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cowyolks · 9 months

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TO DULL THE SHOVELS & SMOKE

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Prompt: In which Simon Riley doesn’t hear the gunshots and yells when he’s around his next door neighbor.

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of gore, mentions of torture based on the Ghost comics, drinking, major PTSD.

At first, it annoyed him.

The thin walls of his Manchester apartment blocked absolutely no sound. From one end, near his desolate kitchen, he heard the half-arsed sounds of a couple at all hours of the night. At the other end, nearly midnight on the dot, a bow would pull over strings.

He thought it to be a violin, but the sound was so horrendous and screeching that he couldn’t quite figure it out. Never less, he couldn’t find it in himself to move from the spot on his hard mattress.

It wasn’t like he could sleep anyways.

Gunshots bled into his ears warm and sticky, curses and cries of civilians slammed against his chest and made his eyes feel like sinking weights. Bombs screeched and blinded him, even though he could see the shadows of his wardrobes and chipped wallpaper.

He was there. On the battlefield.

That was until a particularly awful note would catch his ears, digging through all the horrible sounds of war.

It would make the corners of his lips perk up, especially when he heard the gentle curse of the “musician.” He figured horrible orchestral music would do rather than gunshots. He even managed to acquire at least an hour of sleep before he was stirred awake again by the sounds of death.

He’d wake up as he always did. A horrific grunt and a call for his teammates. It was pathetic, but the usual. Simon couldn’t recall the last time he woke up refreshed. He hadn’t slept well in decades, even his childhood was thrashed with harassment from his father who kept him up. He maybe had a couple good nights of rest as a recruit, while his brother and mother were still alive and his father was long gone festering in the hospital with cancer.

Still he was used to the dark circles under his eyes and the constant urge to yawn.

He’d gone about his civilian life as he usually did. Wake up in a sweat, take a cold shower, drink some breakfast tea, and watch the news. That was until three knocks sounded from his door chipping green paint. He had half the mind to ignore it, Simon didn’t know anyone around the area— After all, he was a Ghost. He chewed on his lip, If it was a threat they wouldn’t have knocked. He settled on placing his steaming mug on the wooden side table and huffing to stand. Curiosity won him over as his creaky joints shuffled its way over to the door.

He creaked it open only a couple inches, cautiously glancing around to see no one in the hallway. Scratching his five o’clock shadow, he blinked, feeling slightly paranoid that maybe he was imaging the knocking. That was until his dark eyes settled upon a half open box of what looked to be tea bags.

A note lay scotch taped to the front, written in the most interesting handwriting Simon had seen.

Heard the screams, I won’t pretend to know what it’s like. I figured you wouldn’t want me to pester you, so I’ll save you from the awkward small talk and leave these here. Not sure if you’re a tea person, but they help me sleep.

-your next door neighbor

He couldn’t find himself to move for a short while. His brain clashed in conflicts, as if he couldn’t settle on a single emotion to feel. It swarmed him at once— annoyance, embarrassment, gratitude.

His neighbor had took time out of their day to drop tea off at his door. He tried to think back to when the last time someone had done something genuinely nice for him. Besides his makeshift family of broken soldiers, he couldn’t think of a single occurrence. Zeroing in on the box, a twitch in his nose gave away his reluctance of the flavor. Lavender and Chamomile. So different than his simple breakfast tea.

But, it wouldn’t hurt to try it. Maybe then he’d be able to silently thank the mysterious neighbor for a good night of sleep.

He figured out who you were when he’d exited the shaky and completely unsafe lift onto his floor. In the crook of his arm he carried a brown paper sack full of his weekly groceries. It wasn’t the most fanciful of ingredients, the most extravagant being simple cuts of chicken breasts. He’d shoved the bag further into his grasp, reaching into his dark colored jeans for his room key when he heard your muffled curse.

You were hunched over your doorknob, pulling helplessly on the metal to unlock it. Hurriedly he changed his footfalls, switching from silent to knowingly hitting the creaks in the aged carpet. Your head tilted at the unpleasant noise, eyes widening in embarrassing anticipation.

It took Simon a moment to truly access the situation. It was as if his brain had slammed into a wall, colliding and knocking all of his thoughts astray. When he finally did come to his senses, the only thought he could repeat was— pretty.

Simon would be the first to admit that he had not been around many women in his life. Therefore, he didn’t have much to draw comparisons to—regardless you had to be the most beautifully unique person he had ever seen.

You wore a knitted sweater, likely homemade by the barely noticeable tears of threads and flaws. His eyes filtered down to your jeans, then his attention drew to the absolutely ridiculous socks clad to your feet and ankles. Bright purple, decorated with pink polka dots. He’d glanced up, embarrassingly distracted enough to not be able to listen to your moving lips.

“Hmm?” He grunted, thankful for his black surgical mask that covered half of his face. He felt secure being covered, as if all the bad things couldn’t penetrate through the flimsy material.

“Oh! Sorry for mumbling,” you apologized, which made Simon’s head tilt to the side. Why apologize for his lack of hearing?

You cleared your throat, releasing the doorknob from your hands and instead twisting them together in a nervous habit. It seemed you could hardly sit still, all in the span of thirty seconds Simon caught on to your spastic fingers and tapping foot.

“I don’t suppose you know how to pick a lock?” You squeaked, instantly cringing at the horribly put together question.

“Excuse me?” Simon spoke, a hint of surprised amusement coating his tongue. Of course he knew how to break into buildings and pick locks, but you didn’t need to know that.

“I uh, locked myself out of my apartment. I forgot my purse and I keep my keys in there. I was just in a rush for food before my favorite place closes, and well— I’m rambling.” You sputtered, looking like it would be a better option to break through your door than stand under his burning stare.

He didn’t expect himself to extend towards you, settling his bag of groceries on the floor near his door. You slid out the way as he approached, not before he caught a pleasant whiff of lavender and something floral.

Simon shuffled in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a floss pick from the material. Call it his nagging habit, but he hated having shit in his teeth. He wasn’t used to eating or drinking with his balaclava on at work, so on the rare occasions he ate, it absolutely irritated him. Now the floss pick came in handy as he bent the hard plastic to fit into the lock of your door.

He was aware of your stare as he lay crouched, catching the puzzled yet intrigued look from his peripherals.

“Are you some type of cop?” You blurted, making Simon’s lips peek up in a half arsed amusement. A cop? This girl was funny.

“No,”

With a final click, your door creaked open with a whine of its hinges. He rose off the old carpet with a sigh, immediately going back to his groceries so he could be left in his solitude. Then before he could reach down and pick up the bag, your words cut him short.

“Thank you. Um… did you like the tea?” It was a simple question, but not one he was expecting. “It was alright.” He lied, the untouched box still rested on his cold countertops.

“You didn’t like it did you?” You chuckled, reading right through him. All he gave was a shrug of his shoulders, not confirming nor denying. “I knew it. You probably drink your tea black and food bland.” You teased lightheartedly, making an equally playful offended sound fall from Simon’s lips. It occurred to him that he’d smiled more in these last five minutes than he had in a whole year.

“It’s only for mature palates.” He heard himself joke, nearly shocked at his own behavior.

“Sure…” You introduced yourself at last, finally able to have a name to your face. “Simon,” he only thought it fair to state his own. Although it sounded weird coming off his lips instead of the usual introductory Ghost.

“Well Simon, if you’re ever on Bakers Street, there’s a Korean Barbecue place that is delicious. Now that’s real food. I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow since I pulled this stunt. And thanks again!” You smiled, an awkward wave marking your goodbye.

Simon nodded and entered his dark flat, once again drawn into his own mind and the sound of warfare.

He made sure, a few days later to pay you back for your kind words and the disgusting tea. He knocked on your door, hurriedly rushing back to his own and out of sight, hoping the white takeout box of barbecue would make your evening.

He had a particularly rough morning on an autumn rainy day. The chill of the air and racket of raindrops on the window was enough to startle him awake. He was reminded of the cold chill of Russia, as well as the raindrops hitting way too similar to the sound of bullets. It nerved him, nearly taking him several minutes to be able to breathe properly again.

He’d done what his therapist had mentioned, pinpointing colors, sounds, and textures.

Yellowing wallpaper, humming ventilation, scratchy blanket.

Gray clouds, rattling ceiling fan, his own warm skin.

With a sigh, he curled his palm over his eyes, rubbing away the awful reoccurring night terrors, and settling for getting dressed. He wore the simple clothes he always did, black hoodie, jeans, and boots. Simple, yet effective.

He grew rather sick of the walls of his apartment. The plaster suffocated him, the air suddenly too stuffy. For a short moment he was stuck in that coffin again, maggots wriggling at his flesh and the scent of rotten meat flooding his nostrils.

He stood suddenly, attempting to calm himself. He was in Manchester, he was standing. Something he couldn’t do in a coffin. It was a shitty autumn day with rain battering his window sill. He wasn’t in the desert, he wasn’t half dead. He was here.

He let his body lead him out the door with no destination. All his mind happened to scream was out, out, out.

He’d barely been able to grab the door handle and twist, fingers shaking in such a pathetic way it had him wrinkling his nose. He was underwater, shoved into the bucket as they held him under, making him lose his breath and weakly fight.

No he was here. Manchester! In Manchester.

“Simon?”

He was suddenly lifted up, finally able to push the freezing water out of his lungs and suck down oxygen. His head swiveled weakly to you, eyes likely looking dead and cold.

You were dressed warm. A coffee-colored sweater swaddling your form and a burnt orange cardigan hanging from your shoulders as well. You wore typical jeans and slip-ons, but bright orange knitted socks peaked from your jeans. They were even littered with pumpkins and leaves designs.

He hummed in your acknowledgment, letting himself worry about his breathing once again. Colors, sounds, textures.

Orange Cardigan, your slow breathing, soft knitted socks.

“Are you okay?” You’d squeaked, barely audible over his massive heaving breathes. He instinctively nodded his head, knowing that if he showed any sign of weakness he’d be terminated. That’s how it’s been since he was four years old, being terrified of his father but not being able to express such fear.

“You know, it’s okay to not be okay.” You read right through him. Taking an inching step towards him. He said nothing, still shocked that you hadn’t left in a disgusted manner. He was weak and terrifyingly broken, and yet your sweet gaze never broke into pity.

Orange cardigan, quiet steps, smooth skin against his wrist.

He’d instantly felt relief from the lack of stinging pressure against his palm. Not realizing he’d been digging his nails into the calloused flesh, causing angry red crescents to print into his skin.

“Would you like a tea? I was about to go to the place across the street?”

His mind screeched no. He wanted so badly to be alone. To break something, to laugh as he bloodied his knuckles. He also wanted to shield his too pleasant neighbor from his violent tendencies. To keep her from him, to protect her. But his cold and dead heart managed to thaw and break all in one. The vile organ spoke for him as he found his head bobbing, lungs sucking in a big breath.

“M’kay.” He mumbled, following after your sweet lavender perfume down the lift like a sickly bloodhound.

He’d followed like a shell, hardly memorizing the turns and passing civilians until he was blasted with warm air from a cozy little cafe. He was slammed with comfort instantly, thrown back into the present world instead of the bloodied one he was used to seeing in his mind.

String lights hung above your head, illuminating your warm skin and kind smile. You’d ushered him to sit in the far corner, the leather booth squishy and comfortable. Simon had tuned into the fluttering orchestra of some jazz band, relaxing his bones and tired muscles only slightly.

Golden lights, swaying music, brewing coffee.

He startled when a thick paper cup slid in front of him, the fresh scent of breakfast tea relaxing him further, among with the smiling face blinking at him.

“Got your favorite, bland breakfast tea.” You quipped, taking a sip of your own lavender fruity tea. He let a soft grin cross his lips, pushing the invasive thoughts away while you were with him. “I told you it was an exquisite taste, you drink tea for a child.”

A bubbly laugh escaped you, making Simon freeze in pure awe. He’d never heard something so beautiful, a real authentic laugh. One that he caused.

“You should try it.” You eased, pushing your cup towards him with amusement. Simon’s eyes managed to squint in disgust, glancing down at the odd beverage.

His hand fit around the paper material, warmth meeting his fingers as he brought it carefully up to his scarred lips. The taste was sugary, but floral and rich at the same time. His tongue retreated away, and instantly he swallowed it like it was burning alcohol.

“I don’t like it.”

This tea perfectly matched your personality. Bubbly, overly sweet, and calming like the essence of lavender under his tongue. He’d rather have you than the tea.

“Well what do you like, oh mysterious neighbor?” You chuckled, taking back your tea with a happy grin. His dislike hadn’t irked you at all, instead you seemed more intrigued than before. As if he was enough to quirk your interest.

“Football.”

“Man United?”

He nodded.

“I’m a Liverpool fan.” You sighed, a guilty and mischievous grin passing over your lips.

“That’s more disgusting than that tea!” He growled out, a chuckle breaking through his chest at your lit up face.

“Yeah? What’s your favorite food or drink then? If you’re so quick to bash my tea!” You bickered back, happily noticing his shoulders relaxing and eyes softening.

“One of my Sergeants lives in Glasgow, he frequents at this pub with the best fry up you’d ever eat.”

“Breakfast in a pub?” You questioned, taking a sip of your tea again.

“Best hangover medicine.”

You’d scoffed, hiding your smile between your empty cup. Simon was surprised just how easy it was to talk to you. Here he was, just a man having a tea with a woman. Perhaps even a date? He didn’t have to worry about following orders or barking protocol to privates. Here he could be Simon, the man under the mask and war paint. It was… nice.

“So you’re in the military. That makes sense why I haven’t seen you over the last couple months.” You observed, but didn’t push. You were hanging the metaphorical bait, but he didn’t have to bite it if he didn’t want to.

He nodded, simple enough to confirm, but not enough to feel exposed.

“Well Simon, I have a train to catch. I’m going into Liverpool to see my Mum.” You explained, offering a polite smile.

“Sure.” He mumbled, watching you shuffle to leave the booth. “We should do this again sometime, it was nice to talk to someone besides my cat.” You urged, a laugh encasing your words.

His heart threatened to bounce out of his chest, but he pulled himself together with a subtle pinch to his thigh.

“Sounds nice.”

Dried blood coated his mask and stained his gloves to the point that he had to pull extremely hard to take them off. His shoulders slouched significantly and his eyes grew such large bags under them he could feel his skin sink into his skull. He was tired, exhausted, and needing a warm, long shower.

“Good te’ be back, yeah, L.t.?” Soap threw himself against a bench, groaning as he bent down to untie the laces of his boots. The Scot likely had the same idea as Simon, to shower all this blood off their bodies.

“Sure. Back to morning drills and bland Mess Hall food.” He added in monotone, eyes twinkling in amusement as Soap let out another dramatic groan.

“Oh don’t be like that.” He teased again, constantly pushing Simon out of his dramatic and lone atmosphere. It was nice in ways, how Soap managed to brighten up his day and keep him on his toes.

Speaking of toes, a frown worked its way onto his face as he caught the state of his freshly knitted socks. Dark mud and seeping blood rubbed uncomfortably against his toes, soaking the material of all its purity.

Soap followed his eye line, latching onto the pattern of white ghosts against black knitted material. A chortle escaped him, “Where the bloody hell did ye’ get those?”

“My Neighbor.” He answered shortly, taking note of the crimson color bleeding into the white ghosts.

“D’aw, little gran’ made ye’ some socks?” Soap teased, making the wrong assumption that you were some sweet elderly lady. Simon shook his head, peeling off the socks begrudgingly as he looked forward to his hot shower to warm his bones.

“She’s my age.”

His mind travelled to you. How you’d begged and begged for him to tell you his callsign, bringing up Top Gun of all things.

“Oh my gosh! You need to watch more movies. I can’t believe you don’t know who Tom Cruise is. Top Gun!” Your ecstatic voice carried as you sat in the now familiar booth the two of you shared.

It’s become a common occurrence for him to go out with you on Saturday mornings, sometimes you’d bring your laptop and study for an upcoming test in uni, other times you’d ask him any question under the sun, just to get to know him better. He was comforted by your mindless chatter, even more so when you’d avoid certain topics that made him uncomfortable.

You’d hardly pushed on his childhood or career, that was until you’d thought him traitorous that he’d never seen either of the Top Gun movies.

“Maverick and Goose? Never heard of them?”

“No.” Simon shrugged, sipping on his tea as your eyes sparkled again. “Do you have a callsign?”

His teeth grit at the question as his airway slightly closed. It was dangerous to identify himself off the clock, even more so in a public area. He studied your antsy form, noticing your hips hanging off the booth in curiosity, as well as the soft flesh of your lips pulled between your teeth. How could he ever say no to a creature so effortlessly beautiful?

“Ghost.”

A few days later, a knock on his door startled him from his routine of watching the local broadcasting. He’d approached the door, only to find a black pair of socks with little white ghosts knitted against the seams.

“Is she fit?” Soap found himself asking, a happy grin shining through. Simon was glad for his mask, for when he pictured your smooth skin, beautiful eyes, and stunning frame he could picture no flaws. Fit? That didn’t even begin to describe you.

“You have no idea, mate.”

He’d returned home Christmas Eve, tired and worn from all the flights and jet lagged beyond belief. His muscles were stiff and his heart was heavy. This was always his least favorite time of year.

Horror flashed before his very eyes, usually he’d get away with spending the holidays on base, catching up with his paperwork and training privates a little more to reduce his thoughts of his late family. Instead, Price all but forced him to go home, after a certain Scot let slip that his Lieutenant fancied his own neighbor.

