." He smiled down at you. You failed to notice the sinister edge of it. "I am always good to you."

. . .

You fetched your future husband who was all smiles when he saw you. You both entered Aemond's room. Aemond was sitting on a chair, facing the fireplace.

His head tilted towards you.

"Y/N," he said, slowly. "Come here." You frowned but did as you were told. Defying the price when there was an audience present wasn't smart, not like you ever defied Aemond. He never asked anything of you that made you feel hesitant.

"Kneel."

You froze. "My prince-"

"I do not repeat myself to mere maids." He looked at your future husband. "Close the door and watch. Just watch."

You lowered yourself to your knees, your heart beating out of your chest. This was not how you thought this would have gone down. What was he doing?

He looked down at you, his face holding nothing. There was no tenderness.

His hand twisted into your hair and pulled your closer till you were between his legs.

His hand raised and connected with your cheek. You cried out, trying to get away. "Aemond-"

"Is that how you address your prince?" He slapped your other cheek. You cried out. "You're beneath me, maid." He grabbed your neck and pulled your head forwards till your lips pressed against his hidden cock.

Your hands pressed against his thighs, trying to keep yourself away. "My prince- what-"

He slapped you again. "Keep your mouth where it is and shut the fuck up."

Tears rolled down your face at his harsh words. Why was he being like this? Yes, you and he might have declared your feelings for one another, but you'd thought he knew it wouldn't lead anywhere.

Aexmond grabbed your hair and rubbed your slightly open mouth on his large, clothed cock. His merciless eyes were looking down with so much indifference as if you were nothing but a toy. Just a thing kneeling between his legs.

You tried to get away again. The corner of his mouth tilted up. He raised his hand. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting another slap on your already throbbing face, but you didn't feel anything.

You opened your eyes, your lips still pressed against his hardness and held back a gasp as you looked at his blue eye. He had removed his eye patch. Now he looked like the monster he was. He had never removed it in front of you before.

Now, he was done hiding.

Aemond took his cock out. You watched as his large hand wrapped around his thick and long cock, squeezing once. It was big and it looked angry.

"Now, you fucking whore, you're going to get your tiny throat fucked right in front of your betrothed."

He fisted your hair. "Open your mouth."

"No, please. Listen to me, my prince. This isn't right I-" you sobbed as he dragged you towards his cock. "I understand your anger, but p-please do not ruin me."

He stuffed his cock in your mouth and fucked it. You scrambled for support, feeling your throat stretch around his cock. Your tears now ran freely, making it hard to see. Your eyes fell on your betrothed, pleading him to do something.

He just stood there. Of course, he wasn't going to defy the price. The price had always been cruel to everyone. Everyone but you. And now he was being cruel to you.

"Look up at me, whore."

You sobbed at the filthy name he called you, but looked up at him, gagging on his cock as he tried to fit more of it in your mouth. Right then, only half was in.

You tried to shake your head, pleading him through your eyes to have mercy.

He smirked and slapped your face. "You should know," he said after watching you gag for a while. "This was what I always wanted to do when you opened that fucking mouth. I wanted to fuck it till you choked and sobbed all over me. I do not know why I resisted. I shouldn't have. You are, after all, here to serve me."

He got all of his cock in you. Your eyes closed, your body violently trying to get away, but his grip on your hair was enough to stop you. He was a lot bigger than you. You'd never be able to get away.

"You are, after all, just holes. Like every woman. I should have made you do this the very first day, perhaps then your station would have been clear to you. Do you know what that station is, my sweet whore?"

Black spots danced in your vision because of a lack of air. His cock didn't leave any space for breathing. Your eyes dropped. This was how he was going to kill you.

He pulled out. You coughed loudly, sobbing into your hands, feeling utterly weak and small. No one could save you.

"Answer my fucking question." He tugged your face up and slapped you.

"I-I don't know my station," you forced out.

He smirked, pleased. "You belong near me. You're nothing but a set of holes I will take everywhere with me. You will always be available to me. I will use you as much and as hard as I want. You can cry, you can beg, you can even try to run away. But I will hunt my whore down and I will have you on my cock, again and again, till you consider yourself nothing without it."

He slapped your face again, this time making you fall. He stood, putting his cock away. He picked up a dagger and tested it weight in his hand.

You froze, thinking it was for you.

Instead, he threw it at your betrothed. It pierced the heart.

Aemond turned back to you, hands tucked behind him. He looked down at your crying, abused form.

"Get on the bed, maid. Let's familiarise you with your new duties."

. . .

[spareseratoninplz]

Obey me! Lucifer x reader": KNEEL

*This is a BYOS (Build Your Own Story) that I'm trying out. I will create a poll at the bottom of the post, and whichever choice gets the most votes I will write as the next part! Thanks for reading!

******************************************************************

I felt a heat stirring within me as my eyes widened at the sight before me.

"Is this good enough, Satan?" Lucifer asked a he knelt down on one knee in front of his younger brother. Something began to burn within me, and I swallowed a lump, trying to maintain my composure.

"To think that this is all it takes to make you happy, Satan... it's sweet, really. I didn't know you had this side to you." He spoke lowly with a captivating grin on his face, knowing that he had the upper hand.

"So, what do you want me to do next? Shall I kiss your hand?" Lucifer asked jokingly, and I slapped a hand over my mouth.

Never did I think that such feelings of envy could envelop my being enough to rival that of Leviathan himself. I couldn't help imagining myself in Satan's shoes right now, and just the thought had my face turning red. I covered my face with both hands, and made a beeline for the stairs.

"I- I'm going to my room...!" I announced, trying to keep my voice as stable as possible before rushing up the stairs.

I shut my bedroom door behind me, and took a few deep breaths. I might need a cold shower to help me fully calm down.

"MC? Are you feeling alright?" Lucifer called through the door, knocking lightly.

"Ah... I'm okay! Don't worry!" I laughed nervously.

"Oh? May I come in then?" He asked, and I nearly choked on air.

"Ah... sure..." I mumbled, stepping away from the door so he could enter. I turned away, quickly grabbing some school books to make me look busy.

The door opened and he stepped in before shutting the door behind him.

"You left so quickly. I was concerned you had fallen victim to another one of Solomon's dishes." He said, and I quietly shook my head.

"Oh no, n- no... I uh... just forgot that I needed to study for the oral portion of the Seductive Speechcraft exam..." I said, making up any excuse that I could.

"Is that so? Perhaps we should run a few drills together then? Studying in this subject is much more lucrative when you have a partner after all." He said, and I turned towards him suddenly, hiding the lower half of my face with my textbook.

"S- sure... that'd be fine..." I mumbled.

"Why don't you start? I'd like to see what you can come up with to try to seduce the likes of me." He said, a knowing grin on his face.

"Ah... okay..." I took a deep breath before placing the book down.

Okay. I can do this. It's just Lucifer after all.

He was staring at me intensely, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

Oh shit. I can't do this. This is Lucifer.

"If you don't stop looking at me like that... I won't be able to control myself..." I said, my face growing red again.

"Oh? Is that all? You can do better than that. Specify." He said, and I swallowed hard.

"I can't lie to myself anymore... seeing you kneel in front of Satan like that..." I cut myself short, swallowing a lump as a chill ran down my spine. I noticed his eyes widen slightly in surprise, and I felt a bit of confidence rise within me.

"Lucifer... I want... no. I need you to kneel for me." I said, and a smirk stretched across his face at my request.

"Is this a demand from my master? If so, I'm obliged to obey." He said before slowly bending to kneel in front of me. His eyes softened as a pink blush adorned his cheeks.

"I only did it to humor Satan... however, I'll do this for you... and only you... anytime you request it of me." He said.

Immediately, my face flushed red, my hands flying to my mouth to keep any embarrassing sounds from slipping out.

His crimson eyes, heavily hooded with desire watched me with anticipation, and when he noticed me hesitate a smirk found its way onto his lips.

"Well, MC? The Avatar of Pride is at your mercy. What would you have me do?" He asked, and I felt my chest swell at his words.

[paper-poppy]

Stable

The memories he saw.. in that crystal. He struggled to stay standing as the memories were placed back into his head, rejoining from so long ago. He saw the whole picture now. He remembered everything and every feeling.

Rella gave him privacy and walked out the room. Shutting the door behind her.

He had a massive headache from all he saw. Using the table to support himself he grabbed his head. 

“..I have to see her.”, he whispered to no one.

—-

Huddled in the cabin, Xiela stared at the ceiling. Laying on a small bed she kept tossing and turning. Her growing anger at herself caused her to leave earlier. The pain in her husband's eyes was too much for her to stay. She didn't deserve to stay at their home. Inundated with so many dark feelings, motivated her to separate herself from her family. 

Not knowing how long she would be out in the middle of nowhere she cried herself to sleep each night. Alone and vulnerable in her state made her an easy target, she would not let the past repeat itself so hiding away from everyone at least kept her child safe. 

Like a glass cannon, her emotional state often kept her a chained slave, coming to terms with it she learned how to protect herself and others better. 

She forced herself to continue taking care of herself in that small cabin. Snacking on healthy food and keeping up with her hygiene. Walking into the bathroom she couldn't look at herself in the mirror, her eyes darted away and frowned. 

Leaning on the counter she stared down at the sink whispering angry words to herself. 

‘how could you’

‘how could you lie’

‘how could you keep this from him’

‘you know how that feels why would you do such a thing’

Covering her face she was in turmoil. Exhausted and tired of crying she crawled onto the small bed and fell asleep. 

—--

Earlier.

“Hey. Yeah it's me. … Yeah.” He spoke to Rella on the linkshell, explaining the surface level of the situation. 

Rella knew G’raha would have been here sooner or later. Especially after hearing the update from Emil. Having the special bond with Xiela and being able to pinpoint her location has come in handy before, especially for critical situations. 

Xiela being one of the only people she could do that with. Rella shook her head thinking back to the last time she had to use this. 10 years ago. Trying to push away the horrible memories from then, but she could never get used to seeing Xiela in the state she was in during that moment. She wished she could erase that moment from her mind. It was seared into her mind, her best friend a shell of who she was. Those were such dark times. Being a history keeper prevented Rella from using this power on herself. 

Calling him over to her home she has something for him that he needed to see before he went out to search for his wife. 

The auri’s long hair was whisking around in a big braid. Leading to the office, plucking the crystal off the table she held it out to him. 

“I will say nothing after you view this. What you choose to do after will be your own actions.”, her tone was even and neutral.

Nodding and a little hesitant he grabbed the crystal. 

—---

In front of the cabin he swallowed hard. Rella had divulged the location where Xiela was hiding away. He pushed past the door and his eyes scanned the small cabin, landing on her in the corner on the bed. 

She looked paler than usual, walking over to her he pulled up a chair quietly. She was mumbling in her sleep, apologizing to him, her remorse chasing her even in her dreams. 

He wrestled with himself inwardly, it was a complicated situation, with complicated people. 

He also had the memories of the morning after, her cries and frustration with herself, and apologizing to him for everything. Her worries and self condemnation, voice straining as she told him to leave, that it was a horrible mistake. A bitter quiet laugh escaped from his mouth, he knew better now that Xiela didn't handle drinks well, but exarch didn't know how bad she had it. Tossing his hair he sighed softly.

He was still angry that she used the tower to travel back even after his several warnings against it. And he was angry he had to come and find her, it was irresponsible for her to just up and leave while there was still Emil and Luca at home. Immature and short tempered were other names G’raha thought of for her.

All of this could have been easily talked through but Xiela made it so long and drawn out, being secretive, avoiding him, when they were already dealing with so much. Pressing his hands against his head he felt another headache coming on.

But something in this quiet moment tempered his feelings. Her quiet breathing and her stillness. She looked more stable than the past three months combined. Dark circles under her eyes were still betraying the auri's stability.

Memories resurfaced and his face burned a bit, covering his mouth he tried to bury those memories, they weren't helping the situation. He needed to be firm, and direct with her about the situation. But his heart was leading him in a different direction.

In one aspect it was comforting to know that the child was his. G’raha never thought they would have more children, they spoke about it at length years ago and said they were done. Taking steps they thought this was a done deal. Yet here the two of them were. So many emotions tugging at the heart, fighting to take center stage in this cruel stage play.

Breathing in deeply and then slowly exhaling, steadying his own body, G'raha had a determined face on. Steeling himself he gently shook her arm and called her name.

“Raha..?” She replied back softly, fluttering eyes open. It took her a moment to wake up. 

His cheeks burned more, hearing his nickname from her lips after so long. He was losing the battle fast.

“I saw the memories. All of them.” He held eye contact with her and kept his voice low.

Quickly sitting up after he said that she held onto the blanket tightly. Looking at him with uncertainty and fear she held back her pleas for forgiveness. 

She knew exactly what he meant by those words, he saw everything. Panicking she trembled and stared down at the bed.

Seeing her so vulnerable and wanting to be accepted by him he felt weaker. His resolve was still there but he wanted to hold her, kiss her, be with her.

“I know I can't erase what I've done, but I'll do anything, anything, to make things right. Please give me a chance, Raha.” Hanging her head low. Xiela would accept anything from him, do anything to gain back his favor. No matter how much she had to lose.

“Anything?”, his raging war inside him was lost. His heart had won, and he demanded reimbursement for all of the aches and pain he received from this woman.

“Anything, please let me try to help settle your heart.” long strains of purple hair curled on the bed, cashmere soft scent, and those damned pink magenta eyes.

Yelling at himself internally, he leaned in towards her and whispered something into her ear. 

Something only they could hear. 

He would have long talks with her about her actions, but those talks will have to wait. 

[thesconesyard]

Yeehaw!

When the Cactus Blooms

29. Mighty Fine Shootin'

At the sound of a gunshot McCoy stiffened and felt Scotty do the same behind him. They had been tied together back to back. McCoy had a single chair, a small table, his bed and a dresser, so they hadn’t even been sat down before Marcus had the rope started around them.

McCoy forced himself to breath slowly and bite back his panic. No other shots followed so perhaps it had simply been a warning shot, or a shot to announce Harri— no, Khan’s presence. He wondered how many people he had with him.

Marcus had left after tying them up, leaving them in the care of another. A sallow faced man, he had given them one look then ignored them. His hand held his gun and McCoy certainly didn’t want that pointing their way.

“It’ll be ok lad,” Scotty whispered to him. “Jim’ll sort it all out.”

“We have to get out of here,” McCoy whispered back. Can you get your hands free?”

Scotty’s back moved against McCoy’s and he could nearly swear Scotty was holding back a laugh.

“Say the word Len.”

McCoy could hear the grin in his voice. Carefully they turned until Scotty was hidden from the guard. After a few minutes McCoy felt the ropes loosen around himself.

“Ok,” Scotty whispered, sounding pleased. “Let’s get this guy taken care of, then I'll finish getting your ropes off.”

“Hey!” McCoy said loudly to the guard. “Khan pay well for this?”

The guard looked at him.

“No, probably not. Ugly fella like you probably has to pay him to be in his gang,” McCoy continued. “Probably why you get stuck with guarding us. What are we going to do? I’m a doctor.”

“Shut up!” the guard snarled.

“Oh, we must be getting close to home,” McCoy grinned. “Not good enough for anything else, so you have to guard a doctor.” McCoy guffawed.

The guard’s face turned red and he stalked over to McCoy, gun lifting as he pointed at the middle of McCoy’s forehead.

“Shut up!” he demanded.

Before the gun could touch his skin, Scotty struck, hitting the man across the forearm. The hit was hard and the gun dropped. A few tense minutes followed as Scotty and the guard both tried to win the gun. With a loud crack noise, the guard lay still.

McCoy lifted his hands for Scotty to untie.

“Now what?” Scotty asked. McCoy stood rubbing his wrists as Scotty tied the guard’s hands behind his back.

“We’ve got to help.” McCoy turned to his dresser and opened the bottom drawer. He lifted out his gun belt with an unhappy face. “I’ll get to the stables and get Pepper. She’s fastest. I’ll get Pike.”

“No,” Scotty said, grabbing his arm. “I’ll go for Pike. You may be needed here if things take a turn.”

McCoy hesitated, but he heard in his mind again the gunshot and what had sounded like a scream. He took in a deep breath, before reluctantly nodding.

He had crept to the stables with Scotty, but they couldn’t hide the sound of hoof steps as Pepper flew through the open doors. Then Scotty was gone, racing down the drive and away for the sheriff. McCoy could hear voices calling commands as he crept through the shadows to the back door of the house. He didn’t see anyone, so he took that to mean everyone, including Khan’s people were in the front.

He opened the door silently, and made his way through the house. From the front door he could see something was wrong. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he could see his medical bag sitting next to someone lying on the porch.

The gunshot they had heard! It had been at someone!

McCoy rushed forward and out the front door. Jim was lying on his back, unconscious, and Christine was working feverishly at a dark, wet spot on Jim’s shoulder.

“Leo!” Christine looked at him wide eyed as he dropped next to her.

“Did it go through?” he asked, snapping into a tone of voice he had not used for many years. He pushed a hand underneath Jim. Christine shook her head.

“Hmm, Dr. McCoy. And how did you escape? I take it that was Scotty on the horse?” Khan’s tone was mocking.

“Shut up!” McCoy yelled at him, not even looking up from Jim. He needed to work fast. His hands were flying, Christine handing him what he needed before he could ask.

“Uhura, go get some water and clean towels,” McCoy ordered.

“No.” Khan’s voice was cold and Uhura stopped moving, halfway out of her chair.

“Dammit man! I’m not letting my friend die!” McCoy yelled. Jim’s shirt was a loss. McCoy ripped it out of his way.

“I suppose that would be a black mark on my new ownership,” Khan conceded. “And it will be so much more delightful knowing James T. Kirk is out there somewhere, loathing me.”

“Go Uhura!” McCoy ordered again. This time the woman ran into the house.

A piece of metal clanged on the porch as McCoy dug the bullet from Jim. McCoy let out a breath of relief, then fell back to working on saving Jim. Christine had been quick with putting pressure on the place after the shot. McCoy shot her a grim smile, and began stitching.

