#but then just… man some stuff was not good I’ll always remember some of those anons I used to get

[expensivemistake]

God I’m feeling super sad all of a sudden remembering what my glee blog used to be like

[sugume]

YOUR BIGGEST FAN — GETO SUGURU

✧･. on vacation with your family, you discover that your biggest fan may not be a mystery after fall.

( TW ) f!reader. camgirl!reader. stepbrother!Geto (in a plot device way, no nii-chan and stuff.) unprotected sex. cream pie. phone sex. squirting. fingering. mutual masturbation. cunnilingus. deception. mentions of bullying. misunderstandings. hurt/comfort. explicit content.  

word count - > 6.6k

authors note. can you see I wasn’t creative with the username? I have a love-hate relationship with this fic because I feel like it goes from 0 to 100 real quick lmfao. This is heavily inspired by the book Eyes on Me! 

“I bet you look handsome.” You smile at the black screen with the default profile picture floating in the middle. 

‘Nah.’ User @Sssman72  types into the chat the takes up the left half of your computer. 

“Stop! Don’t say think bad things about yourself,” You laugh, making sure your tits jiggle in the flimsy red lingerie you're wearing. “I know your handsome baby.” You reassure your favorite client. The man who alone gives you 50% of your income. He’s the one who bought you this pretty lingerie set you're wearing.  

‘You look tired babydoll...how was today?’ He types. 

“I’m fine, I promise, just had a long day, was on a few other private chats with some other customers the entire day.” You confess. In all honesty after this call you were planning to pass out and try to get a few hours of sleep before you had to fly out to your family's vacation home. Today on your live stream, you told your followers you were going on vacation for the next two weeks and wouldn't be online. You didn't plan to get on a call with @Sssman72 but he had texted you as you were getting ready to go to bed that he had a bad day and wanted to see you. Before you had a chance to protest, he spent you 500 and said it would only be 30 minutes. You gave in because first he was your biggest supporter and you wanted to be there for him in some way with all the money and gifts, he sends you and second, you didn’t mind chatting with him, you thought he was the sweetest and you struck lucky the day he joined one of your lives.  

‘I’ll let you go then, I want you to get some rest before your flight, sorry for keeping you up beautiful just needed to vent about my ass job.’ 

“I’m always here for you handsome, I'll make sure to send you those pictures you requested through the week.” 

‘Make sure you enjoy your break babydoll, don’t gotta worry about me. Goodnight.’ 

You say your goodbyes and end up falling asleep in the lingerie bought you as soon as you shut your laptop. 

— 

“How’s college y/n?” Your stepfather asks when you slide into the back seat of the car. Your mother fitting the last of your luggage into the trunk.  

“it’s fine, some of my classes are difficult but nothing I can't manage.” You answer as you buckle in. 

“Oh yeah? Thats good. You mom tells me you started a job a few months ago, how's that working out for you?”  

You tense under the small blanket you’ve thrown over yourself. 

“u-uhm yeah its good—yeah it’s been fun.” 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I don't remember what you mother told me you did again.” He chuckles. 

“Uhm—I'm a bartender, m-my friend works there and got me a position.” You tell him the lie you've rehearsed hundreds of times. You start to sweat under the blanket. Did he buy it? What if he and your mom found out what you did? Are they planning to ambush you when you get to the house? They're going to make you drop out and chain you up in the basement when they find out. You throw the blanket off, suddenly too hot and alert. Guess that nap you were planning on taking during the drive wasn’t happening. 

“Oh, that’s fun sweetheart, I remember I bartended awhile when I was in college, got fired for stealing the alcohol though,” He laughs at the memory before turning to look at you. “You wouldn’t do that though, you’re a good girl.” 

You nod, thankful that your mom decided now to take your stepdad's attention away and get in the car. 

“Alrighty were good to!” She cheers. Your stepdad turns back around in his seat before starting the car. 

“Finally, thought we were going to get a fine parked here another minute.” 

“Oh, shut up! Y/n are you excited to go back to the vacation house? You haven’t been in years!” You mom asks as you guys pull out of the airport.  

“Yeah, I can’t wait to, I missed the hiking trails and the waterfalls. None of that in the big city.” You answer truthfully. You did miss the silence of the secluded house you vacationed at every summer since your mom married your stepdad. It was the company that you hated. As if your mom heard your thought, she says something that makes your heart drop. 

“Suguru feels the same way, we didn't even have to blackmail him to come! That boy...” 

“Suguru is coming?” You scream.  

“Coming? Sweetie, he’s already arrived this morning. I’m so excited were all together as a family again.” 

“Are you fucking serious mom? Turn the car around and bring me back to the airport!” You screech. You were not going to spend the next week with your bully of a stepbrother.  

“Y/n!” You mom gasps. 

“Sweetheart, he’s changed.” Your stepdad tells you as if that's going to make it better. 

“That’s what he wants you to think! He’s the worst human being on planet earth, please don’t make me spend the next few weeks with him, please mom,” you lean over the consul. “Please dad.” You pout at your stepfather. You know he gets weak whenever you call him dad. 

“Sweetheart...” 

“No! You aren’t sweet talking your way out of this, he’s changed. He isn't the same teenager with a chip on his shoulder, he’s matured. He even told me the reason he’s coming is to apologize and bond with you y/n.” 

“He’s lying mom! He doesn't care about me; I wouldn't be surprised if he told you that just so he could drown me in the lake. You guys own the land so nobody would find my body!” You start to tear up. You were going to jump out of the car if your parents didn't turn back around. Your stepbrother was your biggest tormentor since the day you met him. From picking on you at home to getting the girls to bully you at school. He made your life hell for four years. The day you left for college you screamed how much you hated him and told your parents that the four of you would only be in the same room again when you lay in a casket. 

“Oh, don’t cry sweetheart. Your mother is right, he’s changed, I wouldn’t have allowed him around you if he hadn’t. Give us a week and if you want to leave, I promise I'll drive you back to the airport and you’ll never have to see him again, please?” 

“No.” You cross your arms and look out the window despite knowing that they’ve won. You can’t jump out of the car now that you are on the highway, and you didn’t bring your own car to drive yourself back to the airport. 

“We’ll give you the master suite, the whole attic floor to yourself.” They bargain. You act like you’re thinking of accepting the offer. With the master suite taking up the entire third floor you could lock yourself up there and ignore Suguru. You could also film videos and even go live because the room is soundproof. You perk up at that. You could just spend your vacation on stream and chatting with @Sssman72. He’s somehow always free for you and told you that if you get bored you could call him. He’ll make up for your stepbrother’s awful behavior. 

“Fine, I’ll take the master suite.” 

— 

“Okay that's the last of your luggage, we’ll be having dinner in a few hours on the dock.” 

“Kay, thanks.”  You watch your stepdad shut the door. Once he does you release the tension in your shoulders. You lock the door before running to throw yourself onto the huge king bed. You sink down. You didn’t see Suguru when you arrived, you mom told you he was probably in town. You hope he stayed in town for the next two weeks.  

After laying it bed thinking about how much you hate Suguru with a passion you pull out your phone and open the porn app. You click on messages and open your chat with @Sssman72. 

‘Hey...I know I told you I was on vacation but I already wanna go home. You don't have to answer lol.’ You send. He immediately starts typing.  

‘Of course, I'll answer you babydoll. What’s wrong?’  Your face heats at the pet names. You wish you knew what he looked like, all he told you about himself was that he was in his twenties and worked for his father's company. You want to know more, what he looks like, what he sounds like. If the messages he sends make you sweat, you wonder what’ll happen if he spoke to them to you. In your head he’s a handsome bachelor who just so happened to find you and deem you worthy of his time and money but hell, he could be lying. He could be some old rich man in his eighties who likes young girls like all the rest of your viewers. The romantic part of you ignores that and is convinced he is who he says he is and that one day you’re going to meet in person and fall in and have a bunch of his babies. 

‘You know that stepbrother I told you about?’ 

“Mm, that asshole who bullied you?’ 

‘Yep, that asshole. Anyways I bet you won't guess who's here on vacation with me?’ 

‘Are you serious?’ 

‘Dead serious...my parents didn’t tell me until I was already trapped and now, I have to spend my vacation away with a man who hates me for no reason.’ 

‘Wow that’s crazy lol. Did your parents tell you why he chose to vacation with you if he doesn’t like you?’ 

‘Apparently he’s here to make amends...he’s probably here to kill me so he gets all the inheritance.’ 

‘Well, what if he’s really there to make amends baby?’ 

‘You should've heard the groan I just let out. I can’t believe you’re on his side babe. When I tell you that he too evil for that I mean it.’ 

‘Hey, you know I'm always on your side babydoll, I'm just giving you a man’s perspective on it. Maybe he realized he’s fucked up and he feels back so he wants to apologize for all the wrong he caused you’ 

‘Yea well from a women's perspective he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about anyone else but himself!’ 

‘Don’t say the baby...hypothetically what would he have to do to get you to forgive him?’ 

‘Hypothetically he's going to have to get on his knees and beg for my forgiveness every time he sees me until I deem, he's forgiven. And he’s also gonna have to send every dollar in his bank account to me AND be my slave for the rest of his life...hypothetically.’ 

‘Lol you never know babydoll, he just might be willing to do anything for your forgiveness. I know I would.’ 

‘That’s because you’re perfect and care about my feelings...now I'm gonna go get some sleep before having to eat with the devil. Pray he doesn’t poison me and I survive the night.’ 

— 

You sit at the dinning room table waiting for Suguru. Of course, he’s late, he doesn’t care about anyone's time but his. You say so to your parents. 

“Y/n stop being so harsh and give him a chance please.” You roll your eyes and go back to scrolling on social media.  

“Sorry I'm late.” You jump at the deep voice before whipping your head to the left where your stepbrother stands looking so...so different. 

“Suguru! No need to apologize! Come sit.” Your mother points to the empty seat opposite you. Suguru glances at you and smiles before walking to the seat. You gasp. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile at you or anyone else. Actually, you know he hasn’t smiled at anyone, he was know for being so stoic. You watch intensely as he pulls out the chair and sits. He looks like a different man, his hair is long, down past his shoulders, the black shirt he's wearing stretches around a huge chest. He looks like he spends half his day in the gym. And those eyes—those eyes that always had heavy eyebags and glared at everyone that looked his way, look at you with gentle look you can’t place. They even crease with the smile that he’s wearing. Your eyes widen, he has a fucking dimple. He looks like a gentleman, he looks handsome. You can't stop staring at his smile. 

“Y/n? You alright?” You Stepdad breaks through the haze you were in. You look at your parents and back to Suguru who all have concerned expressions on their faces.  You feel your entire body heat in embarrassment.  

‘Uhm—yea I'm fine.” You look at your parents, refusing to look back at that smile.  Suguru has different plans. 

“Hey y/n, it’s been a long time yeah?” Suguru says in that deep voice that has your heart beating faster.  Out the corner of your eye you watch as Suguru reaches over the food, holding his hand out. Does he really think you’re about to give him a damn handshake?  

...Are you seriously thinking about shaking that huge hand? No, you won’t. 

You purse your lips and cross your arms over your chest. You swear you see him glance down at your cleavage but the next second, he's holding eye contact. You blink and look away with a ‘hmm’. He lowers his hand.  

“Alright guys let's eat, okay?” You mom breaks the tension. Everyone grabs their share, and you eat in silence for a while, nobody brave enough to speak and you simmering with anger at Suguru. You throw glare at him every time you look up from your plate which happens more times than you’d admit.  

“You got something there.” Suguru points the sharp end of the fork at you. 

“What?” You ask. 

“There,” He grabs his napkin and starts to reach for you. You tense suddenly locked in place. Suguru brings the napkin to the corner of your mouth and wipes it. “There you go.” 

You stare at him like he's grown three heads. Maybe he’s dying and wants to make amends? Why else would he be treating you like this. Maybe someone took over his body? That has to be it. 

“Uh thanks?” You mummer, unsure what to say. 

“You're welcome little sis.” You choke on your spit. What the hell did he just call you!? He must be messing with you; you’re suddenly filled with rage. You glare at him, hoping he disintegrates with the sheer force of your stare. 

“You’ve grown up.” Suguru says after another blinking contest, you lost. 

“Yea, have you?” You snarl. He stops smiling. 

“I have,” he says seriously, setting his fork down. “I want to talk about—” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Please—” 

“No!” You slam your hand on the table, and he goes silent. You’re overcome with guilt before you remember that he bullied you for a year, that he told the entire school to bully you after he graduated. Fuck him. 

— 

You slam the door the door of your room speed walking to the bathroom. You strip your clothes before turning on the tub. You finally breathe when you settle into the scolding hot water. You needed to wash his gaze, his touch, off your body. The entire dinner after your conversation was awkward, your parents didn't really speak, and you refused to glance back up at Suguru who wouldn't stop staring.  

You hated him. You hated him. You—you can’t bring yourself to hate him. For some unknown reason you can’t bring yourself to hate him despite everything he's put you through. Why? You shake your head. You don’t want to think of Suguru while you're trying to relax. You phone dings. You pick up and a smile replaces your frown. @Sssman72. 

‘How are you babydoll, you alive?’ 

‘Yes, wish I wasn’t though.’ 

‘Why what happened during dinner?’ You sigh and send him voice message detailing everything that happened. 

‘Oh wow.’ 

‘I know.’ 

‘You gonna give him a chance to explain?’ 

‘I don’t know I don’t want to but also, I want to hear his explanation...can we call I really don't want to type all of this out?’  

‘Course, give me a second. I'll call you.’ You wait a few minutes before you hear the familiar ring. 

“Hi handsome.” you smile at the blank profile. Right now, you’d do anything to see him, to hear him comfort you, to be in his arms. He could be the ugliest man in the world, you wouldn’t care. 

‘HI beautiful. Talk to me.’ He types into the chat box. 

“I don't know. like I said I want to hear him out but also, I don't want to hear it because what it it’s bad, what if it doesn’t excuse it? But also, what if it does and I feel like shit for being mean back—it's just so stressful.” 

‘I know babydoll. I wish I could be there right now and hold you. I would do anything to take that hurt away. I'm sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.’ 

“Stop, don’t apologize you didn’t do anything. If anything, I should apologize for using you as a therapist when you paid to see me naked.” You laugh. 

‘Beautiful girl—I would rather pay to hear all your problems and be able to comfort you than see you naked again.’ 

“Wow you don’t want to see me naked, I'm hurt. Just kidding, thank you for saying that handsome.” You feel your heart skip a beat at his message. Maybe you can convince him to turn his camera on tonight. 

“I kinda wanna take my mind off everything right now.” You murmur into the phone before turning on your camera. You hold it above you and smile so he can see everything.  

‘So, fucking beautiful, prettiest girl in the world. You gonna give me a show?’ 

“hm,” You use your free hand to tap your chin. “Only if you do something for me.” 

‘And what is that?’ 

‘Can you turn your camera on? And before you say no, you don’ have to show your face—maybe you can just show your dick or something else. We can masturbate on the phone, please handsome please.” You whine giving him your best puppy face. You watch as the chat bubbles disappear and reappear. You’re about to back out but all the sudden you’re looking at a dim lit room and a huge cock between a big hand. Your eyes widen and the sight. 

"Y-you probably won’t be able to type and jack off at the same time” You suck in a breath. Please turn your audio on please... 

‘I’m gonna turn my audio on but I won’t talk, okay? Think you can get off on my moans babydoll?’  

You nod. 

‘Good girl now show me that pretty pussy, make it squirt for me.’ 

You lift yourself up to sit on the corner of the tub, propping one leg on tub and spreading the other that rests in the water. You flip the camera so your mystery man can watch you finger yourself. You hear him groan and spit onto his hand. 

You moan softly at the sound, teasing your entrance. You wish he was talking to through it, but you’ll settle for this for now. One day... 

“Mmm, wish you were the one fingering me right now,” You circle your clit before gliding your fingers out your cunt. 

“Wish you were here, holding me n' fucking me.” You curl your fingers into your g-spot and moan. You look back at your phone, watching your stranger play with the tip of his long cock. It looks so big compared to his hand, you know you’ll struggle to take it. Your pussy clenches around your small fingers that do close to nothing compared to your dildos at home.  

“Wan’ your cock in me so bad, it looks so big you’ll have to force me to take it, you’ll have to hold me down and make me take it.” You cry out. You watch as he squeezes his hand up and down his cock. It looks painful. He grunts louder. 

“M’gonna cum for you handsome, m’gonna give you what you want and make a mess,” You speed up your fingers to match how fast he slides his fist up and his cock. You moan louder, thankful that you got the suite and aren’t in the room next to your stepbrothers, how embarrassing it would be if he could hear you pleasuring yourself.  

You clench harder around your fingers. Your stranger starts to grunt and groan louder. You shiver at his deep voice on the edge of cumming. 

“Please please let me cum please! Can I come for you please?” You cry, your pussy starts to squelch, spurts of liquid coming out. 

“Yes, cum for me.” Your mystery man groans in an all too familiar voice but before you have time to think about it, you’re squirting, the grip on your phone loosening and falling into the water. 

“N-no!” 

— 

“Yes, this phone is done for, your mother and I are heading into town we can try to find a company that sells phone, but you know how small towns like this are.” You stepdad stares at your phone that’s been sitting in a container full of rice since last night.  

“Fuck, I need it for work! What am I going to do?” You look up at him in distress. 

“What do you need your phone for bartending?” He looks down at you incredulously. 

“My boss is sending me some important email and I didn't bring my computer.” You lie. 

“Well, you can use Suguru’s laptop, I saw him using it this morning in the sitting room. Think he left it there before he went on his run.” Your stepdad points down the hall as your mother rounds the corner.  

“Ready to go honey?” She asks your stepdad. 

“Coming! Use Suguru laptop to check your email, if we come back and you haven’t got the email you can use my phone. Bye! Have fun and be nice!” Your stepdad waves before following your mother. You wave back. 

 Of course, you had to use Suguru’s laptop. Maybe you can just log in, tell your stranger that you’re okay and that you won’t be able to contact him until you get a new phone and then delete the history before Suguru comes back from his run. It’ll only take a few minutes...you hope he doesn’t a password.  

You run to the sitting room, but you don’t see a laptop anywhere. Dammit, he always has to make things hard for you. You walk up the round staircase and down the hall until you're standing in front of Suguru’s room. You look around, as if Suguru's gonna pop up out of nowhere and attack you from going into his room. You shake the thought off and open his door. You stop and stare at the bed, you feel like you've seen that duvet. You chalk it up to a bunch of man having the same bedding before turning to scan the room for a laptop. You quickly spot the laptop on his desk and run to it. You sigh in relief when it opens to the last tab he had opened. Thank you Suguru for not caring about who gets into your shit. You click new tab and start to type in the name of the website you use before you freeze.  

You only need to type in three letters before the website popped up in top hits. You stop breathing. No... He couldn’t know what you do. Is that why he came here? Was he going to expose you to your parents? Was he acting nice to butter you up before crushing you? Your vision starts to blur. All boys watch porn, maybe he just happens to watch porn on the same website you film on. You can block your account from him so that he never finds you. You swallow before clicking the tab. You shakily move they pointer over to the search bar before you spot something in the left corner that makes you dizzy.  

Right where the username of the viewer is supposed to be is the username @Sssman72. Your heart stops and you feel wetness hit your hands. This can’t be real. You move to chat and cry out when you see your username. The last text he sent was asking what happened. No—this is a dream; you’re going to wake up and this is going to be a bad nightmare. You refuse to believe the man you’ve been slowly falling in love with over the last six months is your stepbrother, your bully. The man you confessed all your darkest secrets is the man who never showed you an ounce of kindness. Is this a part of his master plan? Is he going to blackmail you and hold all the nudes you’ve sent him and all the secrets you’ve told him over your head. You’re going to become his slave, doing whatever he wants of you until you die. You curl into yourself and cry harder at the thought.  

“Y/n? What are you do—” Suguru stops when he sees what's on the screen. “Let me explain please baby.” He reaches out to touch your shoulder. You flinch away from his touch.  

“D-don’t call me that,” You sob staring at him with such heartbreak in your eyes he wants to drop and beg for your forgiveness. “You-you, it was you the whole time.” Your voice breaks. 

Suguru nods slowly trying to reach out for you again. You take a few steps away. “Was this some masterplan to hold me under your thumb for the rest of my life!?” You scream at him. 

He’s grateful your parents went out of town; this would be an absolute shitshow if they were here.  

“No babydoll—” 

“I said don’t call me that you asshole! Stop pretending. I hate you Suguru! You win okay, you win!” You tell him before you run out of his room. He curses before running after you, you run up that stairs and into the suite but before you can shut the door Suguru shoves it open. You drop to your knees to pull your suitcase from under your bed. 

“Please listen to me y/n. I wasn’t faking—stop packing and let me explain.” Suguru pleads as he watches you throw your clothes into your suitcase. 

“Y/n, baby, please listen to me please” He grabs your arm, and you try to fight him, but he pulls you down onto the bed with him. He hugs you around the waist and you push in this chest trying to break free. His heart aches. He hates seeing you hurt, he hates that he was the one who made you cry like this. He hates that you only associate him with the version of himself that he created to stop anyone from seeing what he was truly feeling. He hates that you won’t accept the real version of him now that you know it was him. He holds you tighter as you scream and cry. He whispers sweet nothings as you whisper how much you hate him. At some point you stop fighting and wrapping your arms around his neck. You sniffle into his neck, and he rubs your backs and rocks you.  

“Why?” You ask hoarsely after all the anger leaves your body. Now you feel numb, like you're watching your life from a third perspective.   

“I never hated you, I never lied, and I never planned to blackmail you—I know you don’t believe me baby but everything I've ever told you on that app was real. Everything I feel for you is real.”   You pull your face out of his neck and stare up at him. You don’t believe him. 

“I have never hated you y/n. I swear it. I hated the fact that my father replaced my mother with yours not even a year after she died. Baby, I never fucking hated you. I was just a teenager who didn’t know how to express my emotions so I took them out of the person I knew I could hurt the most. It was bad I know; I feel like shit to this day. When I graduated and got away from my father, I realized how bad I was to you, and I got into therapy. I wanted to be better for myself, for you, for everyone around me. I didn’t know that the bullying continued when I left. I didn’t know how bad people had taken it until that day I came back home. When you told me off about it, I was so confused. I’m so fucking sorry. I want to reach out and apologize for everything and the day I planned to do it Satoru—my best friend, you remember him—well he sent me the link to your account and so I made an account and it all just spiralized out of control after that. I was too embarrassed to tell you it was me and then we started to form a connection, a real connection, and I didn’t want our conversations to end so—fuck I'm sorry. Everything I told you; I meant it. I fucking meant every word.”  

You sit there stunned, trying to comprehend everything he said. You never knew about his mother. You thought she had passed away long before your mom and his dad had met. But you remember when your stranger told you that. God, you remember when your not so mystery man told you about his family the seemed so familiar to yours. And he didn’t tell all those people to bully you after he left? Did he mean every word? Every word of affirmation he gave you. Those times when he told you that you were capable of being loved and that you were going to find someone who would love every part of you, the good and bad. Was that the same Suguru? You try to wrap your mind around the fact that the man you love is your stepbrother. 

“I know it’s a lot of information.” 

“It is.” 

“Do you believe me?” He looks at you with furrowed brows. You do. Despite everything you find yourself nodding. He sighs and you feel the tension release from his shoulders that your arms are wrapped around. You suddenly realize the position you two are in and feel your face heat. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your legs are on either side of his thick thighs his cock, the cock that you saw last night, is right underneath you, if you lower yourself an inch, you’d be sitting on it.  

Suguru grips your waist with one hand, the other cupping the right side of your face. You look up at him and sniffle. He leans down until your foreheads are touching.  

“If you give me achance, I'll treat you like the queen you are. I’ll love you the way you’re meant to be loved. One chance is all I ask for.” He mummers rubbing your noses together.  

You hesitate, one part of you wants to run away with him because he’s the man you’ve wanted for the last six months. The other part of you wants to run away from him, he’s your stepbrother, he lied, and you don't know if he would’ve ever told you the truth. But isn’t that what he came here to do? Can you blame a little boy for being mad at the people who replaced his mother?  

You give him his answer by grabbind his neck and push his lips towards you. If this does go to hell at least you’ll have a story to tell your feature children.  

Suguru kisses back before standing and pulling you off him. “What—” 

“You said you wanted me on my knees, didn't you? I’m ready to serve you in any way you want. I can have my savings transferred to your account by tomorrow night.” He says as he drops to his knees. You stare at him with wide eyes as he holds your legs and starts kissing from knee to right where your pussy starts.  

“Suguru—” 

“Shh babydoll let me take care of my girl, show her how sorry I am for hurting her.” He mummers before dropping your leg and picking up the next one. He repeats this a few more times before finally asking you to lift your hips so he can pull your leggings and panties off. Suguru throws your pants behind him before standing up to pull your tank top off. You reach behind to unbuckle your bra and toss it on the floor with your other clothes. Suguru chuckles, reaching up to kiss all over your face. 

“Take your clothes off too Sugu.” You giggle, reaching for his sweatpants. You get a firm grip and yank them down. His thick cock bounces out. Your mouth goes slack. The phone call didn’t do it justice. It somehow looks bigger than before and if you weren’t wet before, you are now. That thing is going to be inside you soon.  

“Like what you see beautiful?” You nod dumbly as you watch Suguru step out of his pants and take his shirt off with one hand. He’s so fucking sexy.  

He drops back down to his knees and pulls you until your ass is hanging off the bed. “Lay down and let me please you.”  You comply and watch as Suguru lifts your legs up and buries his face in your cunt. Your hands fly down to his long shiny hair. 

“Suguru!” You moan as he licks you from asshole to clit. He sucks on your clit before biting both lips. Your pussy clenches. “Feels s’good Sugu!” You grind down on his talented tongue. Suguru hums into your clit before setting one of you thighs in his shoulder and bringing his fingers to your entrance. He teases you, only pushing his fingers into the joint before taking them out. You cry out in frustration before pulling on his long hair when he finally slides two big fingers into you. 

Yours definitely don't compare to his long thick ones. Your back arches off the bed as Suguru fingers jackhammer into you all the while his mouth sucks on your clit.  

“S’good Sugu! Don’t stop!” You scream letting go of hair with one hand to cover your loud mouth.  

“Don’t hide those sweet moans from me babydoll. If you want my cock, you’ll let me hear you scream my name as you cum on my fingers and mouth.” 

You bring you hand back to hair and grind hard as you get closer and closer to orgasm.  

“Gonna cum! M’gonna come!” You cry, as you release all over Suguru's face. He moans and sucks even harder before adding another finger. You cry at the sudden intrusion. It doesn't take long before you’re coming all over again, this time liquid shooting out of you and onto Sugu’s chest.  

“Yes baby, that's it—what a good girl,” He praises as he slurps up all your juices. “Such a fucking good gril f’me.” 

“Gimme a kiss.” You say between heavy breaths.  

“Does the pretty girl want kiss?” You nod, pulling Suguru down with you by the shoulders. 

“Want you to kiss me while you fuck me for the first time. Want it to be special,” You confess shyly. Suguru leans down and pecks you on the forehead, then the nose, and then both of your cheeks. 

“Don’ tease meanie!” You laugh when he kisses the corner of your lips. 

“M’sorry baby, can you forgive me?” He pouts.  

“Hmm—I’ll forgive you only if you kiss me right no—” You don’t even finish your sentence before Suguru shoves his tongue down your throat. You kiss him back and your tongues fight for dominance. Suguru wins and smiles into the kiss. You can’t believe this is happening. Your bully, your stepbrother, your mystery man is kissing you right now. Your about to make love with said man. 

“You okay babydoll?”  

“Mhm, just can’t believe this is all happening.” 

“Me too beautiful, you sure you want to do this right now? We can always wait.” 

“No, I want to. I want you.” You raise your hand to tuck his hair behind his ear. He smiles, showing you that adorable dimple. You kiss it.  

Suguru kisses your lips once more before he grabs his cock, rubbing it up and down your cunt. 

“Fuck—I don’t have a condom.” 

“I’m on the pill—please Sugu.” You beg, frustrated from all this foreplay. You’ve been on edge since last tight in the tub.  

“Alight beautiful,” He pushes the head of his cock into you. “Fuck me—you feel so good. Always knew you would.” You feel his fist guide his long cock into you. You moan. He fits you perfectly.  

“Sugu—feel’s s’good, want more!” You cry, fisting the blanket’s underneath you.  

“Does my baby want more—does she want to orgasm on my cock?” You nod watching Suguru lift your legs to his shoulder. He leans down, bringing your feet to the side of your head. You whine at the stretch. 

Suguru groans as he pulls his cock in and out of you.  