He had nowhere to hide this time. He was home, and at the worst time of the year. Near instantly his nostrils filled with the smell of burnt Christmas ham, charred and ashes by the time he’d opened the front door. But that wasn’t the worst smell, not even close. Coppery tinges of blood clouded his nostrils as his eyes glazed over.

Hidden and reflected off the ornaments on the tree was his family. His poor sweet mother, who’d done so much and tried so hard to raise two boys with an abusive husband— she lay face first on the festive rugs. He’d rushed to her, only to nearly trip over his brother. Tommy’s hand was outstretched, blood trailing as he’d likely tried to crawl to his dead wife.

He couldn’t breathe, sheer panic and despair crawling on him like millions of slippery bugs. He’d vomited all the contents of his stomach as he caught the crib in the corner. Not his little nephew, not little Joseph.

Loud honking from below drew him out of his mind. He’d been standing idly in front of his door, duffel clutched so tightly in his hand he was sure he’d had punctured skin.

White snow, soft violin, warm coat.

Violin?

His feet had already carried him to your door, hand cautiously rapping against the thin wooden material. He knew it was late— hell, it was likely already midnight and Christmas Day. Yet he needed something, he needed to hear your voice and smell the lavender and floral ofyour perfume. He even wanted to see the orange fur of your pet tabby cat.

“Who is it?” Your soft voice carried through the door, successfully halting some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Simon.”

The door cracked open almost immediately, revealing you in red flannel pajamas and sleepy eyes. He’d never felt such a relief as he had just now. Seeing you, your warm smile peeking through all the tiredness.

“You just get back?” You asked, slippered feet already sliding to the kitchen to turn on the electric kettle.

“Yes.” He replied, bending low to pat the orange ball of fur dubbed Garfield. The cat mewed happily, even going as far as letting his belly be scratched. He’d missed your eyes curiously glancing at him from behind a cabinet, two mugs clinking as you pulled them out. He’d had the same cloudy eyes and sagged shoulders he always did when he was plagued by bad memories and PTSD.

“I was just about to put on a movie, if you want to sit on the sofa.” You’d suggested, seeping the leaves of his breakfast tea in a fluid motion. Your warm and inviting voice broke him away from thinking of his family, especially when the steaming scent of tea crept up his nose.

“What movie?”

“I was thinking Home Alone, or maybe even The Grinch. Tis’ the season and all that.” You bubbled, taking your own seat against him. He’d stiffened slightly at the mention of the holidays, but his thoughts quickly vanished at the subtle brush of warm skin against his side.

He wasn’t able to breathe properly as you laid your cheek upon his shoulder, right in the dip between his neck and clavicle. But no, it wasn’t the suffocating and violent loss of breath like before, when he thought of war and bloodshed. No, this was a dull ache of his heart, as if telling him that yes, this is where I want to be.

Red Flannel, shifting bodies, soft lips.

“How about we watch Top Gun?” He asked in a whisper, still feeling the absolute sweetness of your lips, the pleasure and love that was you.

You’d single-handedly dulled his pain, silenced the noise, and picked him up on the darkest of his days.

He loved you.

Tag list: @mykneeshurt

#simon ghost riley #cod #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

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LITTLE DEATHS (IX)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER X

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 3.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, stalking behavior, very dark/toxic modeling standards/expectations, body image issues, food issues, scar descriptions, mentions of past intimacy, hurt/comfort, soft!Nikto, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wake up the next morning in the silk sheets of your hotel bedroom, in nothing but an oversized shirt and underwear. Your mind is sluggish and, between flashes of electricity up your thighs, the entire night comes back in slow images as you groan into the pillow.

A quick rush of a coat to cover ripped laces, the scream of sirens, Nikto arguing with authorities before you’re both released.

It was a play of luck that you explained away the snapped wrist as a simple instance of Nikto being some white knight—he’d kept you safe, you’d said. The host had been forcing himself on you; it could be seen on the cameras. Paired with his service record and a call from your investigators, they’d let you go without any further trouble.

Today, the small headache from the champagne was only a dull sting in the back of your skull; you hadn’t been drunk—hadn’t gotten to that point, anyway.

Eyes starting at the far wall, a heat builds and builds on your face as the minutes pass.

“Did we really…” you trail off in a whisper, hand coming up to your face as you roll onto your back and stifle a loud sound of exasperation, lips mouthing out, “Fuck.”

Nikto had left you shaking on his fingers in a damn storage room. Twice.

Your lips thin, legs caught in the sheets. You weren’t even awake enough to understand the potential consequences—not only the intimate encounter, but the repercussions of not sleeping with Oriel would be swift and fierce.

Never mind the broken bone.

The sharp knife of that moment is a deadly thing, it digs deep into you until your eyes are watering. That desperation in the storage room—the things you said were true. You’d silenced your phone last night because you knew the reaction would be instant; undeniable. Even now, you shift over and slide your hand over it on the side table, only to pause and take a deep breath before turning it on.

A sudden barrage of missed calls and texts slam into your ears before you slap the device back down and turn it off with fast fingers.

Your eyes close tightly, flopping back down and covering your eyes. It was instinctual the way your heart started running from you—the fear seeping back in.

They’re going to fire me, you think, hands shaking. They’re going to throw me out.

Through the heavy understanding, through the ideas you have to try and salvage this, you pause only when something makes your nose twitch. Hesitating, your hands slip from your face slowly, eyelids peeling back a millimeter at a time. Staring at the gray ceiling, your brows pull back to their normal resting point as your face goes blank.

What is that? Palms going to the mattress, you sit up slowly and sniff. It was dough, maybe? Something sweet and toasted.

Shifting, your feet connect with the cold floor, and you stand with a grunt, a tiny ache in the middle of your abdomen that makes your face heat and your hands rub at the back of your neck. A part of you was nervous more about what was outside of your door than what was in your phone—Nikto.

How would this go? Would he ignore the entire thing? Ignore you?

“He doesn’t run from things,” you mutter aloud, walking and stepping on the torn laces of your dress at the foot of the bed. Your hands grasp one of the bags in your room, not caring to check the rest of the contents before you sift through and drag out a pair of dark sweatpants.

Moving into them, the waistband is large, just as the legs are, but you’re too preoccupied to understand the way you’ve slipped into Nikto’s pants before you’re already at the door. Hands shaking over the handle, your fingers run the smooth metal before you shake your head and huff.

Walking out, the scent of fresh pancakes makes itself known as you blink at the scene in front of you. Trying to understand if you were actually awake, or if this was still some dream in the airyness of your mind. The stuttering of your heart feels real.

Nikto was shirtless.

Shirtless, making breakfast.

Your mouth is somewhat agape as you stare, struck down to a statue in the doorway as your eyelids flutter. Again, that bear tattoo writhes as the expansive muscle moves and twitches with work—Nikto’s front facing the pan that he works a spatula through. All of the ingredients are left on the counter, bought by him or already in the luxurious cabinets for your pleasure, you don’t know; flour, milk, among the others. Jams and honey.

You don’t know how long you stand there, fighting between your desire to run your hands over his bare skin and the respectful sense you know you need to keep. It’s enough time for him to slap one more scoop of dough into the sizzling pan and pass the done pancake to the side where one more rests, steaming.

You hadn’t thought your words meant that much to him.

Clearing your throat in shock, you see him glance over his shoulder swiftly. A bead of silence.

“Come. Eat,” is what he says—no emotion heard in the voice, though you didn’t expect anything less. His pale eyes dart down you, and after a small break in the air, he chuckles. “Thief, yes?”

“What?” Your brows crease. “I didn’t…” You look down and pause. It was fairly obvious that the pants didn’t belong to you. Your lips flattened, and your eyes flinched closed in embarrassment. “I must have gone through the wrong bag.”

Turning back, you hear a call from the Russian before you can disappear like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“I don’t wear them. I do not mind.” There's low electricity in the air. He doesn’t know how to go about this either.

Sighing, you shrug and nod, shifting back so you can walk to the kitchen counter and stuff your hands into your pockets. Leaning your hip to the corner, you fight the clamminess of your hands. The sweatpants pool at your ankles as your mouth opens.

“Pancakes?” You ask lowly, glancing at him.

He’s still in that balaclava, and his cargos are loose around his hips before being stuffed into dark boots that you’d never see him without.

“With jam,” Nikto grunts. “You will like them.”

You push out a tiny laugh. “I’ve had pancakes before, Nikto. I’m pretty sure most people have.”

“How would we know, hm?” Pale eyes narrow on yours, but it isn’t hostile. Nikto grumbles, moving the pan before he motions with a finger. “Those are done.”

You glance over at the pile and sigh, taking the plate with the two already done pancakes on it and padding over to grab the jam. Your eyes move down the label to find out which one it exactly is—gray isn’t exactly a large help—and open the sealed top with a tiny release of pressure.

Getting fat.

You pause, one hand holding the top and the other the glass jar; eyes blank, you stare at the plate with a steadily sinking heart. Clearing your throat, you move a hand and twist the top back on, placing the jam down and shifting to grab a fork instead.

“Do you think that the investigators will call with any updates—”

“Eat,” Nikto interrupts firmly from behind, back to back.

Your face is tight, fingers tapping the counter. There’s a tension of something between you two, but you can’t name it. Not yet. But it’s there, like a blade cutting through a corset, it’s there. It’s what got you out of bed today, it’s what got Nikto to push himself to sleep shirtless for the first time in years. The possibility of…something. Unseen, you nod and take the food—moving away from the kitchen and sitting down on the couch, you carefully dig into breakfast and shift a dry forkful into your mouth.

Eyes closed, your head slightly bows forward as you chew.

It was no secret that you were quiet today, and Nikto didn’t have to be as sharp-eyed as he was to notice. By now you would have teased him about the effort for the food, or even spoken about the mattress you slept on, Nikto had hypothesized. But it was just…silent.

Nothing.

In the kitchen, the Russian’s brows crease, lips pulling. He huffs, rolling his shoulders as his bones crack.

He’d been up last night—for a long while—doing all the things he said he would until he had the clarity to understand hours later, that everything was a million times more complicated now that he knew the truth about this ‘trip’.

And he had to know all of it.

Nikto, truth be told, was a bit quiet himself; more than he usually was. He continued with breakfast in silence, listening to the sound of your fork tapping the plate as his brain fought with itself. The Russian’s mind told him to act like that hadn’t happened between the two of you—it was unprofessional, wrong down to the core. You were his charge, and he hadn’t hesitated for more than a second before he’d ripped open your dress and played with you like you were his own.

Why? Why was he so enamored by you? It didn’t make any sense. No one had ever mattered this much to him—it was absurd.

But whatever dead part of his heart that had come back to beat again said that ignoring this would be cruel to you; if all others in your life were, that was one thing he would not be. At least to you.

Nikto grunts under his breath and grabs his plate, stacked with six pancakes, before turning, grasping the jam with firm fingers, and heaping it on top. Blinking across to you, he pauses at your closed eyes—the dip of your head. Not only was there still food on your plate but it was set down on the coffee table, resting stationary.

You couldn’t possibly be done already.

“Not good?” He asks, voice gruff.

You shake your head. “No, Nikto, they were perfect. I’m just not that hungry this morning.” Pale blue eyes stare, blinking slowly.

He didn’t know what to do.

Looking down at his breakfast, Nikto clenches his jaw. Grasping his plate and his utensil he walks over before he sits beside you, sinking the cushions and shuffling aside the blanket he’d had last night. When you look over at him, confused, he doesn’t utter a word, before his free hand sneaks up and hooks under his balaclava.

It’s a moment, he knows, a moment of hesitation that instinctually tightens his muscles, stopping him with a shake of his fingers. And then, as he usually does, he forces himself through it.

Slipping the fabric up to his nose, you stare openly at the strong jaw that comes to light, as well as the unspoken horror of scars. It isn’t even a minute before the Russian leans back with a grunt, and spreads his feet until his knee knocks yours before he shoves the first of his pancakes into his mouth with muffled chewing.

Eyes darting away, you stare at your own feet tightly.

Silence settles.

“You don’t have to do that,” you whisper.

“Да,” his words are grumbled, even if you can’t see it, his face is beginning to burn. Heavy memories coming back. He won’t stay long like this—he can’t. It hurts. “I do not.”

You sigh, hands moving up to rub along your face, cupping at it until all the whiteness of the hotel is hidden from your gaze. It wasn’t hard to feel him passing glances.

Shaking your head, your hands fall, and you move to mirror his own position—back leaning and legs kicking out, except yours go to rest on the table next to your plate.

“I think a part of me didn’t expect you to actually be here,” you say, not looking at him. “I’m not used to having to deal with…” your lips halt themselves, looking for words. “After.”

No one ever stayed. Not anyone that mattered.

Nikto’s clinking fork pauses, stuttering on its course. He licks his lips, tasting the sweetness of jam. He continues to watch you as you continue on beside him, bare skin brushing—those large biceps caressing yours.

“I don’t want things to be awkward. If you can’t do your job without something feeling off anymore, I would understand if you wanted to leave. I’m sure my mother can get another operator from KorTac to take me on, she already had two from before that might still be available. I know last night was a lot. I don’t want you to feel…pressured, I guess. That was never my intention.”

He lets you finish, sensing you need to get some things off of your chest. When had he become so soft to this? To you? He was losing his backbone here—losing that edge that kept him…him.

Or was that ever him in the first place?

“I will not leave,” Nikto speaks slowly, lips moving every scar that lives there. “We are not ‘feeling off’. No one will look after you like us, and so no one will take our place until this stalker is either taken away or in ground.”

“And the awkward part?” You ask, glancing over, getting caught by long cuts and fissures.

“We will deal,” Nikto’s chest rumbles, and you believe falling asleep to that sound would stop your nightmares altogether. “There are worse things than that, yes?”

You huff a laugh. “I guess.” A second later, you lightly bump your elbow into his side. “You’re better at this kind of stuff than I’d thought you’d be.”

Dark brows furrow.

“I am speaking truth. Nothing more.”

“Mhm,” your lips carefully peel in a tiny smile. “Sure, Big Guy.”

Nikto scoffs, rolling his eyes before he takes down more of his breakfast. He glances over to see you peeking at his old insignia tattoo—the one on his shoulder. It was strange to him, how you took so much more interest in his ink than the scars; he’d been thinking about it last night.

It was against your nature to not ask about them, and yet…you had. No one had ever not asked about the scars. But, hm, Nikto’s eyes shimmer, it only made his chest swell when you chose not to. As if you understood the sanctity of them—the importance.

That was something that he just wasn’t ready to speak about yet.

“You like it?” He speaks.

You blink quickly, looking back up in an instant. There was no use hiding it.

“What is it?” You ask him, glancing back down at the tattoo and tilting your head at it.

The image was of some sort of crest—a two-headed bird wearing crowns; holding items in their claws with a, smaller, image set into the middle. A man on horseback, spearing a dragon.

“FSB crest.” Nikto’s voice goes lower, more under the breath than previously. “Reminder of service.”

“Oh,” you mutter. “What are the colors?”

He hums. “Red, gold. Little silver. Mine is just black ink, though. Did not go back for second session.”

“I’ve thought of getting tattoos before,” you confess, moving out a slow hand to trace the outline in his flesh. You notice him still somewhat at your dragging nails, lips parting softly. “AMA would never go for it, but I’ve still wondered what it would be like.”

Nikto licks his lips, letting you feel him as he side-eyes you. His muscles soften as your heat seeps in, tingling blood under his epidermis.

“What kind?”

“A bird, I suppose,” you hum. “I think they’re lovely.”

Nikto tilts his head, but the questions can no longer sit in the back of his throat. “You continue to be their pawn. Why? I can make no sense of it, Seraph. You speak of yourself as if you are nothing.”

“I might not be anymore after last night,” you whisper, dropping your hand from Nikto’s flesh. Your eyes close; a heavy sigh on your lips. “I know it isn’t healthy, I know that. I know it’s wrong, and vile, and disgusting—but you have to hear me out when I tell you that the only thing I have is my looks—”

“That is a lie.” Nikto snarls, glaring over at your face as his plate hits the table. “Why do you say that? You are smart, Seraph, anyone with sense can see it. You are kind; good.” The Russian curses, repeating. “You are good.”

“AMA needs investments,” your voice is muffled. “I’m not the only one that has to do things like this. I’m not special.”

The man grinds out, “It does not matter if a million go through it—you are here with us. It is our job to keep you safe now. It is special to me.”

“From a stalker,” you argue, body starting to go rigid at the intensity of the conversation. You didn’t like talking about this.

“From any threat,” Nikto barks. Face close to yours and his hard, crooked nose brushing skin. “Is this not a threat to you?”

You stare into his eyes, and it’s an expression he can’t recall you having. It makes him nervous—nervous for you in a way that was similar to when you’d disappeared from his sight. It was dead. Dead how his eyes would get on the bad days—when he couldn’t differentiate between himself and his body; what had really happened and what hadn’t.

You were exhausted, and you didn’t even see it.

“You need sleep,” he drops the hard tone immediately, eyes snapping over your face in fast jerks. “You need rest. Now.”

“I’m not tired.” Pale eyes bore through you, and you relent softly. “...I don’t want any more nightmares.” Your lips open and close. “They scare me because I can’t remember them, but I know something bad happened.”

Fingers come up and brush your cheek, leaving your lips flattening before the tears can make themselves known to him.