“What happened?”

Jim’s voice was groggy, but to McCoy it was music after sitting with the wounded man for two nights.

“Here, drink first.” McCoy slid a hand behind Jim and helped him sit up carefully. Then he passed him a cup.

Jim drank slowly, looking around as he did. McCoy rubbed a hand across his chin self consciously; he hadn’t shaved the past few days, too caught up putting Jim on the mend.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” McCoy asked, as he pulled the cup gently from Jim.

Jim’s face scrunched with thinking.

“Spock heard someone in the dark.”

“That was two days ago kid,” McCoy said gently. “Khan— John Harrison, tried to take the ranch. He shot you.”

Jim’s head quickly turned here and there to see what the injury was.

“Stop that,” McCoy said, exasperated. “It was your shoulder. You had a bit of fever, but there’s no infection. Luckily it was an excellent shot and didn’t hurt anything major,” McCoy continued as Jim ran the fingers from his other hand across the injured spot.

“And Khan took the ranch?” Jim sounded sad. “Of course.”

“No,” McCoy answered. “It’s still yours. Khan’s locked up, waiting to be sent to the city.”

“How in the hell did we win?” Jim asked, mouth hanging open.

McCoy’s smile spread slowly on his face.

“Scotty rode for Pike, he brought back his deputies and others came to help when they heard what was happening to us.”

“I’ll be damned,” Jim said in surprise.

“I’ll get you some lunch,” McCoy said. “You need to eat, get your strength built back up. And Jim?” McCoy stopped at the door.

“Yeah?”

“I'm glad you made it.”

“I remember something else,” Jim said.

“Yes?” McCoy turned his whole body to face Jim.

“Yeah. Sulu says you and Scotty are too loud at night, so could you try to keep it down?

McCoy’s face must have instantly turned red, because Jim grinned.

“I saved your life, you know!”

“And I’m very grateful. Thank you Bones.”

[wutbju]

The Craven

by Arby Jenkins

Once upon a righteous fury While I pondered in a hurry Whether I would someday be ennobled in Collegiate lore— While I wondered, nearly slumbered, suddenly there came a dumber Person even than myself, tap-tapping on my office door. “Tis some Positive,” I muttered, “tapping on my office door— Only Eric, nothing more.

Ah, distinct the recollection of that autumn resurrection Of the question of Steve Pettit’s contract, would it be renewed four more? Eagerly, demanding entry into Admin’s inner sanctum There to press for more tomorrows—for Steve’s now forsaken powers— For the banjo-playing campman whom the Fundies named Doctor. Tossed away for evermore.

Hark, the rising of our mission, sizing up the Board’s ambitious vision Filled me—willed me to fantastic glories not bethought before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating “Could it be that I could do it, take Steve’s place by coup, nor rue it, Ease myself by scheming to be President? Just do it! This I hoped and wanted more.

Presently the coup grew stronger, hesitating then no longer, “Board,” said we, “or Madmen, reformation cannot be foregone; But the fact is you have sinned, against our Pettit you have been

Harping, carping at him, now we rise up to implore, That you stop your firing plans—here I burst in through their door— Silence there and nothing more.

Could it be my powers failing, leaving me with only wailing That I should be hearkened unto as my wisdom I deployed? No one heard me, no one listened, neither Board nor ‘Ministration, Til my voice was rasping vainly with the weakest, “por favor” This I whispered, but they cackled, “No sir, not you anymore.” Ate the donuts, nothing more.

Back into the office turning, my ambition whirling, swirling, Why could I not be the person chosen for the vacant role? “It’s because you’ve not been stable, this and that, you prove unable Through the years your fundy label has not proven to be full. This they told me and it echoed deep into my soul Unproven, I had nothing more.

Quick to Facebook churning, turning, all my grievances a-burning, Soon the friends all gathered, shouting louder than before. “Surely we can overcome the sinful Board and then become them; Wielding all their former power as we wish to make our score— Let us see, then what is out there, keeping us from doing more— Let my heart relax one moment while I ponder what’s in store— ‘Tis my hubris, nothing more!

Now I open up the Answer, to discern the written dictum Of the former Chairman of the Hypocritic Board— Not the slimmest bow he made me as he left the Table gamely, Tossing at me only his disdain while leaving me insanely Gaping at the now-shut door. My ambitions on the trodden floor.

Enter Doctor Alan Benson, lately of Gen Z dissension, Begging them to choose a church ennobled with the “BJ Core,” He’ll be Acting, merely Acting, in the role I craved expecting, Nay, desiring, while expiring Pettit’s case I did implore. Overstepping, always fretting, and my welcome is no more.

Let this be a lesson, children, when you crave a righteous burden Not to see your self-importance as another’s prime devotion. In the end they’ll all desert you and declare they never knew you, While you feign to be so loyal to the Board who now abhor you Joke’s on them, their school is flailing, Fundies are no more prevailing, Legacies now dim and fading shall be lifted nevermore.

[nothinggold13]

In my mind, there is a key similarity between Peter and Caspian’s humility, and what that means for them as Kings, though that humility is shown with a very specific difference: Caspian is asked whether he feels sufficient to become king, but Peter is told that he will be.

Here’s Caspian’s exchange with Aslan:

“‘Welcome, Prince,’ said Aslan. ‘Do you feel yourself sufficient to take up the Kingship of Narnia?’

‘I-- I don’t think I do, Sir,’ said Caspian. ‘I’m only a kid.’

‘Good,’ said Aslan. ‘If you had felt yourself sufficient, it would have been proof that you were not.’“

Now, as Caspian says, he is only a kid. The book describes him as being about Peter’s age (14), while the timeline says he is 13, which tells us that he is, at most, Peter’s own age, and at least, the age Peter was at his own coronation. (Though the book description doesn’t disallow for him being 13, I am personally partial to taking it more literally, and thus view Caspian as being 14 in PC. The timeline is a mess, anyway, so I give myself some freedom. This is inconsequential to the greater point, but is just a general explanation of why I treat his age as open here, even though there’s a “canon” answer.)

So, when Aslan crowns Caspian, he first asks him if he feels sufficient, and then applauds Caspian for his humility. The humility in question is that Caspian doesn’t believe he is sufficient: i.e. enough. That’s the big thing Aslan requires of the people he makes stewards of Narnia: not that they themselves are enough, but that they rely on Him; Aslan is the High King above all High Kings, and when he appoints a King over Narnia, he is choosing not just a leader for His people, but someone who will follow.

Now, how does this apply to Peter?

Here’s Peter’s own conversation with Aslan:

“When the girls had gone Aslan laid his paw -- and though it was velveted it was very heavy -- on Peter’s shoulder and said, ‘Come, Son of Adam, and I will show you the far-off sight of the castle where you are to be King.’

And Peter with his sword still drawn in his hand went with the Lion to the eastern edge of the hilltop. [...]

‘That, O Man,’ said Aslan, ‘is Cair Paravel of the four thrones, in one of which you must sit as King. I show it to you because you are the first-born and you will be High King over all the rest.’

And once more Peter said nothing, for at that moment a strange noise woke the silence suddenly.”

Peter is silent through this entire exchange, though, specifically, the second time we’re told it’s because they are interrupted by Susan’s horn. During this conversation, the only insight into Peter’s thoughts is focused on his view of the castle: “[...] but to Peter it looked like a great star resting on the seashore.” We’re given no reaction for what Peter actually thinks of Aslan telling him he is to be High King... however, we are told how he feels in the moments immediately following:

“For a moment Peter did not understand. Then, when he saw all the other creatures race forward and heard Aslan say with a wave of his paw, ‘Back! Let the Prince win his spurs,’ he did understand, and set off running as hard as he could to the pavilion. [...]

[...] Peter did not feel very brave; indeed, he felt he was going to be sick. But that made no difference to what he had to do.”

So, although the narrator doesn’t tell us what Peter thinks about becoming High King, we are told exactly what he thinks and feels about the first act he is called to do under that role: he doesn’t feel ready. Firstly, it doesn’t occur to him that it is his duty to act until Aslan waves everybody else back, though when he understands, he runs without further hesitation. Secondly, Peter has no confidence in his own actions when he goes to fight the wolf; he’s terrified, even though he doesn’t stop running. But that’s the thing about Peter: he may not feel ready, but he will always do his duty.

Compare this to the movie scene, where Peter is given a chance to respond to Aslan’s statement:

Aslan: That is Cair Paravel, the castle of the four thrones, in one of which you will sit, Peter, as High King. You doubt the prophecy? Peter: No. That’s just it... Aslan, I’m not who you all think I am. Aslan: [...] Peter, there is a Deep Magic more powerful than any of us that rules over all of Narnia. It defines right from wrong, and governs all our destinies: yours and mine. Peter: But I couldn’t even protect my own family!

In the movie, Peter is allowed to express those thoughts that remain internalized in the book: he doesn’t feel ready, and that scares him. Yet, when asked if he doubts the prophecy, Peter says “No,” and then when Susan’s horn sounds, Peter runs off immediately, willing to do what needs to be done. Although the scenes switch Peter’s moments of inaction and action, (holding his silence, but failing to act autonomously in the book, but speaking his fears and running in without hesitation in the movie,) both scenes tell us the same thing about Peter’s character: it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t feel like he is enough, because he will do what is needed, regardless.

Back to Caspian for a moment. While he may not have saved the Narnians from the Telmarines himself, at the time that Aslan asks him whether he feels sufficient, he has already been leading them for several days at least -- perhaps weeks -- even in battle. Caspian has acted as King before. And yet, when the question comes, he still feels he is only a kid: there is no way that he alone is enough. (But he is not alone; Aslan rules before him and beside him, so long as Cas will follow him.)

Peter, meanwhile, has never been King. He has led his family, yes, and done what needed to be done, but he hasn’t acted as King in the way Caspian had by the same point in his story: the moment Aslan tells him he will be King. Peter’s a kid. Peter’s scared. Peter doesn’t understand all that this means for him.

And in the book, Peter says nothing.

After all, Aslan didn’t ask him. He told him.

But if Aslan had asked him, I feel Peter’s response would have been very much the same: Aslan asks, “Do you feel yourself sufficient?” and Peter says, “I don’t think I do. I’m only a kid.” But there is one thing I would add to Peter’s response, only because it is the thing he shows us again and again by his actions: “But I will do it because you ask it of me.”

Peter doesn’t take the role of High King without question because he believes himself to be sufficient; if Peter believed his own power was enough, he would never be King of Narnia at all. But the reason Peter doesn’t question in the book is the same reason he starts running the second he hears his sister’s horn in the movie: he will always do his duty. His silent acceptance could never be, “Yes, of course, I understand completely.” It’s him holding in his doubts, his fears, his uncertainties. It’s the way he says, “If you say so, then I will do it, although I cannot understand.”

Peter is duty-bound. Always. It is that quality which, in the movie, took him from “Look after the others,” to, “You will be High King.” And though in the movie they let him question that which scares him, it never takes away from his willingness to do what needs to be done. I don’t think it’s paradoxical for Peter to show us both: he has always been a man of thought as much as a man of action; hesitant but willful; wavering but faithful; humble and noble, in all he does.

When Caspian is asked whether he feels sufficient, it is not exactly the same as being offered a choice; it’s not as if he says, “I don’t feel ready,” and Aslan says, “Then I won’t ask this of you.” The question is Aslan asking: he is simply asking after Caspian’s heart to rule, not his willingness to.

For Peter, this is already decided. There’s no question. But it’s alright, because he doesn’t need the question. For all his fears, he is still willing. For his own uncertainties, his heart is already growing in Kingship.

They’re different boys, in different circumstances. Both are Kings. Both are only kids. And even though one is asked while the other is told, they are both willing, and it is that obedience which makes them the Kings they are.

[shittyblogname]

Hello! I thought of a cute fanfic idea for Michael x reader. What if Michael and the reader work at Sister Location and they have to hide under the desk together? Thank you, keep up the good work! Have a good day/night :)

Thanks for the request :), I have 2 more Angst requests that I'm gonna write either tonight or when I slept (its 4am here lol) but Michael fluff is always wanted >:)

Warnings: tight space, bidybabs (those mfers haunt me in my Nightmares)

When I write these sorta long requests I listen to the ambience of the game we're talking about & it always gives me the creeps when I reread my own writing for mistakes 💀 (with the phone guy angst I listened to the classic Fazbear chime & legit felt like I'm being watched, dunno if any other horror writer has this xd)

I deadass replayed that Night just for accuracy here

I finished this at 5:15am so forgive me for wacky spelling or weird phrasing oof

The lights went off as Handunit informed both of you about the Situation, a slight panic rising in your chest. You turned to Michael, who seemed to have trouble finding his flashlight. "Oxygen?!" you whisper-shouted, furrowing your eyebrows. "Yeah, crazy innit? We're so deep down that they have to use artificial ways of getting enough into this place." he sounded so calm, as if he's had to do this before. You knew a little bit about him, at least what he was willing to tell you. For example that he mainly works for his father, and he was stuck in establishments similar to this one previously. The motion trigger went off, causing you to flinch slightly. Michael raised his eyebrow, turning around to shine the dim light to the vent both of you came from. "entry way? Nobody's supposed to be here at night." you crossed your arms, arching your brows. "oh really? Who would've thought?" the slight anger and fear in your voice was clear to him, although you were more mad at the system for being so wack. The voice spoke up again, this time telling you about the maintenance vents. Michael pinched his nosebridge in annoyance. "How is it possible that he can think of such technologies in Robots, but not make a stable system that the place runs on?" You chuckled quietly at his words, a image of who he was talking about coming up in your mind. His dad, William Afton. He talked about him before, but when you met him for the job application you instantly got goosebumps around him. Tall, lanky, that creepy smile. It all came together for the looks of a perfect serial killer in your opinion, and that comment made Michael laugh for a good bit when you shared those thoughts in the main office.

"seriously! I've never seen such a creepy dude before." you leaned back in your chair, taking a sip of water from the bottle that you brought with you. Michael was still laughing, the sound of which making your heart flutter. He wiped away a few tears that formed, sitting back up straight. "oh man, I haven't laughed like that in a while." he faced you, a gentle smile on his lips. "thanks."

Suddenly, another female started speaking, startling both of you. You faced Michael again, unsure of what to do. He looked like something wasn't the way he was told it's gonna be, however you quickly dismissed that thought. You opened your mouth to say something, but the horror took a hold of you. Why would you need to hide? You hesitated kneeling down to find the space, heartbeat picking up the pace. Michael however searched around the desk, pulling the heavy steel aside, revealing the hiding spot. "I don't like this Michael-" your voice was trembling, just like you. "come on, we don't have a choice." he turned his head to look at you, concern written all over his features. Slowly, you made your way into the tight space, making sure to not take up more than necessary. He took his place in next to you, almost sitting in front in a protective manner. Pulling the door shut, your ears began to ring. A deafening tone spreading through the small room, forcing you to grab Michael's arm in panic. 'Try not to make eye contact' it was, you feared whatever would be on the other side. He slid his hand down to your hand, grabbing it in a firm hold in an attempt to reassure you. You shared a look with eachother, his eyes soothing you like a warm shower despite the worry circling in them. You jumped when the sound of metal hitting the plate seperating you from the machine on the other side echoed through the office. You were shaking, hysterically checking every single hole in the door before finding a eye. Icecold shivers ran down your spine, causing you to snap your head into the other direction, hitting Michael's shoulder. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand, encouraging you to hide your face there. He did as instructed, avoiding eye contact. Your heartbeat throbbed in your ears as you felt the door sliding open, eyes wide with horror. You grabbed onto whatever you could, trying to rip it out of the steel hands from the Robot on the other side. Eventually, it let go again, whispering that they 'have to leave now', followed by silence. Michael shone his light through the openings, looking into the room to make sure this wasn't a trick before opening the cover. He slid out first, grabbing your hand to help you stand. There was a moment where he held you close to him, gently rubbing your back to comfort you. The female voice spoke up again, then Handunit. You shared another look with Michael, agreeing to stay where you were for a bit before you hid your face in his chest again.

[ch4nb4ng]

Evil Roommate

pairing: leeknow x afab!reader, roommates enemies to lovers

warnings: softdom!lino, cheating (mentioned), making out, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering penetration, cum play (?), praise

requested : yes!

word count 6.2k

summary: the new roommate was a handful. lazy, disrespectful, arrogant, and a whole bunch of other negative things. but wow, you were sexually frustrated and he, well, attractive, was an understatement.

“Can you actually like, wash your kitchen utensils when you're done using them?”

The amount of huffing and puffing you have heard from your new roommate in the past two weeks was ridiculous. If you had a dollar for every time he had gone against anything you had politely asked for, you would be rich by now, and definitely stable enough to move out and away from him.

“I will,” he mumbled, mouth stuffed with half of the carrot he was chewing on, very loudly, “can I not enjoy my food first?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation, giving the fakest of smiles in return, “you should do it before you eat.”

Another eye roll from Minho was like water off a duck’s back.

“I'd also appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me with your mouth full of food either.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You coughed, turning on your hills to face a very unimpressed roommate. His stare was eye shattering. Yes, he was very, no, extremely good looking. However, every single thing that made up his personality could not be more different to you. Sloppy, messy, lazy. Took no responsibility for any of his actions, especially the high pitch noises (that obviously were not his) you would hear from his room in the early hours of the morning. You would pinch your pillow together, praying extremely hard that the noise would stop, and by the time it did, you would get maybe 2, 3 hours of sleep. College was becoming tiring, not only from staying up to complete assessments, but the lewd noises you could hear from at least 2 people in his room. Your blunt attitude towards Minho’s unhygienic and disrespectful habits were definitely justified.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why do you nitpick everything I do?”

Your jaw dropped, completely dumbfounded.

“Me? Nitpicking you? Please,” you scoffed, “you don't clean up after yourself ever, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere, and don't even get me started on the fact that I barely get any sleep because of your wild sex adventures with other people that occur almost every weeknight, when you know I have to wake up early to go to class next day.”