“S’too much!” You moan into his shoulder. He just laughs and picks up his pace. The fancy headboard above the bed starts to slam against the wall. You watch with blurry eyes as the stock photos hung on the wall shake.  

“Said you wanted more baby, ‘m giving you more.”  he says before biting into your neck. Hard. You scream, back arching at the pain. Your hands fist the sheets even tighter, knuckles turning white. Suguru unlatches his jaw. Lifting his head to admire his mark. Now all your customers will know you belong to someone. To him. He kisses the mark. 

“Sugu, It’s too much. Hurts! m’gonna cum!” You cry, tears soaking the blanket breath you. 

“Oh, don't cry baby—shhh—you’re so beautiful y/n. So damn pretty.” He whispers, coaxing you to orgasm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You stop breathing for a second as your pussy contracts around Suguru's cock. Suguru follows in suit, spurting his cum deep inside your pussy. 

“Fuck,” he draws out, collapsing onto you.  

“T-that was—” 

“The best sex ‘ve ever had.” 

“Same.” You smile before wincing. 

“What’s wrong babydoll.”  

“You're about to break my damn hip if you keep my legs up any longer,” Suguru lefts himself enough to bring your legs to his sides. “And you probably ripped a chunk of my neck off with that little trick of yours.” You grumble. 

“It’s not bad, promise.” He kisses the bite mark softly. 

“And all the pictures fell of the wall.”  

“I’ll put ‘em back up baby,” He laughs into your ear. “Just let me hold you for a second.”  He kisses your cheek before snuggling deeper into you. You throw your arms around his shoulder while you both try to wrap your head around everything that happened.  

[daisynik7]

Pairing: Takuma Ino x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: explicit language, mentions of a popular horror movie, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), nipple play, blow job, mask kink, slight degradation (slut, whore), use of pet names (cutie, sweetie, baby) 

Summary: You and your new boyfriend Ino decide to watch a horror movie together in honor of spooky season. Halfway through, he notices how skittish you are, making him want to play a silly prank on you with his signature ski mask. It’s all fun and games until he realizes that you actually like seeing him in this way more than he anticipated. 

Author’s Note: Happy October y'all! What can I say, I am VERY into Takuma Ino right now and I just had to get this out of my system. This is barely edited or proofread, sorry for any grammar mistakes or typos, I really was just letting my fingers fly through this in a moment of passion LOL. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune. 

You turn off all the lights, the only source of illumination coming from the TV screen, paused at the very start of the movie you decided to watch tonight. With a big bowl of freshly popped kernels in your grasp, you huddle beside your boyfriend, Ino, on the couch, covering both your legs with a fleece blanket. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in closer, reaching to grab a handful of popcorn to stuff inside his mouth. “Ready?” he muffles, pointing the remote to the screen, finger pressed to the center button. 

Nuzzling your head against him, you answer. “Yup!”

It’s apparently one of those cult classic horror flicks according to Ino, who recommended it when you mentioned how you wanted to watch something scary for October. He’s seen it before, many times in fact, but he insists that you watch it. He has no clue how frightened you get over the silliest things, so tonight will be a treat for the both of you. 

The opening scene plays out: a beautiful blonde picks up the phone and the conversation ends quickly short because it’s the wrong number. Normal so far, good. It rings again, but now the caller seems interested in talking. Do you like scary movies? Do you have a boyfriend? The man’s voice gives you the creeps, and you find yourself shuddering from it, cuddling closer to Ino, who glances at you with a smirk on his face. 

You never told me your name.

Why do you want to know my name?

Because I want to know who I’m looking at.

This line gives you goosebumps and you lift the blankets up to hide behind it. “Ew, creepy!” Ino only laughs, throwing a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth. 

It escalates from here, getting increasingly chaotic and violent. By the time you’re halfway into the film, the bowl is down to its last kernels and you’re crouched in Ino’s lap, peeking through your fingers. He pauses the movie after one particularly brutal kill. “Snack break! I’m going to make some more popcorn and go pee.”

“You’re leaving?!” you whine, clinging on to him as he tries to get up.

He chuckles. “Babe! It’s just a movie. I’ll be right back, okay?” He kisses you on the forehead, heading into the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. 

Of course it’s just a movie, but you can’t help feeling creeped out in the dark like this. You reach for one of the nightstands, turning on the lamp. You hear the drone of the microwave, and after a minute or so, the distinct sound of popping. Eventually, it comes to a stop, and the entire house is eerily quiet. You’re tempted to call out for Ino, wondering where he is, but you remember that he had to use the bathroom. 

Suddenly, a shadowy figure appears right behind on you on the couch, grabbing your shoulders and shouting gibberish at you. You scream bloody murder, ready to punch him and run away when Ino lifts his ski mask up to reveal himself, tears streaming down his face, cracking up at you. 

“Ino!” you yell at him, slapping his hands away from you. “You fucking asshole!”

He doubles over, cackling, wiping his eyes. It takes a good while for him to regain his composure as you glare at him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I just couldn’t resist.” He sits beside you, stretching his arms out for a hug. “You have to admit, that was fucking hilarious.”

You shake your head, refusing. “You’re such a dick.”

“Oh, come on! It was just a little prank. Now you’ll be way more prepared for the rest of the movie!” He pulls the mask over his face again, everything covered except the holes for his eyes. “See? Not so scary anymore, right?”

You inspect him carefully, still pouting, not saying a word.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Truly. I promise not to scare you again.” He scoots towards you, nudging you in the arm. 

You roll your eyes at him, relaxing. “Fine.”

“Can I get a kiss now?” 

He tries to lift his mask up, but you stop him, pulling it back down. “I don’t want to see your face right now. I’m still annoyed, you know.”

“Aw man! Really?”

You hoist it just past his nose, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the lips. When you break apart, he smirks at you. “You like this, don’t you? Seeing me with my mask on.”

You shrug, a sly grin on your face, neither confirming nor denying his accusation. Sure, you were a bit upset at first, when he scared the shit out of you. But seeing his face covered like that may have sparked a desire in you that you never knew you had, until now. 

“Oh my god! You do, you do!” he exclaims, shaking your arm. “My cutie has a mask kink!”

“Shut up, asshole!” you yell at him, pretending to shove him off, smiling. 

“You’re a fucking freak!” he giggles, pouncing on you. He starts tickling you along your ribcage, causing you to squirm beneath him as he straddles you, trapping you between his legs. His fingers flutter under your arms, stroking your sensitive skin.

“Ino!” you cry out, laughing from the sensation. 

You can feel his cock growing hard in his pants, balls heavy on your stomach. Suddenly, he stops, mask still folded to expose his lips, leaning down to kiss you sloppily. He pins your hands above your head, locking his fingers with yours. He slips inside your mouth, grazing your tongue with his, hungry for your saliva. “Fuck,” he moans into you, nipping at your bottom lip. “You like this freaky shit, don’t you? Nasty slut.” His playful tone is laden with lust now, low and sultry, mouth brushing along your neck, sucking at your pulse points to mark you. 

You whine his name, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding yourself against him. 

“Look at you, getting so fucking dumb all because of my mask,” he purrs. “What else turns you on, cutie? Tell me.”

Without thinking, you blurt out, “Spit. Your spit. I want it.”

“Oh shit,” he swears, licking his mouth. He traces the outline of your lips, beckoning you to open up, dribbling a thick wad of saliva inside you. You gulp it down, sticking your tongue out for more. 

“Oh fuck, you’re nasty,” he says, doing it again. “Makes me so fucking horny seeing you like this. Seeing my cutie act like a fucking whore.” He slips beneath your shirt, fondling your bare breasts, flicking your peaked nipples with his thumbs. 

“Fuck, Ino,” you whisper, pussy throbbing in your panties, arousal leaking through the fabric. 

“You like it when I play with your tits, huh?” Like it when I pinch them hard like this.” He squeezes them between his thumb and index finger, enough pressure to stimulate you, making you moan his name again and again.

He swears under his breath, shoving his pants down his legs, shimmying out of them until he’s only in his underwear now, erection stiff in his boxers. “You gonna suck my cock now or what, slut?” 

You nod, kneeling in front of him, knees on the carpet, spreading his thighs apart. He lifts his ass off the couch to slide out of his boxers, letting them fall around his ankles. You kiss the tip of his dick, smearing his precum around your lips like gloss before swallowing him into your mouth. 

He lets out a drawn out, “Fuck,” watching you with wide eyes as you bob up and down his shaft. Voice shaky, he asks, “Can I put my hands on you?”

Something about him in this ski mask makes you want to be submissive, makes you want to be used. You grab both his hands, guiding them towards the sides of your head, giving him free rein to manhandle you.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, gripping you tighter, gradually thrusting his hips in tandem with you. His cockhead hits the back of your throat, teasing your gag reflex, but you resist, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes, enduring it. 

Noticing you, he pulls out, a string of spit between you. “Baby, baby. Please don’t force yourself. I don’t want to hurt you.” He reaches to his side, grabbing a tissue from the table beside the couch, wiping away the spit around your mouth and the tears in your eyes. “Come here, cutie. I want to make you feel good too.”

You strip out of your bottoms, straddling his lap, pussy wet and aching against him. He moans as you rock back and forth on his shaft, pressing his thumb to your clit, massaging it. “There we go. Now we both can feel good, yeah?”

After a few more strokes, you beg him to fuck you, lifting up to guide his cock inside you slowly, sinking down on him until he bottoms out. You bounce on him, his hands gripped to your waist, guiding you, moaning your name between expletives. 

As you approach your orgasm, you pull up his mask, placing it on his head as he usually wears it. He smiles brightly at you, nuzzling his nose to yours. “There’s my pretty girl. Can you come for me now? Come all over this cock?”

You kiss him passionately, arms wrapped around his neck as he thrusts into you, hands squeezed on your ass now. You reach your climax, moaning into his mouth. He comes with you, shooting his load deep into your womb, filling you up with his cream pie. The two of you continue to kiss slowly, catching your breaths. He caresses your back while you melt into his embrace. 

“We need to establish a safe word,” he suggests, cradling you in his arms. “I want to make sure I’m not hurting you.”

You hum into his skin, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Popcorn."

He chuckles, stroking the back of your neck gently. “Alright. Popcorn it is.” A beat later, he exclaims, “Popcorn! I totally forgot about the popcorn!”

You laugh, giving your boyfriend a wet smooch on the cheek.

[onelittlespiral]

Hey dude, I'm just a lil bro looking for a big bro to take care of me in all sorts of ways but all I'm stuck with is my lousy nerd of a roommate. Could you help me out?

FML: Fraternize

My roommate was… chill all things considered. I don’t know, he was just the random guy that I got stuck with when all my bros decided to move into the house and I needed someone to take the lease with. Scruffy, for sure. A bit out of shape. He said he used to play soccer in high school. Cute, but that was about it. Nowadays he was just getting his degree in English. Just a guy. But I didn’t want just another guy.

I tried to be friends with the guy, but he always just blew me and my boys off. He would just say he was too busy studying or playing some video game to come out to the gym with us or hang at the frat. I finally decided I was fed up. I needed my roommate to be more than a rando in my house. I needed a bro. And the fraternity had some resources to make that happen.

They usually keep this kinda stuff for pledges who start stepping out of line, but my buddy slipped me the files that they show to help guys get in line. I don’t remember if I ever saw them myself… what ever. It was a series of videos that promised to turn any guy into a bro in no time flat. So, one night, I put the tapes on when my roommate was home:

“Hey man, I’ve gotta watch these for class, mind if I slip them on?”

“No problem, I’ll just hang out in my bedroom.”

“Actually, it may be something you would like. You should stay. Here, you chill here and I’ll listen while I cook. I’ll make enough to split.”

I turned the first tape on and went to cook up some chicken and rice. In the other room, I heard the video beginning. It wasn’t long before I started hearing my roommate responding to the commands:

You are loyal to your bros.

“I am loyal to my bros.”

When you are around them you feel relaxed.

“When I am around them I feel relaxed”

The gym feels like your second home.

“The gym feels like my second home.”

The frat is life. You are made to be loyal to the frat.

“I am made to be loyal to the frat.”

They kept pushing him in the background while I finished cooking some food. When I walked back into the room, static filled the screen as my roommate stared into space, drool dripping from his mouth. I turned of the TV and he seemed to come to his senses.

“Hey, sup bro? Got the fuel?”

Already he was much better, “Yeah man, chicken and rice.”

“Hell yeah, gotta get a good workout in before getting my homework done.”

We ate quickly and started getting ready for the gym.

“Hey, bro, you think they are still taking new pledges? I’ve been meaning to apply to your frat!”

I was shocked at how quick the progress had been, “Yeah man. I’ll hook you up with my peeps tomorrow.”

“Sweet, let me finish getting ready and we can go.”

Dang those videos were quick. Even the way he carried himself was so different. This is the bro I needed.

The week went on and we kept working out. I hooked my roommate up with the pledge master and he quickly started falling in with the bros. We worked out, partied, did almost everything together now. I gave the rest of the tapes back to my guy who gave them to me. He said he needed them for a few guys who had gotten a little hands-y with some girls at the last party. I was fine to get them back, I didn’t think there would be any more issues with my roommate.

The year flew by until it was time for spring break. I had opted to be my roommate’s big and done all the usual hazing and shit with him. Had to keep him on his A game, I wasn’t going to go east on him. The spring break frat trip was a rite of passage for the incoming pledges. As much as I wanted to go, I had plans to visit California with my partner. We were having a great time, chilling at the beach, shopping through souvenir stores, and hiking parks. But I made sure to get updates about how my roommate was enjoying his week. It was from one of these progress reports that I got word from the pledge master:

Hey, bro. Just letting you know. Your little bro was making some girls uncomfortable at the bar. Can’t have that causing issues for the frat.

Shit man. I’m sorry. Lemme talk to him.

Nah dude, it’s good. We have a protocol for these kinds things. Just letting you know so you aren’t surprised. We’ll make sure he won’t bother any girls again.

Thanks dude. Lemme know if you need anything.

Nah bruh, relax. Enjoy your vacay.

Well as long as they have shit handled. I went back to my vacation and forgot about the whole situation. I would give him crap for it when I got back. The rest of our trip was great. I didn’t hear anything more from my bros so I assumed it all went according to plan. I was eager to get back to my roommate and prep him for full brotherhood when I got back. It wasn’t till I walked into the apartment I knew something was awry:

“Sup, bro, welcome back.”

A deep voice echoed from the balcony. He stepped inside and was greeted by a stranger. His arms were as thick as a football, his legs as thick as tree trunks. The smell of sweat, sex, and stale beer followed him into the room. He had a fresh tattoo on his arm with the number 86 boldly displayed. The stranger walked with swagger up to me, like he owned the place. As he approached, his musk only grew more intense. It wasn’t until I noticed the glasses it all clicked into place:

“Bro… is that you?!?”

“Bruh, who else would it be?”

My roommate stood proudly in front of me. He had been going to the gym steadily but no amount of protein powder could explain the progress he had made in a week. He was also easily 3 inches taller. And the smell. I don’t know how to describe it but he smelled… virile. Like just being around him was starting to get me excited. He certainly had never been like this before.

“Looking good, right? Like the new tat? Year of our chapter’s founding, 1986. After all, I am made to be loyal to the frat.”

That line made it all click together. The tapes. They said they would handle the situation, I didn’t know they would use the tapes.

”Speaking of which, dude. I can’t believe you flaked on the frat and went on a trip with your partner. You’ve got to be loyal to your bros.”

His scent, his words, my mind was swimming in a way it hadn’t in a long time. He stepped towards me, grabbing my head. I was pulled into his pit. I tried to pull back but a hand on the back of my head held me firmly in place. I felt so aroused and so scared as I was forced to huff the scent of pure frat bro. I was… fading. I couldn’t… resist… my… my… bruhhhhh.

“I think that you should sit through the next set with me bro.”

My mind was blank as he told me to sit down on the couch. Of course, I would do anything for my frat bro. He put on a video and sat behind me.

“They said we could watch this one together.”

The video whirled to life as my roommate held me in place in his lap. A flash of color and a brief intro played. It explained that it was the last in a series of videos for brothers who were trouble makers in the frat. This last one was the most extreme. I felt a wave of guilt, knowing I had betrayed my brothers and the chapter. I wasn’t sure what I did but I knew it must be bad. My behavior had to change.

You will conform to the standard set by the frat, whatever it takes. You will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood.

“I will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood,” we both repeated, in unison.

Good. Since you have proven you can’t be trusted with making good decisions, your brothers have decided to make those for you. You will become the ultimate frat bro.

“I will become the ultimate frat bro.”

Let’s start on the outside. A brother works out daily, at least. Strong muscles make for a strong foundation.

As I repeated the words, they became my reality. I had certainly never been a scrawny guy before, but this was something else. My muscles convulsed all at once, then seemed to shred and burst. My muscles ached as pecs, biceps, abs all were pulled out of my body. I sweat under the effort as legs bloated and toned, bloated and toned. My back stretched out and shoulders mounded on muscle.

Good bro. Now, a brother should be cocky, with a cock to match. All the other fraternities should know how superior we are.

‘Shiiit, no other frat could even come close. We threw the best parties, had the hottest girls and… fuck the hottest guys. With a bod like this, just about no body could resist.’ As those thoughts echoed in my head, there was a sharp pain in my balls as they started to swell. My cock snaked down my shorts, throbbing with newfound power and size. A moan escaped my mouth as my cock swelled thick as a beer can. Anyone would beg for a cock like this.

A frat bro with a cock like that just needs to fuck. Your libido keeps your mind so full that you hardly have time to pass your business classes.

My swollen balls began to churn as my cock came to life. As my mind was thrust into a deep sexual haze, any aspirations I had on my pre-law track were pushed out, draining right to my balls and slowly leaking out my cock. At the same time, I felt my roommate begin to shift behind me. I felt his cock press against the small of my back, throbbing as it was thrust into overdrive. He began slowly humping against my back, and I leaned back against that massive cock. I wanted to help my bro however I could. He wrapped his arms around me and slowly started jacking me off. My mind was in pure bliss as I was kicked into overdrive. His arms felt so warm and strong, and he was pushing all my buttons till I was thrusting into his hands.

The frat is a part of you. You live, breath, and sweat the frat. Everyone who meets you will know exactly what you’re about and submit to you, an alpha bro. You put the reek in Greek.

My mind processed for a second until the smell hit me from behind and I understood. My hormones shifted as sweat poured out. It was hard work being a fraternity brother, and everyone would know that. I worked overtime as the smell of straight frat filled my nostrils. The apartment changed in response, filled with leftover beers, used tank tops, and soaked underwear. Anyone who entered would fall into an immediate haze, the smell of bros clouding their mind. My mind was… so… slow. Just… needed… FUCK.

You will keep it simple, keep it stupid.

“I will keep it simple, keep it stupid.”

My head felt like it was filled with fluff. No thoughts, just instinct.

You will listen to your pledge master, follow all he says.

“I will listen to my pledge master, follow all he says.”

It was so much easier to just trust my bros. Whatever they said went.

You will live for and serve your bros, live for and serve the frat.

“I will live for and serve my bros and the frat.”

I would do anything for my bros. Gotta keep ‘em happy.

The frat is life.

“The frat is life.”

My roommate’s cock was still rock hard behind me. His grip was edging me as moaned for release. I could dedicate my life to men like him.

Thank you for your cooperation. There will be no further issues. Now cum.

And I did. Ropes shot across the floor as all the changes were set in stone. I was just another frat dude, struggling through Business classes and fucking through the night.

And with that the video ended. It took a sec for me to regain my senses. I slowly refocused my eyes and… fuck bruh my head is pounding. Musta partied too hard last night. Shit, I was drooling all over myself, lol. I mean, I’m hot but not that hot. And fuck, I made a mess. Bro, what happened? It’s already late, I’ve got to get ready to go out tonight.

I was going to throw on a polo and some shorts when my roommate put a hand on my shoulder. This man must’ve got a double dose of whatever I got. Bro, he was on another fucking level. He pulled me in tight, cupped my ass in his hands, held my chin, and slid his tongue in my mouth. All at once, my world shifted as the fraternity’s motto rang in my head, I will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood. An aching in my balls told me that I wasn’t going to make it out tonight. I had my frat bro… no, my big bro right here. And he will take care of his little bro. He pulled down his sweatpants and a thick rod popped out from the waistband. He gently guided me to his cock, the true source of his musk. Our scents mingled as my thoughts were consumed by sex. The salty taste of pre coated my tongue as the tip slid down the back of my throat. My mind faded as the smell of the frat filled my nostrils. I was lost in bliss as my bro started pumping, pumping down my throat. Gone was the nerdy roommate I had:

There was nothing left but frat bro.

[waywardxrhea]

Jealousy: a Bucky Barnes one-shot

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 3k

You are working with Bucky, Sam, and Zemo to get intel on the Power Broker when the night takes an unexpected turn...

content warnings: minors DNI (18+) - smut (semi-public, oral - male receiving, fingering), PWP, jealousy, groping, drinking, language, name calling (slut - not by Bucky), some violence.

“You can come out now,” Helmut Zemo called to you through the bathroom door of his private jet you were currently holed up in after getting ready for an evening of espionage. 

“I feel weird…” you muttered, looking at yourself in the mirror. 

Sam, Bucky, Zemo, and you were getting ready for an intel gathering mission and this time it was your turn to gather intel. Why that meant you had to have your tits nearly falling out of the dress Zemo picked out, you didn’t know, but you were so close to getting the break you needed you would do nearly anything to get answers.

“Everyone feels weird at these things. The dresses are uncomfortable but when you’re somewhere looking at art you need to look like art yourself,” he told you. 

“Fine,” you sighed, giving yourself one more once over as the plane started to descend. 

On anyone else you would have said the dress was gorgeous. It flowed like a river when you walked, it was sparkly enough to be seen from space, and the combination of the low cut neckline and the slit in the leg was enough to make the devil himself blush. It just wasn’t you. Ever since you became an agent for SHIELD, the CIA, and now freelancing with this band of misfits, you’d grown accustomed to wearing pants and tactical gear and in your downtime it was leggings and chunky sweaters. Nothing even the slightest bit revealing.

So when you exited the bathroom you couldn’t help the blush that creeped up your neck as Sam gave a low whistle from where he stood in his steel blue pressed tux, saying, “Man you’re looking good!”

“Can it,” you told him, rolling your eyes and shoving your hands into the pockets of the dress. That part at least Zemo took your advice on when designing the dress which you guessed you were grateful for…

“I told you you’d look beautiful,” Zemo said. “A thank you would be nice.”

“Thank you,” you told him with a sarcastic smile, turning away and rolling your eyes. 

As you turned away, Bucky emerged into the main area of the plane, adjusting his tie and giving you a once over. “I think you’ve made him speechless,” Sam said teasingly, nudging Bucky in the ribs after he didn’t say anything for a few seconds. 

Sam had always teased the two of you because he knew you liked Bucky but you’d just never made a move. He’s got bigger things to worry about than me, you’d always told yourself. Besides, he’s on those dating apps and all, so that’s proof he isn’t interested, not in you... 

“No time for puppy eyes, we’re here,” Zemo said as the plane touched down. “Does everyone remember the plan?”

“Yes,” you replied. “I go in first and blend in for a while. Admire the art, catch the attention of the target, chat him up for a bit. Once I get what we need on the Power Broker I’ll excuse myself to the restroom and we make a break for it.”

“Correct,” he told you with a nod. 

“The three of us will go in separately and pretend to look at the art while making sure things don’t go sideways,” Sam added. 

“Right again. What is the code word for if you become compromised?”

“Champagne,” you told him instantly. Now this was the stuff you were built for.

“Are we ready?” Zemo asked as the group approached the door to the jet.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said, making your way to the door and carefully picking your way down the steps to head into the party. 

“Don’t strut or anything,” Sam told you teasingly as he watched you feign confidence on your way in. 

“Shut up, I don’t strut,” you snapped. 

“You do tend to strut when you’re in heels,” Zemo said. 

“Okay let’s not focus on my walk you guys!” you said before approaching the door to the art show. 

“Here, let me get that for you ma’am,” a suited man said, opening the door for you with a smile and a wink. 

You gave him a smug raise of your eyebrows in return as you walked through the door, narrowly missing the hand that was outstretched, no doubt trying to cop a feel. “I feel gross…” you mumbled as you walked further in, grabbing a glass of champagne from a tray nearby. 

While looking around, something caught your eye so you made my way to an art piece that you had only ever seen in textbooks. It was beautiful… A man slid up next to you to admire the piece as well, and casually asked, “You like it? It’s one of a kind.”

“It’s wonderful, I didn’t know this piece was even on the market!” you said, wonder in your eyes over the art in front of you.

“Maybe it could be yours if you give me something in exchange,” the man said suggestively, making you throw up a little in your mouth. 

You turned to see who the man was and saw that it was the target. Like some miracle he had walked up to you, but you weren’t about to take it for granted. So as much as it pained you to do it, you reached over to his arm and brushed your fingers over it and asked in your most innocently seductive voice, “And what may that be?”

“All right we’re all in, if this guy goes too far, say something and we’ll come get you,” Sam told you through the earpiece as he casually made his way over to the nearby bar. 

While he said this, you and the man made your way over to the VIP area where you two sat down on a couch and were served drinks of your choice. He glanced down at your breasts quickly before asking, “So what’s your name darlin? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

You giggled and put on the charm as you walked two fingers up his chest, telling him, “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

“That I would,” he replied, placing a hand on the bare portion of your thigh. He snaked his other arm around your back and rested his hand on your ass, pulling you close. “A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have to attend these events alone.”

“Play your cards right and I could be your plus one from now on…” you told him, the corners of your lips turning up in a small smile. 

The next half hour felt like forever as you pushed for more drinks for your pleasant company and innocently sweet talked your way into the answers you needed. When you felt like you had enough intel to make our next move, you sweetly told him, “I’m so sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me, I need to go to the girls’ room. These drinks went right through me!”

“I’ll be here when you get back sweetheart,” he told you with a smile as you got up, grabbing your ass once more when you stood. 

As you turned the corner to make it seem convincing that you were actually looking for the restroom, you suddenly felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you toward them. You just about took them out before realizing that it was just Bucky. “What the hell, Buck?” you asked, taken aback. 

He put his finger to his ear, turning off his coms before whispering sharply, “Why’d you let him touch you like that?”

“W-what?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“We’re getting out of here, you two need to get out before we’re compromised,” Zemo told you over the coms. 

“Be there in a minute,” you told him before turning your own off, following Bucky’s actions. Getting back to his question, you said, “I did what I had to do to get answers. Why do you care?”

“Because no one should be touching you like that,” he replied, looking deep into your eyes. 

You laughed a bit before asking sarcastically, “Oh yeah because it should be you right?”

What happened next shocked you to the core. Because Bucky, the man who had stolen your heart, said, “Yes,” before crashing his lips down onto yours, pinning you against the wall hard. A million thoughts ran through your mind and your head spun as you tried to process what was happening all while sinking into his soft lips. 

“Bucky…” you whispered between kisses as he held you close. Never breaking the makeout session, he felt around for any door handle he could find before pulling you into whatever room it revealed. 

Once the pair of you were in the room, he hiked you up onto the counter before resting his forehead on yours, saying, “It killed me seeing that bastard touching you like that. I wanted it to be me.”

With your senses finally kicked in after the shock of the kiss, you shook your head and whispered, “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that because of how I look right now. If we were back at the hotel and I was in my leggings and sweater you’d just look the other way…”

“No,” he said as he looked deep into your eyes, pulling away and taking your hand in his. “This is something that’s been on my mind for a while, but I never had the courage to say it until now. I thought I could push away my feelings in order to not compromise our friendship and partnership but… I wanted to kill that guy for touching you like that.”

You opened your mouth to say something in response, but nothing came out. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into another kiss. When you got back to it, your hands wandered each other's bodies desperately, Bucky’s metal hand slipping under your dress to cup your breast and mess with your sensitive nipple. You gasped at the cool touch and he took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. 

As you ran one hand through his hair, he slowly slid his right hand down to your thighs, not moving any further than there without permission. Not even caring how dirty it made you feel to do so, at the touch you spread your legs for him and pulled away for a moment to whisper, “Please touch me…”

“As you wish,” he whispered, taking no time at all to begin toying with your swollen clit. He nipped at your earlobe before mumbling, “God you’re so wet.”

“That’s because you drive me crazy,” you admitted. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this…”

“Oh yeah?” he asked while gently pushing two fingers in and feeling around for that special spot inside. 

“Oh God yes,” you whimpered, your head rolling back as he found what he was looking for. No one had touched you like this in so long and it just felt so good and so…right with it being him. 