There was just so much going on.

The stalker, now AMA and potential repercussions? You thought if you had one thing, you had your job—trials and exploitations all, but you still had that. You still had something. Now you might not even have a home to go back to.

Bare arms shift, looping around you. With a roaming of skin on skin, Nikto bundles you in his arms and lifts, legs taking your weight. He moves you as your head rests burrowed into his neck—forehead to the long cut that loops around the side of his throat to the front. That one really made you shiver; the thought of it—the error he must have felt. Without thinking, you lay a tiny kiss on the skin, and Nikto’s legs only stutter once before he pushes open the bedroom door.

Setting you down on the bed, he mumbles into your scalp before he pulls away, moving his balaclava back down with firm fingers. “What can I do?”

Your body shifts, clothed in borrowed pants and the weight of a million realities. You wished you could see the color of his eyes—those creased things that watch you so closely; the marring of the different shades of his scars.

You wished you could pick up the courage to ask him if you were his soulmate, at the very least. The hunch was dimming, taking a backburner the longer it stayed in your mind. Surely he would say something by now? Right? With how he was, you expected Nikto to be reserved about it, but now…

Now your hope was drowning itself.

You wished you weren’t damaged goods.

“Sit with me?” Your weak voice quivers, but no tears fall.

Nikto stares, head tilting slowly as his now re-hidden face is a mystery. “Да. Yes.” It’s so tiny that the words are almost lost.

So, he shifts into bed after placing his boots neatly near the bedframe, letting you scoot over as he grasps the end of the covers and moves to have his back connected to the headboard. With a large pull, the fabric slides over your body and levels at his abdomen, your head slightly above it, until scarred fingers grasp and push it down a bit.

For a bit, a heavy silence settles between the two of you. You don’t touch, you don’t talk. It’s the sound of beating hearts and rabid minds, thinking over thoughts that only serve to make things worse the longer their dark fingers are around both of your throats.

“Come,” Nikto murmurs.

Your body instantly connects to his, hands grasping into his pants and head nuzzling his thigh. His grip finds your head, running itself over it until it ends at your shoulder and pulls you tighter to him.

“Sleep. No nightmares, hm?” He glances down, trying to push a fractured joke. “We will scare them off.”

Your broken chuckle makes his chest tighten, and pale eyes avoid looking down at you for fear he’ll realize how addictive it is to have your flesh on his—the sensation of touch that was becoming a need. When was the last time he’d been relied on like this? Never, he thinks.

To be protection in the barest sense.

A boy keeping away nightmares for a girl that lays in his lap.

No weapons, no orders. Only hands and sagging bodies, and a care that was infecting him like venom—injected into his bloodstream by white fangs. It leveled out, coating him. He wanted you to be safe, and it wasn’t just because it was his job. It was because he couldn’t imagine seeing you in pain like this—in a slow death of the mind until the body rotted away with it.

It wasn’t right to him, and he couldn’t describe it as anything other than blasphemy. Sacrilege. Nikto didn’t have the words; maybe he never would. All that he knew was that he would kill millions to never see you harmed. He would rot in the deepest part of hell willingly, go through darkness and fire—but none of it could touch you. Not a wisp of flame; not an idea of torture.

You were good.

“Why do you care so much,” you whisper before you fall asleep, curious even as your eyelids are fighting to stay down.

Nikto has not taken his eyes off you. He was always honest, but this truth scares him more than any other. The nagging in the back of his skull.

“I…do not know.”

You were too good for this.

So even when he gets that text message on his phone when you’re fully sleeping, even when he shifts it out of his pocket and sees the unknown number, Nikto is not going to wake you. He’s not going to shake your head as he massages the scar that lives there, his thumb taking in the familiar bumps and dips—the trauma it caused so similar to his own.

Nikto will not tell you of the sinking in his chest.

The guard accepts that little death in his heart when he sees that image of the both of you in the storage room. He accepts the little death when he sees your tightly closed eyes from over his own shoulder, hands digging into his one-size-too-small suit. The obvious actions taking place that are still seared into his mind hours later.

He accepts the little death of the caption, all in Russian but never more vile in his mind.

‘I know what you did.’

And he accepts that this stranger's death will not be so little if he ever gets his hands on him.

TAGS:

@anna-banana27, @random-thot-generator, @midwesternwitchery, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @halfmoth-halfman, @alpineswinter, @blingblong55, @cryingnotcrying, @lxne20, @not-eclipse, @theecoffeebean, @phoenixhalliwell, @h3ll-guttz, @tiinkerbell, @genjilvr, @azush4rp, @escapefromrealitysm, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @finnigansxz, @cowboybaby2, @delaynew, @doggydale, @zapphir, @littlemisstrouble, @xxtmoe, @grizzersmamma, @andreas-river, @blogdddxx, @jade-jax, @emthegrace, @lovebugmsyd, @makariaspresence, @noisyprofessorhoundsalad-blog, @scythebot, @blueoorchid, @kra-rino4ka, @caramlizedtomatoes, @strawberymilk,@frazie99, @homicidal-slvt, @develised, @crispyhusband, @cathnoneofyourbusiness, @ghostslittlegf, @generalcloudtraveler, @azsteris, @rvjaa, @creminemisinthehizzyforshizzboy, @comsyki

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fanworkspermissionstatement · 1 year

Text

[Image description: The title, "Fanworks Permission Statement Builder," and black line-drawing-style pictures of a hand holding a pencil and of a microphone with a pop filter, over a background of crumpled paper. End ID.] (credit to @rystonlentil for the image ID)

Hey fanworks creators!

Excited about the idea of someone creating something based on your fan creation (like podfics, fanart, translations, etc)? On the other hand, do you not want people creating stuff based off your fanworks and don't want to have to turn them down? Or do you have a more nuanced idea of what you are and aren't comfortable with people doing based on your fan creations? Don't particularly care one way or the other about what people create based on your stuff?

SPEND JUST A FEW MINUTES TO QUICKLY GENERATE A FANWORKS PERMISSION STATEMENT LETTING PEOPLE KNOW YOUR PREFERENCES!!!

What is a fanworks permission statement?

A fanworks permission statement (also known as a blanket permission statement or transformative works permission statement) is very simple: it's something you post in a publically-visible place (usually your AO3 profile) that tells other fan creators what you are and aren't okay with in terms of other people making fanworks based off your stuff. It can be as simple as a sentence or two, or as complicated as you want to communicate your preferences clearly.

Who should have a permission statement?

A permission statement is for anyone that creates fanworks! Yes, even if you don't think anyone would ever want to create something based off your fanworks. You never know! It's not egotistical to post a permission statement, it's HELPFUL. Yes, even if you don't want people making something based off your works. It means no one has to reach out to ask you, they can know your preferences right away.

Is it only for fanfic writers?

Absolutely not! It's great for fan creators of ALL kinds to have a fanworks permission statement! Fanartists, someone might want to use your fanart as inspiration for a fanfic or create fanart inspired by your work in a different medium! Podficcers, other people creating in an audible medium might want to insert clips of your podfics into their work, or copy the way you did certain effects! Fanbinders, you might inspire an artist with the way you do your binding! This is really for everyone, because fandom is infinitely creative and who knows how another fan creator might be inspired by your work!

What do I even say in a permission statement?

That's exactly why we built the Fanworks Permission Statement Builder! So you don't have to think about what to say or how to say it. Just spend a few minutes answering questions about your preferences that cover many of the common things people might want to specify, and you'll have a permission statement ready to copy-and-paste into your AO3 profile, or to edit to your heart's content!

Why use the Fanworks Permission Statement Builder?

Don't want to come up with a permission statement on your own? Not sure what should even go into a permission statement? Want someone to at least give you a starting place that you can edit to better reflect your preferences? Want someone to just hand you a ready-to-use permission statement that you can paste into your profile? Spend just a few minutes answering some questions about your preferences, and you'll have a permission statement ready to use or edit!

#fandom permission statement #fandom permission statement builder #blanket permission #transformative works statement #bp #transformative works #fanfic #fanart #podfic #translation #fanbinding

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trans-axolotl · 1 month

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content note: discussion of suicide.

this next monday will be the six year anniversary of losing one of my friends to suicide.

when he died, my high school barely mentioned his death, even though for other students who died by things like car crashes or illness, there were so many public expressions of grief. they believed that having any memorials for a student who died by suicide would encourage other people to die the same way. in their rush to erase the circumstances of his death, they erased the memory of his life.

there are so many things i am angry at that high school about in terms of how they treated mental health (mandatory reporting and collaborating with cops, their refusal to recognize the ways in which that system led to peer-to-peer crisis support, their refusal to recognize the ways that trying to keep each other alive through trial and error was scary and exhausting, carceral disciplinary policies, etc etc etc). but i think one of the things i am still angriest about is the way they enforced shame around his death. it felt like they were retroactively blaming him for the constellation of circumstances that made suicide an option in his life. it felt like they were blaming those of us who missed him and cared about him and wanted to grieve him. it made those of us still there who were actively suicidal feel even more scared about the reaction if we did reach out for help from one of those mythical safe adults.

as an adult now involved in psych abolition/mad liberation work, it makes me so fucking mad to see the ways in which he was discarded by people in authority positions. and the older i get, the more options i have found in my life for making sense of the world and finding healing and community and support which were never available to him because he died when he was 16 and the only things offered to him were a carceral psychiatric system that blamed him for his own fucking death. it feels so incredibly unfair.

i miss him and i think i always will; i can't remember his laugh or the sound of his voice or his favorite color any more and that aches. this grief is so heavy and it feels harder in a new way each year, when i become older than he will ever be. sometimes meeting new comrades or seeing new anticarceral suicide support models hurts because i wish so fucking bad that we had that back then. i remember how close we came to losing even more people that year and i know it is simple fucking luck that i'm still here when he's not.

i remember another letter (never sent) that i wrote to a friend while they were in an ICU bed after a suicide attempt when i didn't know if they would live or not. i have spent so much time in the past 10 years begging for anything to keep me and my friends alive, but even in that letter i knew that there is so much fucking violence that is hidden beneath psychiatric logics of cure and safety that promise a "solution" to suicide. I knew that institutionalization, coercion, and shame would not have helped build a life more liveable for him or **** or any of the people i've loved and lost since.

there needs to be more fucking options for care and support that aren't so incredibly cruel to suicidal people. i know so many people doing incredible work in alternatives, peer respite, a million different frameworks for healing and liberation. but it makes me so mad every day i have to live in a world where there are still people restrained, locked up in psych wards, having all autonomy and personhood taken away from them. knowing there are dozens of people every day getting blamed for their deaths the same way he was blamed for his.

i miss him. i cared so fucking much for him. and he died by suicide, and all of those things are true. he has been dead for 6 years and he lived before that and the people who loved him want to remember all of him; our celebrations of his life should not require hiding the way that he died.

Image description: [1000 origami cranes in all different colors and patterns that are tied together in strings of 25]

(these were the 1000 cranes we made to give to his parents, in memorial and recognition of how much he meant to us.)

#personal #suicide tw #suicide mention tw #psych abuse tw #psych ward tw #ok to reblog if u want #psych abolition #mad liberation #psych survivor #it's a lot of grief hours over here and will be for a while all week i think #lots of grief so many ways this year for so many people #but this week. his memory . my grief for him #is hitting especially hard. i think partially because of all the transitions in my life. i'm graduating college. he will never become an ad #adult.#i think i might ask my roommates if they will go do something to remember him with me. maybe making origami cranes and sending them off in #the river. or writing things down and burning them #idk. grief is hard #six years in grief is different. but hard

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katiexpunk · 4 months

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You may have done this before, I haven’t read all your work, but How about Joel and Tommy (or just Joel 😜) take you on a horse ride, out into the woods and end up having a fun time on the grass

Tell Me a Secret | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Non, thank you so much for this request. I hope you enjoy this! I love getting requests from ya'll, makes my heart so happy.xx As a side note, this will be my final fic as an unmarried woman. My wedding is in less than a month (!!!!)

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Word Count: 7.8K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Warnings: References to canon typical violence. It's hinted that readers father was abusive. Death. Blood. Reader is an artist. Ellie/Sarah/Tommy/Maria and others are referenced in this. Ellie and Reader are friends. Alcohol. Angst. Horses. Pining. Oral (female receiving). Praise kink. Pet names. Emotional sex. Very unprotected sex. They fuck outside, but nobody is around. Joel makes a questionable choice in this one that invades readers privacy. Breeding kink if you squint. Creampie. Fingering. Lots of references to art and poetry. A surprise ending that might mean more later on... Immersibility: Reader has no physical descriptions apart from having hair, breasts, and a uterus. It is noted at one point that there is charcoal visible on her hands. No age gap is mentioned (make it your own). Creative Credits: the middle image of the graphic is a drawing by @kamal.classic.art on Instagram. The poem referenced at the end is by Olivia Ann Rose. The opening section is modified poetry from Brianna Pastor. Inspiration was pulled from the lake scene in The Princess Diaries 2. And shout out to our boi Leonardo da Vinci, cuz I reference the Mona Lisa.

It’s really easy to be angry.

Over the years, anger became so familiar to you that you had a difficult time differentiating between that and your sadness. Both felt equally daunting.

It’s difficult to work on your sadness with its roots are boiling with anger. Both don’t always look the way one might expect them to. Sometimes, the face of anger is neutral, a quiet rumble you don’t notice because it’s buried so deep.

That steady stream of anger and hurt seemed to trickle into every single thing that you did. You had become cold and numb to the reality of the world around you; an empty shell of who you once were.

And then you met Joel Miller.

He came along and started to nurture what you buried so deep that you eventually forgot what was even planted there.

And you did the same for him.

Like the sun, you elevated the ordinary with a simple touch. Your rays warmed the cockles of his heart he thought had gone so cold they could never be revived.

This is that story.

++++

It doesn’t take Ellie long to figure it out.

“Hey, give me that back!” You snap at her, attempting to pull the tattered notebook from her hands, but it’s pointless. Her tiny fingers must have been sumo wrestlers in another life, you wager. Putting space between both of your bodies by quickly walking backward, she locks eyes with you until her back is up against the makeshift bookshelf.

This is your favorite place in all of the Jackson – the makeshift library Maria started a few months back. It’s not much, but with your help, the collection is starting to grow. You’re quick to stuff books into your pack on raids and have summoned a handful of the townspeople to aid in this effort. It’s always quiet and peaceful; a stark contrast to the world outside the walls that keep you safe here.

Well, that was until a rather foul-mouthed 14-year-old named Ellie arrived in town. Despite your age difference, you two have become fast friends, even if she does annoy the shit out of you sometimes.

“Ellie, I am so serious right now, please give my notebook back,” you plead with her from across the room, your hands on your hips, a serious undertone to your voice.

“Why? Whatcha trying to hide so bad? Drawing a bunch of dicks or something?” she jokes.

When you don’t respond, her eyes widen in surprise. “Holy shit, dude. You are drawing a bunch of dicks, aren’t you!” she teases, resting the pads of her fingers in between the pages of the notebook, slightly parting the paper. All she’d have to do is move them a little and the pages would fall open, revealing your secrets faster than a Catholic at confession.

She starts to crack the spine of the notebook, but your voice calling out once more causes her pause. “No, wait, Ellie, stop,” you say a tad softer this time. “I’m not drawing a bunch of dicks, and even if I were, that’s not something you should be looking at – it’s…personal,” you respond, hoping the sincerity and softness you’re attempting to frost over the obvious bite of anger behind your voice will encourage her to listen.

She stares back at you, scanning your face up and down for a hint of the truth, thinking for a few moments.

“Fine,” she says. Your shoulders fall from your ears and the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding escapes from your lungs. She walks back over to you and extends her arm out, the notebook in hand, preparing to hand it over to you as if she’s some sort of General accepting a truce deal.

As you reach out to grab it, she lets it slip from her hands a few seconds too early. A nearly silent oops escapes her lips. The notebook falls to the floor with an audible thud, dropping as fast as a dead body, its pages falling open on both sides, like blood spilling on the floor.

Before you register what’s even happening, Ellie already has her knees on the floor, hovering over the open pages, a look of astonishment and delight on her face.

“Whoa – is that,” she asks, but before she can finish her sentence, you’re quickly snatching it up, snapping it closed with an audible thud. You both rise, and she’s looking at you, a smug smile of knowing on her face. Her smile grows like she’s just found some sort of secret treasure. “That was me, wasn’t it?” It’s a rhetorical question, she already knows the answer.

You consider lying, but fuck it, you’re in too deep at this point. Plus, she may be only 14, but she’s smart as a whip, and you know she’d be able to call your bullshit from a mile away. Besides, she already saw the damn thing.

“Yes, okay, Ellie. Fine,” you concede. “It’s you. I – I like to draw,” you admit sheepishly like you’re afraid of what might come if you say it out loud.

It’s not that you’re not proud of your drawings, you are. The only thing you can attribute to your unwillingness to share your hobby with the world is akin to a trauma response.

Memories of your father ripping up your first notebook of drawings, the one he found under your pillow when you were a teenager, flash through your mind. Goosebumps litter your body when you swear you can still hear his raspy voice, harsh from the burn of whiskey, telling you that drawing won’t pay the bills and to knock that shit off or he’ll beat it out of you. He wasn’t particularly a man of his word, but somehow, he managed to keep that one. You’re not sure when the anger started to creep in, but you think it might have been then. Watching your hard work darken and crumble in the fire almost hurt worse than the sear his belt left behind.