A combination of frustration and exhaustion could be heard through the harshness of each breath. The smirk that appeared on his face was absolutely punch worthy. What on earth was there to be so cocky of?

“My wild sex adventures,” he paused taking a bite of the dreaded carrot, “please, tell me more about my wild sex adventures.”

His tongue was now obviously pressed against his cheek, a devil coated smile still very apparent on his face. The longer he was looking at you like that, the hotter your cheeks became. Pure anger began to course through you; all he had to do was sit there and look pretty. It was definitely enough for you to get the green light to slap him across the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “I don’t need to explain how I can hear them moaning your name every night, or the banging I hear from wall to-”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “you seem to be listening very well.”

Distracted by your anger for a brief moment, you gasped suddenly, feeling Minho’s fingertips at your sides. You turned around, swatting his hands away, giving him that slap that you felt you had earned across the face.

“Who the fuck said you could touch me?

“Did you just fucking slap me?”

“Yes I fucking did,” you spat, “what do you take me for?”

“You know what you’re right, but you walk around here with a stick up your ass. I hear you on the phone to your friends, complaining about how you don't get any action from anyone.”

You stood there in disbelief. “So you’ve been eavesdropping on my convos as well?”

“Well it’s kind of hard not to hear, you know, the walls in this house are kind of thin.”

Your jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, the conversation was at a stand still.

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I sure can sweetheart,” the name sending a shiver down your spine, “if you're that sexually frustrated, go and do something about it instead of taking it out on me?”

A laugh that you didn't even know you were capable of bellowed from your chest. You stumbled back, grabbing onto stool behind the bench for support.

“Me? Sexually frustrated? Please,” you huffed, “I’m not sexually frustrated, and it definitely has nothing to do with you.”

Another scoff escaped your lips as you shuffled back to your room. Closing the door behind you, a heavy sigh came from your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed. How on earth was he able to read you like that? So well and so accurate? It was all you could think about, not to mention the fact that it was also night time simultaneously.

You let your body fall onto your bed sheets. The feeling of restlessness was consuming your body. As you crawled into bed, you looked straight into the ceiling. Why were you thinking about his words so much? Were you really taking it out on him? You shook your head, mentally slapping yourself for even considering the thought.

Minho was a lazy slob who was extremely inconsiderate of others, especially you. But why was the thought of his fingers on your sides becoming the main source of agitation.? The silence of your thoughts was deafening, but they were easily interrupted as soon as you heard the door open, a high pitched voice followed what felt like the most ludicrous creek you had ever heard. ‘I should really put some oil on the door huh?’ You paused for a couple of seconds, this time physically face palming yourself for the dumb excuse you had made to see who he had decided to bring over to accompany him tonight. Legs completely ignoring your brain, you were out of bed, hand twisting the knob and peeking a look at the poor girl that would be subjected to Minho’s torture tonight. Tip toeing out of the doorway, you kept the weight of a feather on your toes, making yourself as invisible as possible.

“Y/n?”

Your pink panther stance of attempted deception looked utterly ridiculous and not sly at all was extremely confusing to the two. You quickly relaxed into a normal stance, the fakest of smiles coming across your face as you see who it is he brought home to have his way with.

“Chaeyeon… heyyy,” you lingered, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

You would have been happy with literally anyone else. But Chaeyeon? Chaeyeon? It’s like she was your number one arch rival. Minho knew how much you hated her, yet he still let her come over. Everything about her you could not stand, not to mention the fact that she home wrecked your last serious relationship. Even though it was a while ago, you can forgive but not forget, her face being a constant reminder of your hurtful past.

“Oh hey Y/N,” she almost signed, her amount of excitement to see you matching yours, “I didn’t know you lived here.”

The arm he had around her waist made you sick.

“There’s a lot of things you don't know about me,” you mumbled, foot swaying back and forth, eyes focused on said foot.

“Okay, so you guys have had a little reunion,” Minho interrupted. Anything would have been better to break the awkward silence than his sarcastic comments, “we’re gonna go to my room now.”

“NO!” you interjected, covering the hallway with every bit of your being, “I mean, what’s the rush huh? Changbin is coming over as well.”

You paused, Minho’s face clearly cussing you out if yelling was inappropriate at this current moment.

“Uh no thanks Y/N-”

“We should all hang out!”

The excitement coming from your voice was so inauthentic, it was hard to miss.

“Yeah! Let’s all hang out,” you walked behind them, placing a hand on each of their backs and you hurried them to the couch, “I’ll get some beers in the fridge.”

“I actually only drink vodka,” Chaeyeon yawns, obnoxiously twirling her hair, her other hand aggravatingly high on his thigh.

“Oh that’s totally fine,” you gritted through tightly clenched teeth, “we have a bottle in the fridge, I’ll grab that for you as well.”

You scuffled back over to the fridge, mentally cursing yourself as you grabbed the necessary beverages. The confusion you were giving yourself about why you were putting in so much effort to spend time with the two people you literally hated more than anything was mind baffling

“So,” you began again, passing a Corona to Minho, a glass to Chaeyeon, “how have you been finding your course so far?”

You sat the Smirnoff and Orange juice on the table. Yes, you were being nice, but not nice enough to pour the drink for this bitch.

“Oh it was so great,” she smiled, “Jisung and I were living together, it was, well, a dream really.”

The feeling of your nails became prominent in your fists as your fingers caved in. The mention of his name was enough to make you see red, let alone the idea of them being happily together. The itch of your eye begging to roll was becoming too prominent, so much that you had to get up and walk away for a second. You stood up abruptly, confusion etched into Minho’s features. You didn’t want to make this a big deal, but the fact that she continued to gloat about it, long after you stopped listening was enough to reach your breaking point.

“I think I heard my phone ringing from my room, it must be Changbin.”

“I don't think I hear anything,” Minho smirked, plastering his lips on the edge of the bottle. The way his lips wrapped around the tip of the warm glass was something you ‘accidentally’ became fixated on. You puffed your cheeks, storming to your room and somewhat aggressively shutting the door behind you. Scrambling for your phone on the bedside table, you panicked, unclear mind as you scrolled through your phone contacts. You paused, an inducing amount of oxygen filling up your lungs. It did little to calm the irritated tingling sensation in your fingers.

Changbin’s name had finally popped up on your phone after what had felt like a lifetime.

“Hello?”

His voice was husky, guilt panging your chest as you realsied you had probably woken him up from his not very often deep slumber.

“Changbin,” you gasped, “you know how much I love you right?”

“What do you need me to do?”

You snickered at his words. He had been your friend for too long to know that those words would never be said unless you needed something.

“Can you come over,” you pleaded, “Chaeyeon is here with Minho because he invited her over late at night, and I told them you were coming over?”

“Jesus Y/n,” Changbin sighed, a playful chuckle tickling your cheek, “so you want me to come over and make Minho jealous?”

“Wait no wtf,” you jumbled, “make Minho jealous? I just want you to flirt with me and Chaeyeon so she leaves.”

“Mhm yeah,” he chuckled once more, voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke, “I’ll come over, but if you don't sleep with him by the end of the night, I’m gonna be extremely disappointed.”

“Yeah okay whatever just get your ass over here now.”

And with that you abruptly ended the phone call, Changbin giving you no peace of mind. Were you this easy to read by everybody? A frustrated sigh exploded from your chest. The games your head and your heart were playing with were helping you come to no resolution. You sat on your bed, thoughts were running crazy. Now would be a really great time to just put on Netflix and curl into bed, have some snacks and fall asleep, chip trail on ur chest to be found in the morning.

You were interrupted by the very loud knock on the door. Sprinting like your life depended on it, you were relieved. Seeing Changbin’s face had never before given you so much joy.

“Changbin,” you shouted, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Y/n what are you doing-”

“Shut up and go along with it,” you mumbled into his chest, letting up, but still keeping your body tightly wounded against his. Minho’s jaw became clenched, or were you just imagining things?

Regardless of what it was, your brain quickly shifted to the way Chaeyeon was eyeing Changbin up and down, almost like it was the first time she had ever seen an attractive male. ‘She definitely wasn’t looking at Minho like that when he walked in’ you thought, an unconscious smirk coming to mouth. You bit down on your bottom lip, an extremely poor attempt at masking the satisfaction of your goal being achieved so easily. One step closer to kicking her out, for good, because there was no way you weren’t talking to Minho after this about making an explicit declaration of her abandonment from this house.

“Minho,” he smiled, earning a nod, “Chaeyeon,” he smirked, an almost gag spilling out of your mouth.

“Changbin,” she followed, repeating his smirk, “long time no see.”

She gulped, engulfing a large sip of alcohol into her wicked mouth.

“Let’s play a game!”

“A game,” you questioned, raising an eyebrow, “why would we play-”

“I think that’s a great idea!”

You turned to look at him, a puzzled expression still very apparent on your facial features.

“Get the vodka out from the fridge, and let’s get started.”

***

Two bottles of vodka down, and what looked like 8 bottles of Corona sitting empty on the table, the games that were being played were becoming more difficult to comprehend. Sound of giggle and laughter constantly filled the room as everyone slowly began to lose their minds to the intoxication.

“O-okay, never have I e-ever, done a sexual act in public.”

Filters of chuckles and laughter filled the room as everyone, but you took a sip.

“What?” she asked, offering you her fake sympathy, “you’ve never done anything like that before?”

“I-I mean,” you stuttered, the look of confusion was evident, “I don’t think I have-”

“Yes you have.”

All eyes were snapped open and pressing into Minho’s skull as he began to converse.

“Pfft, no I have not,” you scoffed, taking another swig. An eye roll left came from Minho, followed by a sound of what seemed to be disgust as he shot gunned his current bottle.

“Yes you have,” he nagged, playfully hitting your shoulder, “I saw you.”

Complete silence fell over the room as he words lingered in the air. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.The feeling of the room had suddenly changed. His eyes became soft, fixated on nothing but the way your body slumped against the rough material of the couch.

Your mind began to drift. Thoughts floating into earlier scenes of the night. The closeness of his breath fanning your neck ever so softly, palms spread across your hips. The idea of marks on you swimming into your head. God that would feel so good. Letting him grab you and throw you onto his bed. Climbing up your frame, starting from the bottom of your legs, keeping a tight grip on your inner thighs. The feeling of faint lips stealing every inch of your being, tantalisingly hitting every, single, spot, finally reaching your-

“Y/N? Y/N!”

The feeling of Changbin's shaking your shoulders definitely brought you back to reality. His hands did feel nice, but they weren’t the ones you were longing for. Your head was thrown back, disbelief filling you as your mind continued to fill the gutter.

“When?”

As you moved closer, you giggled, placing your finger tip across his knee. You let them dance, index fingers tapping away at the skin you so desperately wanted to see in this moment.

“Mr. Lee Minho, when did you see me?”

“I’m not saying it here in front of-”

“Who? Chaeyeon?”

Your prowling continued, bodies even closer as you slowly began to climb him like an inanimate object. This would have been completely awkward sober. Nothing about this was romantic in the slightest. To an outsider, or Changbin and Chaeyeon, you were right there, situated across Minho’s lap. It wasn’t quite a straddle, it was just something. They both stayed quiet, paying little attention to your animalistic act, already focused on feeling each other up. Or so you assumed, seeing as they didn’t say anything. All that was heard was the sound of the front door. You snapped your head for a quick moment, eyes scanning the emptiness the room suddenly felt.

“It was in the car.”

Minho’s words felt heavy, like he had more to say.

“The car?”

You were taken aback, face moving away from the closeness of his. Part of your brain clicked, remembering exactly what he was talking about. With Jisung. The memory of hurt was quickly forgotten as the feeling of Minho’s palms spread across your body was bringing you to life. The adrenaline came all at once. Your mind was telling you to move away, but your body was saying something else, affirming it’s position.

Minho was leaning in, barely any spaces between the two as his fingertips began to spread lower and lower, firmly gripping either side of your ass as he moved you closer. A helpless whimper escaped your lips as you felt your legs tighten, heat running down to your core, quickly. What the fuck was happening right now?

“You were on top of him,” he whispered, pulling your hips against him once more, “just like this.”

“F-fuck,” was all that managed to slip out of your lips. This was becoming difficult. So difficult to say no and move away. You knew it was the right thing to do. Things would just be awkward and you could go back to hating him. No matter how much you tried, how much you wanted to, you were powerless. Every fiber of your being was being given up to him. You leaned in closer, foreheads now touching as you looked at him. His gaze was anything but lacklustre as his jaw became tense. His body began to ache simultaneously with yours. The pressure was becoming too much.

“Do you want this?”

“What?”

A small whine escaped you at the loss of his tips gripping your body. They quickly made their way to either side of your face. Your body began to rock back and forth on it’s own. You had become desperate for any sort of friction that you could create.

“I said, do you want this?”

“Do you?”

His expression made you nervous. It was hard to read. All you could see was the black substance of his pupils enlarge, increasing in diameter by the second. Almost like a supernatural being was possessing him.

“Fuck,” you grunted, wrapping your hands around his neck to steady yourself on top of him, “you’re making it hard to say no.”

Things were already becoming hazy the longer you stayed. A huff of frustration came from him as he was giving all his effort not to give into the way you were rubbing your dampening heat against him. It was like a drug he could not refuse.

“Kiss me if you want me.”

He huffed, the edge of his lips just barely brushing against the tip of your nose.

“Kiss me, and give me the green light.”

You waited a moment, any part of your brain that wasn't concentrated solely on his palms digging into your sides trying to reason. You looked at him once more. His eyes, nose, lips. His lips.

“Fuck it.”

He was quick to work, pushing you down to lie flat against the couch. A small kiss to your lips was felt as he pulled away, lifting his arms up and throwing his shirt to the floor at Usain Bolt pace. The smirk on your face was too easy for him not to see.

“You like what you fucking see don’t you?”

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Of course. Of course he was still that arrogant cocky motherfucker that you could not stand. The one who never cleaned up after himself. Or took too long in the shower for the hot water to run out. All of these evil perceptions you had of your roommate were disappearing as his lips were gently placed onto yours. It was a little too slow for your liking, but it was deep. Boy, was it deep. Each movement of his tongue was made with so much precision as he lowered himself onto you. His thighs were clenched, a soft groan could be heard against his lips as his groin pressed into you. Holy fuck, were you really doing this? It was so wrong. Everything in the world was saying to stop, stop this.

“Mm- wait,” you paused your hands on his chest to push him away, “wait.”

A flash of panic waved over his eyes as he quickly jumped off of you, face palming the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you-”

“I’m fine,” you interjected, giggling at the never been seen care and caution he had for you, “I just don’t think we should do this.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. You kept your gaze lowered; looking at him would have made you feel so guilty. The feeling of regret started to seep into your bones, but you couldn't tell: was it regret of this ever happening, or was it regret from stopping? Your head was too muddled to even attempt to comprehend what had just appended. The only sound that could be heard was your scuffed footsteps, quickly pacing back to your room and shutting the door, hard. The loudest sigh known to earth could be heard on the opposite side of the room as you let your body collapse. The ache between your legs was growing by the second; and as much as you tried to suppress the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours, fingertips dragging along your sides. No. It was much easier this way. Setting boundaries as roommates seemed to be a better idea for the long run.

But the long run was boring. You would both have to pretend that this never happened. Having other people over for sexual purposes would just be awkward now; the more you thought about it, the realisation, and the jealousy hit that you had already crossed said boundary. And maybe that’s why your feet had dragged you to the front of his bedroom door. How the fuck did you get here? You brought your knuckles to the wooden frame, door becoming slightly ajar as you gently knocked. Minho’s snapped his head around, covering himself quickly as you walked in. You cocked your eyebrow, a face of confusion apparent on your face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, turning back to his previous position, “what do you want?”

You wanted to just walk out. Mind your business and just leave. But it was hard, quite literally. The imprint of what you assumed to be Minho’s naked lower half painfully pressing into the sheer sheets that was covering him. He paid you no more attention, giving you all the power to initiate whatever it is you wanted to initiate. You slowly crept in beside him, nuzzling your head into the back of his neck as he groaned in annoyance.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“Hmm, I think I changed my mind,” you whispered, reaching around to grab him. A blunt hiss escaped Minho’s lips as your action made him turn around. He was so close to you now. So close that you could feel his breath spreading across your left cheek.

“Are you being serious right now?”

The look on his face was unimpressed to say the least.

“Yeah, I mean,” your voice was calm as your hand began to take flight, sliding down to the base of his shaft, “we’ve already crossed the line, let’s go a little further.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He grabbed you by the wrist that was currently on him, pulling it away and climbing on top of you. Both hands now leaving his side, securely attached onto both wrists as he pinned them down above your head. Nose clumsily tickling yours as he reattached his lips to yours. The feeling of his lips was much softer and calmer than before, almost like he was protecting you. Wanting to keep the moment so delicate, though the way his bare hips involuntarily grinding against your clothed core was far from it. A soft whimper came from your lips, vibrating against his. A soft chuckle was heard from Minho as he pulled away; it made you nervous. To be more specific, the way that arrogant, mischievous smirk that you knew all too well was spread across his face.

“You’re so responsive to me,” he growled, quickly planting another one on your lips before sliding down to your jaw, then your neck, stopping at your chest. Nothing needed to be said as you quickly discarded your shirt, silently thanking your past self for not wearing any underneath. Minho situated himself in front of your now bare chest, waist sitting against your heart as he took one nipple into his mouth, fingers enclosing around the other. A loud whine left your lips, back arching in reaction to him. He looked up, satisfied filling his body as you weren’t able to return his gaze, head already rolled all the way back as he continued his playful assault.

“It’s so cute,” he mumbled between kisses, “so responsive and I’ve barely done anything.”

His lips travelled down the center of your stomach, dipping dangerously closer to where you wanted him most. His continuous rhythm between kisses was immaculate. Any of the incoherent sounds you made, or the crude remarks he made were left unsaid.