He added his thumb to the mix, rubbing your clit while his fingers worked their magic and you had to bite your knuckle to keep from screaming, it felt so good. Seeing your reaction, Bucky smirked and started kissing your neck, telling you between kisses, “I guess we shoulda talked about it because I’ve been dreaming of this for a while. First chance I get after tonight, I’m fuckin’ you into oblivion, doll.”

Those words were all it took to bring you impossibly closer to the edge. The idea of Bucky doing unspeakable things to you made everything that much better and you could feel yourself shaking as you approached your high. “Bucky…” you whispered shakily. 

Bucky stood there just admiring you as he picked up the pace of his fingers inside your sensitive cunt. He gave you a sideways smile before whispering, “God, just look at you. You’re so beautiful. Those little gasps and whimpers all for me? That’s enough to make me wanna go all night,” he said, making you even weaker in the knees. Your head rolled back and your breathing started to become uneven as he worked his magic inside, the pace somehow getting more vigorous the closer he brought you to release. The smirk was audible in his voice as he added, “Come on doll, I can tell you’re close, just cum for me.” 

And just like that with a few more strokes of his fingers you were experiencing the most intense orgasm you had in years. “Oh my God, fuck…” you moaned before he captured your lips on his own once more while you rode it out on his fingers which continued to pump in and out lazily as you clenched around them. 

“I think I can get used to that sound,” he told you with a smile once he pulled back from your kiss. 

You couldn’t help the school-girl-like giggle that escaped your lips before you got serious again, kissing him after jumping off the countertop. You spun the two of you around and pinned him to the counter this time, your fingers trailing their way down to his belt and messing with the buckle waiting for permission. “You don’t gotta do anything for me right now, the others are waiting. I’m sure they’re getting worried,” he told you.

“I think for once you need to put yourself before others,” you whispered, ghosting your fingers over the prominent tent in his slacks. 

He chuckled before giving in, saying, “Make it quick.”

“Oh trust me I can do that,” you told him with a wink before undoing his belt buckle and letting his slacks fall to his ankles. You toyed with the waistband of his underwear for a moment before pulling them down as you sank onto your knees in front of him. 

As you kissed the swollen tip of his penis he sucked in air through his teeth, telling you, “Don’t be a tease.” You giggled and ran one finger on the underside of his cock, the vein pulsing beneath your touch, and that had him like putty in your hands and asking, “Please?”

With that final almost whimper of a please from the man standing above you, you took his impressive length in your mouth. You got as far back as you could before beginning to bob your head, his right hand gently resting in your hair to guide you while his left had a death grip on the counter behind him. 

When you hollowed out your cheeks, Bucky’s knees almost buckled and he tightened his grip on your hair. At this you pulled back and teased his head with your tongue before going back in. The way his breath hitched in his throat and the way he started moving his hips showed he was losing the restraint he had on himself meaning that he was close, so you used your hand to work what you couldn’t with your mouth and that’s exactly when he lost it. 

He had never felt anything like the feeling he was experiencing right now as he gently thrust his hips forward, relishing in the feeling of pure pleasure he was getting from your mouth. “Fuckin’ hell!” he groaned as he came to his high, his warm release filling your mouth while his grip on the counter tightened, his metal hand breaking the marble in the process. 

Coming back up to eye level with him after he finished, you smirked before telling him, “Quiet down Sergeant, you don’t want anyone to catch us, do you?”

“Oh next time you’ll be regretting that, doll,” he growled playfully before pulling his clothes back up while you fixed your makeup with what you brought in your pockets. As you fixed your hair too, he looked at you in the mirror and said, “Really though, that was nice. Something I’ve been wanting for a while.”

“Me too,” you replied, kissing him tenderly once you looked presentable again. 

After you and Bucky got yourselves calmed down from all the excitement you headed back out to the party so you could go back to the jet. As Bucky adjusted his belt while the pair of you exited the room, you noticed the man from earlier was standing down the hall talking with someone. He seemed to notice Bucky adjusting his belt and that goofy smile on his face so he rolled his eyes and shoved past you, muttering, “Slut.” 

“What did you just call her?” Bucky asked, sudden white hot rage filling his whole body. 

“I called her what she is, a slut!” the man spat loudly.

 And that was all it took for Bucky to wind back and punch the man in the face, taking care to use his metal arm to do so. Once the man was on the ground, Bucky took the man’s collar in his hand, yanking him up and growling, “Don’t you ever talk about a woman like that again. Got it?” 

“Got it!” the man whimpered as Bucky threw him back down on the ground. 

With that settled, you two left the party and got back to the jet, walking hand in hand. Sam took one look at you and told Zemo, “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“We don’t know that!” Zemo retorted defensively. 

“Oh don’t we now?” Sam asked with a laugh. He turned his attention to the pair of you and asked, “Did you or did you not go MIA so you could have sex?”

“I- What- We-” you tried to say, stumbling over your words as your face heated up. 

Bucky rolled his eyes and chuckled before saying, “Whichever one bet that we had sex lost.”

“I told you!” Zemo shouted victoriously. 

“But did you at least do something?” Sam asked, fishing in his wallet for a twenty. 

“That’s for us to know and you to not find out,” Bucky replied, kissing your knuckles before leading you to a seat on the plane where you could rest your feet for the flight. As you sat down and relaxed into Bucky’s strong embrace, you had a feeling that tonight was the first of many pleasurable nights to come. 

a/n: so this is my first one shot on tumblr! I wrote this one night when I just couldn't get Bucky out of my head, I hope y'all enjoy!

and if you don't follow me or know my account, feel free to check out my Steve Rogers long fic here!

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#375

“Hey shithead, get over here.  I got some news….  You look like shit.  Come here.  Kneel.  Reach in and take out my dick.  I’ve got to take a piss.  Drink up and listen.  A buyer put in an offer, and it was accepted.  You’ve been sold.  I wasn’t expecting for a chunky slave to sell after only one day of showing, but that big truck driver made a full offer.  He’ll be back later on tonight.  He made some demands….

“He wants you cleaned up on the outside and loaded up with loads from many men on the inside.  I’ll bring the hose around in a bit.  Sir Hank will be down in a bit to bring you some soap.  He’s also going to make that cage permanent, by riveting it on.  Your dick will be useless going forward.

“Do you remember how many men unloaded in your cunt so far this morning?...  Four?  Good.  Hank and I will each provide one.  With you off the market, it’ll be difficult to get men in here just for a fuck. 

“I called a buddy.  You’re not his type, but he’ll bring his slave and fuck him instead.  When he’s ready to nut he’ll just shove it into you.  Or maybe he’ll use a condom with his own slave and then squeeze the load into you.

“Oh wait a minute….  Let me see….  There’s one…  two….  There are a couple of used condoms in the trash can here.

“Bend over and lean against the wall.  Present your cunt.  I have no idea how long these loads have been here, whose load is in them, or even if they were used on you or the slave that was in here last.  You are getting their spooge contents now….  Damn, you have one hell of a gape, which should make the squeezing in of the loads easy. 

“That truck driver has one of the biggest dicks I have ever seen.  He’s great to work with.  Prompt payments.  And most of all he seems to want the fat slaves, or the weird ones.  He’s an intermediary for several buyers out west.  You’ll probably end up on this pig farm where you will be force fed until you bulk up, and then installed in a pig pen with other real pigs.  Castration is most likely.  Not just the balls but your shaft too.

“There, both loads are in you….  Oh, I missed this condom here….  I didn’t realize that our clients used so many rubbers.  I guess it makes sense. 

“The other possible buyer that trucker uses is in Oregon.  He’s one of those militia types, but one who likes fat fags chained up in his basement.  Don’t know that much about him other than he’s a sadistic bastard.

“There!  Three anonymous loads in your cunt.  Get ready, this will probably be my last time for me to breed you. 

“Jesus!  He stretched you out.  All these loads are making this one loose sloppy hole….  This isn’t going to work.  Clamp down then spin around.

“Get me off with your toilet mouth….  You look grossed out.  That’s the cum stew from your cunt.  Clean me off before you get me off.

“That’s it.  Don’t fucking gag.  This is your life now.  Good boy.  You are an ass eating, piss drinking, cum dump slave.  Whoever you wind up with, they are going to do way worse nasty stuff to you.  This is what you do.  This is what you are.

“I’m going to miss your tongue.  That’s what made you sellable.  Does it ever feel good on my dick!  Work it!  Fuck!  I’m going to cum in no time.  Keep licking my balls when I go in deep.  When I tell you, spin around so I can dump in your cunt.

“I wish all slaves could have a tongue like yours.  When you eat my shitter, it really makes my hole quiver.  I don’t know what you do back there, but man does it feel good.  You always gave me your eagerness to please, and you do so no matter how shitty you were being treated.  That’s so hard to find in slaves. 

“I’m getting close.  I’m getting close.  Now! Give me that cunt!

“Urg! Uh! Uh! Ahhh! Jesus! Fuck!  Damn slave.  I gave you a large load to add to the stew you have brewing….

“Clamp down then clean me off….  There you go.  Fuck that was hot.  There’s some sludge in my pubes; get that….  I have to piss again.

“Ahhh!  When I’m done stand up….

“…Slave, I am going to miss you.  You know, if we were in a different situation, I would put you on a diet and a rigorous exercise regimen.  I would have you as my boy. 

“Don’t tell anybody what I’m about to do.  Don’t pull away; I want to kiss you…. 

“…Like that.  Now you treat your new owners the way you have treated me.  If you are lucky, they won’t torture you too much.  I wish you the best.”

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Meguru Bachira x reader [ SYNOPSIS ] You're Bachira's good luck charm. idk there's no plot, don't think too hard about it. [ WORD COUNT ] 1.6k [ CONTENT ] Aged up!Bachira, he went pro (ayyyy), knife play, blood play, sadomasochism, praise, marking, scars, y/n is kinda needy (but so is he), vaginal sex, size kink (I believe in big dick Bachira), teasing, nipple play, overstimulation, pet names (baby), creampie.

You hated away games, loathed them. They were an inevitable occurrence, something you should have grown used to over time. But still the night before every flight you spiraled, lamenting that you couldn’t follow Bachira around. It wasn’t because you were insecure or lacked trust; you just hated sleeping alone. There was nothing more disappointing than rolling over in bed at three in the morning, reaching for him, and then remembering, Ah, yeah. He’s in Sapporo. You had always assumed you’d build up a callus, one to protect you from the melancholy known to overwhelm you on those lonely nights.

Unfortunately every away game was a wound reopened.

In six hours Bachira would be flying first class to Fukuoka, sleeping with his face pressed against the window. His team’s manager was less than enthused with this arrangement. He thought it was ridiculous to spend an extra day at home and fly out the day of the game, but denying the left back was easier said than done. Bachira’s beguiling whimsy and immense talent rendered most people under his spell. The world was effectively his for the taking, his manager no different.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you  sighed.

You tried to ignore the looming dread that hung around you, but it was nigh impossible while straddling him. He fluttered his long, dark eyelashes and looked up, leaving you bewitched by his golden gaze. It radiated a fervent adoration no other man was capable of. He was artful in his mastery, his affection unmatched.

“I know,” he said, pinching your cheek.

You batted his hand away. 

“You sure you don’t want to get some rest? I’ll feel moderately guilty if you fuck up tomorrow.”

“Stop,” he whined. “I’ll be fine. It’s a short flight and it’s not like I’m gonna be playing the second I get there.”

He would be fine, he always was. He had his ways; the absurd things he did in the name of good luck never failed him. So you surrendered yourself and bought into his vision like you had many times before. There was nothing to worry about, all you needed to do was trust him.

Still you couldn’t hide your melancholic expression. You’d miss him all the same, win or lose. 

“C’mon. You believe in me, don’t you?” he asked. He gave you a cat-like grin, one that would make you sign your life over to him.

“Yes, yes, yes. I believe you.”

“Then what is it?” he asked, tickling your sides.

You groaned. “I’m—ugh—I told you. I'm going to miss you, alright”

“Aww. I could come inside you if that’ll help,” he teased.

“You were going to do that anyway!”

He playfully stuck out his tongue as he slipped his hands under your shirt. His hands were big and weighty, but his fingers were elegant. His palms rough; his touch tender. He tugged at the hem of the shirt and giggled.

“You thief,” he said, pulling it off of you. “I was looking for this while I was packing.”

“Not my fault it’s the perfect nightgown.”

He tossed it in the general location of his half-packed suitcase.

“At least it’ll smell like me now,” you said coyly.

He sat up and buried his face in your neck, taking in the scent of your skin. He let out a dreamy sigh as he exhaled. It was such a lovely noise, one you wanted to hear again and again. You reached down and stroked his soft cock. You pulled back his foreskin and rubbed your thumb around his sensitive tip. He shivered with delight.

“I need all my stuff to smell like you. Go roll around in my suitcase for a little bit.”

“How about I give you some pairs of dirty underwear to remember me by instead?” you snickered as you squeezed the base of his cock.

He rutted against your fist. “Fine, but they have to be those tiny, cotton ones. They feel the best against my skin.”

“Anything for you.”

He looked so sweet lying beneath you. You braced yourself, placing your hands on his pecs, and felt the rise and fall of his chest. His warm skin was dappled with water, his sinewy body fresh out of the shower. The towel he haphazardly wrapped around his hair had unraveled, each strand exuding the scent of your shampoo. His cheeks were glassy, a sure sign he slathered on your facial serum and night cream. Even his skin smelled like yours. He wriggled under you, trying to guide your attention to his semi-erect cock. You decided you wanted to tease him a bit, make him earn it.

“Don’t you need a good night’s rest so you can win tomorrow?” you asked, dropping your arms to your sides.

He scoffed. “I have my ways,” he said, eyes fixed on the thin scars etched on your upper chest.

You decided to change your tune. Wasting time was criminal.

“Hm. Remind me of what those are. I forgot.”

He grinned and began to dig around the bedside table for his tools. He pulled out a wooden box with a floret of goldenrod painted on the lid. Inside were some single-use scalpels and a modest first aid kit. He pulled you close, hand resting on the small of your back, and licked the cluster of scars. Each one was a thin line about an inch in length and spaced close together like tally marks. They were all perfectly straight, the handiwork of a master. You were proud to bear them.

Bachira held the scalpel between his fingers, his eyes narrowed and focused. You froze like a statue awaiting the chisel of a sculptor. The blade glided across your skin; you barely registered the sensation.

“Deeper,” you urged.

He ran the blade across the slit once more. Blood trickled freely from the wound. He made another cut underneath. It was deeper and hurt more than the first one. He watched as the blood made its way down your breasts and let out a giddy whine as it clung to your nipple. Unable to contain himself he swirled his tongue around it. Your cunt throbbed as he held it in between his teeth. He looked up at you, his eyes wild with adoration. You loved seeing him like this. You felt special, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

He licked up the trails of blood before rolling his tongue against the cuts. It was like getting stung by bees. You loved finding ecstasy in the ache. You’d forever be in debt to Bachira for aiding you in  your libertine awakening, for leading you hand-in-hand down the proverbial primrose path. He was the first to show how to walk the line between pain and pleasure.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he whimpered before sucking on your breast once more.

You lifted his chin and kissed him. You ran your tongue over his lips, the taste of your blood still lingering on them. He eagerly opened his mouth, overtaking yours. His kisses were always sloppy, wet, and needy. His desperate passion knew no bounds and you wouldn't have it any other way. You slowly stroked his cock, his precum sliding in between your fingers.

He panted, “I need it now.”

You kissed his forehead and slid his cock inside your dripping cunt. He tossed his head back and let out a heavenly moan. You bounced up and down, driving his cocktip into your cervix. His girth was a gift from god. You felt so full, almost like you would burst at the seams.

He lapped at the blood trickling from your cuts. You tangled your fingers in his damp hair, letting the strands snake around them. You wanted to become a part of him, for your bodies to meld into one. Both of you were swept up in a euphoric frenzy. As he rutted against you he pinched your swollen clit. He couldn’t help but smile in the face of your desperate yelps.

“Gentle! Gentle!” you said, squirming.

It was too strong a sensation. You were so full as it was; you weren’t sure you could weather another intense sensation. You felt like his cock was buried deep in your stomach.

“Ah,” you winced. “Me—Meguru, it’s too mu—”

He forced you to look at him, his yellow eyes overwhelmed by dark pupils, and sweetly said, “Your body can take it.”

Five words was all it took to bewitch you. He alternated between pinching your clit and massaging it. You felt like you were ascending as your orgasm inched closer.

“You gonna come all over my cock?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” you whined.

His thrusts were relentless, not a hint of mercy in his touch. It was maddening. You kept babbling his name, begging him for more. Shame was a concept neither of you were familiar with. Neither of you could quiet yourselves. It was a chorus of panting, whimpering, and moaning. As your orgasm crescendoed all you could do was choke out a few expletives and drool.

“That’s it, baby,” Bachira said, jaw clenched and completely charmed by your demeanor.

He held you close and took the lead, driving his cock into your cunt, lips pressed against your still bleeding cuts. You felt like you were operating on a different plane of existence. The only thing that brought you back to reality was the warm feeling of Bachira’s cum filling you up. You collapsed in his arms, and tried to catch your breath.

“Was… that… helpful?” you murmured.

“Oh yeah. I’m gonna bring you home a win,” he purred against your ear.

[angelwithdemonictendencies]

how different is a heated scowl from a delirious kiss, really; or maybe i’m just focusing too religiously on your mouth.

ax72 x reader: he’s the worst until he isn’t.

(warnings: lots of plot in addition to blasphemous filth (really...i got carried away), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), hair pulling (hello, old friend), choking (hello, older friend), biting (i can’t write him without it), praise, all my usual stuff (you guys know what i’m about), just be warned.  don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.) gif is not mine.)

(a/n: okay, so thanks to the xhekaj girls and guys and such for coming out of their wifi routers to encourage me to write for him again.  when i tell you i started to write this and i could not stop...i got so carried away with the tension and backstory like you just wouldn’t believe - you’ll see what i mean.  so apologies to those who come for the sex and that’s it (pun not intended).  what can i say, ax72 brings out the writer in me, the romantic even.  yes, you have a little brother now, congratulations!  to the jh86 lovers: he is next and i am already getting carried away writing that one, so that’s coming soon (but please continue to be gentle and patient with me.  if i’m taking a long time, it’s only because i care, and i want it to be good for you).  yeah, people don’t talk like this in real life, yeah darling doesn’t make sense, yeah, but, have you considered that maybe i write what the world should be, not what it is? anyways, thanks for the love, the generosity, please continue to interact and message and such (it’s how i know what you guys like!) let’s hope the leafs can hang on.  go canucks even in the offseason.  i’m sending love and all the wonderful things.  see you soon.

you’d been driving your younger brother to and from hockey practice for the last three years, since he first started playing, when his helmet was far too big for his head, so much so that you thought if he leaned forward he would topple over entirely.

and in all those years, he had never come out of the rink like this, posture slouched, face empty, dragging his feet.  his bag of equipment looked like it weighed a million pounds, full of bricks.  his rosy, round face, usually so joyful on the way out of those doors, so eager to tell you about practice, looked positively exhausted, done, physically and emotionally.

you rolled down the window as he walked up.  “what’s wrong, bug?” you asked, tried to make your voice strong-willed so as not to upset him further.

he shrugged, lugged his stuff into the trunk.  “tough practice,” he said, sounding like an adult, which you hated.  the effort with which he spoke settled in your stomach, plumed into volcanic anger.  “new coach.”

you furrowed your brows as he shut the trunk and climbed into the front seat.  “new coach?  i liked your old coach.”

“he’s still there,” he said, “but we have a new assistant.  he’s a little-” he took a breath, again making him look older than he was.  “tough.”

you searched his eyes for some kind of meaning, found only the resigned bitterness you so despised whenever you saw it in yourself.  without another thought, you drove to the nearest open spot and put the car in park.  

“why are we parked?”

you made to get out of the car.  “you look tired, bug.  just going to go get you a gatorade, okay?”  something lighter flashed across his eyes, making you smile.  little by little, you would do what you could to undo whatever this coach had done, unload this burden he had so carelessly thrown onto the shoulders of your brother.  “don’t open the door for anyone, yeah?  i’ll be right back.”

you locked the car behind you and made your way into the rink for the first time this season, found it practically identical to how you remembered it.  you scanned the ice for the older man you knew, then locked eyes with him and waved him over with a smile, one you didn’t have to force.  this coach had always been kind to you as well as your brother.

“hey, kiddo!” he said fondly as he approached.  

“hi, coach,” you replied, the chill in the air tinting your cheeks.

“your boy should be out already, yeah?  practice ended about fifteen minutes ago,” he said, looking at his watch.  

you nodded.  “he’s in the car.  i just need to talk to this new assistant he was telling me about.”

understanding flashed across the older man’s eyes.  “right, xhekaj,  he’s helping us out during the rest of his off season.  part of this program his club set up.”  he turned in the opposite direction.  “xhekaj! want you to meet someone,” he called out.

the man across the ice turned from where he had been collecting pucks, set them on the bench, and skated over.  as he got closer, you observed how he was impressively graceful for what may have been the most physically imposing man you had ever seen.

he was tall, almost menacingly so on skates, and so broad that you had to remind yourself not to cower back.  his dark hair, which looked so soft, curled at the ends is a just barely feminine way.  you told yourself that you did not notice the way his sweatpants strained over his legs, or how massive his hands were, or how sharp his jawline was.

you were here for your brother.  you would not be intimidated.  nor, you amended, would you be distracted.

he glided to an effortless stop in front of you, a motion that looked as simple as breathing.  

“this is our new assistant coach, arber xhekaj,” the head coach said, gesturing to the wall of a man next to him.  “xhekaj, this is sixteen’s sister.  i’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot of her this season, if you behave,” he said with a lighthearted smile that lit up his weathered face.  

you forced your gaze to meet arber’s for the first time, found his eyes running over your frame, making your exhale come out short and choppy.  you crossed your arms as his eyes finally locked on yours, something like shameless mirth shimmering over his face.  his lazy smirk shook you off balance and set a slow-burning fuse aflame in your stomach.  you cut your gaze back to the older coach.

“i’ll leave you to it.  good to see you, kid.”  the familiar man said as he skated off with a nod.

when you turned back to face arber, his eyes were already on you.  maybe they hadn’t left.  “what can i do for you, darling?” he asked, that slow smirk playing on his full mouth.  you suffocated the sparks his address ignited, instead funneled them into your anger, letting it simmer and grow.

“you could start by telling me why my little brother looks like he’s been kicked in the stomach,” you offered.

any playfulness was gone from his eyes in a moment.  “there’s always one, eh?” he asked no one in particular.  

“what?” you snapped.

he crossed his arms across his expanse of a chest.  “there’s always one.  parent, or sister, or whatever, who can’t handle their kid actually being pushed in practice.”  he said, sounding bored.  he looked you up and down, again.  you didn’t find it any less unnerving.  “least i know who it is.”

“i can handle him being pushed!” you bit out.  

“yeah?” he asked, tilting his head.  “this is you, handling it?”  he gave a look of false understanding.  “the picture of calm and poise, truly.”

you pursed your lips.  “hockey is supposed to be fun first.  and he did not have fun today.”  you did not back down, nor let your posture falter.  “so next practice, i expect to see him smiling when he walks out.”

you could have punched that smirk off his face.  “yeah?  or what, darling?”

“or you’ll be seeing a lot more of me than you’d like,” you said.

“promise?” he asked, his voice overripe with teasing.

you turned to leave, beginning the walk back.

“so you came in here just to whine at me?” that deep voice called from behind you.  you could feel his eyes burning into you.  “don’t waste your time.  i’ve got lots of pretty girls asking around for me, darling.”

“oh, don’t flatter yourself.  you just happened to be here,” you called back.  “i only came in to get a gatorade.”

you smiled at his lack of response before grabbing two yellow gatorades from the snack bar and getting back into the car.

“that was long,” your brother said, barely looking up from the game on his phone.  

“sorry, bug,” you said, placing the bottles in the cupholders before pulling away onto the road.  “line like you wouldn’t believe.”

luckily, he seemed to be in much better spirits.  

still, later that night, as you tried to fall asleep, you couldn’t help but look up the name “arber xhekaj.”  it was so you could familiarize yourself with your opponent.  that’s how you rationalized it.

and of course his stats were impressive, if not especially physical.  but even if he was a professional hockey player, he had messed with the wrong family.  you refused to let him forget that.

so, the next day, when your brother came out of the rink again looking defeated, you could have growled.  

“bug,” you said, parking the car, “i need to talk to your coach, okay?  do you want to wait here?”

“i’ll wait here,” he said.

you located arber immediately, your gaze fixed to him almost magnetically.  but he found you quickly, too, without any signal, that smirk materializing as he skated over to you.  

“let me guess,” he said, sliding to a stop and leaning on the side of his stick, almost comically long.  “baby brother didn’t think practice was as fun as disney land?”  he gave a theatrically dramatic pout, drawing attention to his lips.  your attention, that is.  “listen, darling, i’m not making eight-year-olds fight to the death.  they’ve got a coach for the fun stuff.  i’m here so they actually get better.”

that actually made sense.  you licked your lips.  “i’m all for getting better,” you said, trying a more gentle approach.

“that’s great to hear,” he said monotonously, anticipating a “but.”

“but there doesn’t need to be a good-coach bad-coach dynamic.  you can push them and still be nice.  be positive and fun.”

he gave a low laugh before turning away, obviously done with this conversation.  “maybe some people can, darling, but not me.  that’s not me.”

you felt his laugh like a seismic wave, throwing you off balance.  again.  “and who’s this ‘you’ you mean?” you asked, growing heated at his dismissal of your simple request.  “the blank scoresheet except for penalty minutes?  the pretty boy who can’t play?”

his laugh this time came from deep in his chest.  you hated how it made your stomach turn. 

“aw, darling,” he cooed, voice deep and lazy.  “you really think i’m pretty?”

you huffed before turning to walk out of the rink, unsuccessful.  it irked you how he could make you so uneasy, but you couldn’t do the same to him.  

“try not to get too hot and bothered when you watch my highlights tonight!” he called out after you.

you clenched your teeth at the obvious joy your anger evoked in him, and vowed that you would not engage with him again for the rest of the season.  it didn’t get you anywhere, and if you were as kind as you could be to your brother, maybe you could help prepare him to stand up for himself instead of trying to fight his battles for him.

so, for the two weeks, you didn’t go into the rink.  you stuck to your routine of dropping off and picking up, no funny business, no extracurriculars with certain assistant coaches.  

“make your own fun today, okay, bug?” you told him before he got out of the car.  

and slowly, he stopped dragging his feet on the way to your car.  his smile came quicker, easier, lighting up the round, rosy cheeks that you so loved.  and so the image of those quicksand brown eyes faded to the back of your mind.

until one afternoon, when the very figure you were trying to forget was carrying your brother’s hockey bag, walking right behind him.  you rolled down the window after your brother had gotten into the front seat and arber had easily swung the bag into the trunk.  

he then walked around and leaned on the side of the car, his forearms resting on the open window.  

“say thanks, bug,” you nudged your brother.

“thanks, coach,” he said, a but of a smile in his voice.  

arber waved a hand as if to dismiss it.  “no problem,” he said, his hand resting on the window again.  your eyes widened momentarily at the sheer size of his hand, of him.  when you tore your eyes up to meet his, he was smirking.

“distracted, darling?” he asked, false innocence drenching his gaze.

you rolled your eyes, but you felt yourself blush.  “i’m glad to see everyone in good spirits,” you said, hoping he would catch onto the meaning.  “really.”

“well,” he drawled.  “i think i might have to start being especially tough.”

“what?” you said, all business in tone.  “why?”

“because i can’t have you staying out here in the car, darling,” he said, tilting his head.  “and you only visit me when you’re mad.”

you shook your head, felt your blush deepen.  “i do not visit you, arber,” you said.

his face lit up at the sound of his name on your lips.  “right, you just ask around about me and read my stats to help you sleep.” he said through a cocky grin.  “you’ll be at family skate, yeah?”

you bit your lip, noticed how his eyes followed the movement, stopped immediately.  

“you’re always at family skate,” your brother observed, not looking up from his phone.  you slapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder.

“then i’ll see you there,” arber said, handing two yellow gatorades to your brother.  he slapped the side of the car twice before pulling back, his smile that of a school boy who charmed his way into extra dessert at lunch.  

you put the car in drive so he wouldn’t see your face, completely vulnerable, completely touched.  “i’m still mad at you,” you called out the window as a last resort.

“good,” he called back, running a hand through his hair.  “like you mad.”

you groaned and slapped your hand on the steering wheel as you pulled out of the parking lot, trying to stop yourself from becoming endeared.  trying.

family skate came faster than you wanted.  but, soon enough, the day was here, and there you were, in the family locker room, already cold, and failing miserably at tying your rental skates.  

“bug, how you you do this?” you asked to your right, but he had already gone out to the ice.  you huffed, reached for the laces again.