“You were reading your comic over there the other day,” you admit, nodding your head toward the little nook by the window. “The light was just right, and well…I don’t know, I just got inspired and figured I’d give drawing you a shot,” you admit, voice soft and shy.

“Well you’re pretty fucking good at it,” Ellie admits.

You shove it down, the spark of happiness her words ignite in you, and it works. For now.

“Yeah, whatever,” you respond, clutching your not-so-secret secret closer to your chest. You aren’t good at taking compliments; especially now, after everything that’s happened.

“Can I have it?” Ellie asks. She rolls her eyes for a second, before eventually adding a please to the end of her request. You remember her telling you a few weeks back that Joel has been working with her on manners. You’d only met him once, but as far as you could tell, he was the southern gentleman, wounded dog, not to be fucked with, but still the impossibly polite type of man. The type of man that would punch another guy in the bar for questioning a lady’s honor, or stab him in the kneecap for looking at his girl the wrong way.

You consider her request for a moment, before eventually deciding that since it is her likeness, she should be the one to have it. You crack open the book, being careful to hide the other pages from her view before the familiar sound of paper ripping fills the room. You’re careful to tear it in a straight line, close to the spine, so as not to ruin the drawing.

With her portrait in hand, you bargain, “You can have this under one condition. You can’t tell anyone about this.” Ellie gives a subtle nod as if to agree. You don’t notice her middle and index fingers crossed tightly behind her back when you hand it over.

“So you’re sure you don’t have anything super naughty in there?” Ellie teases.

“Alright kid, no more dick jokes or Joel is gonna choke me,” you chide, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. Wouldn’t that be quite the piece of jewelry; a Joel Miller hand necklace. The truth is that while you don’t have anything super naughty, you do have more than one drawing of her guardian hiding in your pages. You’re not sure of much anymore, but there is one thing you do know for certain – those drawings are something she can never, ever, see. Those drawings are something nobody can ever see.

Ellie was quick to discover your secret.

Good thing it was just one of them.

You drape your arm over her shoulder and walk out of the library together.

++++

It all happens so quickly from that moment on.

It’s only spring, yet the Jackson grapevine is in full bloom, carrying the fruits of your talent to pretty much the whole town. You can’t say you’re surprised. What did you expect from a 14-year-old with minimal entertainment options?

It starts with Ellie letting it slip to Maria while they’re washing the dishes from family dinner with her, Tommy, and Joel.

Maria lets it slip to Tommy.

Tommy lets it slip to Samantha, the town’s soapmaker.

Samantha lets it slip to Joey, the butcher.

Joey lets it slip to – well – pretty much everyone else. You wouldn’t have guessed the town's butcher would be such a gossip, but dead cattle don’t make great conversationalists. Before you know it, you’re accepting some sort of art deal over porridge in the dining hall like it’s a shady drug deal.

“Come on, think of how happy it will make people,” Maria pleads with you. “You only have to do as many as you want,” she adds, looking at you with kind eyes, the ones that are nearly impossible to say no to.

You stare back at her in silence, attempting to piece together a response in your mind, but your words may as well be a 1,000-piece single-color puzzle at this point.

“So many of us don’t have those memories anymore. Think of how much it will mean to people to be able to put a drawing of their family up on their walls once more, you know?” she says, laying it on thick. Like how it used to be is what she leaves out.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” you respond, dropping your spoon on the wooden table next to your half-eaten bowl of breakfast. You feign annoyance, but deep down, you’re excited about the opportunity. Scared shitless, but excited.

“Yeah? Great. Oh just wait until I tell Tommy, he’s going to be ecstatic,” she says. “Now finish up, can’t have any of that food going to waste,” she quips, before swinging her leg over the bench and adjusting the brim of the cowboy hat on her head as she walks away, a smug look on her face.

++++

In the following days and weeks, you find yourself immersed in the lives of the residents of Jackson. Setting up your makeshift easel from scrap wood you collected on patrol in living rooms, on front porches, and amidst picturesque landscapes.

The people, once reserved, slowly begin to open up to you as they share stories and anecdotes of their lives before. It’s sweet, you think – how chatty people get when they have nothing to do but sit there while you try your best to capture their likeness.

Some conversations are easier than others. Most of the time you just nod your head and let out occasional nods or grunts of agreement, too immersed in your work to listen to what they’re saying, but sometimes you find yourself so engrossed in their stories that the drawings take hours to complete.

As much as you learn about them, you rarely open up about yourself. Sometimes they ask, sometimes they don’t. Regardless, you feel like the woman you were before no longer exists, she was left to decay with the rest of your family back in Austin. You know she’s in there, buried deep inside, hiding behind a door of anger and tears. Sometimes she cries out, but you buried the key to that lock years ago. No getting out now.

As the portraits accumulate, so does a sense of connection and unity. You’re no longer an unknown. A threat against resources. When you first arrived in town, you did your best to make yourself useful and show people that you weren’t just dead weight. And it worked, or you think it worked anyway, but the past few weeks have caused a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Before the apocalypse, you never really saw a place for your artwork or your talent. But now, you can see how it’s becoming a bridge, linking generations and weaving a tapestry of shared histories. Giving people something to cling to, something to hold on to, something to cherish once more.

Of all of the portraits you’ve done so far, your favorite is the one you did of Tommy and Maria. She hasn’t said anything yet, but from the way she placed her hand on her belly, and the way Tommy looked at her, it was pretty easy to guess. You did your best to capture their likeness, knowing it would likely be shown to generations to come. When you showed them the final result, Maria cried and hugged you tighter than you’ve been hugged in years. Their love was obvious – radiant and shiny. If anything were to make you believe in love again, wouldn’t seeing it right in front of your face be it? You try not to think about it too much when you realize it doesn’t.

You no longer have to walk the streets of Jackson, bouncing from place to place, alone. There’s always someone to talk to on your journey, or a comfortable silence paired with a subtle wave in the distance, or the occasional sound of a creaky screen door opening for you. Even before things went to shit, you never had this – community. With each finished portrait, you find yourself making a new friend.

You should be happy now. You know that. Your parasympathetic nervous system has had an opportunity to return to its normal state for the first time in years. You have the warmth of friends, and people like you. Like actually like you. They like what you’re doing, what you’re creating.

But you aren’t.

Because while you’re capturing the entire town's attention, you’re starting to realize you only care about attention when it’s from one person.

And unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to give two shits about you or what you create.

As you lay in bed that night, fidgeting with your necklace, you stare up at the ceiling and think about what started this whole infatuation in the first place. It was a drunken night, hardly anything. Not even a story worth repeating. You shouldn’t even be thinking about it. It was nothing.

But as you feel sleep calling you into its abyss, you remember the way his voice called your name that night and the heavy feeling of his gaze on your chest.

It was nothing.

Nothing.

That doesn’t stop you from dreaming about him that night.

++++

Being the town's only artist comes with its price. While most of the time you don’t mind the endless stream of hellos and requests for additional portraits, you’re not up for much conversation this morning.

You slept like absolute shit last night and decided that if you weren’t going to sleep through the night, you might as well be productive with your time. When your eyes fluttered closed thinking of what, and who, to draw, the image of Joel sipping a cup of coffee in the dining hall, reading an old Western book from your library, played on the screen of your heavy lids. You decided to put your feelings on paper and start a new portrait. After you woke up from your dream, probably around 3 am you guessed, you stayed up late enough to see the sun rise over the horizon, before eventually deciding that it was too late, early for most, to go to bed now.

Seeking solitude and shielding yourself from prying eyes, you make yourself at home in the stables. You perch on a weathered stool in the corner of the barn, perfectly positioned in the corner so your back is supported, and begin sketching the handsome grump. As if he was right in front of you, his features are regal; sharp jawline decorated with a salt and pepper beard, one of the patches faintly shaped like a heart, dark brown eyes that resemble those of a deer, the crinkled lines around his eyes and forehead that serve as proof of age. Arguably your favorite feature is his nose. Prominent, aquiline, like a bow that perfectly ties all of his facial features together. Joel Miller is one beautiful fucking man.

Completely immersed in your world, you lose track of time. You could have been sketching for twenty minutes or three hours, who’s to say. Exhaustion envelopes you in an embrace and you doze off in a peaceful slumber.

When Joel enters the stable for his morning shift, he catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye; perched up on a rickety old stool, head slumped over, resting on the wooden edge of the barn. Your arms are wrapped snuggly around your chest as if to keep yourself warm in the dewy morning air. As he approaches closer, treading carefully against the hay as if he were a cat trying to sneak up on its prey, he takes in the finer details of you peacefully asleep, blissfully unaware.

There’s charcoal on your hands, your lips are slightly parted and there’s a little glisten of drool pooling in the corner of your lips, and your hair slightly covers your face. Jesus, he thinks you’re gorgeous awake, but seeing you asleep – so vulnerable and tender – nearly causes his heart to skip a beat. He tries to ignore what it does to his cock. He knows you’re an artist, but with the way you look right now, hell, you might as well be the artwork, too.

He thinks he could stare at you for hours, but there’s something more pressing for him to look at first. He’s seen you carry your trusty notebook around, rarely ever setting it down, and certainly being very guarded when you have it cracked open around others – especially him. So when he sees it lying on the ground, he thinks…what could one look hurt? He doesn’t want to invade your privacy, but as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. He’ll be satisfied once he knows what you’re hiding in there. Surely. One look, and he’ll wake you and that will be it.

After all, it’s just a peek.

He’s not quite sure what he expected, but this was most definitely not it. As if he were looking into a mirror, his reflection stares back at him from the dull matte of the pages. As he flips from one page to the next, he swears time stops altogether as he takes it in. Your secret.

As he scans the pages, something burns deep in the marrow of his bones, a fire and heat that exists only for you. Now that he knows your truth, he’s not sure he can stop what he does next. His large palm floats out to caress the underside of your jaw, and the pad of his thumb ghosts over the soft swell of your bottom lip. Before he lets himself get too carried away in his thoughts, he clears his throat.

“Mornin’,” a husky voice says, startling you. You all but launch into orbit and almost fall over like the stool, but the owner of the intruding voice grabs your elbow before your backside collides with the floor. You’re relieved to see that your saving grace is Joel, yet you’re burning with embarrassment at your clumsiness.

Joel clears his throat before speaking with his hand still grasping your elbow, “M’pologies, didn’t mean to startle ya, sweetheart.”

”Oh no, I was just…” you sputter out, still finding your bearings. He reluctantly removes you from his grip but not without letting his fingers trail across your skin as he lets go. The ghost of his touch is a noticeable one.

“Didn’t sleep well last night, I take it?” Joel asks, a softness to his voice.

“Afraid not,” you say, kicking your heel into the hay, trying your best to avoid his eyes so as not to spill all of your fucking guts. I was too busy thinking about you.

“You’re in luck, darlin’. I have just the thing to wake you up,” he says, “and ‘m not takin’ no for an answer,” he says with a wink.

“I’m sorry, am I speaking to Joel Miller? Have you been bitten? Are you feeling alright?” you joke, placing the back of your hand up to his forehead, a giant smile on your face.

“My reputation of being Jackson’s own Boo Radley precedes me, I see,” he jokes back.

You shoot him a look that says who the fuck is Boo Radley? Instead of giving you an explanation, he just chuckles like it’s an inside joke.

“Come on now, we’re goin’ for a ride,” he says with finality.

You try to ignore the heat that stirs low in your belly at the thought of riding with Joel Miller as he guides you deeper into the stables.

++++

The sun hangs high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the picturesque landscape of Jackson. Situated in front of Joel on the horse, you close your eyes and exhale all the air from your lungs. You hold your lack of breath for a moment, before feeling your lower belly rise, taking in the crisp air laced with the scent of wildflowers and fresh blades of grass in through your nostrils.

Joel is an easy-riding partner. He doesn’t say much, yet you feel secure in his presence with your back nestled up against his chest, his thick arms wrapped around you, his capable hands holding the reigns, guiding the horse through the scenic trail with ease. You rub your eyes for a moment before opening them to take in the breathtaking view of the snow-capped mountains far off in the distance, and the lush green meadows that surround you. You almost forgot beauty like this could exist.

Joel turns his head, following your gaze. A small smile tugs at the corners of his weathered lips as he agrees, "Looks like a good spot to take a break."

Guiding the horse toward the field, you both dismount and allow the horse to graze freely. Joel suddenly remembers he has a blanket tucked away in his saddlebag. He retrieves it and spreads it out in the clearing amidst the vibrant flowers.

Seated on the blanket, you unravel the satchel from over your shoulder and place it on the ground by your side while you simultaneously marvel at the beauty surrounding you. The sun plays hide-and-seek through the branches of nearby trees, creating dappled patterns on the ground. Joel settles beside you, gazing out at the open expanse.

As you bask in the splendor of the spring day, your attention fully absorbed by the vibrant beauty surrounding you, you inadvertently miss the subtle shift in Joel's focus. His gaze transitions from the scenic view to rest upon you. In a moment of silent admiration, he drinks in the essence of your being. His eyes trace the contours of your profile, lingering on the way the sunlight plays in your hair, transforming it into a golden halo that only seems to make his mouth water more.

He admires the view of you propped up on your elbows, eyes closed, heart center shining toward the sun, the swell of your breasts painted like a picture before him.

“Tell me your greatest desires,” he says.

As you open your eyes and turn to face him, as swift as the breeze you feel in your hair, you feel all of the air escape your lungs. Joel Miller is one beautiful fucking man. You’re momentarily lost in your own world as you admire the way he looks like this; relaxed, basking in the sun on a checkered blanket. His dark brown eyes are now a soft shade of amber, the silver streaks are a little more prominent in the sunlight, and the furrow of his brow has lessened.

“Alright. Tell me a secret” you respond, the corners of your lips threaten to turn up in a smile. You press up off your elbows and roll onto one on your side to face him.

“Isn’t that the same?” he asks, responding to your movement, mirroring it.

Now face-to-face, and chest-to-chest with him, inches only separating your bodies, you pause and let your eyes flint to his lips.

“Anyone can see your desires, no one knows what’s in your heart,” you say.

“Tell me something,” he says.

“I still dream of the taste of McDonald’s french fries,” you say, “and I’m not sure I know how to feel happiness anymore,” you say, as a matter a fact.

Your words reverb through his ears, and he stares at you in silence, unsure of how to respond.

“I used to be a contractor,” he admits, “and I had a daughter named Sarah.”

You look at him with soft, wide eyes. Pain is visible on your face, taking in what he’s yet to say. When you don’t respond, he adds, “She died in my arms on Outbreak day,” he admits, averting his gaze over your shoulder. His hands have somehow navigated to find a single blade of grass that he toys with in between his fingers.

“Fuck, Joel,” you pause in silence. Like your words could ever make up for his loss. Everyone had lost someone at this point, but the way he said it, you could tell it still felt fresh to him.

“It’s alright, Darlin’, next confession,” he says, obviously wanting to change the subject.

“Ellie,” you chuckle, but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up at the mention of her name. “She’s such a pain in my ass, but she’s probably one of my best friends right now,” you say. Like it should be embarrassing, you, an adult woman, friends with a 14-year-old.

“Yeah. Little bugger has her way of working her way under your skin, doesn’t she?” he says, bringing his attention back to the panoramic scene laid out in front of you. You notice the smile that graces his face. “Your turn,” you say, this time paying all of your attention to his profile as he stares out to the horizon.

“I saw your drawings,” he admits, even though every fiber of his being is telling him not to. Your smile fades from your face and your heart sinks. You swear the sun must have navigated light years closer to Earth from the way you feel your skin heat, your blood hot enough to melt bone. You might as well turn to liquid there, melting into Mother Earth.

“Wh–what? What do you mean?” you ask, your voice mostly a tremble.

“In the barn, this morning… when you were asleep. Your notebook fell to the ground, and well – I saw them,” he decides to leave out the part where he intentionally decided to take a peek, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing the ethics of it.

You’re nearly one with the core of the Earth, her heat drawing all of the moisture from your mouth, your tongue dry, briefly incapable of forming a response, before your brain lands on the following.

“You mean – you saw – yo,” you start to say before he interrupts you.

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, once again, a soft tone of honesty behind his voice.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is not happening. This is not happening.

Mortified, your whole body goes limp and the back of your head falls to the ground. You scrunch your eyes closed as tight as possible as if that might somehow wake you up from the nightmare that this scenario is. You bring your hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and let yourself absorb all of the nasty and icky feelings of embarrassment that cross your brain.

When you open your eyes, you start “Joel, I can explai–” he cuts you off with the weight of his body pinning you in place, his lips pressed against yours in an intentional, yet gentle, kiss. It’s stationary at first like he’s just trying to get you to shut up, to save you from the danger that is your thoughts. With your eyes still wide open, you stare back and try to rationalize if this is really fucking happening right now.

You break the kiss for a moment and look up at him, “Joel, what are you doing?” you ask.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I haven’t overthought it like you’re about to,” he admits, staring back at you, “tell me you don’t want this,” he says, hoping you don’t. As if you could ever. When his question is met with no response, he takes that as a green light, and his soft lips once again find yours.

Your eyes flutter closed, and your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, your fingers interlacing behind his neck. He deepens the kiss with a moan and grinds his hips into yours, the heavy weight of his center pressing deep against yours ignites a firework display of nerves in your body. You can tell from the package that’s pressed up against you that he’s quite big. The strengthening of your touch is met with a soft mmm from his chest, as his heavy frame pins you tighter to the ground.