“Fuck,” you hissed, painfully throbbing at the way Minho played with the waistband of your panties.

“Not fun to be teased y/n,’ he paused, making sure you were looking at him, “is it.”

A pang of guilt hit your chest for a moment. I mean, it’s not like you did it on purpose, right?

“Minho I’m-”

“Save it,” he scoffs, “whether you did it on purpose, or not, I’m not gonna let you have it so easily.”

His fingers stopped their performance across your hips, continuing a little lower than before. The smirk came to his lips once more, index finger running down your slit. The friction was fierce, but not fierce enough. You wanted, no, you needed more. All he could do was smile at your mercy.

“So fun to tease darling, but you’re gonna have to be more vocal if you want these panties off.”

“Minho please,” you whined, “for fucks sake.”

You bucked your hips forward, desperate for any more contact from the bare minimum he was giving you.

“That doesn’t sound very nice to me.”

“Minho please, please, please,” you whispered, voice becoming super weak, “fuck me, or finger me, anything please, I need to feel you.”

“Now that’s more like it,” he smiled, finally pulling your panties down. You have never lifted your hips faster in your life. The vulnerability of your naked body was somewhat confronting, but your brain was so fogged out from the immense teasing, you cared little.

“Fuck,” he gasped, spreading you effortlessly with two fingers, “you’re so wet for me, aren't you?”

The heat in your cheeks rose as you became embarrassed at his words. Minho didn’t know this, but feeling humiliated was something that could make you cum on the spot. Words intended for insult went through your ears and straight down to the core, the heat becoming like an intense fire igniting in your body as one of his hands moved along your inner thigh, the other gently beginning to circle around where you needed him most.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god Minho please, more.” Your voice was becoming needier by the second, but the longer it went on, the less you seemed to care. His tongue was now a factor coming into play, small kitty licks lapping your clit at a suddenly fast pace. Your legs are already trembling, but Minho does more to appease, hooking his arms under and around your thighs to stop the flustered look on your face. It was confronting how quickly he was getting you to your high.

“Please,” you sighed, eyes hazed as you attempted to look down at the way his tongue was on you. The combination of him sucking on your clit, then pushing it through your entrance almost made you scream. However, the noises that came from your mouth were small, heavy pants, progressively getting louder and louder the tighter the knot in your stomach became.

“Do you wanna cum princess?” His voice was whiny, mocking the tone you had used earlier. You nodded ferociously, knowing any attempt to speak would come out horse or just broken.

“Such a good girl,” he purred, replacing his tongue with two fingers, “but if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beg for it once more.”

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you groaned, an attempt of grinding your center onto Minho’s fingers failing miserably, “you’re being so unfair.”

“I’m unfair?” he scoffed, beginning his digits back to a bare minimum pace, “you’re the one

who was teasing me all night. I know Changbin is like, your best friend so there was no chance you were bringing him back to fuck him. Then you start to kiss me, hard and fast may I add, AND THEN ! you aren’t sure and you leave me to pretend like nothing happened.”

There was no witty comeback you could say in response because he was right. You were the one who has done the teasing for most of the night.

“You looked so fucked out right now baby,” his tone coming back to a calming medium, “begging for me to make you cum, which I can do right now,” he paused, climbing back to your side, lifting your left leg to continue his easy access to ur clit, “or you can beg even more to have my cock inside of you. The choice is yours.” You swallowed, hard. How could he say something so filthy? Out of all the times you had heard him bring other girls over, he would never talk like this. It was always so nice and calm, full of praise and compassion. Maybe they didn’t act like cock teases and let him just have what he wanted.

“C-cock,” you mumbled, pushing your backside against his now pulsating cock, “please give your cock sir.”

“Ooo sir, I like that one, but you’re gonna have to do more if you want me to fill you up princess.”

Words were becoming extremely hard to not only facilitate in your mind, but put them on your tongue and get out to him. He knew this. He knew your were on the brink of collapsing in cum, but the torture was too entertaining for him nonetheless. Although you're frustrated with him was increasing, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the way he was using you like a sex toy was turning you on. After being up his ass so long with rules around the house and how you wanted things done, it was nice to finally let go. Submit to his rules instead of yours.

“P-please Minho, sir’ you panted, head turning to look at the sadistic face of enjoyment he was having from this, “I’ll do anything, a-anything to have your cock inside of me right now.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Okay then tomorrow morning, you have to make me breakfast, AND wash my dishes.”

“Seriously,” you panted, “that’s what you're thinking about right now?”

“You said anything.” He shrugged, suddenly taking his fingers away from your dripping core. A gasp of disappointment came to your lips at the loss of delicious contact. Minho sat up, ducking under your leg, and positioning himself right back to where he was previously. However, this time, he was on his knees. Although you were touching it before, you really hadn't had a chance to look at how big it was: way more than what you expected. He stroked himself a couple of times, making sure not to get carried away with himself before he pushed it between your folds, letting his pre-cum mix with your juices. He slowly descended into you. Jaws dropping simultaneously, you gasped. The way he was stretching you out did burn a little bit, but once he was fully inside, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Minho waited until the look of slight discomfort faded from your features.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip and he slowly pulled himself back out. He kept a consistent, yet slow pace as leaned in closer to you. He was now hovering over, letting his face become buried into the middle of your breasts. The feeling was so immaculate, you were desperate to cling onto something for support.

“Dig them into me,” he groaned, strangling his vocal cords, “dig your nails into my back and scratch me like your life fucking depends on it.”

Perfect. You did as he pleased, a loud moan of his name wrestling from your lips as you felt the red marks appear on his backside. The pressure from before was already building in your stomach again, and he could tell. The way you were super tight for him was one, but the way you were now clenching around him was another. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept doing that.

“Fuck,” was all you could manage to say, a deep grin plastered on his face.

“You’re close aren't you,” he cooed, attaching his lips to your neck, “talk to me baby, tell me what you're feeling.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck I’m so close baby. H-Harder.”

The pitch of your tone was becoming whinier by the second. To add to that, the way you became confused, as if Minho was a vampire, because the way he was sucking on your neck was kind of painful. Nevertheless, you relished in it, knowing too well that a very, very dark mark would replace his mouth. The idea of him showing his possession of you, knowing that he finally won you over did not make you happy, nonetheless, you were too fucked out to care.

Your legs were now pushed all the way back, pace fastening by the minute, allowing Minho to push even deeper into you. And that was it. Right there, the spot you had never even known was even there.

“Ah fuck!” Your moan was loud this time, completely unable to control anything. The smirk, in combination with the satisfied growl that left his lips was a face of pure ecstasy as he realised that he had finally hit your G-spot.

“Fuck that feels so fucking good,” Minho grumbled, “are you close? Because I think I’m gonna cum.”

It was like your stomach was an orchestra. Minho’s words were the conductor, completely controlling how close you were to your release.

“Y-yes,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum so hard right now.”

“You wanna cum baby?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna cum right now?”

“Yes baby,” you pouted, a perplexity of sounds escaping your lips, completely out of your control.

“Cum on my cock princess,” Minho whispered through what sounded to be like pained groans, “be a good girl and cum with me inside of you.”

And there it was, like it was on queue as your body completely flopped, legs shaking and a string of lewd curse words fell from your lips. The way your pussy clenched around him was enough to make him pull out, spilling into the dip of your stomach. A loud breath of what seemed to be exhaustion fell from his lips. Your eyes were previously screwed so shut, it hurt when you opened them again, sensitive to the light.

“Fuck,” you both cursed simultaneously, making one another giggle. Minho fell to your left side, flat on his back as he invited you to scooch over next to him. Face pressed against his chest, fingers playfully dragging up and down his torso. For some reason, he felt so safe and secure at this moment. Almost forgetting how he literally just fucked you into oblivion, your eyelids become heavy. It wasn’t until Minho spoke that you were revived from your alternate state of consciousness once more.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” His voice sounded genuinely surprised, unsure if you should be offended or not. You looked up at him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to react, but the dark shade tinting his face right now said enough.

“Please,” you scoffed, “You did me good, but was that the best you can do?”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, but down on it after, “Is that a challenge?”

You said nothing, instead sitting up and pushing your legs on either side of his hips. A soft moan escaped his lips as he felt your still dripping heat sitting on the base of him.

“Why don’t you find out and see?”

[ijustwant2write]

Fight or Flight-Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

(GIF credit to @ladycolinbridgerton​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hiii,Love your writings! Could you do something Bridgerton, Anthony x reader where the reader tries to stop the duel and gets hurt? Angst/fluff?!’

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Daphne Bridgerton x Reader (sister-in-law), Collin Bridgerton x Reader (brother-in-law)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Duel (guns, mention of death), injuries, angst, fluff

                                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Collin and I laughed as we both carried Violet through the foyer of the home, clearly someone had too much to drink. My mother-in-law continued to deny this through her giggling.

“Of course not, you are completely sober.” Collin joked as we made it to the stairs.

“And I’m sober enough to know when you’re being impertinent.” Violet said to her son, still holding my hand.“Good night dears.”

“Good night mother.”

“Good night.”

Collin and I shared a look as she went upstairs, failing to hold in our laughter. We both doubled over as we laughed, until we heard someone call us. Turning to our left, we saw Anthony and Benedict in the doorway.

“Come here.” Anthony hissed.

“Good God. Did someone die?” Collin whined.

“What? What’s happened?” I asked, suddenly panicking. 

“Collin, get here, now.” Anthony instructed, his younger brother complying. 

I followed.“Anthony, what’s wrong? Is someone hurt? Are you in trouble?” I didn’t mean for all the questions but I loved him too much for something to happen to him.

He shoved Collin inside, stepping out and shutting the door behind him.“It doesn’t concern you darling. Just go up to bed.”

“Wait,” I grabbed onto his arm before he could get away,“Anthony, please don’t shut me out.”

“This isn’t for women’s ears. Please, do as I say.”

Anthony kissed my forehead tenderly, before he quickly ripped his arm away, looking sympathetic as he did so. The door shut, and although I was tempted to burst in there, I knew this was something out of my league. Sighing, I reluctantly walked away, slipping off my heels before slowly making my way upstairs. 

As I prepared for bed, my mind was distant. I couldn’t stop wondering what their meeting was about. Anthony looked stressed (even more than usual), and the fact that the eldest brothers were together meant this business was serious. Once my maids were finished and gone, I sat up in bed, having left some candles lit. At first I thought reading might take my mind off things, but the romantic novel only made me think of my husband more. I was tired from the ball, feet throbbing from dancing, which made me believe I could fall asleep. I wasn’t able to fool myself, unfortunately stuck awake again. Groaning in frustration, I stood, making my way to the door. I hesitated, wondering if I should really go storming downstairs when Anthony told me otherwise. No, I had to check on my love.

Opening the door, I heard someone else do the same. Poking my head out, I looked down the hall, seeing Daphne also awake. She rushed towards me, grabbing my hand without a word and dragging me out of my room.

“Woah, Daphne, woah, slow down!” I exclaimed quietly, stopping her at the top of the stairs.“Why are you rushing downstairs? What’s wrong?”

“My brother is doing something terribly stupid, and I cannot stand by doing nothing.” She said, tugging on my arm as she continued her route.

That made my heart beat even greater, terrified for what my husband could be a part of. I kept up with her, still tightly holding her hand until we burst into the room the men had their meeting in. Collin was the only one in there, looking alarmed when he saw us.

“Where have they gone?” Daphne demanded to know.

Collin sighed.“Daph-”

“Tell me where this duel takes place.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Duel?! Anthony has gone to a duel?! With who?!” I exclaimed. 

“So that I may prevent it from happening.” Daphne continued.

“Hastings has done you a grave dishonour.”

“Can someone please explain what is happening?” I stood beside them, though neither took any notice.“What does the Duke of Hastings have to do with any of this?”

“Surely you wish to see him pay?”

“Not with his life.” Daphne snapped back.

“Anthony is dueling with Hastings?! What if they kill each other?”

“It will not come to that.” Collin finally addressed me.“The Duke will remember his honour once he finds himself on the deadly end of a pistol.”

“And if he does not?” Daphne said.

“They will both do the gentlemanly thing and fire their pistols wide. Now allow them to bring this ugly business to a conclusion themselves.”

Daphne groaned as I began pacing around the room.“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that said? Myself and (Y/N)? That we should leave the men to their business and to not concern ourselves with such weighty affairs? Whose affairs, right now, are my future, my family.”

“This isn’t going to end well, you know it Collin.” I stopped walking around, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

“(Y/N) is right. Anthony is too angry to fire wide and Simon is too stubborn to yield. You did not see them in that garden.”

“No, I did not, and neither did anyone else. You should be happy that no one saw anything.” Collin pointed out.

So something dishonourable happened in the gardens of the party. Something that has cause my husband to want to duel an old friend. Part of me felt slightly angered towards Daphne, she had been playing with fire around the Duke, it’s all Anthony went on about for the last few weeks.

“Only someone did see.” Daphne realised.

Collin and I stared at her wide eyed.

“Cressida Cowper. Collin, you must tell me where they’ve gone.”

“I’m coming with you.” I declared. 

“Neither of you are going, Anthony will have my head-”

“Collin.” I stood in front of him, putting on the angriest face I could.“My husband may be about to lose his life and I knew nothing about it. Believe me, he will be reprimanded for that, but if you do not tell us where these stupid men are right now, it will be me having your head, not Anthony!”

After pressuring Collin to reveal where the men were, we raced to the stables, both Daphne and I still in our nightgowns, with only a cloak to cover us from the wind whipping against us as we rode. Our poor horses were not expecting this early call, using what energy they had to gallop as fast as possible. My throat was dry, heart racing and mind drowning with thoughts about what could be happening right now. Had they even started? Were the shots fired? 

We rode out of the country and into large fields. It seemed that we would never reach them in time. I kept my eye out for any signs of people or horses, praying that my husband wouldn’t be bleeding out on the ground. Why hadn’t he told me? He hadn’t even said goodbye. All I got was a simple kiss on the forehead, nothing other than that. Even if he did survive, he would have to leave this place, but was he going to leave without me?

“There they are!” Daphne shouted to us, speeding her horse ahead.

“Daphne! Wait!” I yelled after her, but she was too far away.

There were multiple bodies up ahead, and it looked like the duel had only just started, they were taking their steps already. I urged my horse to go faster, screaming Anthony’s name, but he couldn’t hear me. The men turned, ready to aim and fire. Tears started falling down my cheeks, quickly drying from the wind hitting my face. I was getting so close, but it still wasn’t enough. Daphne had somehow made it to them, but as the gunshots echoed out, she was caught in the middle of it, her horse rearing up and throwing her off.

As she landed on the ground, my horse also got spooked, rearing up as hers did, though I managed to stay on. However, it went hurtling forwards, and I couldn’t regain any control. I screamed as I tried to grab the rein again, feeling my balance slip away. One minute I was managing to stay upright on the horse, the next I had fallen off to my left, with my foot still hooked onto the stirrup. My head hit the ground harshly, and I was dragged through the dirt and grass as my horse continued to gallop. I couldn’t make out where I was, or what was right or left. Suddenly, the horse started slowing down, the dragging finally stopping. As I figured out where I was, my head still spinning, I felt someone lift my leg out of the stirrup and slowly onto the floor. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N) can you hear me?” Anthony gently held my face in his hands, kneeling beside me.

“My head...” I moaned.

“It’s alright, my dear.” an older man appeared, and I only just realised he was also kneeling beside me.“You’ve hit your head quite hard, you’ll likely have bruises along your back, and your leg will ache. But it’s nothing rest won’t fix. If you have severe headaches, you should call upon me again to give you something for it. For now, I shall forget I ever saw any of this, just as we agreed.”

“Thank you doctor.” Anthony breathed out, helping me sit up as the doctor walked away. 

I clung onto his arm, using my other hand to pull his face closer to mine. I kissed him hard, relieved that he was still alive and unharmed. He seemed to be feeling the same way as me, until I pulled away and slapped him round the face. His mouth was open in shock.

“That’s for going to a duel without telling me.” 

“(Y/N), I...what?”

“I can’t believe you thought you could just go and get shot, or shoot someone and leave me behind! What would happen to me? I couldn’t bear it if you died, or left, either way, I am furious with you!”

“Darling, I had to do it. He dishonoured Daphne, therefore, dishonouring our name.” 

I tried to stand by myself, though felt dizzy, annoyed that I had to have Anthony to help me. He kept his arms around me, and although I loved the feeling, knowing he was safe, I had a hatred for him in that moment.

“But why wouldn’t you tell me?” I looked up at him, ignoring the throbbing in my head.

“We would have to leave society, make a life as...I don’t know what but we wouldn’t be allowed here anymore.”

“So? Do you really think I regard myself so highly that I would diminish my love for you to remain in society?”

“What?”

“Anthony, I would rather leave all of this behind, and be with you wherever you go in the world. That fact that you think I would prefer to live without you hurts me.”

“(Y/N), I didn’t mean-”

I slipped out of his hold, hopefully stable now.“I don’t want to speak of this right now. I’m finished with this topic of conversation.”

Anthony knew there was no point trying to reason with me in that moment. It was also no time to argue when there were more pressing matters at hand. He huffed, only walking away from me once Collin approached, letting me loop my arm through his for support. I watched as he glared at Simon, who was in a deep discussion with Daphne. 

“We must resume before someone should find us.” he said to Simon before taking a pistol from Benedict again.

“There will be no need to resume.” Daphne spoke up. We all looked at her, wondering how she was going to stop the duel.“The Duke and I are to be married.”

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We had all ensured we were home before any of the staff could see us, slipping out of our dirty clothes and stuffing them under the bed. I had struggled, feeling nauseous as I rushed. But as I lay down in bed, my headache suddenly returning and my back aching, I heard the door lock. Anthony threw the key onto his desk in the room, hands on his hips as he paced. 

“Anthony.” I tried to stop him.“Anthony, please don’t do that.”

“I’m thinking (Y/N).” he mumbled.