“need some help, darling?” 

you looked up to find him leaning against the doorframe, face lit up with amusement.  you didn’t have the time or patience to turn him away.

“yes, please,” you said, and watched his eyes grow dark, if only for a second.  he cleared his throat and made his way over, touching one knee to the ground in front of you.

suddenly the air felt hot, the chill completely melted away as he looked up at you.  a welcome change of pace from you always looking up at him.

“can i touch you?” he asked, looking at you through his lashes, dark and full.

you coughed.

his laugh was a grumble.  “just to tie your skates, darling, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

you felt yourself flush across your nose.  “i know,” you tried, “and it’s fine.”

he smirked at your response as he gently tugged one of your legs towards him by your calf, his grip firm and warm, so much so that you felt a loss when he took his hand off of you, used both hands to pull the laces of your skates taut and tie them up.

the silence only made things worse, heightened the heat that was growing in your stomach, the heat you were sure he could feel radiating from you.  

he finished one skate by tying a bow.  “how’s that feel?”

was he doing that on purpose?  “perfect,” you said, as confidently as you could.

he hummed in affirmation as he began to tie the second one, tugging your other calf towards him and shifting forward on his knee. 

you trained your gaze on the ceiling as he finished up.  

“something interesting up there?” he asked as he tied a bow, looking up at you.  “are they projecting my sports center feature on the ceiling?”

you rolled your eyes, actually happy that he was lightening the atmosphere, which had grown uncomfortably heavy and expecting.

he smiled at your reaction, then knocked the toes of your skates together twice.  at your inquisitive look, he pushed himself off of his knee.  “superstition,” he explained, then extended a hand to you.  “let’s go, your bug will be wondering where you are.”

you hoped he thought your flush was from the cold as his hand enveloped yours and pulled you to your feet.  

you shook off the effect he had on you as you stepped onto the ice, not necessarily a talented skater but good enough to move slowly and not hold onto the boards.  your brother found you quickly and began to skate circles around you, literally.

“alright, alright,” you said, a smile on your face.  “let’s keep in mind that you actually play hockey, and i very much do not.”

for the next half hour, you skated around with your brother, engaging in polite conversation with the parents and kids on the ice with you.  you did, however, remain crucially aware of arber’s presence, could still feel his hands on your calves, his grip on your fingers.

eventually, you decided to lean against the boards to catch your breath.  before long you felt him next to you.  “had enough?” he asked.  

you pushed yourself off the boards.  “nope,” you said, willing stability into your legs.

he grinned, easily gliding alongside you as you moved forward.  “are you sure you’re related to your brother?” he said.  “he’s such a natural skater.”

“and?” you pressed, pretending to be offended.

he laughed before spinning to face you, skating backwards in front of you, his hands in his pockets.

“show off,” you scoffed.  

“you can’t take your eyes off me, darling.  it’s okay, you can be honest with me.”

“don’t be cocky,” you said.

“like you don’t love it.”  at your reaction, his smirk only deepened.  “keep rolling those pretty eyes, darling, not foolin’ me.”

you shook your head, tried to will the blush away.  “you’re a defensemen.  it’s literally your job to skate backwards.”

“i forget you research me in your free time,” he said with a small scrunch of his nose.  you shook your head, to which he did the same.  “that’s a lie,” he added, “i think of it often, actually.”  fire blossomed between you.  “of you.”

the truth in his eyes made you stumble, falling forward, right into him.  one of his arms steadied your hip, the other reaching all the way around your back to hold you up, both of your hands flat against his chest.  you tilted your neck back to look at him, found exactly what you were afraid of.  what you were feeling, reflected back at you.

you were sure that when he let you go, there would be a scorched imprint of his hand on your hip.  

“you can let go of me, now,” you said, your voice little more than a whisper.

a meaningful pause settled between you before he replied.  “you’re right,” he said, his thumb making circles on your hip.  “i could.”

you swallowed, feeling your eyes grow drowsy, almost intoxicated with the feeling of him so close, all around you.  your gaze dropped to his mouth, slowly made its way back up to his eyes, so dark and deep.  his embrace around you tightened.  was he leaning forward?

a cough from beside you snapped you out of your trance.  you practically leapt out of his arms.  

there your brother stood, holding his helmet.  “ready to go?” he asked, looking between the two of you.  

“yup,” you croaked, clearing your throat.  “let’s go, bug.”

you sped through the process of returning your skates and getting back in the car, desperate to avoid arber.  on the drive home, you worked to come up with a plan on how to avoid him, as you knew he was a terrible idea.  a terrible, horrible idea that would only leave you hurt and unable to enter the rink ever again.

so, you decided you would give it a couple weeks, give whatever you were feeling time to fizzle out, give yourself time to forget about him, your body some time to adjust, forget this temptation.  you would park your car in a different place than usual, tell your brother to carry his own bag, that it was good for his independence.  

and, for a while, it worked, at least well enough.  but, one day, when your brother got back into the car, he said, “coach arber asked about you today.”

you tried to ignore the reaction even his name stirred up within you.  “yeah?  what did he say?”

“asked why you haven’t been in,” he said, looking out the window.

you maintained your composure.  “and what did you say?”

“just that you usually wait out in the car now.  in a different spot.”

“fuck,” you mumbled before you could stop yourself.

so, the next day, you weren’t necessarily surprised to see arber trailing behind your brother on his way out.  

you looked at your hands, gripping the steering wheel.  had it always been so hard not to stare at his lips?  when had the spark in your stomach ignited into something devastating?

you were still staring straight ahead when his laugh cut through the air.  “what’re you doing out here, darling?” he asked, leaning on the side of the window.  “watching a compilation of my fighting majors?”

you shook your head, choked out a laugh, let yourself look at him in the eyes, finally.  it felt like water after a drought.  did you sigh in relief?

he smirked at your reaction, and you knew you were gone.  “i know you’re avoiding me,” he said.

“i’m not,” you protested.

he cut you off with a look.  “you are.  and i know why.”

“yeah?” you asked, moments of his arms around you and his lips, so close, flashing across your mind.

he nodded, leaning forward, straining his forearms.  “which is why you’re going to come to my home opener this weekend.”

you scoffed.  “i’m not going to that.”

he grinned, a real one full of teeth and joy.  you melted.  “you are,” he said.  “i have a ticket for you, and a jersey.  your bug has them both.”

incredulous, you shook your head, suddenly jittery.  “arber.”  this smile could have convinced you to do terrible, terrible things.  “i’m not doing this.”

but he just slapped the side of the car twice and began to pull back.  “i can’t force you to,” he said.  “but i want you there, darling.  i want you there, for me.”

you groaned as you put the car in drive.

“please?” he said, his tone telling you that he knew he was victorious.  

“i’m not,” you called out.

he only laughed as you drove away.

and just as he expected, you found yourself at the game, early enough to see warm ups, right by the glass.  every couple of minutes you would groan internally at yourself.  what did you think you were doing here?  in a jersey with his number on your back?  

you couldn’t just say yes to everything he asked because he had a pretty smile, and because he was just so big, and because making him laugh felt like a prize you were so determined to win.  or because of the heat that so frequently now seared across his eyes when he looked at you, or because his forearms were impossible to ignore when he rested them on the window of your car.

you were lost in thought when the team finally skated out onto the ice for warmups, but lucidity found you immediately, as he was better in real life than he was in your memories, in your imagination.

you watched with admiration as he skated and shot a couple pucks, swallowed when he stretched near center ice, your eyes never straying far from his number, not expecting him to acknowledge you at all.

but as the clock counted down, after one lap around their half, he stopped, faced away, before moving backwards and hitting his back into the glass, directly in front of you.  and he wasn’t even looking at you, but you knew he was there, and you knew he knew you were, too.

you didn’t know what to do, until you knew exactly what to do.

after a moment, you reached forward and gently slapped the glass twice, like he had done to your car so many times before.  you smiled to yourself as he immediately took off, moving full speed towards the bench and down the tunnel.

a ritual that you both understood, wordlessly and perfectly.

the seat that arber had reserved for you was not with the other guests of players.  instead, you found yourself sitting directly next to the penalty box.  you breathed out a laugh as you sat down.

the game was fun to watch.  arber was breathtaking.  his size, his speed, his brutal physicality, it was all on full display, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

especially late into the third period, when one of the wingers on the other team landed a nasty hit on one of arber’s teammates.  you had a feeling you knew what was coming, but you had never seen a fight in person, never mind seen this side of arber before.

as soon as his gloves came off, your breath caught.  the other guy didn’t stand a chance.  you squeezed your legs together as he threw a hook that upended both of their helmets, winced as the other skater landed a hard blow to his jaw, bit your lip as arber grabbed the winger’s jersey and threw him to the ice.

you exhaled a deep breath as the refs skated both players off into their boxes, your eyes trained on arber’s face as he ran a hand, cracked and bleeding, through his damp hair, then stepped into the box and sat down.  

you let your gaze drip over him like a melting popsicle.  it was some kind of cruel punishment to be so close to him, only separated by a pane of glass.  partially because he was in a sort of pain, that was obvious.  his chest was heaving, his lip was split, swollen, his jaw was already beginning to bruise. 

but the heat inside of you, now too powerful to ignore, that was a different urge entirely.  an urge to sit across his lap, only further tempting when he spread his knees wide, as he was doing now.  an urge to hold his face in your hands, to kiss away his pain, to give him something else to focus on, to make him focus on you.  

how badly you wanted him to be able to focus on nothing but you.

an urge to know what his lips felt like on yours, what his hands felt like around your neck, what he felt like inside of you, that was becoming the more pressing urge.  you crossed your legs tighter.

you should probably look back at the ice, at the game.  you wouldn’t want to give yourself away.

before you could turn away though, you noticed that his mouth was forming words, but he wasn’t talking to anyone.

and that smirk had only ever been just for you.

“you’re staring, darling,” he mouthed.

you flushed, turned away abruptly, didn’t need to see his cocky grin grow wider still.  

the game ended, and you still felt like you were on fire.  if you didn’t do something about it, would this torture last forever?  would you go forever wondering?  forever, wanting?

possible outcomes flashed across your mind.  but the longer you thought about it, the more your willpower dissolved into something else, something weaker, more forgiving, until you couldn’t quite remember why you had disliked him so much when you had first met him.  until any negative consequences seemed deliciously inconsequential.

so, when he came out down the tunnel, ready to go home, you were there, and his smile was a dream.  the smile of a person who knew they had won, finally and entirely.

“darling,” he greeted as he walked up.  “glad you came.”

you nodded.  “me too,” you said, stood in front of him, practically chest to chest, looking up at him, electricity humming between you.

“yeah?” he reached out, tilted your chin up further to search your gaze.  a pause filled with meaning settled.  “you have something you want to say?”  

you bit your lip, relished in the way his next breath came out shallow, nodded.

“tell me, darling.”  you couldn’t refuse him if you wanted to.

your exhale came out shaky.  “just want you so bad, arber,” you all but mumbled.  “can’t take it.”

his eyes flashed, dangerous.  one arm came around your back and tugged you closer.  “fuck, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he rasped.  “pretty girls like you never have to wait.”

you whimpered at the sensation of him pressed into your front, felt him hard against you.

“gonna give me a kiss?” he asked, rough and low, before you pushed yourself up on your toes to meet his lips, tender and bruised.  he moaned into your mouth at the only-just painful pressure, you wrapped your arms around his neck, grasped at the hair at the nape of his neck, the soft, damp, curls you had been dreaming about since you first saw him.

you whined as one of his hands squeezed a handful of your hip, felt that burning need only intensify.  he angled his hips so you could feel what you were doing to him, which only made you whimper.

“please, please,” you breathed, “i need to feel you, arber.  need you, now.”

he smiled into your mouth, and your lips would never be the same.  “oh, pretty baby, so needy, hm?”

you nodded, twisted his curls around your fingers, long past feeling embarrassed.  

his bandaged hand enveloped yours.  “come on, then,” he said, pulling you towards the exit, through the doors.  “fuck, don’t think i can wait, either.” 

you finally reached his car, parked far from the venue, far from any other car.  every second without kissing him was a second lacking.   he opened the car door, reached an arm underneath you, and picked you up, holding you against his front as he lowered you both into the backseat.  

you immediately buried your face into his neck, letting your lips leave your mark on him like he had more permanently, less physically done to you.  he groaned, tilted his hips up into you, gripped your hips and led you in a rhythm across his lap, the friction making you devastatingly impatient.

“‘m ready for you,” you mumbled into his neck, taking one of his hands from your hip and guiding it down so that he could feel you.

he moved your clothes aside, ran his thick fingers through your folds, making you gasp.  “so wet, darling,” he rasped, “what made you so needy, hm?”

he wrapped his other hand gently around your throat, squeezed only slightly, pulled you back to look at him, the gaze between you liquid metal. 

you whimpered, which made him increase the pressure around your neck, just a bit.  “i know you want to be good for me,” he rasped.  “so, tell me.”

“you did,” you breathed out.  “seeing you.”

“yeah?  pretty baby likes it when i fight, hm?”  he let go of your neck, tugged his own clothes aside to free his cock, groaned when you spit into your hands and immediately began to stroke him.

“not just the fight,” you said, “just you, arber.  fuck, you make me like this.”  he let out a sound like a growl, grew impossibly hard and thick at your words, at your hands.

“you make me crazy, darling,” he bit out as he reached an arm under you again to lift you up.  “have been since i first saw you.  ready?”

you answered him by sinking down onto him entirely, the stretch euphoric, both of your noises even more so.  you tilted your head back, mouth falling slack.

“hm, feel so perfect,” he rasped, pushed two fingers into your open mouth, groaned when you bit down on them gently.  “good girl, so perfect for me.”

you scrunched your eyes shut and focused on his fingers in your mouth as he began to thrust up into you, making that stretch feel even deeper, like he was becoming a part of you.  “so big,” you whined, the words distorted by his hand.  “don’t know if i can, arber.”

he didn’t stop, if anything thrust harder.  “you can, pretty baby,” he cooed.  “you’re gonna make me feel so good, yeah?”

and you couldn’t help but nod, overwhelmed with the desire to do just that, to be the person to do that.  you began to fuck back into him, brought your hips back to meet him thrust for thrust.

you whined as you clenched around him, wrapped a hand around his wrist and guided his hand from your mouth down to your clit.  he immediately began to tease you, adding to the sensation.

“hm, arber, you fuck me so good,” you said roughly, snaking a hand into his hair and raking your nails down his neck.  “fuck, so good.”

he gave a thrust that was slow, deliberate, making you feel him in your teeth.  “yeah, darling?  better than how you imagined?”

you nodded before you knew what you were confessing to, couldn’t find it in yourself to care when his smirk told you that you had been found out.  you just lowered your mouth to his shoulder and bit into it to muffle your moans.  he hissed.

“‘s okay,” he said, his thrusts speeding up, his motions on your clit drawing you closer.  “you’re better than i imagined, too.”

you clenched around him at his words, felt yourself flush, grow so dangerously close.  

he moaned into your hair.  “fuck, darling, look so fucking pretty like this.”  he took his other hand from your hip to your stomach, placing pressure there so you felt him even deeper.  you winced, just there, your rhythm on top of him faltering.  “be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?”

you collapsed into his chest as you reached an angelic high, gushing around him and pushing him to his own orgasm, his moan a desperate rasp as he stilled inside of you.  his breathing was hard and hot as you caught your own breath, fisting his shirt in one of your hands as the other rested around his neck.  

he brought one arm around your back, held you to him as the other grasped the back of your neck and snaked into your hair.  the windows of the car had fogged up like a rainy day, and both of your faces were rosy with exertion and satisfaction.

you hummed as he rubbed circled into your lower neck with his thumb.  

“like my number on you,” he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence that could have been a decade.

“me too,” you agreed, a small smile playing across your mouth.  “like you on me.”

“yeah?” he asked, a lazy grin on his swollen lips.  “me too.”

and you let out a sigh, so content.  and he kissed the top of your head.  and both of you would have been happy to stay here forever, watching the fog drip from the windows like thinning honey.

fin.

[bobeni]

  ⠀   ⠀   ⠀ ‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎O23 ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ፧ ‎ ‎EGGS AISLE ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏♡ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎

✶ users! › denji, m!reader.

✶ synopsis! › it could no longer be simply considered a coincidence; with how denji always seemed to pop up at the same time, at the same little store, just to see you.

✶ wrdcnt! › 1,586.

✶ cw’s! › fluff, possible ooc here we go, simp denji, trio stuff in the beginning, this is probably unnecessarily long lmao. i used they/them for the reader for one line, btw.

“Aw crap, we’re out of cereal and milk again! I’ma head out to the store to get some more!” Denji shouted as he zipped past two lazy bodies to the front door, snatching his hoodie off the rack with poorly disguised eagerness.

Aki sighed, looking up from the creased daily newspaper. “Again? That’s the third time this month.” His orbs followed Denji’s haste movements to shrug on the clothing.

The blond barely spared him a glance as he tried to fix his bedhead, “Yeah, yeah, I know, right? It’s bogus how Power keeps eating it all.” He feigned understanding just as said girl squawked at the blame now delivered to her shoulders. “What the fuck? I haven’t even touched the cereal since two weeks ago!” She yelled, mouth full of her breakfast, unfortunately it was just amalgamation of bacon and eggs.

“Ya can’t fool me, Powy, I know you sneak around in the middle of night, scarfing that shit down.” The gobsmacked look on blonde’s face was one Denji could remember for centuries.

“You bi一” as she was prepared to scream her indignation, she was stopped in her tracks by Aki’s agitated groan, followed by Denji’s so-called reassurance.

“Don’t worry, though,” the boy flicked the lock open, stepping an inch outside the apartment with every syllable. “I’ll make sure to replenish your stash, so don’t wait up!” Denji grinned at that last part, officially saying his leave to the both of them, the door narrowly missing his behind with how fast he tried to shut it.

With the boy off and out, Aki’s eyes lingered on the door. But they began to narrow in suspicion, prompting him to rise from the coach and walk into the kitchen for further investigation.

However, his investigation ended as soon as it started. The man found not just one, but several boxes of cereal, moderately filled. As well as the milk, as far back in fridge as it was, half full. This made his face scrunch up in confusion as he shut the fridge and leaned against it to turn his attention to Power一who now had a lap full of Meowy, clearly had to have been ruffled by the morning ruckus and sauntered out of their bedroom.

“Power,” Aki started. She nodded in his direction, still stuffing her face. “We’re still good on breakfast一he’s not just ‘going to the store,’ is he?” He wondered aloud, sighing at the thought of Denji pulling some shit.

“Yes, see!” she jabbed a finger in the air, “He’s up to something. Something... I can assume is very stupid.” Then Power just pets a purring Meowy as Aki shakes his head at it all.

Geez, that was close, Denji thought as he strolled down the sidewalk. It was getting real tiring having to think excuses pertaining to various foods they did or didn’t have. Many apologies and more to his family, but he couldn’t let them know the reason why he had those excuses for where he was going一especially not Power, god, he’d probably never hear the end of it.

Oh, what was the reason exactly?

He has a crush.

That’s right, the reason why he began waking up early in the morning and trying to make sure not a single hair was out of place一well, in his own unique way一was because someone is after Denji’s heart. And he’d so let them take it if they pleased.

One day when it was actually his duty to do some shopping, at this little grocery store a few blocks down from his apartment, is where he met you.

He was only there to gather the items on the short list that Aki handed over to him that morning, but when you stepped up next to him while he was eying two freaky looking fish, and the shy offer for assistance flew out of your mouth, he found himself a bit touched.

“But you don’t even work here, though?” was what he said back then, now eying you.

“Do I have to work here in order to help out some clearly indecisive guy?” The little chuckle that you ended your rebuttal with was unfortunately cute enough that it made his heart jump in his chest. When you leaned over to help him pick the better fish, his heart was absolutely drumming at how close you were and how easily his hand could slip into yours.

He didn’t say a single word of complaint when you offered to help him finish up his shopping; he just let his cheeks burn a bright pink while he trailed behind you with two baskets and hearts for eyes.

After that day, every other week or so he’d pop up at the store, yearning to see you, while also juggling his best attempts to make his appearances look normal and coincidental.

It was a flawless plan in his mind. Every day you two seemed to be getting closer and closer; then soon, he couldn’t deny the hope that lingered.

Even if it should’ve been embarrassing一considering how easily he fell for you after only meeting a handful of times. But he couldn’t really find it in himself to give a fuck.

Denji smiled proudly, maybe he could finally get to do all the things couples do with you.

Meanwhile the blond was gushing, it didn't occur to him that had already arrived at the store until he heard that familiar bell’s jingle giving him the signal.

Then he let his eyes wander, searching the store trying to pick you out of the bustling crowd of shoppers. He stumbled upon right when he almost missed you; you were crouched down by a vending machine, mashing away at the buttons.

With a little bit of pep in his step, he made a b-line for you.

“Good mornin’, [name].” Denji jostled the keys in his pocket when he tried to wave. You looked up at the approach and softly smiled at him. “Hi there, Denji. You doing some shopping again?” you made casual conversation as you were inserting money into the slot. Pink dusted his cheeks as he immediately responded with no, in his head. But in real life he stuck with a shy confirmation and told you that he just needed some cereal.

But as you were prepared to say something else, you were interrupted by two bags of chips spilling out of the bottom.

“Holy shit, what did you do?” Denji was cackling at the surprise you exuded.

“I don’t even fucking know,” you chuckled, pushing yourself up from the ground. “But how perfect is this?” the smile on your face was too warm, too soft, he almost ignored the next words that came out of your mouth.

“One for me, and one for you, Denji.”

You held out a bag for him and he stared in disbelief.

“You’re... gonna share with me?” He hesitantly reached for the bag, awaiting your next answer.

Still smiling you told him exactly what he wanted to hear, “I’ll always split stuff with people I like. Obviously.”

Obviously, you said. You also said that he’s one of the people you like. Obviously.

He was so glad it was obvious to you because he clearly missed a chapter or two一but he didn’t care, this was what he was hoping for the entire time. Maybe he’s got it.

“[Name]...” Denji called as you were already munching on your bag of chips. You immediately caught his eye, humming as you wait for the moment the boy was ready to speak.

“I... I just want ya to know that I really, really like you.” The blond laid his heart out on the table. “And I wanna date you and一nd take you out someday...?” He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the chatter of civilians the longer you kept quiet. And he was actually so ready to bolt out of the store right about now if this goes down a road he hadn’t hoped for.

But there you go, exceeding his expectations again.

“I know,” is what you said.

Denji’s eyes snapped open at that and you laughed at the shock written all over his face.

“You know? Wha一Whaddya mean you knew?” Because of the shock, Denji’s voice also was getting louder so you took his hand and led him outside to avoid any suspicious eyes. Though you were laughing along the way, Denji was angry pouting as he tried to shush you.

Calming down a bit, you stuttered out apologies before confessing. “I’m sorry, Denji, but it’s not like you tried to hide it or anything一” his mouth fell open. “I coulda sworn I was being subtle!” That was one of his most natural build ups for a confession, like, ever.

“You have the subtlety of a puppy,” you covered your face as you snort. “But that’s okay because it’s one of the things I like about you.” He flushed red underneath your teasing gaze.

“So... ya really do like me then?” Denji didn’t take his eyes off of you this time. This new smile of yours formed cute little crinkles around your eyes and he thinks it’s one of his favorites.

“If I say yes, would you be my boyfriend?” The sly question had Denji’s heart doing flips. He’d love nothing more than to wear the title of your boyfriend and to have you as his.

So he answered with a kiss.

✶ notes! › i actually completed this holy mf shit i did not have hope. i still think it’s literally too long for my original plan but whatever i’m kinda happy with what i came up with.

[lunajay33]

New World🍂Part.13

Summary: You grew up in a crappy town with one friend who kept you going, everything started to fall into place, that’s until the world ended and the dead ruled the world, now you and your best friend Daryl Dixon had to stay alive but will you finally confess?

Part.12

•Masterlist•

I was around 5 months pregnant now and everything has been going good, great actually, Daryl became even more protective and I didn’t hate it I loved when he dotted on me, what can I say I adore him and I’m gonna adore this baby just as much

“Everything feeling normal since our last check up?” Hershel asked as I laid on the bed for him to check on things, Daryl at my side

“Yeah, they’ve been kicking a bit more and I have to pee a lot more” I said making Hershel let out a little laugh

“Sounds like you’re on track, now I’ll just check the heart beat” he took his stethoscope and placed it around my belly as the room fell silent

“Well everything seems to be normal, but I should warn you, some people around the prison have caught a cough, you should steer clear just incase, you can’t afford to get sick while you’re pregnant” he said as he gave me my prenatal vitamins

“I’ll take care of her” Daryl said helping me off the bed and leading me out of his little office as another person was about to enter, we walked past and noticed them coughing up blood

“I think I’m gonna set ya up in a watch tower just in case” he said rubbing my back reassuringly

“Yeah I think it’s better to be cautious”

He pulled two of our mattresses from our block to the watchtower as I gathered some of my things, blankets, to go bag, food and water, after we worked on it the rest of the evening it looked pretty cute……well as nice as we could get it

We laid in bed, his arms wrapped around me as I laid my head on his shoulder, my hand protectively placed on my bump

“Do you want a girl or boy?” I asked tired

“Don’t matter, as long as they’re like ya” he said dragging his fingers back and forth through my hair, I still can’t believe we got to this point from being best friends to me pinning over him and now I’m pregnant

“Well if it’s a girl…….can we name her Juniper?” I kept remembering the dream I had and I feel like it was a sign of some sort

“ of course sunshine”

Hershel was right, it’s only been a week and people were dropping like flies left and right, getting more and more sick, coughing up blood, it coming out of their eyes and everything, there was an incident where a cell block had walkers from those who died at night, that’s what Daryl told me he refused to let me leave the watchtower but now that I’m pregnant I didn’t really want to now anyways, as I was looking out over the field I heard Daryl come out

“Hey sunshine how ya feeling?” He asked rubbing my back

“I’m good but I’m really craving some things I can’t even have anymore” as I said that groaning he laughed as he stood behind me and held my bump

“What’s this lil baby craving?” He asked as we both looked down to where he was caressing my belly

“I really want soft serve ice cream, spaghetti, I really crave any kind of chocolate bar OH! and a orange soda”

“Is that all?” He let out a breathy laugh as it blew a bit of my hair tickling my face

“Daryyyylll, it’s not my fault the baby wants what it wants” I whined

“Well I know it ain’t chocolate of ice cream but I brought ya some spaghetti’os and some peaches I found out on a run, wanted to keep em just for ya”

“Awe thanks D, remember that time when you came over for a whole weekend when we were like 13 and all we ate was spaghetti’os and grilled cheese” I asked remembering the good times we had together

“Ya, think of it everytime I see a can, ya know I appreciate ya fer that stuff ya use to do fer me?” I turned in his arms brushing his hair back

“What do you mean?”