His lips stray from your lips, kissing over the razor edge of your jaw, finding their way to the nape of your neck. His hot breath and the weight of his strong and capable body make you feel weightless, despite the pressure he pushes on you.

He presses tender kisses to your pulse and trails them down to the hollow of your throat, causing your breathing to hitch in your throat. His wide tongue licks a long, flat stripe up your windpipe, and his teeth come together in a little nip on your chin. Fuck. You let out a little cry of unexpected pleasure at the sensation. He pins both of your arms high up above your head, and his mouth continues its relentless pursuit on the bare skin of your neck and exposed collarbones.

“Joel, please,” you beg, your vision foggy from the thrum of your blood pulsing through your veins at a rapid pace; your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

“Gotta use your words for me, pretty girl, tell me what you want,” he responds, a low growl to his words.

He’s barely managed to touch you, yet, you choke out, “Need you,” you moan, “need you to touch me more, god, please,” you beg, your arms still pinned above your head. Satisfied, he releases his grip on your arms, and both of his palms find purchase on your center frame, just below your ribs. He kisses his way down from your throat, through the valley of your breasts, and over your belly, trailing the ghost of his lips to the soft plush below your navel.

He hooks his thumbs under the band of your pants, and deftly pulls them off, alongside your underwear. He continues kissing down the gash between your thighs and pauses once his mouth is centered on your glistening slit. His tongue darts out to lap at some of your slick and you swear all of your senses cross at the sensation of his tongue.

Fuck –,” you cry out as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy. Joel moans before making his tongue flat and massaging your clit with it. It’s so fucking good.

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your walls clamp around the welcomed intrusion. His finger grazes against the soft spongy spot inside you that feels so good, and he works it in and out of you before adding another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so close. You choke out a moan in response, enjoying the sensation of his long and thick fingers rubbing against your walls as his tongue makes tight circles around your sensitive clit.

You pull at your nipple through your shirt with one hand and hold on to the top of his head, his hair entangled between your fingers as you attempt to hold on to him, an anchor to keep you from floating away, and he devours you.

His fingers thrust faster, his mouth firm on your throbbing bud, and you’re so close. You wail out, and the slurping groans that come from Joel are fucking primal and filthy.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he says, his words barely audible with his mouth on your puffy lips, “want you to come,” he moans. “Come on pretty girl, I’ve got you – let me have it, soak my face.”

His dirty talk is all you need. "Yes, oh my God – Yes! Joel, fuck, I'm coming, don’t stop," you cry, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, your chest hot. Your vision goes white as you release yourself to him. Your back arches and your legs flex; your stomach feels like it’s being sucked into itself, and Joel works you through it, lapping up your come.

He rises from between your legs, his beard slick with your release, and smiles at you. As satisfied as you are at the moment, he’s the one that looks it. As much as he would love to make you come multiple times under his tongue for hours, to savor your sweetness like it was the last strawberry on earth, he’s starving for it.

He makes quick work of undoing his belt and jeans, before sliding them off his legs to free himself. Gripping his heavy cock in his hand, he positions himself at your entrance and pushes just the tip in, wishing he were less riled up, less desperate for the warmth of your body, but he finds comfort in knowing you’re right at that line with him, begging to be filled.

“Need you,” you beg, your doe eyes looking up at him. He’s had many people beg for things from him – supplies, food, their life, but you, god, there’s something about you, split open and begging for his cock that he can’t say no to.

He smiles, and slides all the way in, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. He buries his cock deep inside you, to the hilt, so deep you can feel the tickle of the dark hairs that outline the base of it against your clit. Your pussy is so wet and tight, and holy – “fuck me, baby,” he moans, thrusting his hips out of you just barely before shoving them forward; the stretch of him is a delicious slow burn.

“Choking my cock so fucking good, baby. So good,” he moans before he begins to set a slow rhythm with his movements, letting you both adjust to the sensation. He praises your name and his breath catches on your collarbone, and he sucks a small mark there as he fucks in and out of you. When you whine for more, more of this, and more of him, this time he’s the one who’s lost for words. He might not know what to say, but his body responds in kindness, his cock thrusting in and out of you with a slow drag that drives you wild. All he can do is admire the beauty that you are under him, an angel on earth making a sweet, sweet mess, all for him. Just for him.

“Mmm, God, Joel – ‘m gonna, fuck, Joel, – right there –” you cry up to the sky above you, the clouds in the sky witness to your pleasure. He knows his cock is enough to get you there, but it’s not enough, not to him. Putting all of his body weight into his left arm, being sure not to crush you, he drags his right hand out from under his weight and it lands to cup your pussy; already so wet and so full. His fingers extend and find a home on your clit, and he begins rubbing tight circles on your aching bud in a way that makes you swear it must be nighttime from the stars you’re seeing.

“Here, baby?” his fingers continue their relentless pursuit of your clit, and he bucks his hips harder. He’s rewarded with the glorious sound of your moans reaching an octave that makes his cock twitch a little harder inside of you, “Jesus, sweetheart – gonna make me come like a teenager if you keep clenching like that, gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he groans, an animalistic sound emanating from his chest.

“Joel, I’m gonna come –”

“I can tell, baby – clenchin’ so hard around me, want you to give me your all,” he demands, as he grabs your hair and tells himself not to come with you, too soon.

“No,” you choke out, staving off your orgasm. He stops his thrusts for a brief second, “What?” he asks, a bit bewildered. At this point you’re both a tangled mess of limbs, sweat beading on your foreheads, chests heaving. You intertwine your hands through his hair and gently pull at it as you look him deep in the eyes, “I want to come,” you promise, “I just want to ride you while I do it,” you admit.

You pulse around his cock at the confession, and with your truth still lingering on your lips, Joel pulls out and flips around so he's on his back. He steadies himself by the base and holds his cock straight up for you. You rise and position yourself over his center; you line yourself up against him while he cups your cheek with the other hand, “take your seat, pretty girl,” he says in a tone that’s just shy of a beg, and you do, feeling yourself slowly sink onto every inch of him. Your action elicits a throaty groan from him. Your eyes once again glaze over at the sensation of him so deep inside of you, so big, so deep. The stretch of him shoves out every other thought you can muster until all that’s left are thoughts of him in your brain.

In an attempt to get a better angle, he shifts his upper body up onto his forearms, as you continue to grind your hips into him. Both of your arms wrap around his neck, and you use the strength of them to pull him closer into your chest as you continue to slowly grind your cunt into him. You swear you can feel him in your lungs, and with the way your clit grinds against his skin, you’re nearly there, nearly gone.

A weird combination of emotions pools in your belly, part pleasure, part something else. You feel it creeping up your throat, clawing up the back of it like it’s manifesting its reality before it manages to surface. Heat pricks in your tear ducts, and before you know it, it’s such a big, bold feeling – a lion in a cage that won’t be tamed. Simultaneously, you feel a familiar tug at your navel, like a rubber band, stretched to its capacity, on the verge of a snap.

The orgasm that tears through you is so epic it causes your head to fall back, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head, your vision going static white. Your lower body shudders against his thrusts, and your inner muscles clamp hard around his cock as he fucks you through it. You convulse around him, doing your best to ride his thrusts and contribute as your whole body trembles. With tears streaming down your face, you press your lips against him. He wraps both of his arms tight around your chest, pinning you close to his heart, meanwhile spearing you with his cock. His thrusts stop for a moment, and he looks up at you, both hands coming to grip the sides of your face.

“Why are you crying baby,” he asks with genuine concern in his voice.

“You’re just – so god damn beautiful, Joel,” you admit, and your sobs come a little harder. If this were pre-apocalypse, you might be mortified by the fact that you were sobbing for a man you hardly know, all while riding his cock, but it’s not. You rest your forehead against his and let the tears continue to fall, a handful of them dropping to his cheeks. Your hand comes up to cup his face, and one of his hands leaves your face, trailing down to gently grab at your wrist in comfort. “No, baby. That’s you,” he says, slowly continuing to fuck into you with a slow grind.

“My perfect girl, I’ve got you, baby, you’re safe. I’ve got you,” he says, as he holds you and fucks you with such passion and intentionality. He fucks all of the love you haven’t let yourself feel in decades back into you. His cock fills every gap that has been left unfilled by every wrongdoing, every terrible, bad thing. He holds you like it isn’t the end of the world, but rather the beginning. He fucks you like his cock alone could fix everything, and at this moment, you’re confident it just might.

Still riding him, a soft “please,” leaves your lips. “Please use me,” you say, sinking your pussy down further onto him, so tight you can feel the tip of him pushing down on your cervix. “Want your come, Joel – need it, need it so much,” you beg, and oh god, he’s so fucked.

Joel was already on the crest of his release a long time ago, but here you are – utterly fucked out, riding him, and begging for his come. He’s a smart man, he knows he shouldn’t, but – you tug at his hair harder, and ride him for all you’re worth. “Fuck me, baby,” he moans, alongside a long slew of your name and other profanities, he only has so much resolve left, a resolve that’s slowly crumbling with each drag of your wet cunt up and down his cock.

You press your lips to his once again and he feels his balls tighten. The litany of pleas and the taste of your salty tears is what undoes him. Buried deep inside of you, he comes harder than he has in decades, spilling hot and deep inside of you. He fills you up with all he’s worth, painting your insides with white hot ropes of his seed. Normally you’re the artist, but right now, you’re his canvas, his fucking Mona Lisa.

Joel grunts and you collectively still your movements. He holds you close as he waits for the aftershocks and twitches to still, still plugging you, keeping all of his spend deep inside of you. He plants soft kisses all over your face and neck and caresses your hair. You stay like this for what could be hours, minutes, days. Time is a construct you have no concept of right now.

After a few minutes, he groans. Pulling out is always the hardest thing to do. “Gonna get off you now,” you say softly, planting a soft kiss on his lips, as you lift your hips and swing your leg over his body. Your pussy whines at the lack of something to grip around. A rush of his come dribbles out of you onto your inner thigh, but you don’t pay any attention to it. You roll over onto your back, and he does the same. As you both lay there, he grabs your hand and squeezes it tight. You’re not sure what time it is now, but by the color of the sky, you guess it’s late afternoon at this point.

“We should get back,” you say, staring up at the sky, watching the clouds make their creations.

“Yeah,” he admits, only looking at you. When you avert your gaze from the sky to look at him, you get deja vu as you take in the sight of Joel Miller, his tossed curls and chocolate eyes, and you swear you’ve seen this sight before. Maybe in a dream.

You commit the sight to memory, promising yourself to draw it later.

“Will you sit for a portrait with me?” you ask, voice soft, once again turning to face him, but this time it’s different.

“Only if you promise to go for a ride with me again,” he admits, and you smile, a heat creeping up to your cheeks.

“Deal,” you promise.

You both lay there for what could be hours or minutes, you’re not sure. But as the sun looks like it’s about to dip below the horizon, you both decide it’s time to head back. You both get dressed, and he helps you onto the horse. You both leave your perfect little meadow, knowing that it will be there for you to discover again and again.

On the ride back, you reflect on a poem you remember reading years ago.

There are two kinds of people in this world, those who see the ending, and those who see the beginning.

And after years of living in the ending, you’re ready to let the girl who you were before out of her prison. Joel undid the lock, all you had to do was let her see the light of day once more.

A new beginning.

You and Joel ride back in blissful silence.

Once on the outskirts of Jackson, Joel simply says, “Maybe we should invite Tommy next time.”

But that’s a different notebook.

END

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As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). I'll still be using my tag list for now, but I just started a notifs blog, so will be transitioning to that eventually. Please follow @katiexpunkupdates to get notified when I post fics.xx

#joel miller smut #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller tlou #the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #katiexpunk answers #pedrohub #pedro pascal #pedrostories

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 10 months

Text

The Danger Zone (Part 2) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.1k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Secret Relationship; Angst; Undefined Relationships; Overprotective Family; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: It's Phoenix and Coyote's wedding. Also known as the day that Jake Seresin reached his limit.

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Master List

You slowly smoothed down your dress in the mirror for maybe the thousandth time, convinced that you could see a very noticeable bump there. Penny assured you that even if you had an actual bump now, it wasn’t noticeable, but your brain still fabricated that image. Part of you worried that someone would make a comment about your appearance, but there was nothing that you could do now.

“Are you okay? You look really nervous,” Emma asked, causing you to look away from the mirror.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, looking down at the ground as you tried to come up with a white lie to cover your ass. “Just nervous about my speech later. That’s all.”

“You were great at my wedding. I’m sure that you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Emma.”

“Anytime,” Emma replied with a bright smile. Squeezing your hand supportively, she turned to head over to the room that Phoenix was getting ready in. “I’m going to go check on Phoenix. But did you need anything else?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks, Emma.”

You watched as Emma walked off before slowly turning back to the mirror. Resting your hand over your abdomen, you let out a breath to steady yourself.

After you took the pregnancy tests and probably cried to Penny about it for about a half an hour straight, you knew that you needed some time to process everything before talking about it with anyone else. And then there was the whole subject of Phoenix’s wedding, which you didn’t want to upstage in the slightest.

So, you just kept it to yourself. Well, yourself and Penny.

You went to work in the morning, came home, made yourself dinner or picked something up along the way, and just hibernated. You didn’t go to hang out with anyone else outside of the wedding-related events. You just stayed home and got lost in your thoughts.

Jake texted you every day, but you always made up some lame excuse to get out of whatever plans he tried to set up. The truth was simple—you were terrified of what Jake’s reaction would be. Sure, the two of you had been messing around for several months now—almost a year technically, if you counted all of the months that he was deployed.

But the two of you weren’t together. You weren’t a couple. And you didn’t plan this.

Would Jake even want a kid? Were kids in his life plan at all? Did he even see a slight future with you in order to make it work? Would he dump you on the spot? Would he want to be heavily involved? Would it all go up in flames?

You had no idea. And it wasn’t like you could look at Jake’s childhood for any indication.

He was absolutely tight lipped about his upbringing and you had never been able to crack him. All you knew was that he grew up in Texas and that the slightest mention of his dad got him to shut down. And that was about all you knew about Jake Seresin’s life before the Navy.

It was a recipe for disaster and you were not ready to handle it. So, you avoided him.

And, of course, you were also totally convinced that when you finally sat him down to talk about it, you were going to cry and cause a scene. And that wasn’t taking into account whatever his reaction was going to be. So, you pushed it off. You cared too much for Phoenix and Coyote to even risk interrupting their wedding in the slightest.

But tomorrow, after the wedding was wrapped up, you would tell Jake. You would tell Jake that you were pregnant with his baby.

~~~~~

Jake stared down at his phone for a moment, scrolling through his last few texts to you. He texted you last night after you spent the entirety of the rehearsal dinner avoiding his presence. And Jake just automatically assumed that he did something to upset you, so he sent you a generic apologetic text. But all you responded with was some bullshit about being stressed about the wedding and that was it.

Jake Seresin wasn’t used to being the one who was more attached in a situation-ship.

He never had been. His job and his personality combined ensured that. At a moment’s notice, he could be sent to the other end of the world, which didn’t exactly give him much time to build strong bonds with his partner and inevitably led to strain. And then there was the fact that he was just an asshole who pushed people’s buttons easily.

He had left a long train of relationships—though perhaps he was using that term a little too liberally—in his life that blew up because he was an asshole who ran his mouth when he was pushed to be vulnerable. He had his career to propel him forward and he didn’t need any of the additional bullshit that seemed to come with every relationship, so he just didn’t put up with it.

But this relationship—whatever you wanted to call it—with you wasn’t bullshit. That was real shit. And Jake was growing more and more annoyed that you were dodging his texts and his presence. He was the desperate type, but he really could have used a text back from you. Or just an answer about what he did wrong to piss you off.

Was that really asking too much?

“Why do you look so pissed?” Rooster asked, causing Jake to quickly pick his head up.

Sliding his phone into his pocket, Jake cleared his throat as he turned to face Rooster. He wasn’t too worried about anyone seeing the texts between the two of you. After all, you were saved in his phone as ‘Honey B,’ so it wasn’t like anyone would see your name. And it had been about two weeks since you sent him a sexy photo anyways.

“Nothing. Just want to get this started already,” Hangman lied, adjusting his dress white jacket a bit.

“Right,” Rooster replied, eyeing Hangman curiously for a moment. “Is Javy ready?”

“He’s been ready since like five this morning,” Jake dismissed, glancing back at the room where Javy was by himself. “He wanted to be alone to fix his vows.”

“Again?”

“For the twelfth time,” Jake replied, shaking his head. “He wants to make sure that they’re perfect.”

“Well, Javy’s the type to only get married once. I get where he’s coming from.”

Jake knew that Rooster didn’t intend that as a dig, but he still took it as one. After all, Rooster was setting up to live that picket fence life with a wife and a house and probably a gaggle of kids and a dog or a cat or both. It’d be like a postcard for the perfect family.

And Jake knew that Rooster didn’t think that he was that type to do the same. And Jake also knew that Rooster was probably right about that. And Jake was also pretty sure that him repeatedly hooking up with Rooster’s little sister wouldn’t help Rooster’s image of him. Especially if Rooster ever found out that the first time that they ever hooked up was at Rooster’s wedding.

But he was an asshole, remember?

Rooster was about to add something else when his phone started to buzz. He pulled it out and Jake immediately spotted your name on Rooster’s screen. Ignoring the way that his chest contracted against his will, Hangman listened in as Rooster answered the phone call.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Phoenix wanted me to make sure that Javy was alright,” you stated, sounding amused. “I think that she’s worried that he’ll get cold feet.”

“He’s fixing his vows, according to Hangman,” Rooster responded to you.

“Oh,” you replied, in a way that made Jake wince. “Can you just make sure he didn’t climb out the window or anything like that? Please?”

Hangman nodded and walked over to the room that Javy had taken shelter in. Knocking lightly on the door, Jake opened the door to find Javy fixing his suit in the mirror. When he saw Jake standing there, Javy turned and practically radiated pure joy. Hangman turned back to Rooster, who passed along the message to you.

“Great. We’re going to be on time. Don’t be late, Brad Brad.”

“I think that we can handle it,” Bradley assured you, rolling his eyes lightly. “Bye.”

Jake watched Bradley hang up the call, letting a rock settle in his stomach. Pursing his lips together, Jake pushed all of his thoughts about you to the back of his mind and turned to face Coyote, who was already walking over to him.

“You ready?”

“I was born ready,” Javy returned, grabbing Jake’s shoulder with a tight squeeze.