“Then why don’t you think in your office? You’re making me dizzy. And nervous.”

“Do not speak to me like that. You do realise how this might tarnish our name?”

“They’re getting married, it will be fine Anthony.”

“It does not matter, he still dishonoured her, I saw it myself.”

“And you have not done that yourself in the past?”

That made him stop in his tracks. His head turned to me so quickly I though his neck would snap off.“They were not eligible ladies.”

“And that makes a difference? Anthony, I need to rest, please leave me.” I turned onto my side, pulling the covers higher so they almost covered my face.

He groaned, and I instantly regretted what I had said. His footsteps were loud as he made his way to the door, but I never heard it being unlocked. He sounded like he was now approaching the bed, and I found out I was right when the bed dipped in front of me me. I opened my eyes to see Anthony shuffling around, and I heard two light thumps on the floor from taking off his boots, before he lifted and covers; he shuffled in towards me, gently putting his arm under my pillow, moving as close as he could to me.

“You are right.” his voice was quieter now.“I, along with many men, have...done things in the past. Those women are, were meant for those things, but as soon as I saw you in the room, I knew I had to approach you. I remember that beautiful blue dress you were wearing, and how well you held yourself. But you were still so enticing, I found you to be so interesting, yet you only spoke with me for five minutes. You danced so elegantly, yet I still thought I could keep up with you.”

“If you are trying to make me swoon so I forget all about earlier, it isn’t working. You use the same story every time.” I said.

“Because it’s one of the best ones. I could retale about the time I saw you first promenading, the balls and social events we coincidentally went to, how I called upon your house-”

“Anthony, you may stop.” I tried not to giggle, but my smile was evident.“I am still angry at you for putting yourself in such an idiotic and dangerous situation. However, I deeply admire your love for your family, I know you would do anything for them. Just...if you ever do anything like that again, you are to inform me of your plans. I go wherever you go.”

“I promise. I was stupid to think I could do that to you. I just wanted to make sure you would still have a good life.”

“The only way I would have a good life is by being with you.”

Anthony smiled, tenderly kissing me.“You should rest darling. You’re hurt.”

“As long as you stay here with me.”

“I promise.”

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 18 - Sleepless Night [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Midnight texts make things complicated.

Series Masterlist

Okay.

Everything considered, maybe you shouldn’t have barged in guns blazing to your fake boyfriend’s mission.

Especially because the said fake boyfriend thought you were a sweet civilian but as long as you kept your ski mask on, you figured you would be fine.

Even if it felt a lot like pushing your luck.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked and you looked around the hall to check whether there was anyone else, then shrugged your shoulders.

“I was in the area,” you said, “So, who else are we killing?”

“We’re not killing.”

“Speak for yourself, I just killed that guy over there.” You pointed over your shoulder “Killed him hard. HYDRA?”

“Aren’t you a sniper?”

“I can be whoever you want me to be,” you said with a grin and Bucky blinked a couple of times, shifting his weight.

“Why aren’t you on some rooftop if you’re a sniper?”

“Change of scenery. How do you know my alias?”

“Why would you help me?”

“I’m a nice person—“ you started but as soon as you saw someone lunging out of the shadows you pointed your gun and pulled the trigger, sending the guy to the ground.

“Most of the time,” you completed your sentence and Bucky raised his brows.

“Right.”

“You’re still taken?” you asked and he stared at you as if he was at loss for words, then pulled himself together and walked past you.

“Oh come on, I just saved your ass.”

“I had it under control.”

“No you didn’t,” you rushed to catch up with him, “And you didn’t answer my question. You still got a girl at home?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just curious. Is she pretty?”

“Do you always flirt with people you don’t know?”

You opened your mouth to retort but before you could, you heard a voice behind you.

“Buck, what the hell man?”

You looked over your shoulder to see Sam gawking at you and Bucky cleared his throat.

“Um….Sam, Shrike.”

“Okay, what is she doing here?”

“Beats me.”

“I was around,” you answered helpfully, “So who are we killing?”

“We’re not killing!” Bucky and Sam said at the same time and you held up your hands.

“Jesus, fine. Who are we maiming?”

“Did you tell her—“

“I didn’t tell her anything.” Bucky cut him off, looking uncomfortable for some reason. You hummed, clicking your tongue.

“I’m just here to help.”

“Why?” Sam asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m a huge fan?”

“Try again.”

“I’m hoping he’ll get with me.” You pointed at Bucky with your thumb, making him shake his head. Sam raised his brows, a grin pulling at his lips.

“Oh is that right?”

“Don’t.” Bucky said while you heaved a sigh.

“Listen guys, not that I don’t enjoy this but this is basically a HYDRA building, so you might want to make it fast, whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Can you wait at the door while I get—the thing?” Sam asked Bucky and he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Great!”

“I didn’t say you could come.” Bucky said and you scoffed.

“I gotta tell you, I was hoping you would say that to me in a completely different context.”

Sam let out a chuckle, “Oh she’s good.”

“Unbelievable.”

“I don’t even want to know what you’re trying to get, okay?” you asked, “I just want to make sure no one dies.”

“Because you’re a nice person?” Bucky asked, his voice full of doubt and you thought for a moment.

“Eh, I have my reasons.”

“But she has a point, we need to make it fast.” Sam said, “Let’s go.”

“Seriously?!” Bucky groaned but rushed after him with you following his lead. After you all reached the end of the hall, Sam kicked the door open and you quickly peeked inside to see a computer in the middle of the office.

Ah.

They were after some sort of a file.

“Don’t let anyone in,” Sam said and closed the door behind him. You leaned your back to the wall, flipping a knife in your hand and Bucky stole a look at you.

“Why Shrike?”

You turned your head, “Hm?”

“Why do they call you Shrike?”

You clicked your tongue, “Oh you wouldn’t get it,” you said and he tilted his head.

“Try me,” he said, “Looks like we’ll be here for a while.”

I kicked a target out of the window and he fell on top of a steel spike from a construction site.

“I like knives better than guns,” you lied and Bucky scoffed.

“You’re a sniper.”

“So were you, but look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have a favorite knife.”

“I can’t look you in the eye, your mask has goggles,” Bucky retorted, making you smile.

“My turn,” you said, “Is your girlfriend pretty?”

“The prettiest,” Bucky said without even hesitation and you had to hold back your aww.

“Does that mean I don’t have a shot?”

“That’s exactly what it means.”

“Maybe I’m prettier,” you taunted and he shook his head.

“Impossible.”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face under the mask, “Loyal type, aren’t you?”

“Not a cheater at least.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh, “Well that’s a shame,” you said, “Lucky girl.”

“Nah, I’m the lucky one.”

“Maybe I should—“ you started but stopped talking when you saw a shadow by the hall.

“I call dibs,” you said before Bucky could even object, then grabbed and pulled the figure around the corner. He almost punched you but you dodged it, sending him back with a kick on the chest.

“No killing,” Bucky called out calmly and you groaned, dodging another punch as you did a backflip, then grabbed your opponent by the hair and slammed his head in the wall, making him pass out.

“Don’t be so vanilla, Barnes.” You commented as you made your way back to him, and tilted your head when you saw the way he was looking at you, almost—

Impressed?

No it wasn’t it, it was something else.

“Huh?” he asked, then tried to pull himself together, “Wh— I’m not even going to ask.”

“I’m just saying, there’s nothing wrong with liking it a little rough,” you grinned, “On the missions, that is.”

He scoffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“You can kill someone and flirt with someone else within minutes?”

“What can I say, I’m the whole package,” you stated, “I mean, not that it works on you, Mr I’m-in-a-relationship. So are you in love then?”

“Forgive me if I don’t want to share any details of my relationship with a homicidal maniac who apparently has a thing for bad pick-up lines.”

“How rude,” you pouted, “I think they’re really good pick-up lines.”

You could see the way he was trying to suppress a smile and you flipped the knife in your hand again, his eyes automatically following your movements.

“You won’t take off that mask, will you?” he asked after a beat and you shook your head.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t like the consequences if you saw my face.”

“Will you tell me who you work for?”

“Nope,” you said, “I don’t want to end up dead. My superiors have a strange idea of discipline.”

“Why are you helping us?” he asked again but before you could come up with an excuse, the door opened.

“It’s done, let’s go.” Sam said and you pushed yourself off the wall.

“We should do this again sometime,” you said and nodded at Sam “Captain.”

Sam smiled slightly. “Thanks for the help.”

“No problem,” you said and turned to look at Bucky.

“Until next time, soldier,” you said and walked away from them, smirking to yourself.

                                               ***

So maybe that was a heat of the moment decision, and maybe Chloe was going to kill you if she ever found out about what had happened but good news was that your cover wasn’t blown.

And Bucky was fine.

You turned the vacuum cleaner off, wiping at your brow and put your hands on your hips, looking around the apartment.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You let out a squeal and turned around to see Keith standing by the doorframe.

“Keith, what the fuck?!”

“What are you doing?”

“How did you get in?”

“I’m a spy. I heard vacuum cleaner and I thought someone broke into your apartment, so I had to check.”

“You thought someone broke into my apartment to clean it?”

“Someone’s gotta,” he commented, making you glare at him before you unplugged the vacuum cleaner. “I’ve literally never seen you clean, what is happening?”

You flung yourself on the couch so that he could sit beside you. “No wonder I don’t do this shit, it’s boring.”

“But why are you doing it?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I’ll invite Bucky over.”

“So what?”

“I can’t have the apartment look like this,” you motioned around, “The guy grew up in the…. Everyone’s apartment must be spotless era.”

“He’s been here before though—“ Keith started but then covered his mouth, “Oh shit, now I get it. You’re gonna jump on his bones.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Not even a word, Keith.”

“I have lots of words,” he said, “Number one, you do realize guys don’t care about the apartment, right? I have never once gone to a girl’s apartment and walked out because she hadn’t vacuumed the place.”

“Jesus.”

“Also, if you’re trying to go all wife material—“

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not.”

“I’d like to remind you that it’s a fake relationship,” he grinned, “Are you going to dress up like a Stepford Wife too?”

“I hate the day I decided to become your friend.”

“You love me,” he shot back and you slipped a little on the couch, “But hey, do you actually want to?”

“Want to do what?”

“To sleep with him?” he asked, “Or is it just the mission?”

You tried to keep your expression stable, excitement filling you at the thought of sleeping with Bucky.

Tonight.

Oh God, you felt like a lovesick girl instead of a serious spy.

“It’ll help the mission,” you lied through your teeth, “That’s all I’m focused on right now.”

“Aren’t you a little curious about how the most ruthless assassin of the century is in bed though?”

You let a grin pull at your lips, “Maybe?”

“Ha! I knew it!” he said triumphantly, “So how detailed will your report be, exactly? Asking for a friend.”

You threw a pillow at him, “You’re terrible.”

“Mm hm,” he checked his watch, “Ugh, I gotta go to base. But if I don’t see you before tonight, just…”

“I don’t want any gross advice, Keith.”

“Remember,” he said, “You have a cover to maintain.”

You pulled your brows together, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means your cover probably likes missionary and soul gazing and stuff in bed. Complete opposite of you, so don’t be like yourself.”

“How do you even-?”

“I have it on good authority that you like knife play, Y/N,” he said, making your jaw drop, “And your cover is a sweet small town girl.”

“Did you talk to Julian?!” you exclaimed and he made a face.

“No,” he said, “You have a knife collection, you idiot. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“Bullshit, who told you—“

“Ryan,” he said, “The agent you slept with and dumped, before Julian.”

“He was boring.”

“It’s beyond me why you thought it was a good idea to sleep with him,” he shook his head, “Anyways, I’m out.”

“Why do you have to go to the base, exactly?”

“I have to brief the General,” he said as he walked to the door, “I was supposed to do that yesterday but he was busy with Julian. I think those two are planning something.”

You frowned, deep in thought.

“Tell Chloe I said hi!” you called out and he saluted you, then left your apartment. You pursed your lips and stood up, looking around.

“I should probably dust the place,” you mumbled to yourself, “Where the fuck do I get one of those feather dusters?”

                                                ***

Unfortunately, Tara needed you to cover her shift that day so you had to change plans. Normally you were supposed to meet Bucky for your date, but when Tara told you there was an emergency, you couldn’t say no to her.

Keeping yourself busy at work, even if it was just a cover, helped you to get your mind off the nervousness you were feeling about tonight.

You had never been this nervous before, which came as a shock for you. Bucky was just a target, and you knew better than anyone how to manipulate targets but—

You really, really wanted this. Regardless of it being a part of the mission or not.

So you had just finished with the inventory and closed the cash register when the wind bell chimed by the door and you turned your head, a big smile lighting up your face.

“Hi!” you rushed to throw yourself into Bucky’s arms and he caught you, lifting you a little to kiss you on the lips.

“Hi darling.”

“I’m almost done.”

“No worries, I can wait,” he said and you went behind the counter to hurriedly place the jars on the shelves so that when Tara came back tomorrow morning they would be all ready.

“Sorry about falling asleep last night,” you said, an image of you killing that HYDRA agent in front of Bucky flashing in your mind, “Did you stay up late?”

“Just a little,” he said and you bit down on a smile, he really wasn’t a good liar.

“Oh? What did you do after I went to sleep?”

He waved a hand in the air, as if looking for words, “Um—I—I was with Sam.”

“Sounds fun.”

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

“Actually I went on a mission,” he said after a beat and you turned to him, raising your brows.

“A dangerous one?”

“Not really,” he said, “But I wanted you to know, because…”

You stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t really know about the relationship rules so I figured honesty is the best way to go,” he said, making your heart skip a beat, “I think I accidentally flirted with someone last night.”

The words “No you didn’t.” were at the tip of your tongue but you managed to control yourself and tilted your head.

“…Oh,” you ended up saying, “With who?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Remember how I told you there was this spy I kept running into?”

You really needed to control your expression.

“Yeah?”

“I mean she flirted with me, I don’t actually think I flirted back but I wanted you to know just in case.”

You smiled slightly, “Bucky, it happens.”

He let out a relieved breath, “Okay,” he said, “Okay, good.”

“I mean as long as you don’t have a crush on her or anything.”

His hesitation lasted only for a second, maybe even less than that but it was there. Your heart skipped a beat and you frowned before he spoke.

“Of course not,” he said quickly, “Not at all, I don’t even know her.”

Was that possible? Could he be attracted to your real self as well as your cover?

Or maybe even more than your cover?

“Alright then,” you said with a smile, “I just don’t like competition.”

“There’s no competition, I promise,” he assured you and you shifted your weight, then placed the last jar on the shelf and turned to him.

“So then,” you said as you both left the shop and he threw an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Did you know she would be there?”

“I had no idea,” he said while you approached the motorcycle, “She ended up helping us but I don’t know what she’s playing at.”

“I think I have an idea what she’s playing at, if she flirted with you.”

Bucky chuckled and pressed a kiss on top of your head, then tilted your chin up.

“Darling….”

“What? I’m pretty sure flirting existed back in the 40s, and you know what it means.”

“What happened to it happens again?” he asked you with a grin and you shot him a look, then grabbed the helmet from him.

The road to your place was pretty short, especially with the way Bucky was riding his motorcycle. Soon enough, he pulled over in front of the building and you tried to ignore how excited you were, it—

It was finally happening.

Who were you kidding? This had nothing to do with the mission, you really, really wanted him. Your heart felt like it would break your ribcage and you took a deep breath, then got off the motorcycle and placed the helmet in its place.

“So,” you said as he got off the motorcycle as well, then pulled you closer, “Any plans for tonight?”

“Nope.”

“Any accidental meetings with hot spies?”

“Mmm, I don’t know any,” he taunted you, making you smile.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Oh totally. Besides, I’m happily going steady with the prettiest dame in the world, remember?”

You thought you would melt right then and there, and stepped closer to him before standing up on your tiptoes.

“Right answer,” you muttered after kissing him on the lips, and tugged him by the hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Upstairs,” you said, leading him into the building and he followed you as if he was hypnotized. You grinned when you got to your door, adrenaline rushing through you and you opened the door, then pulled him inside by the shirt, locking lips with him. He easily lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he kicked the door shut and you pulled back to giggle.

“Bedroom,” you pointed at the room at the end of the hall and he pulled you into a kiss, walking there, still carrying you. You let out a squeak when he dropped you to the bed but then sat up when the thought hit you.

“Oh God damn it—“ you pushed him slightly to get off the bed and he looked up at you as you stumbled to the drawer.

“Is everything okay?”

“More than okay,” you grabbed the lingerie set from the drawer, then turned to him, “Just— close your eyes and don’t go anywhere, alright?”

“…Okay but are you sure—“

“I’ll be back in a second,” you said, running to the bathroom with the lingerie set clutched in your arms and you let out a breath, looking yourself in the mirror.

Even your eyes were shiny with excitement.

You shook your head at yourself and quickly shed your clothes to get into the lingerie set. You tilted your head, checking the garter belts and the corset, then pressed a hand over your chest to calm yourself down and walked out of the bathroom.

“Are your eyes closed?” you asked with a smile as you got to the bedroom and he nodded, holding a hand over his eyes.

“Cross my heart.”

You let out a small laugh and pulled at your hand so that he could open his eyes. As soon as he did, he blinked up at you, his jaw slightly agape.

For a second, there was absolute silence in the room.

“Is this a good silence or a bad silence?” you asked, for the first time in your life you were insecure about how you looked half naked in front of a partner, “Because I’m—“

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when he grabbed you by the waist to get you under him, making you squeal.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed out and you pulled him into a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

                                                   ***

You had no idea why you woke up. In fact, considering how peaceful you felt, it was a wonder how you woke up in the middle of the night.

You could almost feel the warmth surrounding you as you leaned in to press a small kiss on his bare chest, then grabbed his shirt in the dark and put it on to walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Surprisingly he didn’t wake up, instead he mumbled something under his breath, his dog tags shining under dim light coming from outside.

You felt like you could lie there and just lose yourself in the bliss, and the mission— no, everything else could wait.