“When my old man would neglect me or beat on me ya were always there fer me, yer gonna be a great mother” he said placing kisses all over my face

“Oh Daryl, I’m always gonna be here for you, you’ve made it easy, you’re the sweetest most generous man I’ve ever met, and because of that you’re going to be the best dad in this whole messed up world, I love you D, always have and always will”

“I love ya too peach, forever”

I woke up seeing Daryl had already left, judging by the sun it was probably around 12 pm, since getting pregnant I’ve needed to sleep more, always tired was a normal side effect Hershel had told me, I got up putting my hair into a ponytail, pulling in some black yoga pants and one of Daryl’s plaids that still had the sleeves on, just as I was about to drink some water an explosion happened to the watchtower across the court yard, completely destroyed and in flames, looking to where it came from and my heart dropped, the governor and a group of people, I knew this was gonna go terribly, the governor wasn’t the forgiving type

I gathered up all my food and water and threw it in my back pack that had spare clothes and baby clothes Daryl had found for me, put my holster belt around my hips carrying my gun and knife, I slung my bag over my back and ran down the stairs, some of the group were huddled around the fence watching to see if Rick could settle this

“Sunshine ya gotta get outta here” Daryl said as he squeezed my arm

“No I can’t go without you”

“Ya gotta fer the baby, if things go bad and we get separated I’ll find ya, I promise” he said giving me a hard passionate kiss signalling for me to go

“I love you Daryl Dixon” and with that I ran off into the prison informing everyone to get ready, I was about to leave when I saw her, little Judith unaware of the dangers around her, I found her baby carrier, diapers, food and clothes and put it in my back as well then strapping her in the carrier on my chest and ran when a part of the prison exploded, I ran out the back opening in the prison, going until my legs couldn’t anymore, I could here the gunshots in the distance stop, I wanted to go back but I know I can’t, I kept walking hoping to find someone from my family

It’s been a few days now, I’ve just been walking and walking and walking, everything was the same everyday, wake up from some shitty shelter I could find, feed Judith and myself with the little rations I had left, and wander hoping someone would show up……..anyone, I couldn’t do this alone, pregnant and caring for a little girl there was only so much I could do and only so long I’d be able to do it without becoming exhausted

It felt like I’d never see Daryl again, I’d think of him all day especially when the wind would pick up and blow the scent of fallen leaves across my face, I’d picture his scruff and the feeling of it against my neck and shoulder where he’d be cuddled against me in the morning, and the way he’d glance at me with those blue eyes it made my world brighter, or how excited we were for this baby but now we may never be a family

As I was walking, reminiscing my lost love I came across a graveyard feeling fit with how empty and broken inside I felt, there was a house in the distance and decided to stay there for the night if it was all clear, I swept the house thankful for no walkers, Judith was getting fussy so I checked the cabinets and they were completely filled, I took a jar of jam and crackers and sat feeding Judith them myself until all the crackers were gone, it felt so good to have a full ish stomach, I hadn’t been starving on the road but it wasn’t enough, after we settled and the sun was setting I decided to sit on the porch steps to rock Judith to sleep hoping the fresh air would help, I leaned my head against the banister looking out over the graveyard, it was silent from walker groans only the sound of wind rustling through the leaves and crickets, it felt like old times when Daryl and I would stay out late and just watch the sky

All of a sudden there were a figure in the distance running closer to the house, I stood up securing Judith and taking out my gun but the closer they got the clearer they became

DARYL

I dropped my gun as I walked down the porch, he finally noticed me and Daryl ran even faster, I could feel the knot in my throat and the tears cascading down my face, I tried to speak but all that came out we gasps, he was here, he found me like he said, he finally reached me throwing his arms around me and holding my head to his chest as I cried harder then ever before

“I found ya, are ya alright?” He asked pulling and looking over my body

“I’m……..I’m okay now” he held my face looking deep in my eyes and that scent of musky woods crossed my senses and I breathed in deeply

“You found us” he finally looked down noticing a completely knocked out Judith

“Ya got her, got lil asskicker……..and how’s the baby?” He asked rubbing my belly

“I think they’re fine, I need more food though but I got that covered now” I took his hand and led him inside showing him the gift that was the kitchen cabinets

We lit some candles and chowed down for the rest of the night until we went upstairs settling in the bed after Daryl had secured all the points of entry

We found some clothes and changed into the fresh ones and slid into bed, his chest secure to my back as he held me close, arms and legs entangled, lil asskicker in my arms

“I thought I’d never see you again………I was so scared” I felt his arms tighten around me

“I ain’t leavin now, I thought of ya everyday”

“I can’t do this anymore Daryl” I whimpered as my bottom lip quivered, I needed a home that was secure and safe and peaceful I couldn’t have a baby where it was at risk every second

“I know baby, I’ll find it fer us, all of us”

“Did you see anyone get out?”

“Nah, too much was happening but…..Hershel’s dead”

“The governor?” My heart ached for Hershel he was the sweetest giving man

I just felt him nod as he started rubbing my belly, knowing how much it calmed him down

“I love you more than life Daryl” I said turning my head so I could kiss him gently

“Love ya too, I wish I could give ya everything we coulda had, it may not be everything but I’ll try”

Lmk your thoughts on this chapters, if you’d like to be added to the taglist comment!!:)

Taglist: @deansapplepie @ghostboneswrites2 @willowshadenox @thebadbatch2022 @writer-ann-artist @i-wear-wet-socks313 @thestonedwriter

[supernaturalscribe67]

Just Like Mama Used to Make

Words: 6,178

POV: 1st & 3rd Person

Pairing: John x Son!Reader - Dean/Sam x Brother!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, John Winchester, Fluff, Mention of Childhood Trauma, Mention of Death, I think that's it??

Summary: Taking inspiration from his father, the reader starts his very own journal. For his first entry, he recalls some of the memories that shaped him into the hunter that he has become.

Request:

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request John/Dean/Sam Winchester reaction to having a brother who looks like their mother and picked up hunting like breathing?

@xweirdo101x

A/N: My very first request! It kind of got away from me, but I really hope that I was able to do your request justice. Hope you like it!~

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Hello

Hey!

Dear Diary

SEPTEMBER 2014

To be honest, I have no idea how to start something like this. I was never one for writing, nor have I been one who can easily express my emotions. I guess I got that trait from the Winchester side of my family. Still, I have thought a lot about Dad’s journal lately. The things that he wrote down. It’s not detailed. It’s nowhere near what it was like growing up with him, but it still provides Dean, Sammy, and me with some information and nostalgia from time to time.

So, I figured ‘Why the Hell not’, I might as well write down some things in my own journal. I’m going to die someday anyway, and I want people to read this and be able to see what my life was like. From the good times that I spent with my family to the bad times when I lost my family. Hell, maybe this journal will get me into a history book someday when someone else discovers the Men of Letters Bunker. Who knows. Maybe I’ll be famous after I die, or perhaps it’s just wishful thinking. 

This journal has already turned into a clusterfuck. I don’t even know what to write about. I can’t even think of things to write about. Should I say things about my life? Should I just write down random things I think of throughout the day? I don’t know how to do it. Even when I look at Dad’s journal for inspiration, there’s nothing to inspire in it. A lot of it is notes on how to kill monsters and other stuff is just a bunch of personal bullshit he was going through. 

Well, we were all going through it.

I guess I’ll start by writing down some of the memories I’ve had. If I don’t like it, then I’ll throw this journal away and start another one. I don’t want future historians to think of me as some scatterbrained moron, despite what Sammy and Dean say at times. If you’re reading this now, I’m actually the smartest Winchester brother. Don’t believe a thing Sam and Dean say. I’m the brains of the operations and our day-to-day lives. I’ve saved them more times than I could count. 

Then again, they’ve probably saved me just as much. 

Alright, I’m getting side-tracked. I guess I’ll just start writing. 

Should I introduce myself first before I do so? 

My name is (Y/N) Winchester. I’m a hunter. 

This is my story (God, that was terrible)

AUGUST 1991

I remember the first time I mentioned to my father that I wanted to be a hunter, just like him. I was six years old. Dad didn’t take it very kindly. He yelled, a lot. Screamed sometimes. I never truly understood why he would always get so upset whenever I would ask him to teach me how to hunt. 

It wasn’t until I was a man that I understood why. 

I look just like my mother. 

I don’t know how I could have been so blind all those years. I have her hair. I have her face. I have her smile. All of these things have been said by my father before. Not necessarily when he was sober. I was always the one person that reminded my Dad of his wife. Of my mother. I think a part of him wanted to keep me safe, just so he could always look at me and remember what she looked like. Even when I was a child, though, I could see the hurt behind his eyes every once in a while when he would look at me. It made me feel guilty. 

Still does. 

I know that none of it is my fault, that he made himself hurt. 

Still… 

For months, I would ask my Dad to teach me about hunting. To teach me about the monsters that crept through the darkness. Each time I asked, he would reject my request and I would get scolded for asking such a stupid question. 

So, one night, around the age of seven or eight (one of the two, I can’t remember exactly), I decided that school wasn’t very important. There were occasions when I snuck out of classes to go to the library of whatever town we were in at the time to search the limited amount of lore books that they had. There were times when I got caught by Dean before I was able to sneak out. Other times it was by Sammy. Sometimes, my father would get a call from the school because I had been reported missing. 

I was a problem child, as you could tell. 

It’s not that I hated school. 

It just wasn’t my favorite. 

And I wanted to hunt. 

So, anyway…from town to town, I would skip class, go to the library, and learn everything that I could learn about hunting if there was anything to learn. Sometimes, I would ask Dean questions. Sometimes he would answer, other times he told me to not worry about it and to mind my own business. It used to hurt whenever Dean would reject any of the questions that I would ask, but I know now that it was so he didn’t get in trouble with Dad. I remember giving him a hard time about it, about not answering me. Dean, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry for being a jerk. 

Then again, Dean, if you’re reading this, you shouldn’t be reading this and expect some glitter to appear in your body wash. 

No one knew about my secret research. No one knew the reason behind my skipping classes. I would constantly make up lies, most of them being about how much I hated moving around and just wanted to rebel against my father. Typical kid stuff. 

It wasn’t until August of 1991, when I was ten years old, that I was finally able to put that research to use.

(Y/N) stared down at the paper that rested on a notebook in his lap. His eyes were wide and filled with stress, fingers tangled in his short hair, his back slouched ever so slightly. Dean sat a couple of inches away from him near the end of the bed, his homework in his lap, while Sam leaned against the headboard, a book in his hands that he had gotten from the school library. Dean looked up from his work, noticing the look of despair on his brother’s face before he glanced down at his worksheet. Dean grimaced and let out a hiss. 

“Multiplying fractions?” He asked, a hint of sympathy in his tone. 

Without looking up, (Y/N) gave a short nod. Dean pressed his lips together in a thin line before he set his pencil down beside him. 

“Do you need help?” Dean offered. 

(Y/N) lifted his head and looked at his older brother, giving a small, soundless nod. Dean offered a smile as he moved closer to him so that they were sitting next to one another. Dean craned his neck to be able to look at the paper, tilting his head as he studied the equations. 

“Which one are you having problems with?” He asked. 

“All of them,” (Y/N) answered. 

Dean snorted. “Okay, so, it’s easy-” 

“Wow, Dean thinks math is easy?” Sam mumbled, a smirk playing on his lips. 

Dean lifted his head and glared at Sam. “Shut up, bitch,” 

Sam shot a bitch-face towards Dean. “You shut up, jerk,” he retorted. 

(Y/N) let out a frustrated grunt. “Will both of you assholes shut up!? I don’t understand this!” His voice was filled with annoyance and desperation. 

Dean and Sam shot their brother a look. Sam rolled his eyes as he returned to the book. Dean looked back down at the paper, mumbling an apology under his breath. He then began to help (Y/N) with his homework, walking him through all of the problems that he had. (Y/N) still felt as if Dean was speaking in a foreign language, but he could understand the homework a little easier. 

When the paper was halfway finished, the door to the motel room suddenly burst open, causing the three brothers to jump, their eyes wide as they turned and looked at the person who had just entered. John stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him. He stomped over to the couch that sat in front of the small television set and plopped down on it. He ran his hands down his face and let a small growl emit from his throat. 

Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) shared a glance, almost as if they were communicating telepathically. After a while, Dean and Sam both turned their attention toward their brother, their eyes locked on his. After looking back and forth between the two, (Y/N) let out a soundless sigh as he set his homework beside him. He moved off of the bed and padded across the aged carpet to the couch. Slowly, he walked around the sofa so that he could see his father. 

John looked tired. Dark circles were prominent underneath his eyes. One of his legs was propped up on the couch while the other lay bent in front of him. His elbow rested on the arm of the sofa, his cheek placed against his right hand as he stared at the television in front of him. Nothing played. When (Y/N) came into view, John glanced at him out of the corner of his eye for a brief moment. He said nothing. 

“Hey, Dad,” (Y/N) greeted. “Um…how were the, uh, interviews with the victims’ families?” 

John shook his head. “Not great, kid,” he grumbled. 

“No?” 

“No.” 

As (Y/N) stared at his father, he timidly moved over to the couch. John hesitantly moved his leg as (Y/N) sat down next to him. 

“Did you…learn anything?” 

“Why aren’t you boys in bed?” John grunted. 

“We’re finishing our homework.” 

“Then shouldn’t you be working on it?”

(Y/N)’s shoulders slouched. “I just…wanted to see how it went is all…” 

“You want to know how it went?” John’s voice got deeper. “You really want to know how it went? Fucking terrible. That’s how it went,” John straightened himself out on the couch before he stood up. He began to pace around the room, his tone of voice getting more and more irritable. “I thought I had a good fucking lead going. All of the victims went to the same fucking bookstore a couple of days before their deaths and got the same book. Seems like a fucking coincidence, right? Then I go to the goddamn bookstore to see what the book was and all it was was something called Aradia or some shit like that. Some type of foreign book bullshit, I don’t fucking know.” 

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as John continued to rant. He looked down and away from his father. He got lost, deep in thought, the words that John was speaking irrelevant to him now. Finally, he turned back to him, kneeling on the couch as he raised his brows. 

“Did you say Aradia?” He questioned in the middle of John’s rant. 

John stopped pacing around the room as he looked back at (Y/N). Dean and Sam’s attention immediately turned to him, their eyes wide. John’s jaw was clenched, the anger and irritation still emanating from him. “Yeah,” he replied deeply. 

“Aradia…” (Y/N) trailed before he shook his head. “That’s not a foreign book, Dad! That’s only the first half of the title. The full title is Aradia or the Gospel of the Witches. It was one of the most influential pieces of literature in the nineteenth century to witches! You’re dealing with a witch!” (Y/N)’s eyes widened as a smile appeared on his face. 

John’s expression went from furious to confusion. He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about that book?” He questioned. 

“I read about it in a library a little bit ago.” (Y/N) answered quickly. 

John pressed his tongue into his cheek as he slowly nodded his head. He looked at Sam and Dean, who were still staring with wide eyes at their brother, and then back at (Y/N). He ran a hand down his face stressfully. 

“You boys finish your homework,” he mumbled as he walked towards the door. “I have to make a call.” 

Without allowing anyone to respond, John left the motel room, closing the door behind him a little gentler than when he entered. (Y/N)’s smile faded as he watched his father leave, his shoulders dropping. The three brothers sat in silence for a minute before they looked at one another. 

“Come on,” Dean said as he patted the spot on the bed next to him. “Let’s finish these math problems.” 

Even though Dad never told me, I knew I was right. I knew it was a witch that he had dealt with. We didn’t even get to go to school the next day. He had found and killed her before I was able to turn in that math homework. What a waste of time. 

I would like to think that Dad was proud of me in that situation, but he never said anything. He never brought it up again as far as I can remember. It was something that he had put in the past, along with all of the other hunts that we had been on. However, even if he wasn’t proud of me back then, I was proud of myself. Proud that I was able to help my Dad even if I wasn’t beside him when he took that bitch down. 

God, I hate witches. 

MAY 1993

I didn’t touch a gun until I was twelve years old. By that point, I had stopped begging Dad to teach me how to hunt, because it seemed that the only answer I was going to be getting was ‘No’. I figured that I would go to the next best person for the job. 

I had to ask Dean. 

Dean was very protective of Sammy and me when we were younger. He still is super protective of us, even in our ripe old ages. But because of how protective he could get, he was very hesitant about teaching me how to shoot a gun. However, with Dad talking about Dean going on hunts with him more and more by then, I knew that I would be left alone with Sammy. I used the excuse that I needed to learn how to shoot a gun eventually so that I could protect the two of us when we were by ourselves. I couldn’t be expected to be safe when the only two people who knew how to shoot were away. 

That reasoning caught Dean’s attention. 

After the fifth or sixth time asking him, Dean had finally agreed. A couple of days passed and, when Dad was a couple of towns away gathering information for a hunt, Dean and I skipped school. Shocking, right? I think Dean used the excuse that I hadn’t been feeling well and he had to take care of me. He even wrote out a fake doctor’s note and everything. Back then, you could get away with a handwritten note. I’m not too sure if you could now. 

Once Sammy had been dropped off at school that day, Dean and I walked to a creek a couple of miles away from the school. He had set up a couple of cans on a log, some recycled stuff that he had picked up along the way. He had brought one of Dad’s small handguns with him. When he gave it to me, it felt so surreal. So different. 

I never really understood what the big fuss was about, though. 

Shooting a gun was easy. 

“No, you can’t have your hand that low! You have it that low and the gun is going to come out of your hand when you shoot it,” Dean grumbled. 

Dean took (Y/N)’s hand in his and adjusted it so that it fits perfectly onto the grip of the handgun. He then took his other hand and placed it on top of the one that was already on the gun. (Y/N) furrowed his brows as he looked at the way his hands nestled against one another. 

“This doesn’t feel right.” He said. “Why can’t I just hold it with one hand like the cops do in the movies?” 

“Because you’re twelve, dummy. You’re not in your forties and have years of experience under your belt,” Dean rolled his eyes. “And that is exactly how you should hold it if you don’t want to get hit in the face with your weapon after you fire it.” 

(Y/N) listened intently to what his brother was saying, giving him a small nod before he straightened his back up. 

“Stop.” Dean held up a hand. 

(Y/N) shot Dean a confused look. “What?” 

“You’re standing wrong.” 

“I’m standing wrong…” 

“Yeah, here,” Dean walked over, pressing his hand against the top of (Y/N)’s back ever so slightly, leaning him forward. “If you have your back too straight, then you’re more likely to fall backward. You also,” Dean kicked (Y/N)’s feet apart. “Need to have your feet apart. Keeps you more ground.”

(Y/N) looked down at the ground for a moment, taking in the appearance and feel of his stance. The way his back leaned forward and the way his legs were spread. He nodded. 

“Okay, now I shoot?” 

“Is your safety off?” 

“Safety?” 

Dean sighed, moving back over to him. He took the gun from (Y/N)’s grasp and flashed the left side of the gun. “You see this little trigger?” When Dean received a nod from his brother, he continued. “If it’s facing side-to-side, that means the safety is on. That means the gun won’t fire. All you have to do is flick this little switch,” Dean turned the safety off. “Once it’s up and down, then that means it’s ready to fire.” He handed the gun back to (Y/N). “Now, get back into position.” 

(Y/N) glanced down at the safety mechanism on the gun for a moment before he nodded. He got back into the position that he was in, spreading his legs apart the same length Dean had and slouching his back forward ever so slightly. Once he received a nod of approval from Dean, (Y/N) lifted his arms, cocking his head to the side. He aimed at the can farthest to the left. He closed his left eye and placed his finger on the trigger. 

“Stop!” Dean said more abruptly. 

(Y/N) jumped and moved his finger off the trigger, standing up straighter to face Dean. “What!?” He asked exasperatedly. 

Dean shook his head. “You can’t have one eye closed.” 

“Why not? Snipers do it!” 

“Because snipers are far enough away from combat. They need to look through a scope to get a good shot. You, on the other hand, are feet away from whatever monster you’re dealing with. What happens when you’re facing more than one monster? You leave yourself open to being taken out on your left.” Dean’s tone was stern, yet calm. His arms were crossed over his chest. 

Slowly, (Y/N) nodded as he grasped an understanding of Dean’s thinking. “Both eyes open?” 

“Both eyes open.” Dean backed up a bit. “Back into position.” 

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath before resuming his position. Legs spread, back bent, arms up, head tilted, both eyes open. His goal was to hit the used can of peaches that sat on the outside of the log. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest from anxiousness and anticipation. He was surprised the gun wasn’t shaking in his grasp. 

His eyes were on the cartoon peaches that were etched onto the label of the can. More specifically, the pit that sat in the center of the peach. He wanted to hit the pit. He never moved his eyes from the pit as he took a deep breath, his shoulders rising. Finally, as he exhaled, his shoulders dropping, he pulled the trigger. 

The can flew into the air and seemed to dramatically and unceremoniously fall into the creek. A small splash echoed in (Y/N)’s ears, accompanied by the ringing of the gunshot. 

One thing that (Y/N) noted was that his hands ached, both from the vice grip he had on the gun and the recoil that he hadn’t expected. Sure, Dean had informed him about it before, but he wasn’t sure how it would feel. His hands would definitely bruise. 

(Y/N) lowered the gun, looking over at his brother to see that Dean wore a stunned expression on his face. Dean’s mouth hung open as his eyes were glued to the can that lay in the flowing water. (Y/N) watched in silence as Dean walked over to the can. He reached down and picked it up by the opening, wincing from the heat of the bullet hole before he swapped hands. He studied the can. It seemed like too much time had passed before he turned the can so (Y/N) could see. 

(Y/N) had gotten it on his first try. 

The bullet hole? 

Right in the pit. 

(Y/N) raised his brows, a mixture of pride and surprise coursing through him. A wide smile appeared on his face. Similarly, a smirk appeared on Dean’s lips. Dean chuckled before he tossed the can into the water. 

“Beginner’s luck,” he said, brushing his hands onto his jeans. “Let’s see if you can hit the other ones.” 

I shot through the rest of the cans, the same as I had done for that can of peaches. Not to toot my own horn, but I was a natural when it came to a pistol. I don’t mean to sound egotistic about this, but Dean can back up any statement that I’m making about this story. 

I could tell that Dean was proud of me that day. He never said he was, but the way he looked at me and the way he treated me afterward told me things that words couldn’t. It’s hard to describe, but it almost felt like he had gained some respect for me that day. It felt good. Even as I am writing about this story, I can’t keep the smile off my face. I always looked up at Dean, so it feels great to think that I had done something to bring a smile to his stupid face. 

My hands hurt like hell after it was all said and done. I had gotten a couple of bruises near the thumb on my right hand that I brushed off to my Dad as something that I had picked up when I got into a fight at school. Dean had backed me up when Dad got on my ass about it. Dad told me that I had to get along with the other kids so I didn’t give the wrong impression at the schools I went to. It wasn’t like they would remember me anyway. Of course, I didn’t tell him that. I knew when to bite my tongue. 

Dad never found out about the shooting practice. I get a feeling that he had a sneaking suspicion as soon as he took me to practice himself years later, but I never told him about it. I never told him that Dean had been the one to teach me how to stand correctly, or where to find the safety of a gun. I know that he knew it was Dean. A part of me wonders if Dean ever got in trouble for it, or if it was something that Dad even brought up. I would never ask Dean about it now, though. 

Some things are best to be left in the past.

 

NOVEMBER 1999

By the time I turned eighteen, I had already been on several hunts with Dad and Dean. The majority of the time, though, I would stay back and watch Sammy. Even though he was a teenager and had the capability of taking care of himself, Dad expressed that he was still a kid and needed to be looked after. A part of me thought it was bullshit at the time, but another part of me was glad that I was able to spend time with my younger brother. 

Now, I know the real reason behind my staying with Sammy was because some of the hunts that Dad and Dean went on were ‘rough’. A little ‘too hard’ for me. 

Dad didn’t want to lose the son that reminded him of his wife. 

At least, that was what Dean told me, and I believe him. 

It was a blessing and a curse, come to think of it. There were times that I stayed behind and Dad called me up, needing me to do some research for the case that they were working on. He had said it would be faster if someone was working on the research while he and Dean were out taking interviews. In the end, it was more efficient. I would gather the necessary information and hand it off to him and they would be back at the motel a lot quicker than if they had been the ones to look up the information. 

That was the system that we worked with for a while. After a couple of months, Dad informed me that he didn’t want me to do the research anymore. He wanted Sammy to be the one to do it. I remember him saying that Sammy needed to focus more on the hunting aspect of his life. That school was just a waste of time at that point. He was old enough to get into it. 

Sammy hated the idea when I told him. He loved school. He was always such a nerd. Still is. An even bigger nerd if you can believe it. I knew how much school meant to him, and I didn’t want him to be discouraged from doing his schoolwork. He shouldn’t have been forced to do anything that he didn’t want to. So, I decided that I was going to do the research and just tell Dad that he had been the one to do it. Sammy was thankful. 

That was until Dad called. 

Dad wasn't as stupid as I took him for most of the time. He knew that Sammy hadn’t done any of the research, that I was the one that did it all. By the time he and Dean got back, he gave Sammy a verbal lashing. I tried to defend him, but nothing worked. In the end, Sammy gave in. He would do the research for the next hunt. 

Like clockwork, when the next hunt rolled around, with Sammy and I staying back at the motel, Dad had called. He had given Sammy the information that he needed to research and we headed off to the local library. Once we got the necessary books, we took them back to the motel and he began to work. 

I could tell that it wasn’t going well.

Sam sat at the small table near the motel room door, two books placed in front of him. His back was slouched as he looked from one book to another, flipping through pages frantically. He had been going at it for several hours by then, evident by the bags that were present underneath his eyes and the redness around his pupils. (Y/N) sat on the couch, watching some old western show. Now and then he would look at his little brother. He could see how tired and stressed he was about the entire situation. (Y/N) had never seen Sam that stressed out before, even when he was studying for a test in one of his AP classes. 

Eventually, Sam pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, lowering his head, as if accepting defeat. (Y/N) studied his movements, and, after he saw that he had not moved in a while, he decided the best thing to do was to help him out. He picked up the remote and turned off the television before tossing it aside. He stood from his spot on the couch and walked over to the table. He grabbed the spare chair, pulled it beside Sam, and sat down. 

“Having some trouble?” He questioned. 

Sam’s shoulders rose and fell as a sigh escaped his lips. He removed his hands from his face and placed them into his lengthy hair. His eyes were cast down towards the table. He stayed in the same position for some time before he looked up at (Y/N). 

“No,” he answered, pulling the books towards him. “I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look fine.” 

“I said ‘I’m fine’,” Sam repeated through gritted teeth. 

(Y/N) studied him with an expressionless face. Sam kept his eyes down, looking from one book to another. (Y/N) was able to see the stress that was emitted from his brother even better with how close he was sitting. He took one look at the books before he shook his head. 

“I’m sorry Dad’s making you do this.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s not. You shouldn’t be doing this alone the first time…” he trailed. “But if Dad found out I helped you-” 

“You’d get in trouble, and so would I. Yeah, I know.” 

(Y/N) pursed his lips. “You know, it took me a little over a year to get comfortable with translating Latin. I sometimes screw up from time to time.” 

“Still?” 

“Yeah, still,” he chuckled. “That’s why I got something that helps me out now and again.” 

With that, (Y/N) stood from his spot on the chair and waltzed over to the bed in the far corner of the room. Beside the bed sat his black duffel bag. He picked it up and placed it on the bed. He began to rummage through it, sorting through clothes and weapons that rested at the bottom. Wedged into the corner of his bag sat a book. He picked it up and brought it over to the table. He took a seat next to Sam once more and placed the book in front of him. 

Sam furrowed his brows as he studied the cover. It was a Latin-English translation book. It looked rather similar to the one that he had picked up at the library. The only difference was the color of the cover was a little faded and, along the outside of the book, between all of the pages, were multi-colored Post-it notes. Each Post-it note had different letter combinations on it, as well as notes written on some of them. Sam opened the cover and he raised his brows when he saw that the first page was replaced by a notebook-sized piece of paper, taped to the front page. There were multiple words in English on the left side with their corresponding Latin translation on the right. 

“What’s this?” Sam asked. 

“It’s a translation book I picked up a couple of years back at a bookstore. I figured since there were going to be a lot of things that needed translating, then I was going to have to make it easier for myself to find the words. The only problem is that most of these translation books are so damn compressed that it’s hard to find certain words without getting blurry vision. So, I took the liberty to mark down all of the times when the letters change in the words. For example, when the words that start with ‘AB’ transfer to words that start with ‘AC’. It always made it easier to find. Plus, I made a page at the beginning about common words that I have found in my research so that it would be easier to translate them.” 

As (Y/N) explained, he gestured with his hand toward the book. Sam listened intently, taking in all of the information that he was given, nodding his head. Once (Y/N) was done talking, Sam looked down at the book and then back up at him. 

“You did all this?” 

“Yeah,” (Y/N) chuckled. “Crazy, right?” 

Sam snorted. “Yeah. Wish you put that much effort into your homework when you were still in school.” 

“Hey,” (Y/N) leaned back in his chair and lifted his hands in mock surrender. “School was fine and all, but this is something I enjoy, and I’m good at it. I’m good at hunting research and you’re good in school.” 

“And what’s Dean good at?” 

“Being a pain in the ass.” 

Sam smiled widely, his dimples more prominent than (Y/N) had seen in a while. After a beat or two of silence, the smile faded as he looked down.

“I wish Dad could see that I’m good at school.” 

The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth curved downward. It was his turn to look down at the table. He reached over and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder comfortingly. “I know, kiddo,” he mumbled. “But Dean and I both see how much of a nerd you are. Don’t worry.” 

A smile returned to Sam’s face, but it wasn’t as happy as the last one. They sat in silence for a little bit before (Y/N) lowered his hand and Sam moved back to the books. 

“You got it from here?” (Y/N) questioned. 

“Yeah, I got it,” 

“Great,” (Y/N) said as he stood from his seat and patted Sam on the back. “Call me over if you need anything.” 

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to call you over when I get to the part about multiplying fractions.” 

(Y/N) glared at Sam and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” 

“No, no I’m not.” 

Sammy still teases me to this day about not knowing how to multiply fractions. Even though it was decades ago at this point, he still likes to tease me about it. Little shit. 

With my help, Sammy was able to get the translations done a lot faster than he expected. I remember seeing the relief on his face when he had finished. Poor kid was so exhausted. Dad was more than pleased when he called and asked about it. Dad never found out that I had helped him out a bit, and neither Sammy nor I were planning on telling him. I just wanted Sammy to have an easier time than I did when I was first learning about research, specifically translations. 