~~~~~

You could feel Jake staring at you through the entire ceremony. You could feel his eyes on you when you walked down the aisle with your bouquet. You could feel his eyes on you when you stepped forward to take Phoenix’s bouquet and fix her dress. You could feel his eyes on you when you stood behind Phoenix, supporting her as she said her vows to Coyote.

And when Coyote and Phoenix walked down the aisle together, hand-in-hand for the first time as a married couple, you and Jake locked eyes across the altar. And the fact that you were standing there with a bouquet and he was in his dress whites and the tiny detail that you were pregnant with his baby was just a little too much for you to take.

Jake offered you his arm, and after swallowing some nervous bile, you looped your arm through his and started walking down the aisle together. You looked out through the crowd and quickly spotted Penny and Maverick. Maverick waved to you before going back to clapping, blissfully unaware of the situation. And Penny shot you a supportive look that you needed to get your breath back into your lungs.

You could do this. You could make it through one more day.

Jake didn’t say anything to you as you walked down the aisle, probably sensing that it wasn’t an appropriate time to discuss your relationship. But once you were out of the view of the crowd, he gently pulled you to the side. Jake called your name softly, causing you to turn to face him properly.

“Look, I know that it’s been crazy and everything, but I was hoping to talk to you about . . . everything,” Jake spoke softly as the rest of the wedding party walked into the atrium behind you. “Please.”

Gripping your bouquet even tighter, you looked around the atrium for prying eyes and listening ears before turning back to Jake, who looked far more desperate for your attention that you were used to seeing him. And that realization made your heart break just a bit more, since you knew that you were the person who did that to him.

But you couldn’t do it. Not today. Not here. Not at the reception. Tomorrow. It had to be tomorrow.

“Tomorrow,” you stated, a bit firmly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Come on, we’re going to miss them,” Emma encouraged, grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

Jake watched you go with a slightly stunned expression, almost as if he was slapped in the face, as you walked away from him like he was just some random guy. But just as soon as you slipped out of his grip, he put up his usual mask when he spotted the wedding crowd starting to file out.