You pushed your hair behind your ear after putting your phone on the counter, then you went to the sink to fill yourself a glass of water, and finished it in three big gulps, a smile which was impossible to stop pulling at your lips.

No one, target or a boyfriend, had ever made you feel this way.

Maybe you could just tell him. After tonight, after absolute happiness, you could just tell him and maybe he would understand, maybe you two could have a future, maybe—

Your phone vibrated on the counter, interrupting your thoughts and you frowned slightly, then touched the screen to open the text.

From: Julian

We may have found something. Good thing you didn’t get too attached.

The smile was wiped off of your lips in a second and your stomach dropped as you stared at the text message.

“Fuck.”

Chapter 19

[blairsanne]

I Could Stay

Wanted - Will Johnson x gnReader 1969 words

Summary: Will debates going on his hunting trip since you've got a cold.

CW: Nudity, discussion of scars.

A/N: Something inspired by/for @laurfilijames I had wanted to finish this last night but 😅🙈

Will opened the door to the cabin, letting in a cold breeze as he stepped through with a large box of wood.

You looked over to see him giving you a quizzical look as he shut the door behind him.

“What happened to taking a nap?”

You let out a soft laugh under your breath and turned back to your task in the kitchen. “I wanted to start on dinner, and I still needed to pack the food for your trip. I was worried I might not get back up tonight if I went to sleep now.”

“Hm.” He emptied the wood out of the box, carefully stacking it near the wood stove. When he was done, he hesitated by the door. “I don’t have to go tomorrow,” he offered softly.

You rolled your eyes, though you were smiling as you packed up his various rations. “It’s just a cold. Nothing to fret over.”

You checked on the chili that was simmering on the stove, then looked over to see he was still standing at the door, watching you. There was worry in his features, but the moment your gaze met his, he turned and went back out into the cold without a word.

You sighed, feeling slightly guilty, but went back to your task preparing the food he’d need on his trip.

Outside, Will put more of the wood he’d chopped into the box to bring inside. He was only going to be gone two or three days, but he wanted to make sure you didn’t need to chop any for yourself while he was away, sure that the cold weather wouldn’t help the sniffles you’d developed in the last twenty four hours.

He knew rationally that you were likely right and it wasn’t something worth stressing over, but it was already hard enough to be away from you without worrying that you might be getting sicker in his absence. He loved hunting, but he had found himself missing you on his last few expeditions. That was part of why he was only doing short treks now; he could only stand so many nights alone. When you weren’t there, the nightmares came back; and new ones, of you being taken from him somehow. He didn’t have many good things in his life, so naturally he was nervous about losing the one that mattered most.

He took a deep breath, mentally telling himself to get his shit together before picking the box back up to take in.

He flashed you a brief, crooked smile as he came back inside.

You looked him over as he stacked the huge pile of wood even higher. Despite the low autumn temperatures, he hadn’t donned a jacket, and there was sweat on his brow from his efforts. His worn flannel shirt belied his strong, stocky physique, and you wished for a moment that he wasn’t leaving the next morning. Still, you couldn’t ask him to forgo the trip after he’d seemed keen on it, and the deer he was likely to bag would go a long way feeding you both.

You packed up some of the jerky you’d made from his last hunting exploit and added it to the growing pile of shelf-stable foods you had prepared for him.

You felt his hands slip around your waist, and then his chin on your shoulder. You took a deep breath as you leaned back against his broad chest, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. Your body seemed to suddenly want to fall asleep there, perfectly enveloped in his musky scent mixed with lingering notes of lumber and his soap.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Hey.” “I’m gonna go clean up.” He kissed your cheek. “Kay.” He slipped away and you got back to your task, checking on the chili periodically.

---

Will frowned as he stepped out of the bathroom, hearing your coughing fit before seeing you gripping the edge of the counter.

You caught your breath and straightened up just as you heard him approach. You turned to face him and smiled. “Good timing. It’s done.”

“Good.” He nodded, stepping forward until one of his hands found your waist, the other reaching up to cup your flushed cheek. 

He stared down at you with an intense, stormy gaze you recognized as how he got when something was weighing on his mind. Times like these, he usually kept the thoughts to himself, seeking physical comfort from you instead.

You slid your hands up his warm chest and rested them on his shoulders as you kissed him. He gripped at you, deepening the kiss before picking you up to deposit you on the counter behind where you’d been standing. Your legs wrapped around his hips, hands finding their way into his long hair to graze his scalp and grip his curls. He groaned against your mouth and moved his hands up to grip at the open shelf behind you.

When he broke the kiss, you chewed your lower lip, eyes darting to the chest hair peeking out of his flannel shirt.

He pulled a first aid kid from the shelf behind you and raised his brows, eyes too pleading for his rugged features. “You should take some medicine now.”

You let out a quiet groan, but nodded, knowing there was no sense arguing with him. “Sure.” You unzipped the large pouch and pulled out some cold medicine, swallowing the little pills dry. “Good girl.” The way his voice rumbled in low tones sent a shock of need through you, and you squeezed him with your legs that were still wrapped around his lower body.

He tucked the kit back up on the shelf behind you and leaned forward to rub your nose against his. “It’s really not that bad,” you promised. “Mm, yet you were afraid you wouldn’t get back up if you napped?” “Well- that was- I wanted to be sure to get you all settled for your trip. That’s all.”

He gave a mock-serious expression, nodding. “Mm. Well if I can’t have you, I suppose your packed lunch will have to do.”

You shook your head and smacked the back of your hand to his chest, soliciting a giggle from him.

“Come along. I ran us a bath.” “Oh- Will, that’s such a waste of water.” “Only a waste if we don’t use it. Besides, I didn’t salvage that tub just to look pretty.” 

You were beyond pleased when he’d renovated to add a proper bathroom onto the cabin. It made staying out there with him completely comfortable, even in the worst weather. Still, you typically used the shower, since the tub was a big double slipper.

He scooped you up off the counter, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he carried you toward the bathroom. 

You buried your face in his neck, closing your eyes and once again feeling soothed and heavy. You could have fallen asleep in his hold, but soon he was putting you down beside the tub. He had added scented epsom salts, so the steam coming from the water smelled of warm vanilla, adding to the sense of luxury.

“Too much,” you murmured, starting to undress. Will smirked as he removed his shirt, pleased to have seemingly exceeded your expectations.

“All part of my devious plan to get you naked.”

You laughed, which made you cough, and suddenly his warm hand was on your bare shoulder. You shook your head at him. “I’m fine. A cough isn’t going to take me out, I promise.”

He raised his hands and brows defensively. “I said nothing.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as you stepped out of your jeans. “I know you.” And that he got stressed about it every time there was anything slightly wrong with you.

He chuckled, looking down bashfully as he undid his belt. “Fair cop.”

You gripped the side of the tub as you tested the water with your foot. The heat pricked at your skin in a pleasant way, a stark contrast to the cool ambient air in the room.

“Is it too hot?” “Naw, it’s perfect.”

He watched as you stepped into the tub, noting the sigh you gave as you sank into the water.

“Oh, it’s been ages since I had a bath,” you murmured, closing your eyes. It was heavenly, and you could feel your tired muscles relaxing into the heat. You’d been missing the summer sun with how cold the weather got at the cabin in autumn, but this was nearly as good.

Will soon joined you, and you opened your eyes to see him settling against the other end of the tub, having a similar reaction to the bath. You were sure his muscles were sore from all the work he was always doing, working on the cabin or chopping wood or doing odd jobs in town to keep you both comfortable. His body was stocky and fit, bearing the marks of various mishaps. Your eyes trained on the ones that always caught your attention; a constellation of scar tissue on his torso from where he’d been shot. You said a silent prayer of thanks that he’d survived that whole ordeal so that you could meet him; have him; love him.

You moved toward him in the water, and he grinned, moving to make room for you, his fingers on the edge of the tub lifting to motion you closer.

You sat back against his chest, and his sturdy legs pressed against your own, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“How you feeling?” “Mm, good.” “Shall we lay in bed after this?” “You want a lay?” He snickered. “Mm, that too.”

You traced your fingers over his hairy thighs under the water. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Same to you.” He kissed your cheek. “I could have packed all that up.” You hummed. “But it was something I could actually do for you… And you were busy chopping wood for me.” “Well, I can’t have you getting cold in my absence,” he teased. 

You were always complaining about the cold, even when Will was sure it wasn’t that bad and mainly an excuse to press up against him. Not that he minded one bit.

His hands wandered your form, the callouses scraping your soft skin in a way that you knew you’d miss.

“Just a few days, eh?” “Mm. I’ll head back as soon as I bag something.”

You spent the next little while asking him about his plan, what equipment he’d bring, and anything else to keep him talking about the trip - even though you already knew most of it from previous conversations. You liked the way he smiled when he talked about it, confirming to you that this was a hobby you wanted him to keep, and that you shouldn’t let him talk you into him staying just because you had the sniffles.

Eventually, he pressed a kiss to your neck. “Ready to get out?” You let out a sigh, but relented. “I reckon.”

He let you get out first, and pulled the plug as you started to towel off. He looked you over, toweling off quickly before grabbing his thick bathrobe. To your surprise, he wrapped it around you the moment you put down your towel. You smiled up at him, cheeks flushed. “Ta.”

He tucked his lower lip under his teeth, then tilted his head at you. “I could stay.”

You laughed. “Absolutely not. I’m not that ill, and you’re looking forward to it.” “But I would, if you wanted.”

“Really, I won’t hear it.” “Hm.”

He scooped you up again, still naked himself. “Then I’ll have to get my fill of you tonight.”

You giggled as he started carrying you toward the bedroom with a lusty look.

---

tags: @laurfilijames @the-poldarkian @i-did-not-mean-to @the-butterfly-blues @feeweeeee

[hqbbg]

still.

pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

prompt: “I told you to stay still.”

genre: smut

word count: 5.3K (I got carried away, oops)

warnings: 18+, masturbation, some degradation, oral (f!receiving), fingering, some spanking, vaginal & unprotected s3x (make sure you wrap your presents, kids), like 2 seconds of cockwarming, uhm I think that’s it oop

author’s note: I'm back with another Haikyuu!! Headquarters collab piece! check out the master list of everyone else’s works here ✨ I hope y’all enjoy this!

The air in your room feels thick as you pant helplessly, feeling the familiar ache in your fingers as they begin to cramp up while plunging in and out of your sopping cunt. You feel so close to your own undoing, unable to control your thoughts as they drift to the man whose room is on the other side of your bedroom wall. You can’t help but think that it’s his fingers squelching within your warmth, though you’re sure they would reach much further than yours ever could.

You don’t do this often, touching yourself to the thought of your roommate while he’s out at work or running errands, but lately you’ve been frustrated.

When you had put out an ad for a roommate, you were hesitant. You didn’t have much of a choice, as your last roommate decided to move out in favor of moving in with her boyfriend, leaving you to scramble for a solution in order to continue to afford rent. As a full-time student with a part time job, it would’ve been inconvenient to move out in the middle of the semester, and it seemed reasonable to quickly search for a roommate to help with the bills until your lease was up.

Miya Osamu was hot, to say the least, though it wasn’t the main reason why you ended up choosing him to be your new roommate. On top of having manners and being financially stable, he knew how to cook and respected your space in the apartment. Unfortunately, you’ve been unable to say the same recently. The number of times his room door was cracked open as he changed almost made you consider that he was doing it on purpose, as if encouraging you to take a peek.

As you recall the way his back muscles flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head all those times you’d told yourself that you were just walking by, you let another moan slip past your lips. Your fingers begin to move quicker, toes curling, and you can feel your arm beginning to tire out. Your back arches as your other hand quickly moves to massage your neglected clit, rubbing harsh circles until your vision flashes white.

You fail to hear the front door open and close as your moans continue to fill the room. The memory of seeing Osamu stepping out of the bathroom in a simple pair of grey sweatpants with a towel around his neck is still fresh on your mind. You feel yourself clench around your own fingers as you recall your eyes briefly catching sight of the outline of his cock, the image practically ingrained within you. Too many times have you thought about how it would feel inside of you.

Another moan resonates on the walls and you bite your lip, though it does little to stop you from moaning Osamu’s name. Before you know it, you’re overwhelmed by pleasure and your whole body tenses before it relaxes. Your chest heaves as you lay there, trying to recover from your intense orgasm and you want nothing more than to sleep now. You hardly notice that your door is open.

Over the next few days, you can’t help but feel that something is off with Osamu. Though you aren’t particularly close, you’d like to think that you two have developed some sort of friendship with all the shared meals and evenings spent in the living room just chatting about life.

Did he hear you the other night? There was no way; you made sure to give yourself enough time before he was supposed to come home. Then again, you didn’t hear him come in…

Your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that he’d heard you. You let out a groan as you bury your face in your hands, leaning onto your desk. The little motivation you had to study has effectively disappeared and an unsettling mix of nervousness and shame begins to stir in the pit of your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you try to push the dreadful thought out of your head and sit upright. An idea suddenly pops into your head and you abruptly stand up. You walk over to your door and poke your head out, scanning the area to locate your roommate. He’s conveniently in the kitchen, snacking on some leftovers he’d brought back from his restaurant the previous night.

“Hey,” you say awkwardly as you step out. He looks over at you and hums in acknowledgement, his mouth full. You decide to go ahead and speak, though your fingers fidget with the hem of your oversized shirt. “You’re not working tomorrow night, right?”

Osamu shakes his head, swallowing his food. “What’s up?”

“Well,” you hesitate, trying to find a way to come off as casually as you can, “I saw this recipe online for some salmon and vegetables, do you wanna be my guinea pig?”

“Sure,” he nods as he shrugs. “What time?”

“Dinner time,” you say, a little too eagerly. “How about seven?”

His lips quirk upwards into a small smile. “Sounds good to me.”

You watch as he takes another bite of his food before you realize you’re staring, clearing your throat.

“Okay, well, have a good night,” you say and quickly scurry back towards your room. Once you shut the door, you release a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. You swiftly move back to your desk, your forgotten notes pushed even further aside as you begin to look for that recipe you’d seen all those weeks ago.

The following day, you make a quick trip to the store to buy ingredients and find yourself nervously counting down the hours and minutes until it’s a reasonable time to start making dinner. You step out of your room to see Osamu already perched on a stool at the small island in the kitchen. He’s slouched over, scrolling through his phone when you walk up. He glances up and greets you with a small smile as you place your phone down near the center of the island countertop.

“Okay, so before I start, I just need to say that I’m definitely not a professional chef in any way,” you say as you move to wash your hands. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around the kitchen, pulling the vegetables from the fridge. You grab the apron hanging on the pantry door and sling it over your head, tying it behind your back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya wear that,” Osamu muses as he leans his cheek on his palm. His elbows are both propped up on the counter and you resist the urge to playfully roll your eyes.

“I have to make sure my shirt doesn’t get dirty,” you say, “it’s one of my favorites.”

He says nothing in response, opting for a light chuckle as you begin to wash the vegetables. Once you finish, you pull out the cutting board in front of him on the other side of the island, placing a carrot in the middle.

You open a cabinet and pull out a knife, giving it a quick rinse before positioning the blade to cut through the vegetable. Placing your fingers on the edge, you lift the knife just slightly.

“Hey, be sure to cats paw,” Osamu pipes up, pointing to the hand that’s on the carrot, “If yer not careful, you’ll knick yourself.”

“Huh?” You blink your eyes at him, trying to prevent yourself from sounding like an idiot.

“Like this,” he says, lifting his hand up and curling his fingers inward into a loose fist. You try not to focus on the veins lining his hands, tearing your eyes away and mimicking his motions. You see him drop his hand from your peripherals and finally attempt to cut into the carrot.

Before you know it, the knife slips from your grasp, making a shallow but clean cut across your index knuckle. You let out a curse and hiss as you drop the knife.

“Whoa, are ya okay?” Osamu stands as you begin to make your way to the sink, blocking your path.

“It hurts, but I’m fine,” you reply, looking at him curiously before glancing at your finger. You examine it for a moment, seeing the familiar crimson begin to bead.

“Let me take a look,” says Osamu, gently grabbing a hold of your wrist. He lifts your hand up closer to his face, his eyebrows slightly creasing as you do your best to resist the blush creeping up to your cheeks. “You should be careful.”

“Well, it’s not like this was intentional,” you grumble, unable to meet his eyes. He sighs softly and you glance at him, opening your mouth to say something. However, your train of thought is  completely derailed when his lips wrap around the small incision.

You feel his warm tongue gently lick around it and you can’t help but stare at the way his lips look around your finger. He catches your eyes and pulls away.

“I used to do this to my brother whenever he’d get hurt or something when we were little,” he says, letting go of your wrist. Your face is burning as you drop your hand back down to your side. “Wait here, I’ll go grab a bandage.”

You nod wordlessly, mind still reeling as you try to figure out and process what exactly had just happened. You watch his retreating figure head towards the bathroom, disappearing for only a moment before resurfacing with a familiar pink wrapper with Hello Kitty’s face scattered across the outside cover, a gift he had received from his brother. He makes his way back over to you, pulling the tabs apart and plucking out the bandaid.

Without prompting, you lift your hand up towards him and watch as he moves your hand towards him with his pinky, wrapping it around your finger.

“There, all patched up. Is that too tight?” He asks, picking up the trash and crumpling it in his fist. You lift your hand up and examine his handiwork, nodding in approval.

“It’s perfect,” you say, feeling your stomach flutter at the self-satisfied smirk that’s found its way onto his face. “I still have to cut the vegetables, though.”

“Hand it over; I’ll do it.” He motions towards the knife.

You pout, making no indication to hand the utensil over to him. “I kind of wanted to cut the vegetables though.”

He raises a brow at you. “Are ya sure? Ya already butchered yer first chance; I don’t want blood all over my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen, huh?”

Osamu shrugs. “I hardly see ya in here, so it might as well be.”

“So are you gonna help me or not?” You raise a brow and choose to ignore his statement as you cross the kitchen to grab your phone, pulling up the recipe to skim through the instructions before placing it back down. “I’m supposed to Juliette these vegetables.”