In the end, I would have to say that Sammy is better than me when it comes to research. He’s taken the reigns on many different hunts because of how proficient he is with technology. I’m good with old-fashioned ways of research, but Sammy’s the nerd when it comes to computers. 

Sammy has told me once or twice, though, that I was the one that helped him the most when it came to his knowledge of research. That, without my help, he wouldn’t have been as good at it as he is now. 

I call bullshit. Sammy has always been a smart kid. 

He could do anything he put his mind to. 

SEPTEMBER 2014

This is all I can write at the moment. Dean called me to the kitchen a couple of minutes ago saying that dinner was ready. I need to wrap this up before he or Sammy comes in here and sees what I’m doing. I know that I would get endlessly teased about keeping a ‘diary’. I need to make sure to hide this in a good enough place where neither of them will find it if they go snooping through my room. 

Sam, Dean, if you guys are reading this, I’ll get you back. 

But if you’re going to read it, I just want to let you know that I love you guys. 

Not that I’m into chick-flick moments or anything. 

I’m just glad that I have you guys as my brothers. No one could ask for a better family than you two. 

Okay, that was cheesy. I wish I wasn’t writing this in pen so I could erase it. 

Dammit. 

I’m not too sure how to end this, so I guess I’ll just write again sometime when I can. Perhaps I could do like Dad did in his journal and write about all of the new monsters we have discovered over the years. Or maybe write more memories down. This journal is going to be so cluttered that no one is going to want to read it. There’s no way I’m going to get famous from this. 

Dean just called me to the kitchen again. 

Until next time. 

Happy hunting. (That was stupid, think of something better).

WE LOVE YOU TOO - SAM + DEAN

[sixhours]

One Day at a Time - Chapter 6 - Transition

Author's note: Good news! The rest of this will probably be posted today, with the exception of an epilogue I haven't had the guts to write. When I do, it will be posted as a separate work, and it's not necessary to wrap up this story. Thank you for reading! Your comments and reblogs are feeding me. <3

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

After weeks of sleeping on the narrow, lumpy mattress in Ellie’s old room, his back finally gives out.

He’s reaching for the coffee pot and something about how he moves his shoulder causes a domino effect of rippling pain that starts at the nape of his neck and ends by setting his sciatic nerve on fire, every muscle along his spine locking up tighter than a fist.

He barely makes it to the couch, easing himself down to a prone position with a groan that he hopes Charlie can’t hear from the bedroom.

Her footsteps echo on the stairs.

No such luck.

“Did someone just die down here?”

“M’fine,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Just my back.”

“What happened?“

Ellie chooses that moment to come through the front door. “Joel? I need a–”

“He’s on the couch. Think his back gave out,” Charlie says, now standing over him, looking concerned.

Ellie’s face pokes over the back of the couch. “Again, old man?”

“M’fine,” he repeats, trying to roll to his side to try to stand, but that only aggravates the nerve and sends a ripple of spasms up his traitorous spine. “Fuck!”

“Should I go find Maria?” Ellie asks. “Those pills she had worked last time–”

“No, I just…need to rest for a minute,” he grumbles, knowing full well he’s out of commission until someone finds him a muscle relaxant.

“Is he always like this?” Charlie asks.

“Pretty much,” Ellie says, too quickly for Joel’s liking.

“I’ll go find Maria,” Charlie says, surprising them both when she takes Joel’s hand and gives it a tender squeeze. Ellie’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself again. I’ll be back,” she addresses Ellie before heading out the door.

When Charlie is gone, Ellie plops into the armchair and leans forward, an almost predatory smirk on her face.

“So…is she your girlfriend yet?”

“S’not like–”

“If you say ‘it’s not like that’ one more time, I’ll take the damn pills myself,” she says.

Joel groans. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Got ya right where I want ya,” she says. “Spill it, dude.”

“No, we’re not…I don’t…I dunno,” he grumbles.

“You ‘don’t know?’”

“S’what I said,” he grits his teeth against another wave of pain, forcing himself to lie absolutely still. “It’s complicated.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “That’s just what grown-ups say when they don’t want to tell you the truth.”

He winces. “Yeah. Well, the truth is…it’s complicated.”

She sighs. “Are you sleeping together?”

“That’s none of your–”

“Just saying, if you’re fucking her, she’s probably your girlfriend. So it’s not that complicated.”

“Ellie, I’m not havin’ this conversation,” he growls, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Well, you should probably figure it out before the baby gets here.”

He can’t argue with that, so he doesn’t.

“It’s gonna be weird…having a baby around,” she says thoughtfully. “Remember how bad Tommy was after Izzy was born? When he kept putting Maria’s breastmilk in his coffee by accident?”

Joel snorts. “Yeah. I remember.”

“You’re gonna be busy,” she says. “Babies are a lot of work.”

Even in his pain, he picks up on the unspoken question in her voice. He softens. He wants to sit up so he can look at her, but his back protests. Instead, he reaches blindly for her hand.

“C’mere.”

There’s a reluctant pause, and then she’s standing beside him, slipping her fingers into his.

“I know I haven’t been, uh…great…lately. M’sorry.”

She shrugs, biting at her lower lip.

“Truth is…I was just gettin’ used to the idea of bein’ your dad, and now with the baby…”

He takes a deep, shaky breath.

“It’s a lot. An’ I know it’s prob’ly a lot for you, too.”

Her voice is too light, like she’s trying to cover something up. “You’ll have a real kid soon.”

He frowns and gives her an experimental pinch between her thumb and index finger. “Dunno. You feel pretty real to me.”

“You know what I mean,” she says softly, and he feels it in his heart, a twinge more powerful than any back spasm. He grips her fingers tighter.

“It’ll be different for a while…and yeah, I’m not gonna get much sleep. Prob’ly be…distracted. But it’s still you and me, kid,” he says. “An’ I’m always gonna be here.”

His back takes that moment to seize up again and he hisses. “Shit, sorry.”

She sighs, but there’s a smile in it. “At this rate, you’re always gonna be here on the couch .”

“What’d you need, anyway?” he groans, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, a hammer.”

“What for?”

“Cat found me this new poster, was gonna hang it in my room.”

“There’s one in my toolbox; s’by the door,” he says. “Just put it back when you’re done.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re not gonna hurt yourself again, are you? Your girlfriend’ll have my ass.”

His answering glare has no effect and she leaves him, laughing.

Charlie returns with the pills a few minutes later, and he swallows two of them eagerly before she can fetch a glass of water. Then he hears her rummaging around up in the bedroom. She comes back with a heating pad.

“Found it at the post,” she explains. “Your kid is killing my hips. Lift up.”

Your kid.

He frowns. “I don’t need—“

“Spare me,” she sighs. “Lift up.”

So he does, still grumbling, and she slides the pad under his lower back and plugs the cord into the wall. It’s instantly warm, oozing heat up his spine, and the muscles slowly start to unwind. He can’t hold back a groan of relief.

“It’s the bed, isn’t it?” she sighs, easing herself into the armchair.

“No,” he says too quickly. “Strained it at work. Tommy’s got us workin’ doubles to get the new barns up.”

“Uh-huh. Maybe you should consider moving back into your room.”

“Not kickin’ you out,” he scoffs.

“I’d stay there, too.”

He side-eyes her. “No playin’ house, remember?”

“I think we might have crossed that line already,” she murmurs, quirking her lips.

Then she’s up and doing something in the kitchen, and Joel tries to focus on letting the heat work its magic. He knows the muscle relaxant has kicked in when he can roll over slightly and it doesn’t make his back seize. He tries to sit up, but Charlie is instantly at his side, holding him down by the shoulders.

“Gotta work,” he mutters weakly.

“Nuh-uh. I already told Tommy you’re out of commission,” she says.

“The hell’d you do–”

“You’re not good at letting people take care of you, are you?”

He grunts. “Says you .”

“Yeah, we have that in common. Not so much fun on the other side, huh?” she murmurs.

She plunks down a mug of coffee, a glass of juice, and a plate of eggs and toast on the table next to him, then puts a DVD in the player and hands him the remote.

“Stay,” she commands. “I’m at the post all day, but I’ll bring you lunch on my break. You’d better be horizontal when I get back.”

He wants to complain, but the pills have made him slow, and she’s out the door before he can think of a response.

The coffee is black and strong, just the way he likes it. The juice is awful–it’s green, some combination of things from the garden–but he chokes it down anyway, thinking of Sarah and her vitamins.

And then he passes out because he forgot that taking muscle relaxants on an empty stomach will do that. He wakes a few hours later, mouth dry and tasting of that awful juice, to find a paper bag and a note from Charlie have replaced the food and drinks on the table.

It’s a sandwich. Take another dose if you need it. I’ll be home by 6.

He’s pleasantly surprised to find he can sit up. Sure, the noise he makes in the process is unflattering, and he’s not going to be doing cartwheels anytime soon, but it’s an improvement.

This time, he eats the sandwich before he takes the second dose and manages to stay awake until Charlie gets home, but his head swims and he barely makes it halfway through their nightly movie. He wakes to her tugging gently on his hand.

“Come to bed.”

He’s too tired to protest. He lets her lead him to his bedroom, lets her pull back the covers and tuck him into bed, lets her wrap her body around his.

“You just wanna take advantage of me,” he slurs lightly into her hair.

She snorts a laugh. “Yes, Joel. This was my grand plan. For you to knock me up and throw your back out so I could keep you as my sex slave.”

“Mmmff. Knew it.”

“Go to sleep, old man,” she murmurs, nuzzling into his chest until he can feel her smile against his skin.

~*~

Sometimes Charlie is so distant, it’s like she isn’t there at all. She stares into space and he has to say her name four or five times before she hears him. Sometimes he has to physically touch her to bring her back, and then she looks at him as though he’s a stranger.

After the second or third time, he recognizes it as the disassociation of grief. He lost days of his life after Sarah was taken from him, days where he existed in body only, when Tess or Tommy would have to pull him back from the edge of a deep, dark pit. He’d wake up unable to remember how he’d gotten to bed or find himself in the middle of a fight with no idea how he’d gotten there. It might have scared him if he thought he had something to lose.

Those are the nights she needs him.

He knows he should turn her away. He knows he’s using her as much as she’s using him. But she comes alive when they’re together, and he tells himself it helps, and maybe it does.

He takes half as many showers.

Tonight, she arches back into him as he thrusts into her on her side from behind, curled around her body, heady with the feeling of being surrounded by her, all soft skin and warmth. She’s murmuring into his palm, slicking her tongue around his fingers, sucking them into her wet mouth and humming. His other hand rubs flutter-like circles against her clit the way he knows she likes.

She’s three orgasms deep and still hungry, panting and pleading, more, there, so close, please .

And then she comes hard, clenching around him and wrenching a hoarse name from her throat.

Not his name.

It barely registers until she’s scrambling away to sit at the edge of the bed, still trembling from the aftershocks, pulling the sheet across her naked chest.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry,” she gasps.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, reaching out to pull her back against him, but she jerks away from his touch.

“Fuck,” she grits out, followed by a low, keening sob. “Shit. Fuck.”

Some part of him has always known; the way her eyes clamp shut at the critical moment, the way she positions him and guides him and takes and takes and takes, the way she asks to forget, to pretend. Joel knows it’s foolish to think she needed him and not just the idea of him: a warm body, a working cock and fingers and tongue.

“Charlie, it’s–”

Her muffled sob cracks something in his heart. Then she’s locking herself in the bathroom before he can find his feet.

Shit.

He gets out of bed and pulls on his boxers, goes to the closed door. “Charlie?”

“Go away.”

He rolls his eyes. “Dammit, I’m not…mad.”

Silence.

“I don’t care if you…if you need…if you…fuck,” he hisses. “Just talk t’me.”

Her voice is so faint it barely registers. “I can’t.”

“Okay, you don’t have to, but…can you at least open the door?”

“No.”

He makes a fist against the wall, gritting his teeth. Without a better idea, he turns and slides down the wall, pressing his back to the door.

I’m here , he thinks helplessly. Just tell me what to do.

Silence. And then…rustling, a soft grunt, until they’re back-to-back with the door between them. He hears the hitch of another muffled sob.

“I always…thought it would be him,” she whispers finally, voice thick. “That we’d do this together.”

He feels a familiar shameful flush. What can he say?

I’m sorry it happened the wrong way, at the wrong time, with the wrong person.

I’m sorry I’m not him.

But he’s not sorry at all. He’s a selfish asshole, so he doesn’t say anything.

“We wanted this so much. And sometimes it feels like a…a betrayal. Like I’m moving on…forgetting him.”

He swallows hard, thinking of Sarah, wondering if he might hold this child in his arms and feel that same gnawing guilt, like he doesn’t deserve to be whole again.

“I think he’d want you to be happy,” Joel says softly.

“I tell myself that, I do…but I don’t think I believe it. I don’t–”

More silence. He shifts his weight. The floor is cold and hard, digging into his ass. It can’t be good for her back.

“When we…started…you said…you needed to pretend,” he tries, tipping his head back against the door and closing his eyes. “I knew that goin’ into this. Knew I wasn’t, uh…I’m not–”

“I thought…I wanted…I don’t know,” she hiccups. “I don’t know anymore.”

“We…you don’t need to—”

“It hurts,” she grates out. “It h-hurts and I miss him and it’s not f-f-fucking fair.”

It’s not fucking fair .

What else is there to say?

“I know,” he whispers roughly. “I know.”

They sit like that until his ass is numb and her silence is too unnerving to bear.

“Come back to bed,” he says, defeated and not expecting her to answer. “Please.”

There’s a watery sigh on the other side of the door. Then he hears her moving, the slightest groan as she gets to her feet, and he eases himself off the floor. The door opens. She’s wrapped in a robe, one hand cradling her belly under the terrycloth, the bedsheet pooled at her feet.

Her eyes meet his, red-rimmed and hollow. He cups the back of her neck and pulls her into an embrace.

“S’alright,” he whispers when her tears wet his chest and she shudders against him. He sways like he used to when Sarah was little, rocking her back and forth until she quiets.

“Oh!”

She jumps suddenly, startling in his arms, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Swiping at her eyes, she grabs his hand, guiding it down her body until it’s resting just below her belly button. Her skin is warm and taut and smooth.

“What—“

Then he feels it, the tapping against his fingers, some tiny arm or elbow or foot poking at him from under her skin. She laughs through tears as the insistent little being seems to dance under their hands.

“Never been this strong before,” she whispers thickly.

Joel doesn’t trust himself to speak, pride warring with sadness in his chest. They stay like that for a long time, his hand on her stomach, new life roiling beneath his palm.

~*~

The baby should be able to hear them now, so at night, he reads out loud from a tattered copy of The Fellowship of the Ring , sitting up in their shared bed with a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. The reading was his idea, the choice of material was hers.

One hand holds the book, the other rests on Charlie’s stomach. She says she likes the sound of his voice, but most of the time, she’s asleep before he gets to the third page. At this rate, the kid will be twenty before they finish the first book in the trilogy.

Tonight, the baby–Coconut, he thinks–is particularly active, rolling and kicking against his hand. A particularly hard jab causes Charlie to jump, hissing a soft ouch under her breath, and he puts the book aside.

“Hey, kid, settle down,” he says, rubbing at the squirming lump. “Let your mama sleep.”

This earns him another pointed jab; the kid is all attitude.

“Mmm,” Charlie mutters. “I know what’d help me sleep.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm,” she stretches, arching her back, and he can see the outline of one dark nipple through her bra.

“Again?” he murmurs, sliding a hand up to cup her breast and rolling it gently through the fabric. “Already?”

She sighs at the contact. “Mmm. Please?”

He tosses his glasses on the nightstand, more than happy to abandon the book, and curls around her, nuzzling her neck. “‘Fraid I’m not going to be much help with, uh…y’know.”

Not for the first time, he wishes he was about fifteen years younger. Even then, he’s not sure he could keep up with her. He wonders if she was always like this, or if it’s the pregnancy. He wonders if he’ll get to find out.

They don’t talk about this, or what will happen after the baby comes. They go to her midwife appointments together and Joel grinds his teeth through every second, but he stays by her side. Sometimes she holds his hand, and when she kisses him, she does so with the full force of her being. But just like the baby, their relationship doesn’t have a name.

She guides his hand between her legs, under her panties, finding her slick and swollen. She gives a contented little hum of pleasure when his finger traces her seam. “I’m sure you can figure something out.”

He huffs a breath into her nape, kisses the spot where the soft, downy hairs tickle against his nose, and strokes her the way she likes, circling and tapping until she’s arching against him. She comes almost immediately, fluttering and pulsing against his fingertips. A little one.

“More?” he murmurs, gentling his touch as her breathing calms.

“Mmhm, please.”

Her clit is a hard, slick little pebble under his fingers. He draws her orgasm from her more slowly this time, teasing, building her up until her climax is a growl sprung from the depths of her throat and her thighs clench his hand in a vise. He cups her sex gently and trails kisses along her neck, her throat, her shoulder as she rides it out, whispers into the shell of her ear, “More?”

Charlie reaches back and threads her fingers into his hair in answer, pulling him tighter against her, and he breathes her in, sweat and soap and something uniquely her. It drives him crazy, makes him feel feral and protective and alive. She turns her head, seeking his mouth, and he obliges, tongue parting her lips and tasting her as she hums and shivers and writhes against his hand, don’t stop please don’t please don’t stop . 

“I got you,” he murmurs against her lips in between kisses, fingers circling and circling until his wrist aches. He can feel the baby roll and kick under his forearm, feels her fingers gripping him there. He loves watching her like this, loves the way her back arches and jaw goes slack with pleasure, the sounds she makes when she comes.

And then she does, coming undone in his arms with a throaty moan, shuddering and keening in a way that makes his cock twitch.

“Better?” he murmurs, finally pulling his hand away and groping for the blanket they’d tossed aside.

“Much,” she sighs, relinquishing herself to his warmth. “You sure you don’t want me to…”

“M’fine,” he says, wrapping an arm around her belly, which has gone mostly still. “Kid calmed down.”

“Yeah. S’the hormones,” she murmurs drowsily. “Oxytocin.”

“They can feel that, huh?”

“Mmhm,” she says. “They can feel everything.”

“...everything?”

“Don’t make it weird,” she murmurs, and he can feel her smirking against his arm. “Read to us?”

Us . They’re slowly bending all the rules, he thinks.

He groans. “Thought you were goin’ to sleep.”

“I am, but I like your voice.”

“Uh huh. Damnit, lost my place,” he grumbles, grabbing for the hefty paperback. “Never find it again, damn book is six-thousand pages long. Thought this’d have dragons, so far they’re just describing’ stuff and yackin’.”

“It’s Tolkien,” she yawns. “It’s a classic.”

“Buncha elves and gnomes and shit,” he mutters. “This Dildo Baggins character sounds like a porn star.”

“They’re hobbits,” Charlie laughs and pokes him in the thigh. “And it’s ‘Bilbo’, you grouch.”

He squints. “Right, need my glasses. Tiny print.”

Charlie snickers, something about old eyes , and burrows deeper into the covers as he finally finds his reading glasses and his place.

He doesn’t make it two pages before he hears her snore.

~*~

They’ve kept up the movie night routine even though there’s no good reason for Charlie to stay off her feet. They’ve rented the last of the action flicks from the library, so now they’re working through television shows and sitcoms. Some unlucky soul from the time before left behind a sizeable collection of M*A*S*H episodes on tape, so Charlie often falls asleep to the sounds of Hawkeye’s sarcastic drawl.

They’re on the couch in their usual spots, her with a bowl of homemade strawberry ice cream perched on her belly, him with a beer. The ice cream is the only thing she craves–strawberry preserves mixed with cream and sugar, then frozen and scooped into a bowl. Joel makes a new batch every other night before they go to bed. They’re going through Maria’s summer preserves like crazy, and he’ll be doing work on the community greenhouses for the rest of his fucking life at this rate.

But it’s worth it, he thinks, as she takes another bite of the rich, creamy concoction, licking the spoon clean with her strawberry-pink tongue. She’s a fucking distraction. The laugh track is going off in the background, but with every bite, her eyes roll back and her lashes flutter, and he wants to take that spoon out of her mouth and–

He adjusts himself, forces his eyes back to the screen, takes another sip of his beer. Jesus .

A few minutes later the bowl is licked clean, and a well-placed kick from the baby sends it rocking, tumbling into her lap.

“Apparently we demand more,” Charlie laughs.

“Kid’s gonna come out lookin’ like a strawberry,” Joel mutters.

She smiles. “Baby wants what it wants.”

The phrase triggers a memory, and he chuckles. “With Sarah, it was mangoes.”

Sarah’s mom, sitting at the kitchen table in their tiny one-bedroom, devouring the fruit straight from the rind, sticky juice coating her fingers, running down her chin.

Baby wants what it wants , she’d said, and then he’d kissed her, lips syrupy sweet.

He doesn’t remember if he loved her–there was no room for love to grow, really. Not enough time, not enough money, not enough maturity between the two of them. But they’d made Sarah, and he’d loved his baby girl enough to make up for the rest.

“Who’s Sarah?”

Charlie snaps him out of his reverie. She’s looking at him curiously.

Oh.

He reaches for the remote, pausing the show, and the silence around them has weight, he can feel it pressing against his chest. He coughs, clears his throat, tries to figure out how to start.

“She was, uh…my daughter. Before.”

She blinks at him, wide-eyed, her question a small, breathless whisper. “You had a daughter?”

He ducks his head. “Yeah. She, uh…was killed on Outbreak Day. She’d be about your age now. Little younger, I guess.”

Her eyes are so bright, they almost glow.

“Her mom…my ex…liked mangoes,” he explains. “When she was pregnant. Couldn’t keep enough of ‘em in the house.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Didn’t know you liked mangoes,” he says weakly, trying for a joke. She doesn’t smile.

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to hide it. It never felt like a good time, and it’s…I didn’t want you to feel like I was…replacin’ something.”

She looks around then as if seeking some kind of clue, something obvious she might have missed. There are no photos of Sarah on the mantle, no drawings or keepsakes to indicate he’d been a father before Ellie–only the broken watch on his wrist. He holds it out to her, the shattered glass face shimmering in the light of the TV screen.

“She gave me this for my birthday,” he says, and the words stick in his throat. “It’s…all I have.”

“And her name was Sarah?” she says in a small, tight voice.

His smile is sad. “Go figure, huh?”

Her lip quivers. “Joel…”

She sets the bowl aside and starts to get up, the bulk of her belly and gravity working against her.

“Don’t–” he starts, but she makes it to her feet before he can protest.

Then she’s standing between his knees and cradling his face in her hands. There are tears in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. She cries at everything now, but that doesn’t explain why he wants to cry, too.

He wants to say something reassuring, to set her at ease, but his tongue is thick in his mouth and it hurts like it does sometimes, like the wound is fresh and raw and new all over again.

“I can’t,” he says thickly, pleading. “Not…right now. Not yet.”

She nods slowly, kisses his forehead with something like love, and cradles him against her. Her warm, full belly presses against his chest, against his heart, and he hates that it soothes the ache. It’s too much like forgetting.

Her whisper at his temple is a balm.

“One day at a time.”

[writingwarden]

HESH REQUEST!!!

him helping you clean out your attic and you find a bunch of your childhood stuff :( (including your old diary, which is FILLED with pages you wrote about him)

Anon, you're a genius

David "Hesh" Walker x Reader

TW- None, just fluff, love confessions, kissing, minute emotional angst

Word Count- 2.1k

Summary- Feelings dug up by written words

[A/N- Typed this out in one sitting! Tried to keep it GN.]

Call Sign- BADGER

There was only one good thing about being sent into No Man's Land, and that was the fact you were able to make a stop at your old house. Memories rush at you as you cross what used to be the threshold. The house was smaller than those around it, a nice looking one story building with a huge backyard. As an only child your parents felt they didn’t need so much empty space. Dust covers every surface you look at, the wildlife has taken over every inch it could reach. The air was thick as you moved further into the house, Riley at your heels and his handler not far behind.

Hesh’s and Logan’s footsteps echo loudly against the crumbling walls of your once pristine home. Your mother had taken pride in how orderly she had kept things. She always had somebody over for whatever reasons. That was actually how you had come to know the Walker boys. You mom and dad had been close friends of Elias Walker, your dad having served with the man. One day she had them over for lunch, the next thing you know you’re skating with Hesh and teaching Logan how to pick locks. You three had become the three musketeers. If one of you had an idea, then all of you had a plan.

Stopping in the middle of the kitchen to take in the feelings that come with returning to a place you used to hold dear, a long sigh leaves your chest. “It’s weird being back here after everything,” you say to the men behind you, “We have a minute to look around, feel free to dredge up old memories.” 

Slinging your rifle over your shoulder, you start looking through the cabinets. You weren’t looking for anything specific but it was somewhat comforting to see that most of the dishware had survived. You could hear comments from Hesh from further in the house. Moving through the house made you almost want to tear up, it was a lot to process in the short amount of time you had. Down the hallway was Riley.

The dog stood in front of your old bedroom door, behind him the ladder that led to the attic had been pulled down. “Which one of you’s up there?” you called out from the floor. Hesh’s head pops out, looking down at you with a grin on his face. You shoot him a questioning glance.

“Badger, the fort is still standing!” He elaborates excitedly. The fort in question was exactly as it sounds; a hangout spot built from storage tubs and old blankets that hadn’t been used since your parents lived up north. A smile creeps onto your face when a memory hits you. 

“Well shit, I told you it would survive to the end of the world.” You had built the place after all, and your creations don’t fall apart easily. “You know, there should be a box of those books in there somewhere. I remember a copy of World War Z being in there somewhere. See if you can find them?” you suggest. 

He moves his head around in an indecisive way before nodding, “Yeah I'll try to find it.” He disappears back into the attic for a second before reappearing, “Oh yeah, I found some stuff from when you were younger. I’ll bring some down for you to look through.” And with that he’s gone again. 

A huff from Riley has you looking down and shaking your head fondly at the dog. Riley pawed at the closed door again. Looking up you stare at the plain white door that leads to your old bedroom, why were you hesitating?

Slowly you reach your hand out, resting it on the cool brass doorknob. Just open the door. Placing your forehead against the door and taking a deep breath, You don’t have time to move this slow. What is wrong? A quick push and the door squeals open, hinges rusted from years of no use and nature's wrath.

The room looks just how you left it, your favorite color painted on the walls and your bed still unmade. If it weren’t for the dust and fallen debris from where a part of the ceiling fell in, the room looks as if you had just stepped out for a moment. Clothes still strewn around from your searching and desk still in disarray from writing in your diary before you left. That’s how you knew you were desperate to leave, you never left that book in the open. But you had been so worried about getting over to Hesh’s place that you had left it open. You don’t know why you hadn’t put it up, the Walker household was only a three block walk from your own. You would have made it in time.

You had been a block away from the boy’s house when the ground exploded, sending you into the grass. Your skateboard still clutched tightly under your arm, your blue  drawstring bookbag cushioning your fall. In your panicked state you tried to rush home, the sifting road preventing you from reaching your destination. Your only saving grace had been Hesh’s dad, Mr. Elias Walker in his screeching to a  halt in front of you. He flung the passenger side door open and you scrambled in. After that, he found the boys and the rest is history.

Entering the room further you pick up random items, quickly and silently going through the items. A few small items are stashed into your backpack, two of which being a family photo and your childhood keepsake. The thought passed to go into your parents room but you knew that would only bring sobbing and you couldn’t afford that right now. If you were lucky there would be a later time to properly mourn for them again. Turning around, you face the messy desk. As you approach you take in the messy state of it, shaking your head at the lack of organization.

A thump from the kitchen. Stepping out into the hallway you see Logan picking up a dining chair. “You okay Lo?” you call from where you stand. He looks up and smiles before holding a thumbs up in your direction. Shaking your head at the younger man, you re-enter the room, heading straight back to the desk. That diary that held every thought that crossed your past thoughts. Every single one dated and time stamped in a 24 hour clock format. Your dad had been adamant that you used the “military” time, citing that you would never be confused between 5:00 AM and 5:00 PM. He had been right, you had never confused 05:00 with 17:00. 

Picking up the book you can’t help but feel like you were in mourning. Flipping through the pages reveals a time where what you were wearing to go out and the latest thing Hesh had done to make you feel butterflies in your stomach were the biggest problems in your life; not worrying about a bullet through your skull or a knife to the gut. Those feelings were still there like a raging storm. And it was honestly no surprise that you had come to be absolutely smitten with the man in the room above you. Everyone could see that even now you were in love with Hesh. Everyone but him; flipping back to the last page that had been written, your heart breaks a little more.