He expected you to be a bit skittish, but not that skittish. And that made his mind wander to the worst possible situation.

~~~~~

“One for you and one for you,” Bradley stated, handing you and Emma a glass of champagne each.

After a very awkward photo shoot—at least as far as you and Jake went—everyone moved onto the reception hall for drinks and dinner. But given the information that you found out a few days ago, you stared down at the glass of champagne with a slightly panicked expression. How the hell were you going to spend the whole night dodging alcohol? It was a fucking wedding. A Navy wedding too.

Shit, you didn’t think this through.

“Thank you,” Emma mused, pressing a loving kiss to Bradley’s lips.

“Yeah . . .” you trailed off nervously.

Looking around for somewhere to dump the alcohol, you let out a breath when you spotted Penny and Maverick walking over to you. Penny saw the glass in your hand and nodded discreetly. While the five of you chatted and caught up, Penny switched your glass with her half-empty one.

“Thank you,” you whispered to her, causing her to smile softly.

“Don’t mention it. And you just have to wait for everyone to get through their first few drinks and then no one will notice,” Penny assured you, giving you that maternal support that you desperately needed in that moment. “Worst comes to worst, just dump it.”

“I just need to get through my speech and then I’ll be fine,” you sighed, glancing around the room.

“Ooh, are you looking for Javy’s friend from back home?” Emma asked, causing you to turn to her. “You know, the one who was flirting with you last night?”

“Who?” Bradley questioned, causing Emma to shoot him a look.

“She’s not a teenager. Let her live a little,” Emma scoffed, bumping her husband with her hip before turning back to you. “And I thought that he was really into you.”

“Who is he?” Maverick inquired, earning a look from Penny.

“Oh, don’t you start either. You’re far from a saint yourself, Pete.”

“I’m not looking to meet anyone tonight,” you stated, trying to end the conversation then and there. “Just trying to get through my speech, get a slice of cake, and toss these stupid heels out the window as soon as possible.”

“I have an extra pair of flats in my bag, if you wanted them,” Emma offered, causing you to perk up.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” you joked, dragging her away from your brother.

“Love you too,” Bradley scoffed, shaking his head as he watched the two of you walk off.

The reception got going shortly after that. Phoenix and Coyote made their grand entrance, dinner was served, and then it was time for your speech. Everything went smoothly, since you spent the entire week memorizing it. And then Jake gave his speech, during which you alternated between staring at him with damning intensity and hiding from his gaze in a dizzying cycle.

When the dance floor opened up and everyone started to break into their own separate activities, you slipped away to grab a drink. Ordering a ginger ale, you made your way out onto the back balcony where it was nice and cool. Resting your head in your hands, you took a moment to compose yourself.

You were exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. And now that most of the wedding was done, your mind was only focusing on the inevitable conversation with Jake that was fast approaching whether you wanted to have it or not. Mostly because Jake watched you slip away and took his opportunity to speak with you alone.

“Are you alright?” Jake asked quietly, causing you to pick up your head.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, gripping the railing tightly. “Why do you ask?”

“Because for the last week, you’ve been avoiding me,” Jake pointed out, moving to stand beside you. Staring into your eyes, Jake frowned when you immediately broke eye contact. “And now you won’t even look at me.” He called your name, causing you to pick your head up. “What is going on?”

“I can’t talk about it right now,” you stated softly, glancing back into the reception hall. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“Why can’t we talk about it today?” Jake countered, causing you to purse your lips. “What’s going on?”

“I . . . it’s not right to talk about it right now.”

“Why not?”

“It’s Javy and Nat’s wedding. It’s not our event,” you pushed back against Jake stubbornly. You would never forgive yourself if you somehow ruined this wedding and you weren’t even going to approach the subject with Jake until after the wedding was all wrapped up. “And I’m not going to cause a scene at their wedding. It’s not fair to them.”

“How are we going to cause a scene? We’re just talking.”

“We’re both tired,” you pointed out, reaching for your ginger ale. “It’s been a long day.”

“Are there any other excuses that you’d like to use?” Jake asked, causing you to turn your head sharply to shoot him a look. “I mean, is there a list that you’re checking off?”

“Are you seriously giving me that attitude right now?” you shot back, standing up for yourself.

“Well, apparently there’s no other way to get a reaction out of you,” Jake returned, causing you to look away from him.

“Why can’t we just talk about it tomorrow?” you replied with a false sense of calm.

“Because after the last couple of days where all you have done is avoid me and dodge my texts, I’m not convinced that you’ll actually talk to me tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m not talking about it right now.”

“Then I guess we’re never going to talk about it then,” he stated, causing you to whirl around.

Jake shot you one last hurt expression before turning and walking off to rejoin the reception. You thought that he was just trying to call your bluff but when he ignored your calls for him to come back, you knew that he was serious.

“Jake,” you called one last time, but he was already gone.

Turning back to the landscape, hot tears started to roll down your cheeks. Did you just ruin everything? Was Jake done with you forever now? Should you have just fucking talked about it? Should you have just yelled it after him when he stormed off?

Feeling another wave of nausea roll over you, you sought refuge in a dark corner of the balcony. Leaning against the wall, you slowly slumped down and let out a quiet, pitiful sob.

Tags (PRETTY PLEASE have your AGE on your blog or message me about it to be tagged--thank you!):

@mrsjobarnes @wishiwasacasualfan

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joelsgreys · 10 months

Text

Lonely Too Long l (To Hell and Back Drabble)

Series Masterlist

Summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only, minors DNI. Flashback of implied SA, but no descriptions. Soft Joel, Joel sings to reader. *If you happen to be reading the series, I recommend reading this one because it starts setting up Joel and reader’s relationship. This is also the last flashback she’s going to have since it’s a heavier one than the last two.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Dust to Dust is one of my favorite songs by The Civil Wars. I know the song did not come out until like 2013, but we’re just going to pretend. Also, I know that the gif is video game Joel, but god I love him just as much and it fits this scene so we are gonna roll with it. I know this might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I wanted to write it so I did. 🤌🏼 I am still organizing the taglist for this series, it will be start with the next chapter. This was mostly for me but hopefully some people out there enjoy it too. 🤍

You couldn’t scream.

You’re trying to cry out, but you can’t.

Chest tight, your lungs won’t expand.

You couldn’t breathe.

One hand around your neck, the other is fumbling with the zipper of your jeans.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he grinned, his fingers roughly scraping against the skin of your lower stomach.

In the corner, your cellmate is curled into a little ball in the floor, hands covering her ears and her eyes squeezed shut.

She’s probably praying she won’t be next.

She’s seventeen so even in the midst of your own chaos, you can’t help but pray she isn’t next too.

You thrashed around underneath him. It’s futile, but all you can think about is getting him off you.

Grin fading, he let out a heavy, irritated sigh. His hand left the waistband of your jeans. He reached behind him and pulled out his gun, bringing it up to into your view—it caused you to cease any and all movements. “Listen to me,” he said, pressing the barrel of the pistol against your temple. “It’s simple, really. Keep squirming and I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do you understand, dollface?”

When he received no response, he dug the barrel deeper into your skin, his finger on the trigger.

“Do you understand?” He repeated, his tone low.

Nearly paralyzed, all you could do was nod.

“Good.” He roughly flipped you over.

The sound of his belt buckle clanking rang loudly in your ears. As he yanked your jeans down to the middle of your thighs, you closed your eyes.

Both your mind and your body went numb.

A light, late night rainstorm came out of nowhere, sweeping over the town. The soft, pitter pattering sound of raindrops on the window above your bed had almost lulled you into slumber.

Almost.

You’re safe.

The words blended into a steady but silent chant.

You’re safe.

You’re fucking safe.

Slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead, you exhaled a long, heavy sigh and stared up into the the darkness of the bedroom.

You couldn’t be certain as to what time it was, but it had to be well into the middle of the night. You’d been tossing and turning for a couple of hours but somehow it felt like a hell of a lot longer than that.

You were fucking exhausted. You nearly ached for some sleep, but every damn time that you closed your eyes, vivid images of the past came creeping in and chased it further and further away.

Your brain just couldn’t seem to wrap itself around the fact that this place wasn’t dangerous.

That you didn’t have to sleep with one eye open.

That nobody was going to hurt you.

That you were safe in a soft bed in a real house.

You weren’t lying on a dirty cot in a human cage.

Sighing again, you thought about Joel who was in his bedroom down the hallway, sleeping.

It brought you comfort knowing he was close. But for some reason you couldn’t quite explain, part of you couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t close enough.

You. The same woman who vowed never to trust another human being ever again—you wanted him fucking closer. Actually, it wasn’t a want so much as it was a need.

You needed him to be closer.

Sitting up, you tossed the sheets back and swung your legs over the edge of the mattress, your bare feet meeting the cold, hardwood floors. You stood and quietly padded out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards Joel’s.

“You know where to find me if you need anythin’,” he’d assured you before he had gone off to bed.

You stopped in front of his door and lifted a curled first, knocking lightly. About a minute or two went by, and just when you started to realize that you’d made a mistake and whirled around to make a run for it back to your own room where you could hop back into bed and pretend that the thought of this hadn’t ever even crossed your mind, he opened up his bedroom door.

“Thought I heard a knock,” Joel mumbled sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with one of his hands. He wore nothing but his sweatpants, his hair looking about ten times more disheveled than usual. “Everythin’ alright?”

You swallowed dryly, trying your hardest not to let your eyes wander away from his face—it proved to be almost too difficult to keep from staring. Joel’s shoulders were broad, his chest was wide, and his stomach was soft; his sweatpants hung on the low side on his hips and revealed the trail of dark curls that started at his lower belly and descended until it disappeared underneath the elastic waistband.

You caught yourself before they could go lower.

“Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?” he asked, stifling a yawn. Thankfully he hasn’t seemed to notice you gawking at him. He rubbed at his eyes once again and then observed you, trying to figure out what it was that had brought you to his room at this hour. “You need somethin’? Are you cold? Did you need an extra blanket?”

You lightly shook your head in response. No.

He tried again. “Are you still hungry?” he asked as he gestured towards the stairs. “I can make you another sandwich if you want—”

He was cut off by another shake of your head that told him that wasn’t it.

“You just can’t sleep,” Joel realized after a minute. He frowned—he could see how tired you were and for as much as he didn’t want to think about it, he had a feeling that he knew what it was that was on your mind and keeping you awake. “What can I do to help, sweetness?”

You blinked, standing there almost dumbfounded.

Clearly, you hadn’t thought this through.

You would knock on Joel’s door and then what?

You would talk to him about what’s on your mind?

Letting out a tiny frustrated huff that was directed at yourself, you waved a dismissive hand in the air.

Forget it. There’s nothing you can do.

As you turned around to leave, Joel reached out to take your arm. He curled his fingers lightly around your elbow. “Well now, hold on a minute. You’re at my door for a reason,” he said. He watched as your eyes flickered to his hand around your arm, but he couldn’t be sure if his touch had bothered you. He dropped it, not wanting to risk pushing you too far or crossing a line, not when he had made progress with you, progress he didn’t want to lose. “You not bein’ able to sleep—it have anythin’ to do with you still not feelin’ safe?”

You hesitated.

“It’s alright, darlin’. You can be honest with me.”

The sheepish expression on your face said it all.

No, I can’t sleep because I don’t feel safe.

“Would it help if you slept with me?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, eyes widening at his proposal. At least, the way he’d said it.

Excuse me?

Realizing how it had sounded, Joel flushed. “What I mean is, would it help if you slept in my bed?” He winced. That hadn’t sounded all that much better. “You sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he sputtered out quickly. “That’s what I meant. That way I’m right next to you and you ain’t alone.”

Gnawing nervously on your bottom lip, you took a minute to think it over.

If you wanted him closer, this was your chance.

But why? Why did you want him to be closer? Why did you need to have him at your side?

You’d been on your own for an entire fucking year.

And it had been by choice.

You didn’t want to be around other people, sure as hell didn’t need to be around other people.

And then Joel Miller makes his appearance and all of a sudden, you’re at his door in the middle of the damn night because you feel the need to have him at your side?

Finally, you nodded your head. Okay.

“Come in.” He stepped aside, allowing you in. Not wanting you to feel trapped in his room, he left the door open. “And you’re free to go on back to your own room whenever you feel like it.”

Joel picked up his discarded tee shirt from earlier, a small labored grunt escaping him as he brought himself back into an upright position, the bones in his lower back crackling with protest. Turning over his shirt right side out, he tugged it on as you took a look around his bedroom, a larger space dimly lit by the small lamp on his nightstand.

That’s when you saw it.

Perched on a stand, it was nestled in the corner.

A guitar.

Curiously, you walked over and knelt in front of it.

You reached out and softly ran your fingers across the strings, smiling to yourself at the sound it had made.

“Found that while out on patrol with Tommy a few weeks ago,” Joel stated as he came up behind you slowly. “Gibson. Little worse for wear, but in damn good condition all things considerin’. Woulda been a crime to leave it out there,” he chuckled. “I know Ellie’s been wantin’ to learn, it’s the main reason it came back home with me. I haven’t shown her yet since I still gotta clean and polish her up.” He took a brief pause. “You know how to play?”

You ran your fingers across the strings once more, and a loud, terrible noise that wasn’t even close to music caused him to wince. You then looked up at him over your shoulder with an amused grin.

Does it sound like I know how to play?

Joel couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll take that as a no, then.” He leaned over and picked up the guitar. He walked over and took a seat on the side of his bed, patting the seat beside him. “C’mere, sweetness.”

Getting up to your feet, you wrapped Joel’s flannel closer around your body as you padded over to his bed, perching yourself next to him.

Head down and focused, he began to strum a few notes. You couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by how his large hands moved on the instrument, the way his long, thick fingers—

Swallowing dryly, you cut the thought short.

Curiously, you put a hand on his shoulder.

Joel paused the tune. “What is it, darlin’?”

With your opposite hand, you touched your throat and then pointed at him. Can you sing?

He gave a half hearted shrug. “I do like to sing,” he admitted almost bashfully. “Always been fond of it ever since I was a kid.” He chuckled. “Before goin’ into construction, I wanted to be a musician. But I knew it would never pay the bills.”

You squeezed Joel’s shoulder and gestured to the guitar, then to his throat again. Will you sing me a song?

Joel felt the back of his neck burn and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Normally, I would probably say no,” he admitted. “But, seein’ as you saved my life and all, I’d be a real asshole if I said no to you.”

Lifting your chin, you shot him a smug look. That is very true. So go on then, Johnny Cash. Play me a song.

“Alright. Any requests?”

You nudged him lightly. Very funny.

“Okay, um. Gimme a minute to think of a song.”

Withdrawing your hand from his shoulder, you sat back against his pillows and pulled your legs up to your chest, hugging your knees.

Nervously, Joel inhaled and exhaled a deep breath and began strumming the guitar. Chills shot down your spinal cord as a hauntingly beautiful melody filled his bedroom. He turned and angled his body towards to you as he began to sing.

“You’ve held your head up,

you’ve fought the fight

you bear the scars, you’ve done your time

listen to me, you’ve been lonely too long…”

Your mouth fell open slightly.

“Let me in the walls you’ve built around

we can light a match and burn them down…”

The rich baritone of his voice caused goosebumps to eruprt all over your flesh. Furiously, you rubbed at your bare legs, but it was useless.

With every note Joel sang to you, more appeared.

With every note Joel sang to you, the harder you found it to breathe steady.

With every note Joel sang to you, the more beats your heart seemed to be skipping.

“Let me hold your hand

and dance ‘round and ‘round the flames

in front of us, dust to dust…”

Joel glanced up, his dark brown eyes holding your gaze as he sang the final verse of the song.

“You’re like a mirror, reflectin’ me

takes one to know one, so take it from me

you’ve been lonely

you’ve been lonely too long.”

Even if you could speak to him, you would’ve been left speechless—all that you could do was stare at him in complete awe.

Joel set the guitar down. “I’m alright,” he said with a sheepish little laugh. “My voice ain’t nowhere as nice as yours.”

You stiffened slightly.

What are you talking about?

“Don’t look at me like that. I know it was you who I heard singin’ back at that cabin when I was comin’ back around.” He gave you a crooked grin. “Earlier I was just playin’ dumb, but I know it was you. You have a gorgeous voice, and I’d love to hear it again someday.”

Hugging your legs closer to yourself, you dropped your head down onto your knees, embarrassed.

What was the matter with you?

Here was a man who had taken you in, offered you a warm bed under his own roof—gave you clothes and fed you, even offered to give up his own damn bed and sleep on the cold hard floor beside you to make you feel safe enough to sleep.

And you still couldn’t say a fucking word to him.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Forcing your head up, your gaze met his.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Joel assured you. “It’s just like I told you downstairs. We’re gonna take it one step at a time.” Lifting one of his hands, he reached out holding it out to you, his palm face upwards. “And I swear, once you find your voice, I’m gonna do all that I can do to make sure you never lose it again.”

Biting your lower lip, you placed your hand in his.

Joel have it a gentle squeeze. “Atta girl.”

Much sooner than you would have liked, he let go of your hand and stood up.

“We should get some sleep. You’re gonna need all the rest you can get before you meet my kid. Ellie. She’ll be here first thing and I should warn you she can be, uh, she can be a lot to process.” He let out an amused snort and reached for a pillow, tossing it onto the floor. “You can have all the blankets, I’ll just take this throw here—”

As Joel reached past you for a green flannel throw blanket, you grabbed his arm to stop him. His face was just inches from yours.

Close.

But again somehow still not close enough.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, softly.

Warm and laced with mint from the toothpaste he had used to brush his teeth before bed, his breath tickled the tip of of your nose, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine.

Your eyes looked right into his as you scooter over to the other side of his bed—it was firm, cold. Like no one had ever occupied that space before. But it was foolish to think that a man like Joel Miller had never had another woman share his bed before.

You patted the spot beside you.

Sleep up here.

“You sure about this, darlin’?”

You patted the empty spot again. Yes I’m sure.

Joel squinted at you. “You ain’t gonna strangle me in my sleep, are you now?”

His half serious joke was met with a glare.

Keep it up with wise cracks and I just might.

He held his hands up in defense. “Just checkin.”

As you crawled underneath his dark green sheets, Joel slid into bed beside you, making sure to leave a good three foot gap between the both of you; he murmured a quiet goodnight and switched off the lamp on his nightstand before rolling over onto his stomach—not even two minutes later and his soft snores filled the room.

You turned onto your side, facing him. Through a beam of moonlight steaming in through a crack in the curtains, you could just make out the outlines of his facial features. He’d fallen asleep facing you.

Closing your eyes, your body sank further into the mattress, heavy with exhaustion.

Taut, tense muscles finally relaxed.

Tight jaw finally unclenched.

You’re safe.

You slowly started drifting off to sleep.

With Joel beside you, no nightmares came to visit.

#to hell and back #to hell and back fic #joel miller #joel miller comfort #soft joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller series #Joel miller story #joel miller fic #Joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #Spotify

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smallgodseries · 9 months

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[image description: An elegant black cat with a long tail sits in profile on a block of black marble, blocking the view of Assless Chaps behind them. Text reads, “55, Obsidious ~ The Small God of Occluding Cats”] ____________________________________________________________

The cat is in the way.

This is a basic fact of the universe, simple and immutable. The sun is shining, the wind is blowing, the cat is in the way. The world is spinning, the atomic structure of the universe is decaying, the cat is the way. The faithful pray, the apostate condemn, and the cat is in the way.

How is the cat always, inevitably, unavoidably, in the way? When did we get a cat, anyway? How did that cat get in here? Hey, is anyone willing to take responsibility for this cat? Can someone tell me whose cat this is?

No.

No, no one can tell you whose cat this is. No, no one is going to take responsibility for that cat. No, no one let the cat in, and the cat is in the way because it is the nature of cats to be in the way. If the cat were not in the way, something much more terrible than the cat might rise in its absence. The cat occupies space to ensure that the space is occupied, because the space will be occupied, whether it is by the cat or by something far more terrible. The cat is doing you a favor. Do not count the cat’s eyes. The cat’s eyes are none of your concern. The cat can see you. Isn’t that enough?

Isn’t it enough that the cat is being generous enough to protect you from the terrible thing that would be looking at you with some uncounted number of eyes if the cat were not there? Isn’t it enough that the cat is soft, and the cat is purring, and the cat is in the way?

Isn’t it enough?

Let it be enough.

The cat loves you. The cat will love you even into the void. The cat will forgive you for your frailties, and the cat is in the way.

The cat is always in the way.

____________________________________________________________

Artist Lee Moyer (Trident of Aurelia, 13th Age) and author Seanan McGuire (Wayward Children, October Daye & InCryptid series) sincerely appreciate you, but wonder if you could scoot just the tiniest little bit to the left?

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hender-ka · 2 months

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bewitched me I Bridgerton!Javier Peña x curvy female!reader (teaser)

Summary: After your husband died two years ago, you must return to London to introduce your younger sister to society. It is your duty to fulfill. The situation changes for you the moment you meet an arrogant and stoic lord with an infamous reputation. A man you despised from the start, Javier Peña. You are not willing to play his game and you are trying to get rid of him at all costs. However, he is persistent and stubborn. But so are you. Then, at the worst possible moment, you find out that the man you hated the most is the man you need the most.

Word count: this is just a teaser

Pairing: Bridgerton!Javier Peña x curvy female!reader, enemies to lovers

Time period: Regency England (1815)

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) Well there will be a lot by the time..., English is NOT my first language, future SMUT, age gap (you: late 20s, Javier: late 30s/early 40s, it is up to you), mention of death and suicide, blood, mental illness, body image (curves, stretch marks, hips, a lot of it), alcohol consumption, dirty talk, size kink, scent kink (hello, Anthony), Javier is quite feral for you and you don't give af, body hair (because hey, we are in 1815, ladies), period, cursing, racism, inaccurate history and more

A/N: Hello loves! I am so happy I finally managed to write something. Maybe it's a weird combination, but I wanted to use Javier and set him in the Regency Era. Because him as a Lord Peña? Boy... So thank you very much Pedro for your slutty SAG awards outfit. This story is my first overall in English, so please be patient. English is NOT my first language and it gives me hell sometimes. The story is only inspired by Bridgerton and Pride and Prejudice, characters from the original works do not appear here, except for The Queen (probably). All characters are created by me. It is not a super original plot, but hey... Also, I'm not British and knowing your titles, rules, etiquette of the time is quite challenging, but I'm trying. So this story will definitely be HISTORICALLY INACCURATE. This is just a teaser. The first part will be out next week. Love you all ❤️

Javier laughed, of course he wanted, he was more than eager to hear more about those nightgowns that you would be wearing. The fact that it would be you wearing them was sending shivers down his spine.

"Please. Tell me,“ he whispered as he spoke, leaning forwards slightly and smiling. He wanted to hear more details.

His head was slightly tilted to the side and he looked adorable. You smiled and walked away with him. "They are white, of course. Some of them have delicate ribbons that tie them together at the sides. So easy to untangle," you spoke slowly and quietly. Your eyes never left his.

"Some of them are simple, easy to pull over the head. But two of them are special. Let's just say they are a little see-through," you whispered your last words, giving him an innocent smile.

Javier was completely entranced in the description that you were delivering, you knew what you were doing and did it quite well.

"A bit see-through?" he chuckled softly and smiled at you, also blushing delicately. His imagination was only going further and further. Just thinking about these nightgowns was starting to turn him on. He smirked playfully.

You leaned closer to him, so only his ear could hear it. "Suffer," you whispered with a seductive tone...

Tag list: Guys, I hope you will like it 😁❤️!