Osamu stays quiet for a moment. “Do ya mean julienne?”

“Yeah, same thing,” you wave your hand dismissively, walking back over to the cutting board. You pick up the discarded knife, giving it a quick rinse. Upon returning to your original spot at the island, your hands position themselves once again, curling your fingers like Osamu had previously shown you.

“Wait, yer gonna end up hurting yourself again,” he says as he walks up behind you. “How thin are ya trying to cut this?”

“About this much,” you reply, positioning the knife towards the edge of the carrot.

“Okay, first things first,” he says as he wraps his arms around you. Your eyes widen as you feel his chest press against your back, his hands moving to hold yours. “Ya have to cut it in half and get a flat surface.”

He grabs your hand holding the knife and moves it to the middle of the carrot, wrapping his thick and long fingers around the handle, completely swallowing yours. He ensures that his grip is stable before pressing down, the blade making a sharp cut.

“Okay, so now that ya have this, ya said ya want to make them look like noodles, right?”

You can only nod your head, afraid that your voice will crack if you choose to speak. Your head feels fuzzy, your senses overwhelmed by the scent of his musky cologne hitting your nose and the way his strong arms continue to guide you. The heat radiating off his chest envelops you in an oddly comforting embrace and something about it feels very domestic. You try hard to keep your knees from buckling under you, shifting your weight between your feet. You immediately tense when you accidentally press your backside against his hips.

Briefly scanning the island countertop, you see that his phone is on the other side where he’d originally left it when you began cooking and try to ignore the sinful thoughts threatening to infiltrate your mind.

“Makes sense?” Osamu says, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“I-I think so,” you stammer, though you bite your lip and mentally scold yourself for your faltering voice.

“Alright,” he says, taking a step back. You exhale slowly, trying not to think of the loss of warmth. “While ya keep doing that, I’ll prepare the salmon. Where’s the recipe?”

“It’s on my phone.” You nod towards it, setting the knife down. He walks over to the side of the counter you’d left your phone at and brings it over to you. “What’s yer passcode?”

“That’s classified information, sir.” You see his eyes darken for a moment as you pluck your phone from his hand, typing in the digits before placing it in his open palm.

“Never thought you’d be callin’ me that so soon,” he says offhandedly, locating the recipe in your browser. You feel your lips part to say something, but no words come out.

You simply resume cutting the carrot and grab more vegetables, shaking your head to clear your wandering thoughts. You see Osamu grab the salmon from the fridge, pulling it out and getting some seasonings you’d bought earlier.

“Hey, can ya grab a pan from that cabinet there?” Osamu asks as he points to one of the bottom cabinets in front of your legs.

“Sure,” you nod and take a step back, opening the cabinet door and bending over at the hips. You rummage around for a decent-sized pan, feeling Osamu’s eyes on you before you straighten up. He’s quick to avert his eyes as he holds his hand out to you. You place the handle in his open palm and he takes it, setting it on top of the stove.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you prepare your own things, with you seasoning and cooking the vegetables while Osamu prepares the fish, searing it on the pan. As you both finish your portions, you decide to bring out your nicer plates for the occasion.

Opening one of the top cabinets, you stand on your toes to reach for the plates, wondering how they ended up so high to begin with.

“Need help?”

You jump slightly, startled when you feel his body pressed flush against yours with a hand on the dip of your waist as the other reaches above your head to grab two plates, placing them down onto the counter. You turn your head to look at him and realize just how close he is, his face merely centimeters away. His eyes are on your lips as you tongue pokes out to wet them before they flicker upwards to meet your eyes. You look up at him, anticipating his next move with bated breath, and feel his hand that had been holding the plates move to gently hold your jaw. He leans forward just slightly and your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet.

His lips move slowly against yours, though it’s nothing short of passionate. You feel his hand on your waist pull you closer to him and you lean into the warmth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to welcome the warm muscle inside, letting him explore freely.

The both of you seem to run out of air at the same time, pulling away breathlessly. Before you can say anything, he kisses down your jaw to your neck as you crane your head just slightly so he can have better access and you’re not straining your muscles. He nips gently at the skin before dragging his tongue along, finding a particularly tender spot to pay special attention to. A hiss slips past your lips and you’re reminded of how close he is to you when you begin to feel something hardening against your backside.

“If ya wanna stop, ya have to tell me now,” he mutters against your neck as both of his hands settle on your waist, thumbs playing with the hem of your shirt.

“I’d rather not,” you admit rather shamelessly. You can feel Osamu’s lips curve upwards against your skin as his hands give you a slight squeeze.

“If ya say so,” he says before one of his hands reaches between the two of you to untie your apron. “If ya ever need me to stop, let me know.”

You nod your head absentmindedly, slightly dizzy from the reality of what’s happening right now. One of his hands begins to slide upwards from your waist, cupping your clothed breast and giving it a squeeze, while the other slips downwards under your apron and pushes past the waistband of your shorts, hovering over your panties. Suddenly very aware of the wetness between your legs, you move to close them a little.

“That won’t do ya any good,” Osamu mutters against the back of your neck. As if to prove his point, he presses his middle finger against your clothed slit and swipes upward, humming to himself. “Yer practically dripping and I haven’t even started yet.”

A moan slips past your lips and you can only bite your lip in embarrassment at your own shamelessness.

“It’s just the two of us; you don’t have to be quiet,” he says, as if encouraging you to be as loud as you want and disturb your neighbors. When you still refuse to make another noise, he nudges your legs open with his knees, almost forcing you to lean over the counter for support. As if to further prove his point, he pushes your panties aside and slips his middle finger in between your folds, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

“Osamu,” you whimper as you feel him kiss his way towards the back of your ear.

“What is it, baby?” His finger is still and unmoving inside of you as you try to gain any sort of friction, attempting to grind your hips against him. His hand doesn’t move as you feel his tongue trace the outer shell of your ear.

“Stop teasing me,” you practically whimper as you ball your hands into fists on the surface in front of you.

“What do ya want me to do?” He sounds smug and you can almost visualize his teasing smirk behind your closed lids.

“Just fuck me,” you say. You fight the embarrassment heating your cheeks, too aroused to focus on anything else.

“I know we’ve been living together for awhile now, but let’s not forget our manners,” he says, beginning to slide his finger out.

“M’Samu, please fuck me!” It comes out too eagerly, too desperately, but you want him to just do something to you.

“That’s all you needed to say,” he lets out a soft chuckle before he slides his finger back in. You find yourself leaning completely on the countertop so you don’t buckle under him and moan when he slides another finger inside, stretching you.

You were right; his fingers reach so much further than yours ever could.

His calloused fingers continue to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace as his other hand that had been on your breast moves down to slip under your shirt. You bite your lip as you feel him expertly unclip the bra before sliding around to cup the flesh, nudging your loose bra aside. His fingers pinch your hardening nipple and you breathe out his name.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he practically grunts, “if ya keep soundin’ like that, I won’t be goin’ easy on ya.”

Part of you has half the mind to take him up on the offer while the other is failing to form coherent words and thoughts.

A familiar tension begins to pull at your lower abdomen as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. It seems that Osamu’s also aware, quickly slipping his hands out from your dripping cunt.

“Why’d you stop?” You whine as you turn back to look at him. He offers a smirk before removing his hands completely from your pants and lifting his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. The way his half-lidded eyes are locked on yours as he swirls his tongue around makes you clench helplessly around nothing.

“Don’t worry, yer gonna thank me later,” he says, dropping his hand. He begins to lower himself so he’s on his knees on the ground before he pulls your shorts and panties down in one clean tug. The cool air hits your wet heat and you bite your lip at the sensation.

You watch him with anticipation as he leans forward, using both hands to massage your ass a couple times before spreading the cheeks apart. He nudges your feet so you can spread a little wider for him, which you wordlessly oblige, and inhale shakily as he leans forward and licks a fat stripe up your slit.

“Fuck, Osamu,” you hiss as you turn back to look at him. You use one hand to reach around and weave your fingers through his hair, fisting it as he begins to sloppily lap at your cunt.

His tongue dives in and out, the wet squelch echoing around the apartment. You feel your legs tremble as he angles his head to reach a bit further before opting to have his fingers rejoin the fun. Your moans sound nearly pornographic as you attempt to grip at anything, unable to get yourself to properly stand as Osamu wags his head a couple times, swirling his tongue in the process.

A sharp gasp leaves you when you feel his fingers angle themselves and hit a spot you didn’t even know existed, your walls beginning to clench and flutter around him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, pushing his head deeper against you. You feel him hum against you as if to encourage you to release onto his face, so you do.

A strangled cry erupts from your throat as you feel every nerve ending spark up and you come undone above him. He lets you grind your hips against him a couple more times before he pulls away, breathing heavily as he stands up. He turns you around by your hips and you see your slick coating his lips and chin.

“Look at this mess,” he taunts you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You don’t say anything and wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to taste yourself. As you do so, he makes quick work to get rid of his sweatpants and pulls away to lift his shirt over his head. You go ahead and do the same with your apron, tossing it onto the island behind him and removing your shirt and bra to leave the both of you stark naked in the kitchen.

You take a brief moment to unabashedly check him out, admiring how toned and built he is. Chewing on your bottom lip, you let your fingers trace along the hardened and defined lines of his abdomen, trailing your fingers down to palm him through his boxers. You see the fabric straining and recognize the heat rising to your cheeks as you feel how hard he is, creating a slightly darkened and damp spot where the head of his cock is located. You glance up at him and meet eyes as you hook your thumbs on his waistband, pulling them down. His length practically springs to life, standing proud and tall before you and your mouth practically waters at the sight.

Wrapping your fingers around the base, you bite your lip as you drag your hand upwards to the tip and collect his beading precum, spreading it around generously with the pad of your thumb before using it as lubricant to continue stroking him.

“Fuck,” he moans softly as you lick your lips, getting ready to get on your knees to return the favor that he so generously had given you moments ago. He grabs your wrist to stop you and you look at him curiously. “As much as I’d love to see you suck my cock, I just want to be inside of that pussy of yours right now.”

The hungry look in his eyes is all you need before you kiss him again, this time much sloppier than the previous ones. He maneuvers you around the kitchen for a moment and before you know it, you’re bent over the island countertop with a leg propped up on the cool surface. You hear Osamu spit into his hand and look back to see him give his thick cock a couple generous strokes before positioning himself with one hand while the other holds your hip.

You feel the bulbous head nudge your lower set of lips apart before slowly easing in, your back arching at the pressure already building inside of you. A soft hiss escapes your throat as you try to take all of him, grateful when he pauses once he’s bottomed out within you. You take a deep breath for a moment and feel your muscles relax slightly as you adjust accordingly.

“Are ya ready?” Osamu’s voice comes out surprisingly soft as he leans over you, placing a kiss between your shoulder blades. You nod quietly before feeling both hands on your hips as he slowly begins to pull out. You realize just how thick he is when you feel empty, though it doesn’t last for long when he slams right back into you. A strangled mewl bubbles from your throat as he begins to thrust in and out of you. You lower yourself onto your elbows on the counter and ball your hands into fists, no longer caring how you sound; you’re too lost in your own wave of pleasure.

As Osamu continues his ministrations, you feel the counter buzz slightly and hazily look around with half a mind to simply ignore it. You see Osamu’s phone shaking across the surface next to your discarded apron, the screen lit up with an unfamiliar name.

“’Samu, your phone,” you say between moans, “your phone is ringing.”

His hips slow, though his thrusts continue to hit deep inside of you. He doesn’t have to reach far to grab it and glances at the screen.

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath. “Stay still for me, will ya?”

You halfheartedly nod your head, though you can’t help but whine at the loss of friction as he stills inside of you.

“Hello?” His voice is even as he answers quickly. “This is Osamu, yes.”

It’s hard to ignore the slight frustration bubbling in your chest as he uses one hand to keep your hips still while the other holds his phone. He continues to speak formally, so you assume it’s probably someone important or has something to do with work. You know better than to tease him in the event that this call is actually important, but you can’t resist the urge to just roll your hips a little.

There’s a slight hitch in Osamu’s voice before he clears his throat, though it sounds more like a warning to you than anything. However, that doesn’t stop you as you grow more bold, deciding to create your own rhythm of shallow thrusts. His grip on your hip tightens, though it’s not enough to hurt you just yet.

“Something just came up, so I’m gonna have to call ya back,” you hear Osamu say, his voice becoming more strained as each second ticks by. When he finally hangs up, the phone smacks onto the table, startling you to a halt.

“Sorry, I couldn’t w-”

“Ya think yer so cute, dontcha? I told ya to stay still.” His voice is dangerously low as he hunches over, practically growling in your ear. You whimper softly in response, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. You’re not sure if you should be as turned on as you are right now, feeling your walls clench around him.

He stands upright and reaches around to grab one of your arms, practically yanking you back so you’re also standing up. His other hand reaches around to grab your other arm, pinning your wrists behind your back.

“If yer gonna act like a slut, I’m gonna fuck ya like one,” he snarls lowly and you resist the urge to moan. He manages to reach for your apron and rolls it up, looping it around your elbows.

As one hand holds your newly bound arms behind your back, the other holds your hips before he begins to pull out of you. You feel his whole length leave you empty with the exception of the tip and you’re about to complain again when you feel him slam back in roughly.

“Is this what ya thought of when ya were touchin’ yerself?”

You hardly contain the cry of mixed pain and pleasure as your back arches, his hips snapping against yours at a relentless pace. You can barely process his words, though you know the embarrassment will hit you later; you simply can’t form coherent enough thoughts to care. The hand that was on your hip leaves but only momentarily before his palm claps against your ass. You yelp in surprise as he releases your arms.

“What, did ya never get spanked as a kid?” Osamu taunts as he rubs the reddening skin. You lean back over, supporting yourself on your elbows. His comment barely processes in your head as he does it again.

Coherent words fail to form as you feel your legs begin to tremble. You’re practically running towards another orgasm and you can tell Osamu is too, based on his unstable rhythm and sloppier movements. You feel one of his hands reach around you to play with your nipples while you let your own hand rub your clit, the sensations overwhelming you in a crashing wave of pure bliss.

As your walls tighten and flutter, Osamu pulls out and fists his cock a couple times before you feel hot ropes of cum paint your back and ass, a guttural groan leaving him.

“Holy fuck,” he pants once he recovers from his orgasm. You’re still shaking, bent over the island, breathing heavily.

A dull ringing can be heard in your ears from the intensity of your climax, but you faintly hear the sink running for a moment. Not long after, you feel a warm and damp towel wipe across the mess on your backside and Osamu’s gentle arm pulls you up.

“Hey, was I too rough on ya?” His voice is soft and you shake your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he hands you your clothes from the ground. “Do ya wanna eat now and shower later?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” you sigh as your head begins to clear up. You look over to your forgotten food, your mouth curving downwards into a frown. “Wait, did you not turn off the stove?”

“I was a little preoccupied.”

[interlunium-opus]

"I hate him spending time with you more than I hate running so you know, priorities." [ Jay. ]

[ Jay | fluff ]

Author’s Note: Here's a fluff in response to the following request "Can you maybe do a fluff/crack for Jay where maybe he felt a little jealous when you praised someone for their skill and he immediately goes competitive mode and openly tries to show how he's far better indirectly to the guy?" Hope it's close to what you have in mind and hope you like it :3

“Do you have anything to explain to me?”

You jumped, startled, as Jay appeared beside you while you were busy shoving your textbooks into your locker, “Jay! What did I say about sneaking up on people?”

“And what did I say about not keeping secrets between us?” Jay snapped back, arms crossed, brows raised, “Is this how much our friendship is worth?”

“My goodness, what is it this time?” You sighed as he fished his phone out of his pocket, turning it to show you a candid picture of you and Sunghoon from last night.

“I mean seriously, of all people to date, you have to go for this pretentious prick?” Jay scoffed before gesticulating wildly, “Look, I know I said that you need to stop being aromantic and start planting some sort romantic interest somewhere — but Sunghoon is just ain't it. In fact ! I’d rather you date the spawn of the devil, Jungwon, instead.”

You snorted a laugh before shaking your head dismissively, “Dude, we were just running last night okay? Does that even look like a date to you?”

“Okay,” he repeated sarcastically, “but you love running alone! So why are you suddenly running with someone — and not just anyone but this prick???”

“I really don’t get why you two hate each other so much,” you raised an eyebrow at Jay, “Look we just happened to bump into each other last night and since we were heading the same way, he asked if I don’t mind him tagging along for the remainder of the way — no big deal.”

“Ughh, that’s the oldest trick in book,” Jay scrunched his face, “And you said yes?”

“I mean — we’re not exactly strangers, we have been in the same tutorial class together for more than a year now," you mumbled as you zip your bag up, "He's a good running partner too. His pace was so stable and steady that it made me stuck to mine as well — I mean, duh, he's an athlete after all."

"Hey, I can run well too," Jay grumbled defensively, "You know if you needed a running partner, you could've called me right?"

“Maybe if you were as fit as I am, she would have,” Sunghoon suddenly appeared beside Jay, peering over his shoulder to look at the picture on his phone, “That’s a good picture of me and y/n — no wonder you got jealous.”

“Speak of the devil,” Jay rolled his eyes, “Aren't you a bit too greedy over what I have? first, you took up my spot for the dance competition and now you're trying to make a move on my girl."

"Jay, that was 2 years ago — get over it. You've taken my spot afterwards for the Summer competition anyway so we're actually even," Sunghoon retorted, "Also, she's not your girlfriend anyway so your territorial behaviour is pretty misplaced."

"Guys, cut it out," you shut your locker close with extra force in an effort to shut the squabbles, "Also, why am I suddenly dragged into your petty fights."

"Right sorry about that, he's just always trying to pick a fight with me," Sunghoon shook his head dismissively before turning to you and beamed, "Just stopping by to ask if you're running again tonight 'cause I would love to join again. It’s off season for ice-skating so I thought it's the perfect time to get back to running again."