The date on the top of the page read 10:49, July 10th, 2017. The day ODIN had fired on Earth and uprooted the entire world's life. Eyes scanning the page as memories from that day screech to a halt in the forefront of your mind. You and Hesh were supposed to go downtown to skate and meet up with a few friends for dinner. Past you lamented onto the page about your outfit and that your hair wasn’t working with you. In between complaining about your outfit or excitedly talking about your plans for later that day, was your feelings of nervousness. You remember vividly searching frantically through your wardrobe and failing to find that one shirt Hesh had said he liked on you. That day was supposed to be special. Skating, dinner with your crush, a confession that you had hoped wouldn’t go wrong; instead you got a burnt breakfast and a crater in the middle of the city.

Footsteps echo from the attic as Hesh calls for you, “Badger! I got a box of things, could use some help getting it down.” 

You finish putting the diary and any working stationary into your pack before moving to the bottom of the ladder again. Hesh wastes no time handing you a medium sized plastic tub. Taking the box into your arms you're surprised about how heavy it is. He must have found a lot. Hesh makes his way down as you walk back into the bedroom.

The box is set on the unmade bed and the lid is removed from the box to reveal several more items from your childhood. Most of them had been completely forgotten. Further into the box were books from the fort. But the item that had you pausing was the brightly colored notebook that once served as your diary. Flipping to the cover page revealed your name and a messy all capitalized KEEP OUT OR ELSE in blue sharpie. 

Hesh steps up to your left side, a shit-eating grin sprawled across his face. “Prime literature right there, Badger.” He says teasingly. Heat rushes to your face, you feel that if you turned and looked at the mirror on the back of your bedroom door you’d probably see your entire face looked as if you slammed it into a bucket of blush. 

You begin to stammer out an explanation when Hesh takes the book from your hands. He flips to a certain page and clears his throat. “I’ll have to say, this one’s probably my favorite,” His eyes sparkled as he read the words out loud, “I can’t believe that I’m in love with this stupid, handsome, green-eyed dumbass. Somebody please sedate me before I explode the next time he shoots me that stupid ass smile. With three green hearts drawn after it.” 

You could’ve passed away on the spot, embarrassment zipping through your very soul as he flips through the pages. Avoiding his eyes you look anywhere but him, afraid of the rejection you’d find there. He was going to laugh at you and that would hurt more than a straight up “No.” would have. Why of all things did he have to find that! You pick at your hands as you look back at him, preparing yourself for the worst.

But you don’t find laughing or a sneer at your words, you just see him studying your being. Instead you find joy in his eyes and that stupid comforting smile. “I- I can explain-” you begin but don’t get to finish. You don’t get to finish what was sure to be a jumbled ramble because Hesh is surging forward, his lips pressed to yours. His hands pull you close by your vest straps to deepen the kiss. The shock leaves just as quick as it came and you're wrapping your arms around his neck.

Eventually you both need to come up for air, the realization of what is happening dawning slowly on you. 

“That was-”

“I-” 

You both began at the same time. You clear your throat, “You first?” 

Hesh shifts on his feet, looking rather pleased with himself. “I was going to stop reading it, I swear!” He puts his hands up in a defensive way, “But then I saw my name and I got invested in this little plot of yours.” 

Sheepishly you raise your hand to rub the back of your head, “Yeah, well I had a lot to write about…” You let your sentence trail off, unsure of what to say next. But you figure you might as well tell him. “I feel like this is the part where I tell you I had planned to tell you after we were supposed to go downtown and meet up with our friends.” You laugh quietly and gesture to the dusty clothes strewn around the room, “I was even trying to find that one shirt that you told me you liked.” A pause of silence passes before he speaks up. 

“But then ODIN happened… Well shit, Badger.” He also looked at a loss for words. A rare sight. “Well, no time like now, huh?” 

You thought for a minute before leaning back in and kissing him again. “Yeah, no time like now I suppose.” 

[Not Pictured- Logan and Riley standing in the doorway baffled.]

[A/N- Took a little inspiration from my own younger self's journal! Hope I did this Justice! Likes and Re-blogs are always welcomed]

[visceravalentines]

Fireworks

Dad's Best Friend!Dilf!Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

3k words Part 2 here!

Smut for days, fluff for weeks. Age gap, dad's best friend, oral, dirty talk, praise, creampie, reader is referred to as darlin' and baby girl and pretty.

Yeah yeah, today's the 4th of July, cheesy title, whatever. THIS IS THE MOST FUN I'VE HAD IN A WHILE. In fact I loved living in this little tableau I've created so much I'm planning a sequel?? Fuck dude, I am down so stupid bad for this dumb idiot man.

Tagging a few people who I think might enjoy this as much as I did. @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @slutforguts, @brandnewhuman, @fluffy-little-demon

If there was one thing your parents did right every time, it was their big summer bash. 

Every year, when the temperature really started to ramp up, they invited the whole neighborhood over for barbecue, drinks, ice cream, and yard games.  Their backyard pool was filled with kids bobbing like apples.  There was often a waterslide, a water balloon toss, and sometimes fireworks once it got dark. 

You had missed it the last few years, busy with summer semester at school.  This year, however, you found yourself longing for a familiar setting and comfortable traditions.  Even the incessant questions from neighbors you barely remembered would be worth the opportunity to be somewhere stable.  Your parents, of course, were delighted, and swiftly roped you in to helping plan the menu, buy food and supplies, and set up the morning of the big day. 

Wearing a new bikini underneath a band tee, you helped your mom arrange watermelon slices on a large platter, nestled soda and beer into coolers full of ice, and walked up and down the deck steps innumerable times carrying everything outside. 

Although the party didn’t officially start until noon, people always began trickling in early, especially people close with your folks.  The Swensons next door with their four boys arrived at 10:30.  Two women from your mom’s book club arrived around 11.  And when you made yet another trip down the deck stairs, you saw your dad on a ladder hanging decorations with the help of a tall, sandy-haired man you immediately recognized. 

“Hey Dad, Mom wants to know if you want the stuff for the grill outside now or if you want to wait.”  The man looked over his shoulder with a curious expression on his handsome face.  “Hi, Mr. Sinclair.” 

He broke into a grin.  “Y/N, is that you?  I’ll be damned.” 

“It’s me.”  You smiled sheepishly.  His Southern accent had been the source of much conversation between you and your high school friends.  You’d even dated some asshole from Mississippi for a while just to hear that honey-sweet drawl. 

Mr. Sinclair handed your dad the other end of the banner he was hanging and turned to you.  Were you imagining his ice-blue eyes flicking down to your bare legs and back up to your face?  “You look good, darlin’.  How’s college?” 

Oh, you had forgotten that.  How had you forgotten the way he called you darlin’?  “Can’t complain,” you said.  “I’ll graduate in another year.” 

“Y’got big plans after that?”  God, those eyes.  Had they always been so piercing?  You felt seen in a way that was intense, but not unpleasant. 

“Not really.  I’m waiting to see what opportunities open up, I guess.” 

“Well, you’re a smart one, you’ll figure it out.” 

Your mom yelled your name from the back door.  You excused yourself and walked across the patio.  The weight of a stare on your ass was tangible. 

Just before you reached the deck stairs, you turned and looked back.  He did not even try to hide the fact that yes, he had indeed been checking you out seconds before.  His gaze swept up to your face at the most leisurely pace possible and he flashed you a subtle smirk.  You felt the heat of a blush and tried not to race up the stairs. 

 The backyard filled up quickly as people began to arrive.  Music wafted from the speakers mounted beneath the deck.  The shriek of neighborhood kids and the splashing of pool water rounded out the suburbia soundtrack. 

You answered the same questions over and over from friendly neighbors, helped your mom stave off several low-stakes emergencies, finally managed to extricate yourself from all party business long enough to shed your t-shirt and slip into the pool. 

The shallow end was for splash fights.  The deep end was for the older crowd.  The water was cool but not cold, washing the sweat from your skin as you let yourself sink all the way down to the bottom.  The muffling of sound and the sensation of even pressure on your skin helped you relax, clear your mind, until all that was left was the thought of a mechanic’s rough hands. 

You had bet on a lot of things, coming home for this event.  Mr. Sinclair’s killer jawline was not one of them. 

In one burst, you launched yourself back up to the surface.  Wiping the water from your eyes and nose, you kicked to the wall, hauled yourself up and out of the pool.  As you toweled off your face and arms, you scanned the crowd.  Sure enough, you found him, barely a participant in the conversation at hand, gaze locked on you as he drained the dregs from his beer bottle. 

He was going to need another, wasn’t he?  You were sort of the host of this party too, right? 

You wrapped the towel around your hips and snagged two beers from a cooler.  You pretended you couldn’t quite hear Mrs. Swenson flagging you down and made a beeline for the tall man breaking away from the conversation. 

“Hey, Mr. Sinclair,” you said, darting in front of him.  The way he lit up upon seeing you made your stomach flip.  “I grabbed you a beer.” 

“Well ain’t you the sweetest thing.”  He accepted the bottle from you and this time, there was no mistaking the way his eyes drank in your exposed skin.  “Call me Bo, darlin’.”  He took a swig.  You tried and failed at not staring at his lips.  “You enjoyin’ yourself?” 

“Yeah, it’s good to be back.  Summer on campus is boring.” 

“Can’t help but notice you didn’t bring anyone home with you.” 

You raised an eyebrow.  “Yeah…not a lot of luck in that department.” 

He grinned at you.  “What, a pretty thing like you?  Now that’s a cryin’ shame.” 

“Oh, believe me, there has been crying.” 

His smile cooled, just a little.  “Any o’ them kids hurt your feelings, darlin’, you give me a call.  I’ll teach ‘em a lesson for you.” 

Something told you he wasn’t joking.  “Well, if you ever come across Bradley from Gulfport, you have my permission to kick his ass.” 

He laughed.  “Duly noted.  What did Bradley from Gulfport have goin’ for him?” 

You pinched your tongue between your teeth.  “…a Southern accent.” 

The smile this triggered sent a heatwave rolling beneath your skin.  “That’s all it takes, huh?”  You bit your lip and could not look at him.  “You gotta watch out for those Southern boys, there’s only two kinds.  They’re either gentlemen or scoundrels, every one of ‘em.” 

You boosted your courage with a mouthful of beer.  “Which one are you, Bo?” 

He studied you for a long time before answering.  “The kind who doesn’t want your daddy noticin’ the way I’m lookin’ at his daughter.” 

You were wet, and it was not from the pool. 

Clearing your throat, you said, “I think I’m…going to go change.  Probably not getting back in the water.” 

He nodded once.  “Fair enough.” 

You took two steps before adding, “I’ll be upstairs, if you need anything.”  Again, shocked at your own brazenness, it took everything in you not to run up the steps. 

The house was cold and quiet.  You made your way down the hall, hung the towel over the shower curtain rod, nudged your bedroom door almost completely closed.  Slowly, you undid your bikini, practically tingling with anticipation.  Would he actually follow you up here?  What if he did?  You took your sweet time picking out a pair of underwear and a new t-shirt.  You held off on the shorts and the bra.  How long should you wait before you went back out there? 

Just as you were about to give up and pull on the rest of your clothes, there came a soft rap on the door.  You took hold of the handle and opened it just a little further, peeking into the hallway. 

There stood Bo Sinclair, bold as brass, looking somehow both smug and earnest.  “I missed you,” he said. 

You reached out, grabbed his hand, tugged him into your bedroom and shut the door.  With fluid grace, he spun you around, pushed you against the door, set his hands lightly on your waist.  You were breathing hard already.  “D’you want this, darlin’?” he whispered. 

You nodded.  “Yes.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” 

He tilted your chin up with his thumb, kissed you with those lips.  He tasted like beer and cigarettes and some indescribable sweetness.  Your hands found his chest, still broad and muscular, and he felt hot beneath the fabric of his shirt.  He broke the kiss, met your eyes, then kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue playing at the edge of your teeth.  A soft moan rose to your lips. 

He pulled away again, looked at you seriously.  “If you want me to stop, I’ll stop,” he said. 

You shook your head.  “No.  I want more.”  Your hand slid down his front, palmed at him through his jeans. 

He cocked his head, a smile creeping across his face.  “You’re a little minx, ain’t you.”  He thrust his hips against you, pushed his knee in between your thighs.  “Lemme show you a good time, baby girl.”  He kissed down your neck, into the hollow of your throat, his fingertips brushing the skin just underneath the hem of your shirt.  You arched your back, pressing against him, still caught up in a measure of disbelief that this was actually happening. 

Bo took your hands and pulled you toward your bed.  It was a full, barely bigger than a twin, hopefully big enough for two – you’d never tried it before.  He sat on the edge, guided you onto his lap with your legs wrapped around his waist, showered you with kisses while he ran his hands over your legs, your ass. 

You took hold of his shirt, worked it up his torso and off of him.  His shoulders were dusted with freckles, soft blonde hair on his chest.  His eyes gleamed.  “Fair is fair, darlin’.” 

You stripped off your own shirt, tossed it to the floor.  Bo muttered an expletive under his breath.  He traced his thumb over your nipple and it hardened instantly, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.  “You’re too pretty, baby,” he murmured.  “I wanna wreck you.” 

Wrapping your arms around him, you pulled yourself against his body, kissed his collarbones, his shoulders.  You could feel him getting hard underneath you and you rolled your hips experimentally once, twice.  He made a delightful sound in his throat, his grip tightening on your love handles. 

“Let me worship you, darlin’,” he said against your temple. 

“Please,” you breathed. 

He twisted, laid you down on the bed, kissed you sweetly and then wandered his mouth down your body, little by little, until his fingers were tucked in the waistband of your underwear and his breath was warm on your lower stomach.  His baby blue eyes, alight with mischief, locked on yours. 

“Now, you gotta be quiet.  Wouldn’t wanna get you in trouble.” 

You nodded quickly, the blanket already balled up in your fists. 

Bo eased your panties down your thighs slowly.  You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steady your breathing, and when his tongue first slipped through your lips you let out an involuntary ohh. 

“Ah-ah, what did I say?”  You could hear the grin in his voice.  “Be good for me or I might have to give you a spankin’, and it won’t be like the kind your daddy used to give you.” 

You writhed.  You disheveled the sheets.  You bit your lip hard as he worked you over, sucking your clit, teasing your entrance.  These were not the bewildered ministrations of a reluctant frat boy.  This man was indeed worshipping you and doing it well, and the pleasure building steadily deep inside you was enough to make you want to scream. 

Finally, when you truly could not take it anymore, you choked out his name, grabbed at his hair.  He looked up, licked you off his lips, kissed the inside of your thigh.  “What d’you need, baby girl?” 

“I-I….” 

“God, you look good.”  He crept up the length of your body, cradled your head to bring your lips up to his.  “Such a mess for me.” 

You ran your hands through his chest hair.  “Bo,” you whimpered. 

“Yes, darlin’?” 

“I need you.” 

“You need me where?” 

“I need you…to fuck me…please?” 

He exhaled sharply.  “You are hellbent on gettin’ me in trouble, ain’t you.”  He trailed a finger down your breastbone.  “Teasin’ me with that beautiful body…askin’ me so nicely.” 

“Please, Bo.” 

He pressed his lips to your forehead, nuzzled your ear.  “Has anyone ever made you cum in this bed?” he whispered. 

“No,” you whispered back. 

“Mmm.”  He cupped your breast, squeezed firmly.  “I bet you’d look mighty fine on top of me.”  He slipped away from you, pulled off his jeans and boxers.  You made room for him on the bed, straddled his hips, eyeing his length.  He folded his arms above his head and stretched languidly.  “Take it slow, darlin’.  I like the view.” 

You rubbed yourself against him, your already-sensitive clit dangerously tender.  The two of you moaned in concert, the friction between you intoxicating.  He felt good between your folds, beneath your hands, his stomach firm under a cushion of fat.  You canted your hips in a steady rhythm until he was slick with your arousal.  With his tip at your entrance, you pressed down carefully, not quite enough to push him into you, and smiled at him, held him there. 

“Wicked,” he scolded.  “You bet your ass I’ll remember this for next time.” 

“Next time?” 

“Oh, there will most assuredly be a next time.” 

This lit up your insides more than you expected and you lowered yourself onto him all the way in one smooth motion.  You gasped.  He groaned.  His hands left their place on the pillow to take hold of your hips.  He rocked you back and forth at an easy pace and you felt him flex inside you. 

“Oh, Bo.” 

“Quit.”  He slapped the side of your ass.  “My stamina ain’t what it used to be and if you throw that in the mix we are in for a short ride.” 

You giggled, leaned back for a better angle, and sighed contentedly.  When you opened your eyes, you found him staring at you with open admiration.  Bending over his chest, you kissed him deeply, your skin alight with his touch.  You rode him methodically for what could have been hours, hands on your breasts, biting back the little sounds he drew out of you. 

At last he took your jaw in his hand, commanded your attention.  “Now, darlin’.  You’re gonna cum for me hard and you’re gonna look me in the eyes while you do it.  Y’understand?” 

Your breath caught in your throat.  “Yes sir.” 

He gave you a look.  “I’m gonna remember that for next time too.” 

He took a firm grasp on your thighs, adjusted his hips, and began to thrust into you with unexpected force.  Your mouth fell open in an O and your eyes rolled back in your head.  “Look at me, darlin’, look at me.”  You refocused, teeth pinning your lip, his expression positively sinful.  You felt yourself begin to come apart and clawed at his chest.  “That’s it, baby, so pretty.” 

You couldn’t keep back the whine bubbling up in your lungs any longer, keening helplessly, whole body a mass of snapping nerves.  His long, soft lashes fluttered as he finished inside you with a low grunt, clenching your flesh hard enough to leave marks. 

Panting, you sank onto his shoulder and he wove his arms around you.  “You did so well for me,” he mumbled, kissing your brow.  “Such a sweet thing.” 

You curled into his side while he stroked your back, traced the lines your nails left in his skin.  “You know…I’ve never….” 

He grew immediately serious.  “You’ve never what?” 

“I’ve never had sex in this bed at all.” 

Bo huffed out a sigh of relief.  “Jesus Christ, Y/N, you’re gonna give an old fuck like me a heart attack.” 

You giggled.  “Sorry.” 

“I can’t be goin’ around deflowerin’ young women, they’d kill me in the streets.”  He gave you a tender kiss.  “Probably kill me for this anyway.” 

“Too bad, I’ll miss you.” 

He gave your ass an affectionate smack.  “Speakin’ of missin’, we’d both better get back out there before they send a search party.” 

“When can I see you again?” 

“In about five minutes when you put your clothes back on and get out there and pretend like you weren’t just fucked stupid by your daddy’s best friend.” 

“That is not what I meant.” 

“Oh, what’d y’mean?” 

“When can I see you again like this?”  You ran your thumb along his jaw. 

“Well, how long are you in town for?” 

“The rest of the summer.” 

He let out a low whistle.  “Is that so?  Y’know, I’ve been meanin’ to hire some help at the shop.  How ‘bout I pay you and let you fuck me?” 

“Would that be weird?” 

“You tell me, baby girl.” 

“Nah, I don’t think so.” 

“Well then I don’t neither.”  He kissed you one last time.  “Consider yourself hired.  Great interview.  Put your clothes on.” 

You socked his ribs and wiggled away.  He watched you dress and you slipped out of the room, sneaking back to the party well before he did.  No one seemed to have noticed either of your absence, and you managed to play it cool for the rest of the afternoon. 

When the sun fell at last and the streetlights turned on, everyone congregated on the front lawn for a fireworks show.  Your dad always went for the ones that were technically illegal and to this day no one gave him grief about it. 

With everyone’s eyes on the sky, you sidled up beside Bo, standing behind the crowd near the house.  You didn’t dare take his hand, but you leaned against his arm, and a smile appeared on his lips, and that was enough. 

[alonetimelover]

Fade To Black

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, ep. 3 (yes, all that is happening here too), implied SA (nothing explicitly described), talk about suicide, angst, drugs consumption, feels

summary: YN loved Joel more than anyone ever. Joel was selfish and scared. They both made mistakes. They both said too much and not enough in different points in time. But it all led them to Bill's town and aftermath of what had happened, understanding something very important - love isn't always forever.

word count: ~ 7,3k

a/n: finally got over the fear of writing for joel... hope you like it x

part 2

“I love you, Joel,” she said, admiring his face - scarred, dirty and with wrinkles adoring his forehead and area over his eyes. 

There could be - there was - no one else that she could love more. No one after the whole world went to shit. Not her ex-fiancé that got infected the day of the outbreak, not her ex-boyfriend she shot after he was ready to hurt the child - Riley - she was taking care of in the QZ. Not her parents, who left her when she was five years old. Not any of her foster parents - there were more than 10 couples. She couldn’t really remember all of them. 

For years she had thought she wouldn’t be able to love anybody. And then she met Joel. And she fell in love. 

“You’re good, YN. I think Joel’d like you.”

“Don’t be stupid, Tess. I’m not good for your job, I’m a nurse not a fighter or smuggler. I can stitch you up after a bad run but there is nothing more for me to do on your escapades with him,” she answered, laughing quietly. 

“I think the opposite. Just try, he’s not gonna bite you, and if he tries I’ll deal with him.” Tess smiled. 

He didn’t bite her. From the moment he saw her, he deep down knew - she was going to change his life, him. The breeze of fresh air that she provided in the polluted world he’d been living in for over eight years. And the smile she greeted him with. The little twinkle in her eyes, saying more than her words, showing him her true self, the one she wasn’t yet ready to show.

She was going to change his life. 

And she did. 

“You’ve become soft, Miller,” said Robert on one of their meet-ups. No things to trade what annoyed Joel, putting him on the last strand of patience towards this excuse of a man. “That doll is making you weak.” 

Joel scoffed at him. ‘Piece of shit’, he thought. If not the thing Robert promised to trade over with him, he’d kill him on the spot. Or not. Two years ago he would demolish him, rip him. One year ago he’d disembowel him for all the shit he made pointing out. Now? Maybe if he said one more word about YN he would. 

“You’ve got my stuff?”

“I have something better. It-”

“I don’t need anythin’ better. I need my thing,” Joel pressed, standing up from the bench. “Either you give what I came here for or I’m leaving, no pills for you.”

“Pussy whip,” Robert scoffed, not being able to say another word, having his nose now broken. 

“My books, you have ‘em?” 

“What the fuck, Joel?! What the fuck!” Robert was cursing at the older Miller, trying to stop the bleeding. “You fucking dickhead, you fucker!”

Joel didn’t have time for this. It was already 5:50 and the time to walk home was much longer than 10 minutes. He was going to bribe guards once again for not following curfew. But most importantly, YN was waiting for him, probably - for sure - worried sick, he promised to be there at 5 at worst.

“You’ve got 10 seconds to bring me what’s mine.”

Robert, still cursing at Joel, trew all the books that YN had listed to Joel over the years. Her birthday was coming up, and it was the only thing that he came up with to surprise her with. Plus, a trip to Bill and Frank for a nice dinner that Frank had suggested last time. Maybe he would find some flowers along the way to give her as well. 

“Wasn’t that hard, was it?” 

YN remembered those birthdays being the best she ever had. Better than the one where she got her dream bike or she got accepted to medical school years before the outbreak happened. All the books she’d already read were one more time for her to enjoy, thanks to Joel. She finally had something to read to the kids she was looking after at the makeshift kindergarten she had founded. 

The trip to Bill and Frank, the flowers Joel picked up for her, made her forget about the pandemic. For the first time since 26th of September 2003 she forgot there was something called ‘pandemic’. Joel gave her one, normal day she didn’t know that she had craved so much. 

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is it working?” Joel smirked, giving her yet another one of the field flowers he'd been picking up since they passed the hill, strolling towards Bill’s town.

“I’ll let you know sometime. It may be.”

“Glad to know I still have game,” he mumbled, looking around - always making sure they, she was protected and safe. 

“Does it feel strange to you? Giving flowers, celebrating?”

“A little. I’ve never thought I’d ever give flowers to a beautiful woman again. I’ve never thought I’d be able to feel anything ever again. Not after -” 

“It’s okay,” she stopped him, knowing that the topic he was referring to was taboo. There was no obligation for him to start talking about what changed him so much during the outbreak day. If he started he would feel too guilty to talk to her for the next two weeks - it already happened once. “Thank you for doing it, I appreciate it so much.”

“You’re my guardian angel, ya know?”

“And you’re mine.”

They were together for a year and a half when that conversation happened. Conversation that no one would believe could be held with Joel Miller. The monster, the killer, the smuggler and the QZ fear-inspiring man. Tess didn’t know this side of him, nor did Tommy. Joel reserved it for YN only, not knowing when and where. Not really knowing why. At least then he didn’t know that. 

She brought him peace he seeked since Sarah. Romantic and platonic love, he’d never felt before. Safeness, he thought, was required only from him and he didn’t have the right to feel it. 

It was all a mystery. Man that could kill another person for looking wrongly at him or her, was almost running around the field trying to choose the prettiest flowers. The duality of the man was surprising even for the said man. It was also scary. He felt he was going to lose one side for the other, and he couldn’t let that happen. He was not going to be able to keep her safe if he let himself slip. Then it would be someone hurting her, or him doing it. 

The sun above them was right at the zenith, burning their skins. The slight wind bringing a passing refreshment, made the leaves rustle. It was a beautiful day. 

“Thank you guys for letting us be here,” YN spoke to Bill and Frank. “It means so much to me, to us.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, YN. There is always one day during the year that you have your birthday, isn't there?” Frank smiled cheerfully, kicking Bill under the table. ‘Say something nice’ was what he said with his eyes. 

“Happy birthday, YN.”

And that was what he really meant. Because from all three of their usual visitors - YN, Tess and Joel, Bill liked YN the most. And it scared him. Somehow he felt the connection immediately, and after a year of knowing her - he thought of her as a daughter he’d never had. He slipped that once to Frank and it warmed his heart, because Frank felt the same. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much, I couldn’t ask for a better way to spend this day.”

“If you guys want,” Frank carefully looked at Bill, earning a surprising nod, “if you guys want, you can stay the night. Shower, sleep in an actually good bed, have a drink. It’s - it’s our gift to you, YN.”

… 

“We’ll talk over the radio, baby. I’ll visit whenever I can. I’ll find things to trade with Bill every week, I promise you. I won’t leave you. It’s not over,” Joel was repeating the same sentences over and over again for the last ten minutes. It was more to himself, saying he’d try and wouldn’t give up on them. 

“I know, Joel. I’m not afraid of that. I - I’ll just miss you, very, very much,” she answered with tears in her eyes. She didn’t know why she was crying. Bill’s town wasn’t much away from Boston, they had radio to talk over with. It wasn’t the end of their story. Or maybe subconsciously she felt it was going to be the slow end? “I love you, Joel.”

“I know.”

“Promise?”

“On my life.” 

“Joel! Are you listening to me? I’ve been asking you questions for the last ten minutes!” Ellie finally yelled at Joel, throwing him out of the daydream. Did it really happen the way he remembered it?

Hiking the same route he did with her, passing the field with their flowers, the plane and the little shop. Every step he took brought back memories. Especially that one. Those words had hunted him once. And they were doing it again. Rightfully so. He once again broke the promise to the person that meant to him the most. 

“Yeah, yeah. What was the question?” he said still not all present with Ellie. 

“I asked if they’re nice.”

“Frank is."

“And Bill?”

“He never liked me. Now he’s going to probably shoot me on the spot.”

Ellie stopped, “then why in the fuck are we going there? Do I need to remind you, I’m supposed to be delivered to some Firefly hospital? Joel?” She tried catching his attention, failing again. “Jesus Christ, we’re gonna die.”

“We’re not gonna die. I - I’ll just go up there without my gun, hands up and all that. It’ll be fine. You’re with me, it’s gonna keep me alive at least till I explain myself.”

“Why does Bill want to kill you?”

“I’m not a good man.”

“Yeah, no shit. Who is when the world falls apart?”

“You’d be surprised. There are people finding beauty and kindness even when the world goes to shit.”

“Stupid ones, for sure.”

“No,” he defended quickly. YN wasn’t stupid. If something, she was the smartest of them all. “Not stupid. Just good. There still are people like that.”

“So…that Frank?”

“Partially. He probably wants to kill me too, even though he once liked me. Or I thought so he did.”

“Is there someone else living there?”

“You ask a lot of goddamn questions, Ellie.” Joel had had enough. He already said too much. It’s going to hunt him in his sleep, as if he hadn’t had enough nightmares to deal with. 

“Yes, I do. But, it’s the most you’ve ever talked to me. I call it a win. And,” she longed, smirking at Joel’s grimace. “I know that there is someone else in that town.”

He left that sentence flying with the wind. Was YN still there? She must have been. She wouldn’t have left Frank and Bill alone. Especially if Frank’s health would go worse than it had already been for a few years. She wasn’t like that. She would most likely lay over the wire for them to walk over her carefully than leave all alone.