“Oh? Yeah I am going tonight as well, just a tad bit late in the evening though. I want to finish up some work at the library first,” you smiled back at Sunghoon, ignoring Jay’s burning stare, “You know you can start ahead if you want — don’t want you waiting too long in case I'll take too much time at the library.”

“I’ll go when you go, don’t worry,” he reassured as he backed away, joining Heeseung who was waiting for him, “I’ll text you alright? Looking forward to tonight!”

You nodded and waved at him before turning to Jay, “What?”

“That’s it,” Jay clasped his hands together, “I’ll run with you tonight — and the next.”

“Jay, don’t be ridiculous, you hate running,” you emphasized, “which is why I never asked you to run with me.”

“Hey — I can love running if it’s for you,” he winked, wrapping an arm over your shoulders, dragging you past the crowded hallway towards your next class, “Or let me paraphrase: I hate him spending time with you more than I hate running so you know, priorities.”

“your priorities are all skewed then," you clicked your tongue, "Well, as long as you don't hurt yourself."

_________________________________________________________________________

The next morning however Jay did not show up in Modern Political Thought seminar that you guys have every Thursday morning. Though the guy is such a sleepyhead, he never misses a class even when he pulled up an all-nighter the night before. So this sudden absence, paired with the fact that he managed to run a whole 5km without stopping last night, was sowing seeds of suspicions and guilt within you. To make things worse, he did not even respond to any of your messages for the last 5 hours.

That was why you ended up being in front of Jay's apartment instead of having your lunch that noon. "Hi!" you immediately say as the door of Jay's apartment opened. It was Jake, his flatmate, with his lids only half-opened and hair all disheveled, "y/n?"

"Sorry for waking you up Jake," you smiled apologetically, "Is Jay home? He missed a Politics seminar this morning and he didn’t respond to my text at all — just wanna make sure he’s alright.”

“mmhmm, pretty sure he’s in," he answered drowsily before yawning, "but probably, still hibernating.”

“Oh okay, do you mind if I come in?”

Jake nodded, backing up as he held the door open, “Of course, come in — it’s messy though.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassured, making your way towards the room at the end of the hallway. As you knocked on his door, Jake suddenly shouted from the kitchen, “don’t bother knocking y/n — that guy sleeps like a log. Just go in.”

“Uhh…” you bit your lip, slightly hesitating but relented when your subsequent knocks yielded no answer.

“Jay? I’m entering okay?” you say as you let yourself in, carefully navigating around the dark room, stumbling a few times against some random furnitures.

"Jake, get out okay-" you hear him grumble from underneath the covers, tossing the other way, "just let me... sleep mo..re."

As you neared his bed, you reached over to his bedside table and turned on the lamp. Suddenly, Jay rose from the covers, his hand gripping your wrist, grunting "Jake what did I just say-"

Trailing off, he looked at you with brows furrowed in a mix of annoyance and confusion, before his expressions gradually soften "y/n?"

"dude, you almost gave me a heart attack," you muttered, sighing exasperatedly.

"Sorry, I thought it was Jake trying to disturb me again," he softened his grip and rubbed your wrist as if he had just hurt it, "Did I hurt you?"

"My heart, almost but my hand is fine," you pulled your hand away, "How about you?"

"What about me?"

"You missed class this morning," you crossed your arms.

"It's just one class, no big deal. I just overslept-"

"Is that all?" you raised an eyebrow before pointing at the crumpled muscle relief patch packs and pain relief creams strewn messily across his bedside table, "Did someone overexert himself last night?"

"Fine, I didn't come to class partly because my legs are sore," he shrugged, "but hey, I ran as much as Sunghoon did! Aren't you proud of me?"

"Not if it's at the cost of your legs!" you replied exasperatedly, "Come on, where is the rational Jay that I know? he wouldn't have let his competitiveness and ego cloud his judgements like this."

"It's just normal post-workout sore, I've had it a couple of times before," he reassured, "Also, I may hate running. But I'm actually good at HIIT and strength training so I'm not all that unfit as you think I am. Or he thinks."

"All that just so you can prove him wrong?"

"No of course not, I couldn't care less about him," he huffed, "I just wanted you to know that I can pace well with you too."

"Jay, that does not make it any better-"

"Probably also to convince you that I make a better running partner than Sunghoon," he sniggered.

"Well, guess what, you can't run if your legs are hurt," you quipped.

"Oh shit, that's true," he muttered under his breath, "Well post-workout sore usually last between 3-7 days so I'll be good as new after that. Running partners?" he stretched his hand out as if asking for a handshake.

You sighed, grabbing his outstretched hand, shaking it as if you guys are signing on a pact, "Only if you promise not to overexert yourself next time."

"Promise," his smile widened, "Have you had lunch? I'll cook something up for you."

"Your legs are hurt though."

"They're sore not hurt," Jay emphasized, scooting to the edge of his bed, "Also even if they are hurt, I cook with my hands not legs so..."

You chuckled, "Well sir, if you insists."

"Of course, wouldn't let my girl go out of this house famished," he wrapped an arm over your shoulder, grinning gleefully.

[caffeineforbucky]

As Time Goes By...(Chapter One)

Post-blip (five or six months later)

A/N: This is my first time writing on this website or anything public really, I usually just write for me, please just bear with me if it looks or sounds janky. Also, thanks for taking the time to read. I deeply & wholeheartedly appreciate you. Enjoy!

Summary: I suck at them but, I'll give it a shot. You- the reader, are surprised by 'old' friends when they show up out of the blue, asking for your help on a mission. (This is just the sum for chap. 1)

Word count: 2,760

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, ex-boyfriend jealousy...

The day was coming to an end, a small heatwave conjuring up a sweat as you wiped down your last table for the night. You blew out a breath, brushing back a sheen of perspiration with your forearm, watching the last customer walk out of the restaurant as the bell chimed above their head.

You never understood why people chose to sit inside when there were tables out on the sidewalk. It was hotter in here than out there, especially since the air conditioner had gone out just a few days prior and the fans above the tables were only circling the air inside. It was an actual oven, but they contended.

Your hightops heaved across the tile, dragging yourself with the sufficiency of a person who was only working because they had to. You kicked up the doorstop, pulling the door towards you with a small amount of goodwill and vigor to finish locking up, flipping the paper sign over from open to closed. It wasn't as if you hated your job. You thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere of it all. It was the only person working the night shift job you hated with every fiber of your being. You weren't completely alone in the restaurant, having a few cooks and the owner to keep you company, especially on busy nights like the one you just had.

"I'm clocking out, Mrs. Turner!" You call out, reaching behind your back to untie the knot of your apron, pulling it up and off your neck once the ties came undone. Trudging back to the table, you picked up the disinfectant wipe and toss it in the bin, making your way to your boss's office before hanging up your apron on the hook. "Mrs. Turner...?" You murmur softly, poking your head in through the doorway, only to see her counting the profits for the day. "I'm heading home," You chime, pointing behind your shoulder with your thumb as she glances up at you.

"Alright, Honey," She beams, a bright smile pulling at her lips as her eyes meet yours. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

Working for the Turners wasn't supposed to be a permanent job, in fact, it wasn't even your original plan, as opposed to the small favors you would complete now and then for the people that were willing to pay a pretty penny for your...services.

But you figured having a stable job was smarter and safer than the alternative. And the help wanted sign was very persuasive, due to the pretty colors and splashes of glitter. It looked like it was made by a child, which you later found out, was decorated by Mrs. Turner's seven-year-old. "Always." You accede, tapping the doorframe as your goodbye before parading into the breakroom to gather your things from the lockers.

You take your backpack off the hook and swing the strap over your shoulder before time punching your card and going straight through the back door. The sounds of the city hit your ears as the heavy door slammed behind you. Traffic honks and tires treading against the grain while you walk further into the busy streets of San Francisco.

As you were about to turn the corner, you were met with the sight of your friend's van, followed by a trumpet rendition of La Cucaracha. You grinned widely, gripping your strap tighter as you jog up the 1972 Ford Ecoline, aka Big Bertha. At least that's what you called it. "Luis!" You rejoice, resting your palms on the ledge. "What are you doing here?"

"Scotty sent me out for a few things," Luis answers, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his head turned to you. "I was just about to go when I saw you. Thought you might need a ride." He shrugs, a cute smile playing on his lips.

You nod, reciprocating the smile at his answer. "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble..." You drag, your voice hesitant, as if he didn't offer at all.

"Nah, get in." He gestures, beckoning you with a wave of his hand. "Your place is on the way," Luis loosens his seatbelt, reaching over to the passenger side to pull up the lock, opening the door for you.

You climb in, plopping down on the tufted leather seats as you pulled the door towards you, closing it shut. "Thanks, Lu," You breathe, dropping your backpack below your feet, then you fasten your seatbelt. "How is Scott, anyway?" You ask as Luis changes gears and presses the gas, the van rolls onto the street.

"Ehh...he's...he's alright, know what I'm sayin'?" He answers, glancing at you before focusing back on the road. "I mean, he missed like five years of his daughter's life. He's just trying to spend as much time with her to make up for years they both lost."

You nibble at the inside of your cheek, nodding softly in agreement as the city lights passed you by. There wasn't much you could say to that, having lost so many people yourself. People you considered family just...gone.

"Yo!" Luis pipes up, snapping you out of your train of thought. "Didja see the news today?!" He shakes his head, whistling at the thought. "I can't believe they would just give some random dude the shield like that, ya know?"

You drew in your bottom lip in contempt, nodding once again at Luis. You had seen the news, and they couldn't have picked a better time to broadcast. If it hadn't been for Mrs. Turner asking you in, you would've hunted Sam Wilson down and kicked his ass yourself.

The van rolled to a stop, brakes squealing as Luis pulled up beside your apartment. You sighed heavily, glancing at the small apartment you shared with your Ex-boyfriend. By the looks of the living room light illuminating behind the curtains, he was home, and you absolutely dreaded when he was. It wasn't as if you wanted to live with him, but you had no other alternative. Ever since dropping your side job, money was tighter, and he was kind enough to let you stay, just until you found a place. "Thanks again for the ride, Lu." You mumble, unclicking your seatbelt as you took hold of your backpack. "You didn't have to."

"Don't even mention it, Y/N," Luis reassures, watching you as you pull at the door handle, opening it to get out. "I know how hard it is to get back into the norm."

You shut the passenger door, shooting him a sympathetic smile. "I'll see you around?"

With a smile, Luis waves goodbye and drives off into the night, the exhaust pipe blowing smoke as he rode off. You shook your head, cracking a smile at the honk of his horn. You turned towards the front entrance of the apartment, your stomach twisting as your smile dropped completely. You swallowed thickly, rolling the tension from your shoulders to prepare yourself before jogging up the small flight of stairs.

You fished your keys from the front pocket of your backpack, taking a breath before shoving the key into the lock, twisting as you pushed the door open with your shoulder. "Joshua?!" You voiced, calling out your ex's name to make sure it was him. You dropped your belongings beside the door, pushing your sneakers off before kicking the door shut with your foot.

"Yeah, in here!" He responds quickly, a slight tremor to his tone.

You frown softly, tossing your keys into the bowl on the console table before sauntering to where his voice was emanating from. "Josh, are you...?" Your voice came to a halt, your footsteps stopping altogether as you walked into the living room.

"Hey!" Joshua exclaims once your figure comes into view. "You wanna explain who they are?" He presses, his face crossed with fear as he gestures to the two men sitting calmly on your living room couch.

You remained quiet, your body tense, eyes wide as your focus shifted between the men on the couch and your ex.

"Well...?" Joshua demands, crossing his arms over his chest, shifting in his stance at the unsettling glare one of the men was sending his way. "I was in the middle of hosting game night-as you can see, when they showed up," Josh drops his arms, hands splaying out to gesture to the coffee table consisting of five different dips, two bulk-sized bags of tortilla chips, and a twenty-four pack of Blue Moon beer. "The guys were just about to come over."

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to refrain from any and all insults towards your ex. That explained why he was home. "Um..." You utter, pinching the bridge of your nose, "Fucking hell," You curse under your breath, eyes fluttering open to look at Joshua. "Josh," You begin, clearing your throat as you start with the man on the left. "They are Sam Wilson and..." You hesitate, eyes settling on the man to the right, his sight alone bringing back the memories that you swore you didn't want to remember. "James Barnes," You finish, ripping your eyes away from his baby blues to look at your ex. "Aka-"

"The Falcon and The Winter Soldier..." Joshua finishes for you, his eyes flashing with amazement, head whipping towards the guys. "Shit!" He curses, smiling widely like a kid in a candy store. "Can I get you guys anything? A plate? Beer?"

"Actually," You grunt, interrupting before Sam or Bucky could answer. "Can you give us a minute, Joshua?" Insisting while your foot tapped impatiently against the hardwood floor.

"Should I be worried?" He inquires, eyes filled with confusion as he looked between the three of you, trying to piece together the situation at hand. The main reason you and Joshua couldn't work it out was that you kept a lot of secrets, mostly from him. He didn't like the fact that you wouldn't let him in. Sure, you lied to him, the biggest lie being that you were an Avenger, but that was just to keep him safe. There were other reasons why you decided to split up as well. Joshua knew...he knew deep down you were just with him to pass the time. He could see it when he looked into your eyes. There was someone else in the reflection and it wasn't him. If he was honest with himself, he could admit that it did hurt him. That he wanted a chance to make it work with you, but with the way you were staring at James, he finally recognized that reflection.

He should've noticed it early on-like that day he had somehow convinced you to take a trip to D.C for a tour of the Captain America museum. You were hell-bent on not going, trying to make up some elaborate excuse or an alibi of sorts, but alas, you still went. And for some odd reason, you couldn't stop coming back to the Bucky Barnes portion.

"No," You reply, keeping it short to dismiss him.

Joshua's mouth set in a hard line, a foreign feeling forming in the pit of his stomach-jealousy. He never had to worry about it before, especially when his friends used to come over, back when you were still together. Except for that one time, but how could he blame them? You were the kind of person that listened, laughed at the jokes being made, could lend a hand when needed, and your looks were just a bonus in his book. "Uhm, yeah," He coughed, frowning softly while nodding his head at you. "I have to go pick up the pizza, anyway," Josh brushes past you, fetching his keys from the bowl while slipping on his Vans that sat up against the wall ledge that separated the front door from the living room. "Are you going to be okay?" He mumbles, glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

You shoot Josh a smile, nodding reassuringly, his footsteps approaching closer before stopping in front of you, the palm of his hand landing gently on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Let me know if you need anything, m'kay?" Josh's voice is soft, the concern in his eyes making you feel guilty. You knew he cared about you, and there wasn't a time where you'd catch him staring at you for far too long, but you were well past that. "I'm just a text away," He notes, waving his cell in his hand.

"Josh, I'll be fine," You sigh, stepping away from his touch, the sound of his hand hitting his jeans as it dropped from your shoulder. "I always am."

"Right," Josh nods, looking over at the men on the couch before gazing back at you. "I'll see you in a bit, bug." And with that, he turns, opens the front door, and steps out, shutting the wooden door behind him.

You close your eyes, the pet name Josh had coined for you making you sigh. He agreed to stop calling you that all together and it only made you feel that more guilty for ending things. "So..." You pipe up, opening your eyes as you turned to look at the guys. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Bug?"

Bucky is the first to speak, his jaw clenched at the mere sound of the word. Indignant at the way Josh had touched you, even if it was just your shoulder. "I didn't know he knew you like that," Bucky flashes you a taut smile, nodding softly as he shared a look with Sam, but the falcon only shook his head. "How long have you been..." Bucky couldn't even finish the question, his glove-clad hands tightening at the thought of you being with somebody else...someone that wasn't him. Though, it was his own fault. If he hadn't done what he'd done-you'd have never found another.

"Wow," You scoff, padding closer to where they sat. "You don't miss a beat, do you? Just..." You sink into the sofa adjacent to the one they occupied. "-Right into the big stuff."

"I didn't bring you here to question her about her love life," Sam voices, his scolding eyes on the man beside him. "And she sure as hell isn't obligated to answer you, Bucky."

You smile gratefully at Sam before glancing down at your leg that had begun to bounce in anticipation. "What are you guys doing here? And how'd you find me?" You ask, tilting your head in curiosity as you look up at the guys. "When I resigned from the Avengers initiative, they ensured me that I wasn't able to be traced, not by your or any other remaining member. I was supposed to be scot-free," You declare, hitting your thigh with your fist.

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Sam chuckles, shaking his head at the naivety. "We both know that's a bunch of bullshit. The government is always going to have its eyes on us. Especially free agents like you and us."

You draw in your bottom lip, biting down, eyes flickering between Sam and Bucky. You knew it was too good to be true, and part of you sensed the bullshit when the government explained it to you. You just didn't want to believe it.

"You were an ex-assassin. How could they not keep tabs on your whereabouts?" Sam recounts, emphasizing that it was in the past. At least, that's what they thought. "And I had some help from Redwing as well." He shrugs nonchalantly.

You choke out a laugh, shaking your head at the smug demeanor emitting from Sam. "Redwing," You whisper, smiling thinly. "Of course, nothing could ever be hidden from your personal P.I, huh?"

"I hate that thing," Bucky grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. in annoyance. "Invasion of privacy, I'm telling you."

"You love redwing," Sam jokes, playfully jabbing Bucky's arm with his elbow, "It's okay Bucky, you can admit it."

"Can we get back to the issue here?" You interject, "Not one of you has explained the reason you're here. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great to see you...one more than the other," You whisper that last part but, completely aware that Bucky could hear it. "But, you both showing up out of the blue...? That's almost a bad omen."

"I didn't ask him here, by the way," Sam acknowledges, raising his hands in defense, "I just want to get that out of the way. Bucky came because he wanted to. I'm here," Sam gestures to himself, "-For one reason and one reason only..."

"And what's that?" You ask, leaning forward in your seated position.

"I need your help, Y/N."