“Holy shit,” Ellie exclaimed upon seeing the town. “Those guys are geniuses!” 

Joel shook his head and opened the gate with the code that Bill had given him almost ten years ago. “Now listen, I’m giving you the rifle, and the pistol. You put it away, somewhere safe. Have a knife on you, I’ll too. Don’t stress over the words Bill or Frank say. Don’t attack them, on any condition. Understood?”

Ellie nodded her head. 

“Understood?” Joel repeated, this time more pushing.

“Understood.” 

Ellie did as Joel asked her to, and followed him two steps behind. It was crazy. The whole town was gated, flowers were blooming in their pots, flags waving at them with the wind and shop displays being tidy. It all looked like pandemic never reached this town, never touched this ground, infecting it. It was like the world in the early 2003. Or how she imagined it must have been before.

“Is that how towns looked before it all happened?”

“Some of them. It’s one of the nicest ones. There was a church nearby, clothing store, furniture one, too. You could find anything in minutes away from your home,” Joel answered frantically looking around. She must’ve been here. The flowers were taken care of, the lawns, trees and shops’ displays. It was all her, he knew it. 

“Which house is Frank’s?”

“The white one, with most flowers around it.”

“You see that no one has shot you, yet. Maybe, maybe you’re not that bad to them?”

“Get behind me.”

They were right in front of the house. It was all wrong suddenly. The doors were opened and the swing on the porch was broken. Flowers in the blue pot that YN painted for Frank were gone, the pot smashed with soil surrounding it. Looking to his right he saw two new beds of flowers, adoring the freshly mowed lawn. On the left, ground was overcropped, grass around it likely burnt. Something happened there and it made him sick to his stomach. 

He opened the fence slowly so as not to make it squeak. In no time he was on the porch, opening the door wider to get in. House smelled like oil paint and flowers, Joel recognised them as daffodils - YN’s favourite. With each step taken carefully, Ellie right behind him, he examined the space. It was clean. Too clean. 

“Bill? Frank?” He finally let the words spill into the void. 

“What the fuck?” Ellie said in awe.

Joel gave her a look, “stay here. Ya hear anything, you see anything -” he looked at the kitchen door, “yell.” 

“What if they’re gone?” Ellie prompted. 

‘There was no way,’ he thought, looking at the young girl. Bill and Frank were fine. YN was fine. He went into the kitchen not sparing Ellie another look. He needed to find them, he needed her. Walking towards their bedroom he repeated to himself that they all were fine. 

“Frank?” he called, knocking at the door, and trying to open it after a few seconds. Locked. 

Front door closed with a thud, making his heart skip a bit. 

“Ellie?” Joel asked not too loudly, as to not draw too much attention to himself. “Ellie?”

He moved to the dining room where he left her, not expecting the sight before his eyes. Ellie held against her with a knife pressed tightly to her neck, fear in her eyes mixing with tears. Hands trembling at her sides, where another knife was near her stomach. 

“Joel?” Ellie pleaded. 

“Told you to stay quiet, kid,” she pressed the knife closer to her artery, blood slowly covering the blade, shallow enough to not cause any damage beside fear. “Listen to me or your blood is covering this carpet.” 

She still hadn’t looked at him.

“YN,” Joel sighed, eyes big, looking at the woman who once shared life with him. “YN, baby-”

He took a step forward, “one more step, Miller and I’m sliding it across her neck. I’m warning you.”

“Leave her out of this, YN.”

“Don’t say my name. Don’t use it ever again. Ever. Again.” Her right hand, near Ellie’s neck, started noticeably trembling. 

“Ellie, it’s okay. She’s not going to hurt you,” Joel tried calming down the girl, whose cheeks were already staining with salty tears. Her expression telling Joel to do something. Help me, Joel. 

“You’re saying it like you know me.”

“I do know you. Point your knives at me, not her. She’s just a kid,” Joel almost cried. 

It wasn’t his YN. He knew it. She knew it. 

She let her guard down. Ignored the beeping of her alarm, informing her someone entered the town. She was too engrossed in picking up new flowers to arrange in the house. Thinking about how to change the pipe that was leaking under the bath, but also about the sink in the kitchen that must have gotten clogged over the last years that Bill didn’t have time to check it. Oh, how she wished he taught her more of his skills. 

Seeing a random girl standing in her home, made her survival mode fly over ten. Just a young girl but in this world everyone could be a possible danger, a distraction for more powerful people. So she did what Bill did teach her, sneak up, threaten and get the information. She didn’t get a chance to do the last thing. He, he interrupted her. The man she had thought she’d never see again. The man she wished she'd never see again. 

Just a little girl. Not older than Riley, maybe even younger. ‘A little girl, YN’ said a voice in her head. ‘Let go.’

She pushed Ellie away from her, making her stumble and fall on her knees near Joel. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he assured her, helping her stand up. “Get behind me, Ellie.”

What could he do more? Did he still know her as well as he did back then? She must have changed. She did. He did too. There was no way he could predict what would happen if he let his guard down for even a second. But wa she going to keep it up when she was right in front of him? Right there to touch, to hug.

“What are you doing here?” She asked finally, pointing her knives, as he asked, at him. 

“I need Bill’s help.”

She scoffed, “too bad. He won’t help you.” She shook her head with a dry laugh. If he truly knew her, the grimace on her face would tell him everything he needed to know. 

“I need to talk to him,” Joel pressed, trying to take a step forward. Knife flying down just milimetres away from his boot. “Okay, I understand.”

“Stay back, Joel. Or better - get the fuck out,” she spat. 

“Listen-”

“I won’t listen! Get out and don’t look back. You did that once already it can’t be that hard. Out!” She screamed at him, another knife flying towards his feet. “Get out, get out and go to whatever hole you crawled here from.”

Ellie started piecing everything together. She was the woman Tess briefly mentioned at the Fireflies building. ‘Get her to YN. Don’t look at me like that. Just take her. She may be done with you but she won’t let Ellie suffer. She’s too good. Take her to YN. Tell her…’ And then Tess whispered something to Joel, Ellie couldn’t hear. This woman, she must’ve been YN. Also the woman in Joel’s dreams. 

“YN, YN, YN,” Joel was repeating over and over again. 

“You’re mumbling in your sleep,” Ellie commented, noticing Joel sitting up on the worn-out couch. “Who’s YN?”

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Joel ignored his heart, skipping a beat. All those years and he still held on tight to her. 

“‘What am I supposed to do? I’m sure you’ll figure it out.’ is exactly what you said to me. Well surprise, listening to your mumbling was the best entertainment.” 

“Listen kid-” But Tess interrupted him. 

“Where’s Bill and Frank?” Ellie finally broke the sound of only heavy breathing. “Are they here?”

“Ellie, shut up,” Joel said through his teeth, scared that YN would break her composure and attack her next. 

At that moment he didn’t notice what Ellie did. YN looked at the old piano behind them, loving but hurt eyes gazing at the keys. It was the only thing in the house that was covered in dust, everything else was clean. But not the piano, and not the picture frame above it. A picture showing four people: Joel, YN and two men Ellie thought that must have been Bill and Frank. They all were hugging in there. YN and a slightly taller man smiling widely with Joel and the other guy sporting a hard look. Box of chocolates, half-opened lying next to the frame. One chocolate unwrapped, luring the flies. A vase with fresh daffodils next to it was the only cheerful thing there. 

Oh.

“Fuck,” she whispered with dispbelief, earing a hard look from Joel. “They’re dead.”

At that YN trembled. 

“What are the two of you doing awake at 6 a.m? I thought I’d get some sleep on Saturday,” YN laughed walking into the kitchen, where Bill was helping Frank eat his breakfast. “And you did food? Wow, I’m actually not mad.” 

Frank smiled at YN, loving her easy-going personality. Her love for life. 

“Surprise,” he said, after chewing the sausage. “What do you say we go shopping today?”

“Shopping?” She chuckled, choosing her own plate full of food. “Whose money are we paying for it with?” Absent-mindedly she reached for the cupboard with medicine, preparing Frank’s pills for the morning - the routine she’d been performing for more than four years now. “What’s the occasion?” 

“It’s my last day.”

“Fuck,” YN cursed as the box with pills fell to the ground. Speechless, she looked at Frank and then Bill.

“I’ve decided. Last day and no, don’t say anything yet,” Frank stopped already fumbling over words YN. “It’s settled. No taking backs. It’s my last day and I want to spend it with the both of you, with the people I love the most - my partner and our daughter. So please, will you go shopping with me?” 

“Frank, what? I - But - The pills, they, they’re working. You said you feel better, the back and legs don’t hurt as much as they did. You can hold the food better and - and the seizures stopped. You- you’re getting better,” YN was listing all the lies that Frank spilled on her over the last weeks. Hands still trying to pick up all the bottles and arrange them as they were. 

“Stop,” Bill said, clasping her hands in his. Somehow he was kneeling next to her, a soft look in his eyes. “Sit down with us, we’ll talk.” 

He led her to the chair she usually sat on, placed the food in front of her together with the tea from the herbs she grew in the garden. 

“Pills don’t help anymore, YN. They never did. I’m sorry that I’ve been lying to you but - I don’t know. I love seeing you happy after all that happened to you. And my ‘recovery’ was somehow bringing the smile on your face back. It - it was selfish of me. I know. I blame myself every day for it. And I am sorry.” Frank took a pause to dry the tears of his cheeks. “I want you to spend this day with me the way I want it to be. Nothing crazy. Please,” he almost begged. 

She just nodded her head. No way she would be able to speak for the next couple of hours. 

And she didn't. Silently she helped Frank and Bill choose the suits and a dress for herself. Next she went to the garden and picked the vegetables for dinner that Bill was about to make. ‘Something special’, he assured her with a little smile, quickly disappearing in the kitchen. She picked up the meat from the shed and a few fruits for the dessert. If it was going to be Frank’s last day, it needed to be eventful and near perfect. 

“What’s he cookin’?” YN asked Frank, fidgeting with the dress. It was the first time wearing something like it since 2003. It felt foreign. She spoke for the first time since the morning. 

“Wouldn’t tell me but it’s not the time to eat, yet. I have a request.” 

“Well, anything you want.”

“I - We want you to officiate our marriage. I know it’s illegal and it doesn’t fucking matter in this world but - I’ve always wanted to get married. It was my dream from way back. Can you?” Frank squeezed YN’s hand, as hard as he could (she didn't feel anything, Frank being that weak).

“Okay.”

It was perfect. It couldn’t be more perfect. Bill and Frank all suited up set together near the piano with YN standing before them with a terrible (Bill said so himself with a laugh) speech prepared. Tears, happy tears streaming down her face with each word spilling out of her mouth. Her friends - her dads - were doing what society even it its lowest wouldn’t allow them to do. But in a true Bill and Frank’s way they say ‘fuck it’ and live the way they want it. Even if it's only for a day. 

“You may kiss the bri- fuck - groom. You may kiss the groom.”

“I can be a bride,” Frank giggled, softly pecking Bill’s lips. “Always wanted to know how it would be to have a wedding and the ‘you may kiss the bride’ moment. Not bad, not bad.”

“I’m considering divorce,” grumbled Bill, but smirking nonetheless. 

“I’m not officiating that. That’s for sure.” 

And somehow after having a laugh about it, the air around them got heavier, thicker. The realisation of what was about to happen in the next three or so hours consumed them. Mostly YN. Frank wanted it more than anything else. Bill, well Bill like always was an enigma. 

“Is this what you cooked for him the first time?” YN asked, while they were eating the delicious dinner that Bill prepared. 

“It is. My best pig for a stranger.” Bill shook his head. 

“Love of your life,” Frank corrected. “You knew it back then. I know it.”

Bill just smiled, he did know it. As much as they argued through all the years they’d been together Frank indeed was the love of his life. 

YN was watching them, a tiny smile adoring her face. She hated it. She hated this day. More than the one when Joel left her. More than the one when he stopped radioing back. More than the one when she understood he hadn’t really loved her. But if she couldn’t experience the love she’d been seeing in front of her for herself, she was glad she was able to see Bill and Frank do. 

Bill came into the room with two bottles of wine. 

“I saved the rest of the one we drank that day,” Bill announced. “You don’t mind I share it with Frank, and I’ll unscrew the one you like?” 

“Not at all. All yours. I’m not particularly happy about drinking a century year old opened wine.”

“Nothing for me to fear. And you, love, are going to have a nurse just for yourself.” Frank smiled. 

Bill poured the wine into the glasses, no emotion on his face. Two glasses of red and one of white which was immediately placed in front of YN. Sitting back, Bill took a long breath, shaking his head from left to right. He pulled out the bag full of crushed pills from his shirt’s pocket. Not giving them a second glance, he put them in one of the wine glasses. Stirred it with a teaspoon and slided towards Frank. 

“Will it be enough?” Frank whispered. 

“YN measured. Enough to do the job painlessly.”

“You’ll just fall asleep like any other night. Just - just a little bit quicker and -” YN breathed shakily. “For a bit longer.”

With two hands on the glass, Frank looked at Bill with sorrow. But his eyes, his eyes were saying ‘don’t you be sad, it’s all going to be okay. We’ll be together again.’ Then he swung the glass, and drank the drugged wine to the last drop. Bill was watching him with care, slightly absent. 

When Frank’s glass hit the table, Bill mimicked his husband. Look, swing, drink, put down. Done. 

‘He did it,’ thought YN, looking frantically between the two lovers. She shouldn’t have been surprised, Bill couldn’t live without Frank. 

“Were there already pills in the bottle?” asked Frank, ignoring YN’s sobs across from him, paying attention only to Bill. 

“Enough to kill a horse. I - I trebled the dose YN told me to use.” Bill pointed at YN, looking quite sorry for not telling her his plan. “This isn’t a tragic suicide at the end of the play. I’m old. I’m satisfied. And you,” his voice started breaking. “You were my purpose.”

“I do not support this,” Frank sighed, eyeing Bill and his vulnerable state. “I should be furious. But from an objective point of view-” he reached for Bill’s hand - “it’s incredibly romantic.” 

And they laughed. They laughed because they were going to leave this fucked up world on their own terms. No one was going to take that away from them. They spent amazing years with each other, they loved  and hated each other at the same time. They were family. And no one could change that. 

“YN,” Frank sighed, looking at the woman he thought of as his own daughter. “YN, please look at us.”

She lifted her head, tear-stained cheeks coming into the view, red puffy eyes and trembling bottom lip. How could it be that she was losing the last people she loved?

“I have one more request.” 

YN just nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak.

“Will you play for us? For the last time?”

“Anything you want.”

Slowly all of them moved to the other room when the piano stood. YN helped Bill sit Frank down on the couch, fixing up the cushions to make him comfortable. When Bill sat next to his husband, hand squeezing his, fulfilled smiles on their faces. 

“Love will abide,” she started, a teary voice sounding not as good as she wished for. “Take things in stride.”

Bill placed his head on Frank’s shoulder, earning a loving kiss there. It felt like a full circle moment. They came back to the place where they’d started. This room, a piano and the song. The melody of the instrument, delicate and yearning, flying in the air like feathers. YN’s words slowly fading in the void, filling the emptiness that looked to welcome them into. Each second passing, pushing them forward towards the little speckle of light, getting closer and closer. Her beautiful voice accompanying them till the moment it seemed to be miles away.

“And I think I’m gonna miss you, for a long, long time.” She finished singing, not being able to say the last lines. The piano notes getting more silent with the song coming to an end. “I love you, dads.” 

With that beautiful ending of the song, they exhaled silently. Their joined hands touched the light, making it surround them with a warm feeling. ‘So that's how it feels.’

Later that night, when she composed herself, YN found Bill’s letter. He asked her to bury their bodies together in front of the house ‘so we’ll be able to protect you’, with flower beds over them ‘no crosses, it’s not gonna be a damn graveyard.’ So she did as he asked, and then one more. ‘Call Joel. Take him or shoot him, I trust your judgement.’

And late that night, she played the 80s on the radio, hoping he’d come. Maybe hearing the song they loved could bring him back to her. Maybe he still cared. ‘He’ll come. He must have loved you once.’ 

She waited days. Weeks. And months. 

He didn’t come. 

“YN, I’m so-”

“Oh, no. You can’t be saying it, for fuck’s sake! Fuck you, Joel! Fuck you!” she screamed, pointing a warning finger at him. “You fucking don’t deserve to say those words. They mean nothing. Nothing! You hear me? There is nothing for you to say to me! Nothing to say, to do, not even to think! I don’t want you to even think about me, about them. You don’t deserve it.” She spat the last sentence, standing straight. 

“Listen to me, please.”

“Listen to you? Listen to you?” She repeated with a scoff. “Jesus fucking Christ! You’re unbelievable. You want me to listen to you? That’s rich coming from you, Joel. You left me here, promised to radio, visit, remember. You broke each of the promises you made. Each of them!”

“You don’t know it. I never stopped thinking of you. I could never-”

“Stop talking.”

“I could never forget you, YN.”

“Stop.”

“I made mistakes and I am sorry for them. But- but I could never forget you. Never.”

“Fucking stop!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. She had had enough. He couldn’t come back to her life and try to be in it like years ago. “How many times did I play 80s for you?”

“YN-”

“How many times?” she pressed, taking a few steps forward, standing right in front of Joel. He stayed quiet. “Four times. I played them four times!” She nudged his chest four times, pushing him back at the end. 

“Hey!” Ellie yelled, but got silenced by Joel’s hand going up in the way of saying ‘it’s okay, I can handle it.’ 

The anger suddenly left her, being replaced with anguish and grief.

“Two weeks after you left me. Raiders came. Bill got shot. I- I got shot. I thought I was going to die, I thought it was the end and the only thing in my mind was you. I could only think about your damn face,” she stressed, now petting his chest. “Remember what you said when you left?”

He did remember now. It was hounding him in his dreams. Over and over again. Each night waking up with the same word on the mouth: promise. 

“Why are you leaving? Frank said you can stay, there’s enough space for both of us. We can start fresh. Right here, Joel. New beginning,” YN whispered to her partner, shaking hands straightening his flannel shirt. 

“I can’t. I can’t live this life. Not yet at least. I’m not good enough for it.”

“Not good enough? Joel, my love,” she sighed, pecking his cheek. “We’ve changed since all of this happened. You did, I did. This is our chance to come back to some state of what was before. Don’t you want it?”

“It can’t be like before, don’t you understand? It can’t be.” He shook his head. “It’s not for me.”

“So, you’re breaking up with me?”

“No,” he protested immediately. “Absolutely not.” Joel put his hands on her cheek, looking into her eyes for the first time since starting this conversation. “You’re my light at the end. You’re my present and future, yeah? I care about you and I need you. I- I just can’t be the man you want. I can’t stay here pretending like the world didn’t go to shit. I can’t. Tommy needs me. I don’t belong to this life anymore.”

“It sounds like a goodbye,” she sobbed. 

“It’s not.” He brushed the tears away. “It's ‘see you later’, yeah? I ain’t leaving you for good. I’ll come back in no time to visit, I’ll radio you. I- I traded some things for a book with Billboard’s Number 1 hits or some shit. I’ll know everything you want to say. Do you believe me?”

She nodded her head. “I do.”

“I’ll be back. Promise.”

Promise.

Promise.

Promise. 

“‘I’ll be back. Promise.’ You repeated that five times to me. ‘It’s okay.’ ‘I’ll be back.’ ‘In no time.’ I shouldn’t have been surprised after all the lies you’d told me, should I? It was just another one and little, naive YN believed the man because she was so in love with him,” YN scoffed. “Frank played the 80s for a week, waiting for you to come back. They were sure I wasn’t gonna make it. I still don’t know why I did.”

“Can I say something now?”

She ignored his question, “then Frank got worse. I radioed you, needing more pills to ease the pain. He was suffering so badly.”

That month when Frank needed to live without any medication was probably the worst for anybody in a household. He screamed from the spasms that didn’t give him a moment to shut an eye. He gritted his teeth when YN tried to massage his sore back that was slowly unnaturally contorting. Days after days he became weaker, pain getting harder to deal with. It was the first time he asked YN to use something on him to end it permanently. She knew she couldn’t do it so she ran. She ran in search for any medication that she thought could help with the condition that was slowly developing. 

After three days of travelling she stumbled upon a little town - Hardwick - where people weren’t as nice as she had thought they’d be. She traded what she had left on herself - family necklace, last portion of food, her boots and much more that she made herself forget about. The most important was - she got the pills. 

Barefoot and almost frozen to death she came back home. She didn’t let Bill take care of her frostbites, wounds those people had caused or a gash on her thigh that was still bleeding. She needed to help Frank. She portioned the pills by milligrams she loosely counted based on his weight and moved it to the box labelled as ‘Frank’s drugs’. 

“It’s going to be okay,” she said through her teeth clanking against each other. “It’s going to help you, Frank. You’re going to be okay. I’m sorry it took me so long. I am so sorry,” she cried. 

They helped. Not immediately, but they did. Slowly Frank regained the better part of his strength back and accepted the fact that he was going to need a wheelchair. But YN. She never was the same after what happened in Hardwick. 

“I got the pills. I got them for -” she paused, remembering the scenes from the shed she was thrown into, the screams, pain and disgust of her own body, making her want to throw up. “Doesn’t matter how. For the whole week I wasn’t here, Bill was playing 80s on the radio. Over and over, waiting for you to come back. He was desperate. Bill never was the one to ask for help and when the one time he was ready to do it - he got stood up.” 

Joel felt the guilt. For years he’d felt it. Today, it was just unusually real. After all, the biggest mistake and regret of his life needed to catch up with him. Looking at her red face, tear-stained cheeks and hollow gaze, he deep down knew there was no going back, no chance of going back to how things were years ago. 

“I understand that my apology means nothing to you. I -”

“The third time,” she began another story, now sitting at the table. “I just missed you. It was your birthday, it was Sarah’s memorial and I- I really needed to know if you were okay. I feared you were taking those fucking pills and swallowing them with scotch. I feared you were going to try it again. I feared for your life. I feared you were leaving for good. I played Fade To Black knowing that if you were listening you would show up. It was yours - Sarah and your - favourite song, the only one you agreed on staying on the radio. So when after a few days you didn’t come, I knew you were gone. Gone from the life we once shared.”

“You’re spending awfully long hours next to the window, sweetheart,” said Frank one afternoon. 

“Huh?”

“And with a head above the clouds, dreamers.” He shook his head teasingly. “What’s bothering you?”

She sighed, “I radioed him. I know, I know, I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s not that you shouldn’t have. By doing so you’re just letting him break you more, hurting you.”

“You think he’s doing it on purpose?” YN wondered. 

“I don’t know.”

“He probably forgot, right? It’s been, what? Almost two years. He must have.”

“It’s not that easy to forget you, YN. I don’t think it’s even possible to do so.” Frank smiled, moving closer to her, clasping her hands in his and giving them a chaste kiss. “Impossible, really.”

“Then why?”

“I really don’t know. I wish I could tell you, I wish that I had an answer that would make you happy, that would give you some kind of a confirmation, an all clear. But I don’t have it. I just know that I appreciate you so much, and Bill and I love you. I know it’s not the same, but just know -” he squeezed her hands once more. “You are not alone.”

Placing her head on Frank’s hands, shaking with sobs, she tried to forget the man she loved. 

“And I wasn’t supposed to contact you ever again. But then Bill’s last wish was partially doing it. And I did. And here you are. But what’s the funniest is - you’re not here because you heard that something happened here. That something went wrong. That possibly the worst happened. No,” she sleered. “No, you’re here only because you need something. Not because you wanted to see me, to see what must have happened. You’re here for your own benefit. And somehow I am not surprised, you’ve always been selfish.”

It hurt. Each word spilling from her lips hurt Joel. But he deserved it. He knew he deserved more, still surprised he wasn’t lying in the puddle of his own blood after having been shot by her. 

Did he have something to make her understand his absence? No. Like she said, he was selfish. And he was a coward. A coward because he realised that he actually still was capable of that feeling that consumes you whole. The one that gives you those butterflies, he’d never understood but could feel now. The one that makes you forget your name while looking at someone, stumbling over words, gettin hot and bothered just because of their look. 

He was capable of love. 

And it terrified him. 

So when he realised it, he did what he was best at - he ran, hid and tried to forget. Forget about anything associated with YN. And everything reminded him of her. The pillow, the only mug in the apartment, the folded rug, the dirty socks under the bed, the little sketch of Sarah that was so accurate he felt her disappointed eyes judging him. YN was everywhere. And he hated and loved it at the same time. Because if he had left her, the only thing he could still have was the memory. 

“I love you, Joel. I know you can’t say it, it’s okay. I just need you to know it. I do love you.” She used to say every few weeks, reassuring him. Making him believe that she wasn’t playing. She was genuine. 

“I fucking love you.” Said every time he made her see the stars and feel the goosebumps cover her nude body.

“I missed you, I’m sorry. I love you. You’re home.” Said whenever he came back after a run from outside the QZ.

“I love you.” Whispered every night, when she thought he didn’t hear her. But he did, each time. 

“I love you,” he said for the first time since they’d met thirteen years ago. His voice, although weak, never sounded more confident. 

YN looked up from the table, studying his face for a moment. ‘How much you’ve changed’ she thought. The silver hair, now almost covering half of his gorgeous locks. Wrinkles that he sported from the moment they’d met, now deeper - worry always present on his face. His lips, oh those soft pink lips, now chapped. But his eyes. His eyes were the same. Those brown irises reminding her of a hot chocolate she used to drink every night for comfort. Eyes that told her more than his words ever could. Eyes that lied to her so many times. 

“And I loved you, too, Joel. I really did.”

[demoniccomplex]

Hello! May I request Yan!Poe?

Yan!Poe HCS

WC 767

Ohoho hehe when i saw this in my inbox my mind just clicked and formed a smile, while it wasn't specific, i’ll settle with headcanons for now. i may or may not have gotten carried away so have all of this word vomit.

also thank you anon for being my first request! <3

masterlist

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However you meet this man, just know behind his hair covering up his eyes, those pretty violet eyes are shining with stars in awe. He’d be tensed up, hands with a tremble to them, oh how could he get so lucky? His reaction would probably be brushed off as his shyness reacting to someone new, but just know it's so much more and the cogs in his head are working on every possible future with you. Even though all you did was give Karl back to him or apologize for bumping into him, you’ve won his heart. 

Please do expect for a special raccoon to hunt you down with a letter from poe, going on about how he’d love to know you more or just something to meet you again. Blissfully unaware of all the other unsent letters showing Poe’s fast in obsessed love downfall. Every possible date idea, every way he could win you over, or even kidnap you and never let you go like a pretty doll. It's all scrambling in a way that sends him over the edge of obsession in a void he can't get out of because every other thought is you.

Also, don't mind if you feel as if you're always being watched, it's just a safety precaution i'm sure! Oh right, back to the mention of kidnapping, it can go two ways. One where you delay the kidnapping or you get kidnapped early on, there is no preventing this. First scenario, you’re actively hanging out with him, also be aware you’re gonna get a lot of stuff that he’ll just buy for you, it won't be as strong for the first few outings but the rest you’re gonna come home with a lot. Poe’s definitely the gift giver when it comes to trying to make you fall for him, he knows what he's doing. However I do feel as though it would be kind of impulsive when he buys you something, because really, he knows he can't give back what you’re so willing to give to him with your presence. Happily smiling when your eyes linger for too long on all the stuff bought. I feel like it would take him a good while to realize that, you are in fact, not dating yet, but at the same time i’d think he would be somewhat aware in the back of his mind. The epiphany jolting back everytime the day is over, the urge to keep you forever in one of his books or his mansion gets really convincing overtime. 

Scenario two, it will happen so much faster than the previous scenario, as much as i want to give it, “oh don't trust any books that happen to be left on your porch!” I think that's just too simple. But at the same time I'm aware that if I do go into detail it will just be how you’re being watched and how you’ve gained a friendship with Karl. So really, it's just a matter of simple stalking by an emo and his raccoon, along with at any moment a book could show up at your steps while you're blissfully unaware. However, I feel like this is the worst option because I don't think he’ll ever let you out of that book, while in the first scenario you could have more freedom in that mansion of his.

Apart from the possibility of never getting out of a book, I do think he would try to make you two live a normal life even if the light in your eyes is fading. This will most likely lead to several breakdowns on Poe’s part with some doubts but he’ll keep on trying to make you love him back. I remember someone suggested in their headcanons that this man is likely to send Karl away if you interact with the raccoon more than him. Honestly I see it, trying to get closer to an animal who likes you but not as obsessively as his owner. So you take that to try to gain some normality back then the poor thing is sent off on a playdate because Poe got overly jealous. I do think Poe would be aware that what he's doing is wrong but he thinks that he can make it up with buying you what you want, spending even more time with you, just doing his best to make you happy overall.