@storiesforallfandoms @skysmiller @anavatazes @xxreader-writerxx @creepynativekid @asmilinghopelessromantic mermaidgirl30 @titabel

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alreadyblondenow · 5 months

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▸ Assassin Jaehyun x Assassin Female reader ▸ Smut, Smut, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Gore, MATURE ▸ JAEHYUN SMUT SERIES: FUCK, MARRY, KILL ▸ VOLUME I: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

THIS IS PART 2. THIS IS PART 2. THIS IS PART 2.

VOLUME I: PART 2 WORD COUNT: 7,889k

Warnings: THIS FIC IS FICTION ONLY, Smut, smut, smut, MATURE THEMES, Heavy description of killings because most of the characters are assassins, mentions of blood, character death, A LOT OF NCT MEMBERS WILL D WORD IN THIS FIC, unprotected sex, mentions of condoms, mentions of pill, pregnancy, swearing, mentions of alcohol. Mentions of being an orphan, Not everything is proofread, apologies again. I hope I did not forget anything.

A/N: I will cut VOLUME I into three parts, just because 20k word count is not acceptable in one post hahaha. I'm sorry :( this is already PART 2 of Volume I, so i hope you guys are still here. Im sorry if it took me so long to post. Can you guess what’s the next color of the poster? :))

When Hendery resurfaced again, he brought a different kind of chaos into your life and Jaehyun’s life.

A quid pro quo. That’s what’s Hendery’s after as he plans on surprising Jaehyun in Milan. It was Jaehyun’s earned free time, and Hendery was about to ruin it. Sure Jaehyun heard about the news that Hendery revealed himself, he was curious about the Phantom who made you soft, but little did he know that Hendery was even more curious about him.

Man to man they talked like normal people, sharing a bottle of wine but the people around them had zero clue that they wanted to kill each other right then and there.

“So you killed Yangyang,” Hendery started while smelling this expensive glass of wine.

Jaehyun was just quiet. He has no plan to trigger this situation further, he knows that a snipper is on standby to kill him from afar. All he could do was judge Hendery’s appearance, he now understood how this man fooled you. Out of all the Phantoms, Hendery is the simplest. Sure he looked like a prince, moves like a rich man but… Jaehyun can easily tell that he’s different.

“Pick a face to show today. I’m not here to play games, I’m sure you’re a busy man. Want to kill me now?” Jaehyun mocks while eating a slice of apple.

“I won’t kill you… that will hurt Y/n. And that’s the last thing I want to do. How is she?” Hendery pries, pushing and pushing Jaehyun’s limits because he knows that Jaehyun will keep on ignoring him unless he mentions your name. Hendery wanted to tease Jaehyun after all. “I fell in love with her you know. Sorry, I tried to stop myself but… she’s one great person… what are you doing Jeong Yoonoh?” Hendery mocked him.

And that’s what triggered Jaehyun’s anger, but he’s still stopping himself from killing Hendery with a cheese knife. The mention of your name just reminded him how he played you like a record of that fateful night in Hong Kong.

“It was so obvious that she still has feelings for you. Why aren’t you two together?” Hendery smirked. “Is it because you’re a Jeong and she’s just a nobody?”

“She’s not a nobody— why don’t you leave Y/n’s names out of this and let’s settle this. What the fuck do you want?” Finally, Jaehyun spoke. Hendery’s smile was wide because he knew that he was in Jaehyun’s mind now.

“Simple. Give Y/n her freedom. Free her from the Jeongs or I will do the best I can to ruin your family’s name in the business world” Hendery relaxed and looked at his surroundings, admiring the fine day, “It’s a win- win for the both of us you know. You can protect your family’s image, I get what I want, Y/n is free… I mean no harm. No one has to die” he smiles.

But Jaehyun knew that there's something behind that smile. He’s a Phantom after all. Guys like him don’t do ‘win-win’ situations. Hendery wasn’t scary at all, Jaehyun thought. But he knew damn well that the Phantoms know how to play. And that put Jaehyun in a very rough situation, especially when Hendery is after you… not to mention, that he wanted to free you from the wicked world of assassination. But even though that’s his motive, he can’t just sell you off away to Hendery.

“How can I trust you?” Jaehyun sternly asked.

“You can’t. I mean no harm to Y/n, but to you and other people?” he smirked, “Don’t even get me started, you killed my friends— Look, please decide ASAP. I have places to go” Hendery said in a different tone, almost as if he’s was in a rush but he still looked relaxed. “you see Jeong Jaehyun, you’re powerless. You’re just an assassin. You’re not a powerful Jeong. But I’m giving you a power right now… a power to make a wise decision. A power to give the love of your life the freedom she deserves… Come on Jeong… think long and hard. Taking my deal is the right thing to do”

And right then and there Jaehyun saw how cunning Hendery is and how dangerous he is.

Hendery stood up and left cash on the table, enough to cover everything served on their table. “I’ll give you a week… I’m excited to see Y/n again,” he smirked and walked away.

By the time Jaehyun got back, he did not let a second go to waste and planned to kill Hendery himself. But deep down… in Jaehyun’s heart, he is considering Hendery’s offer, just so Jaehyun could give you the normal life that you deserve. He felt so powerless, he felt stupid, weak and useless.

“Don’t do it Jeong…” Taeyong started. He can see right through Jaehyun that he is considering Hendery’s offer.

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” Jaehyun crossed his arms “He can give her the life she wants hyung” Jaehyun added, not looking at Taeyong and just looking at the dark blue sky.

“Y/n loves you. That’s enough reason not to sell her off even if it’s about her freedom. She knew what she signed up for and she’s willing to get her freedom fairly… maybe she’s doing it for you”

After that small talk with Taeyong, Jaehyun went to see you and was hoping to talk to you about this matter but he was too afraid to knock on your door and tell you everything he felt. Just when he was about to leave, you opened your door and welcomed him in.

This is the first time again that you two shared a room privately. What happened after New York was both traumatic and sad for the both of you. You never even got the chance to talk about it.. or even apologize to each other. Jaehyun thought that… this might be his chance.

“You never cease to amaze me Y/n,” Jaehyun started.

“What?” you asked with a faint laugh before you sat at the edge of your bed.

“I’m still amazed with how you continue to be my weakness. How you continue to give fire to my soul,” he walked closer to you. Standing in front of you so handsomely while you sit in front of him and melt in his words.

“Is that a confession?” you joked but it was a serious question that you hoped he would answer because you too… you needed answers. You need to know if he’s still hurting about what happened to your relationship, you need to know if he’s still longing for you just as much as you long for him.

“Yes” he answered with his deep voice. So calm and sexy. “I think about you every day. I want you beside me” he reached for your face and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. A kiss that answered every question in head. A kiss that felt like a promise. A promise to do everything right this time.

He reached for your hand and sat beside you.

“This war, between Hendery and me is mainly about you. It’s your freedom… now, Im asking you. Do you want it?” he asked gently.

“Of course I do. But I want it with you”

Jaehyun smiled. Showing you those cute dimples. “Of course you’d answer that—“

“But let me talk to him Jae. You don’t know him like I do, maybe I can talk some sense out of him or —“

You watch Jaehyun smile in disbelief, combing his hair with his fingers and showing you his frustration. Clearly the sweet and calm environment was already gone.

“You were with him one time and you even failed your mission— did you already forget that happened? You don’t know him Y/n. You couldn’t see the craziness in his eyes because you are charmed by his sex appeal or whatever” His tone went louder every word and you don’t like it. This night may have answered every important question in your head but you’re not planning to have a quarrel with him. “You just have to make me jealous now, huh?” he added.

“Please leave. I’d like to rest now” you requested and Jaehyun left immediately.

In the next days, Hendery grew impatient with Jaehyun’s answer so he got bored and made some damage to one the Jeong’s factories. No one is hurt… yet. Everyone thought that Hendery would stop playing games but no, he targeted Jaehyun’s sister and Jaehyun’s mother. Scaring the shit out of Jaehyun. Of course everyone is working double time to protect Jaehyun and his family, but Jaehyun grew tired. Everyone grew tired of it. Every day, Hendery always has his kind of game, toying and playing with everyone. Even you. One day Hendery revealed his location publicly, part of his silly games and Yuta fell for it but lost the fight putting him in the hospital for a few days. And that really was the last straw.

“THAT MAN IS CRAZY! It will be better if I kill him, it will leave a trauma to Y/n—“ Jaehyun exclaims towards Chanyeol.

“This is my failed mission— I’m sure it will be better for all of us! After all, I’m the one he’s after!”

“Oh so now I’m really jealous — Chanyeol what the fuck? I just wanted the best option for her. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I met Hendery and you have no idea how dangerous he could get”

Chanyeol and the others are all quiet. Mark was the one enjoying the drama and so is Taeyong . “They’re definitely fucking,” Mark whispers.

“This is Y/n’s failed mission. She should finish this,” Chanyeol finally decides.

“Good luck with handling your trauma then,” Jaehyun leaves the room and bangs the door.

On the same night, you received a call from an unknown number. You had a hunch that it would be Hendery, and you’re right.

“I bet you’re already planning how to get to me,” he said.

You were silent.

“All I wanted was a chance to talk to you, and give you your freedom and that coward Jeong can’t make it happen,” he let out a heavy sigh.

“You do dirty business, that’s why” you explained calmly. You sounded worried too. Hendery was happy to hear your voice. “You also hurt my friend”

“Yeah that Yuta guy killed my bodyguards, he’s good but… I can’t let him kill me. Can you say sorry for me? Please?”

“I don’t understand you Hendery. Are you a good person or are you playing with me too”

Then you heard Hendery laugh so hard, almost as if he sounded like a crazy person. “Lets have lunch like normal people, I’ll text you the address. Good night ” he says, before he hangs up.

The next day, you told Jaehyun and Chanyeol about your conversation with Hendery. They weren’t happy about it, but it was a situation that you couldn’t dodge. It was obvious all this time, that Hendery is ahead of every plan you have and that he got everything controlled at the palm of his hands.

“I can’t track the number he used, sorry guys” Mark said.

“He is controlling us. He wanted you to come to him— and I can’t fucking believe that you’re going for it. If you want to have lunch, have lunch with me not with this psychopath” Jaehyun said calmly. He is done stressing himself out because of Hendery.

But even though Jaehyun already expressed what he thinks, you still met with Hendery secretly. Just to end this war against him and the Jeongs. This plan will most likely make Jaehyun even more mad at Hendery, but the situation is getting more and more ugly as the days go by.

You met Hendery at his favorite noodle shop. It was packed with different people, some were just enjoying their time alone, others were with their friends or family, company dinner… it was just a normal day for everyone. Including you… who’s just meeting an old friend. Something you’ve never done before.

“Back then me and the other Phantoms used to eat in this place. Good times,” Hendery started while stirring his noodles, ‘’but now we can’t do that anymore, because your friends killed my friends”

“I can’t say I’m sorry… “ is all you could say.

“Back then Yangyang was not yet successful unlike Ten and Kun, so they always feed Yangyang and buy him everything he asks them to…”

There was a short silence while you two enjoyed your food. You wanted to leave as soon as you can but you can’t seem to bring it up. Maybe… you missed having his company, maybe you missed this kind of bond. Maybe you missed this kind of awkward silence.

“Do you remember when we danced slowly in the dark while the fireworks lit up the dark sky?” he asks.

“Of course,”

“It was a hopeless day. I killed a lot of people that day, and I was really tired. I knew you were coming, then I actually met you and I instantly wanted to live my life more and shit I fell in love so quickly. But you told me you love someone else and you cant live without him. That’s Jaehyun. I wanted to kill you so bad because I can’t have you”

“Do you still feel the same way now?” You asked calmly.

“I want to kill Jaehyun now, not you. That way I can have you” Hendery smiled innocently.

“What makes you think I’ll love you like how I love Jaehyun”

“I’ll make you” he answered confidently like a crazy person.

This is not Hendery you thought…. At this point you really don’t know what kind of monster you’re facing. But the fact that he wanted to kill Jaehyun is enough reason to kill him even if it’s going to hurt like hell. Even if it’s going to be the saddest kill you’ll ever make.

In your eyes, he’s just a man blinded by love. He just wanted to be loved… but you can’t reciprocate that. After hearing everything he said, you excused yourself and went to the comfort room to breathe. Breathe and ready yourself to go for the kill finally and finish your long overdue mission. Jaehyun was right, this will leave trauma to you. You know you’re scared to kill now because you’re shaking. But just right after you get out of the comfort room, you see people running and panicking. You look for answers while you walk fast towards your table, but you see Hendery on the floor dead already. Someone shot him in the head while you were away.

And you have someone in mind already. Someone who could have done this while you were gone. A perfect timing.

When you got back to 127 house, Jaehyun was already there. He was waiting for you but you just ignored his presence and went straight to your room so you could have time for yourself after a long day. You’re not mad, you just wanted privacy and mourn for your friend. Jaehyun was just doing his job… because you couldn’t. Of course Jaehyun didn’t give you the space you asked for, he was stubborn and still welcomed himself to your dark and quiet room.

He lay beside you and held your hand… you didn’t know you needed his comfort until he made you realize. In return you kissed him on the cheek and snuggled close to him.

It was raining during Hendery’s funeral. Everyone was soaking wet, dressed in black when you and Jaehyun arrived. You didn’t have the guts to say ‘hello’ to his sisters and nieces, you didn’t want them to meet Jaehyun, the assassin that killed their brother so you two stayed in the car and paid your respects from afar.

“I’m still not convinced that he’s a bad person Jae,” You said to Jaehyun. But of course, you knew Hendery was just playing with your mind, you’re just thankful that it’s not Jaehyun’s funeral you’re attending right now.

Everything feels heavy inside. Jaehyun couldn’t take you home today, so he decided to drive away and check in to the furthest motel he could find. He knew that you were hurting and you were desperate for peace of mind, and going home to 127 house would not help you achieve that. The rain poured even harder, just as your tears continued to flow. So this is what feels like mourning. Mourning for a friend. Your only friend.

Desperate. You were desperate to forget.

“I bought noodles, let’s eat it while its hot, yeah?” Jaehyun was trying to brighten up the mood but he keeps on failing. Either way, he will not give up on you. He was lively setting up the table and kept on humming songs you love. He knew of course.

“Hey- I’ll do anything to help you. Emotionally and physically—“ he said, but you didn’t let him continue and sat on his lap. You wanted to turn him on… you wanted to turn yourself on by using Jaehyun but your mind just keeps on drifting to Hendery.

Jaehyun was startled of course, but he knew he had to stretch his patience over and over again. He did not let you succeed with your plan, he understood what you were doing. He can see the desperation in your eyes that you want to forget and divert your attention. Jaehyun wanted to help, but not this way.

He made you stop grinding on his growing bulge and kissed your forehead, “stop it. Don’t do this on your own, I’m here, talk to me” he whispered sweetly while soothing your back.

You were in tears again.

When Jaehyun finally convinced you to eat what he brought you, you two spent your day in bed, in each other’s arms. Quiet and peaceful, just how you two wanted. But when your eyes met again, he kissed you hungrily and showed you how much he craved for you. How much he missed you. How much he still loves you. He made you sit on top of him, giving you permission to use him however you want.

“See…You don’t have to sell yourself short to me, I’ll come to you” he smiled and kissed you sweetly, his hands roamed around your body and put it inside your shirt. Jaehyun knew that whenever he pinches your nipples, you go crazy and it turns you on, and whenever he brushes his fingers softly on your hard nipples it just melts you in an instant.

In return you went in between his legs and pull out his cock, gave it a good lick and made sure it was wet as fuck before you put it inside your mouth and give him a good head. You feel Jaehyun’s hand relaxed at the top of your head, petting you whenever he feels like it, and moaning shamelessly, moaning so good, letting you know that no one in this world can give him a good head except you.

You reach for his lips and give him a peck. Jaehyun wanted more but you teased him. “Come on, I wanted to kiss you longer” he pouted cutely.

“Later” you moaned while you slowly put his cock in your wet pussy. You both moaned deliciously, it has been so long since you two fucked.

“I missed you” Jaehyun said before removing your sleepwear. You were too busy to care, you grind and rode Jaehyun while he cums and while his hands roam freely on your body. Oh you miss his touch.

When you finally reached your high, you flopped on top of Jaehyun and just listened to his heartbeat. He feels warm. He feels good. And his arms feel so good around you.

You looked up to him and told him, “lets give love a second chance Jae”

All Jaehyun could do was smile and laugh, “after all that’s happened this past few days do you think I’ll let go of you again?” He kissed your knuckles and held on to you, “we will never part this time. Even if it takes killing everyone, I mean it”

Jaehyun dried and kissed away your tears, made you smile again and promised that “Hendery may have been the one who showed you the life that you want, but I will be the one that will make it happen,” you tried to avoid this conversation again, but this time Jaehyun won’t let you.

“Listen to me,” he asked sternly but still gently, “It’s not going to be easy Y/n, but I’m ready to take whatever shit my father will throw at me. I have nothing to lose… except you. When we can finally retire, I’ll turn my back away from being Jeong Yoonoh, I don’t want it”

Of course you agreed to him and decided to be together.

This is not going to be the smoothest relationship, a lot of people will die first before you two can have the freedom you want. But over the years, you and Jaehyun proved your importance to the field and they couldn’t do anything to get you to break up again. Of course Jaehyun’s father wasn’t pleased to be in love with a no one like you. Even though you’re his favorite assassin, he couldn’t let his only son marry someone nameless, who kills for a living and is only successful in life because of his generosity.

“Let them be, I’ll have her killed by the time Jaehyun becomes the boss,” are his exact words to his secretary after hearing the news of your relationship. “Let them play,”

And that is why you and Jaehyun had beautiful years of relationship together.

One fine day, Chanyeol called everyone for an important meeting. A mission that involves everyone, this will be pretty big you thought. Even Mr. Jeong’s foreign bodyguards are present, Mr. Jeong’s assistant and some more bodyguards.

Chanyeol says, starting the meeting as he enters the room, explaining to everyone that Jaehyun will finally appear in public as Jeong Yoonoh and will be introduced as the next Jeong in line in front of all Mr. Jeong’s right hand.

“We will protect and assist the Jeong family as they make a public appearance for a gathering. Yoonoh is going to be there to represent his father- I know that you guys trained together and it’s weird to protect Jaehyun”

“Tell me about it” you joked but Jaehyun looked at you with flirty eyes.

“But he’s still a Jeong too. And we made an oath that we will protect the Jeongs with all our heart” Taeyong said. “Can we all be serious now?” The leader speaks.

“Thank you Taeyong… going back to the mission…” Chanyeol continues to explain what needs to be done. You’re hearing everything fine, you understand what needs to be done. But the truth about what Taeyong said still lingers in your mind. And Jaehyun can see it in your eyes.

Jaehyun is the reason for your purpose.

“This is the first time that the big bosses are going to see Jaehyun as an adult… so that’s why Jaehyun’s appearance is a threat to everyone. Knowing far too well that the Jeong’s clan still has a successor” Chanyeol explained.

“The Prince Jaehyun” Yuta teases his friend.

“No no, more like a bait” you said, “This is a good opportunity for the business to know who’s the traitor or not. The companies that will send assassins to kill Jaehyun is the Jeong’s way to know about the truth- what a sick way”

The room went silent. And that is where everyone realized that Jaehyun may be special in everyone’s eyes, but his family use him for business and business only. Jaehyun knew everything about it, ever since he was a kid, his father never missed an opportunity to make him feel like shit. That’s why he didn’t want to be a Jeong and can’t wait to turn his back on this circus one day.

“Not to mention… The two Phantoms that are left alive are very much interested with this gathering because it’s good for business… this can be our chance to meet Ten and Kun— and Y/n can be on standby to kill the two Phantoms—“

“I’m not killing any Phantoms again Chanyeol… you know that, let Taeyong do it.” you said, looking at the floor.

“Well no one is available to do the job,” Chanyeol exclaims, “You will kill them,” and that is the end of this discussion.

“Unlike the other 5 Phantoms that has a very low profile, the entire world knows what Ten looks like because he is a socialite. Our only problem is he is heavily guarded at all times…”

The preparation for this mission took days to perfect but everyone is ready and well prepared to finally protect the Jeongs for the first time in their lives as an assassin. Everyone was ready except Jaehyun.

“Can I sleep here? I don’t want to sleep alone tonight before the big day” Jaehyun said with a soft smile. Even though you’re now openly dating each other, you two are not allowed to have a place on your own,

“Your room and bed is bigger Jae,” you said to him but you made room for him in your bed. You lay first, followed by Jaehyun who wrapped his arms around you immediately. “I like yours better. It allows me to squeeze in beside you like this” he said with a smile.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” You asked while patting his head softly. Letting him know that you have his back.

“I am-“ he said but you did not let him continue.

“Oh come on Jaehyun youve been an assassin for years and years now you can’t be nervous. I’m not having it” you said. But he looked serious.

“Yeah but. Not as Jeong Yoonoh — I’m not confident as Yoonoh. I’m not brave as Yoonoh” He reached for your hand and intertwined it with his, “The idea of Jeong Yoonoh is perfect. This place only knew the real me. But outside these walls, they think that I’m perfect, powerful because of my family’s name, I know how to run the business- but the truth is I know nothing. The shit that will come out to my mouth tomorrow is all scripted. It pains me to see myself like this Y/n”

And thats where you saw that he is seriously worried for tomorrow. You have no idea how to show that he has nothing to be afraid of. So you kissed him. Sweetly kissed him. And poured out your feelings into that kiss.

“Just remember that I got my eyes on you tomorrow, I’m your angel” you tried to take away his nervousness. Oh you wish you could help him even more.

First thing in the morning, Jaehyun was escorted to be with his family by Chanyeol and it was the first time ever that the 127 Squad traveled as a team with only four members. “Feels weird right?” Teayong blurted out coldly, “then no one should fuck up. Don’t let Jaehyun die today,” he reminded everyone.

As Jaehyun enjoy his time nervously with his family, the assassination squad are all in their assigned places. Mark is talking nonstop from the earpiece, Yuta and Taeyong are beside Jaehyun, keeping him safe. And you’re on standby, waiting for Ten and Kun to show up. It was one hell of a busy and nervous day.

After a few minutes of waiting, Ten showed up with an army of bodyguards. Shameless. You thought. He went straight to Jaehyun like they’re closed friends already, smiling like he doesn’t have something dirty on his sleeve.

“Jaehyun, get him to talk,” you said through the radio, but Ten was fast enough to start the conversation.

“Tell me Jaehyun— the truth and nothing but the truth only,” Ten smiled so big in front of Jaehyun, enjoying his drink, “Did your family killed my friends? as if they’re like cockroaches?”

Jaehyun was about to stand up and leave him talking, but Ten was one clever man.

“I bet Hendery gave you and your girl a rough time, he really wanted to kill you and get your girl… maybe she was really good in bed that’s why my friend went crazy in love”

After that sentence. Ten looked through your way. As if he knows how you’re on standby and ready to kill him. How could he know your exact location. Exact location. It scared you.

“The fact that you know that were together tells me that you knew too much already,” Jaehyun said calmly, “All the more reason for me to kill you dont you think?”

“Jaehyun dont fucking start a chaos now!” Chanyeol yelled through the radio, “You are Yoonoh today, not Bitter peach”

“Your friends are all crazy— that makes you crazy too” Jaehyun added.

“I’m not here to get killed. And I’m not here to start a chaos either. It’s bad for business and for the both of us,” He let out a heavy sigh with a big smile. A big mocking smile, “I’m here to invite you to my house and talk business. Consider this as the right and polite way to make business together. Without killing anyone or getting killed— let’s stop the killings here,….”he continued to talk about business, a lot of shit that Jaehyun couldn’t understand but good thing his father’s assistant was there too. Of course Ten made the invitation like it was strictly business, and fooled the assistant. Ten reached out his hand, offering him a deal in front of his father, of course Jaehyun couldn’t do anything about it.

Hendery was right after all, he’s just a powerless Jeong.

When everyone came back home, everyone is discussing and agreeing about that ‘invitation’ from Ten. It was obviously a trap. Even you think that it was trap. It was obvious that Ten is a mad man. But Jaehyun’s father was fooled too, he was fooled by Ten’s charms and business talk.

“If you’re comfortable with it, can you answer how nice Hendery was to you?” Taeyong asked politely. Giving you a cup of coffee because you badly needed one.

“He was thoughtful. Family oriented, and a gentleman in bed,” you laughed it out and said it truthfully to Taeyong. He cant believe what he just heard. He was amused.

“Does Jaehyun know,” Taeyong laughed while asking.

“Of course. That guy knows everything,”

“So do you think it’s safe for him to make business with Ten?”

“It would be his greatest mistake Tae,” you let out a sigh, “Those guys are monsters, even Hendery was but he didn’t show it to me,”

“Well then stop him from stepping a foot to that guys house,”

But of course Jaehyun couldn’t resist. As long as his father ordered it. When Jaehyun did his part to showing up to the meeting, Ten didn’t…it was a trap indeed. But Ten didn’t bail on the business deal, he still did his part, signed contract with the Jeongs, etc. he just wanted to hurt Jaehyun physically without getting his own hands dirty. That way, there’s no proof that Ten ordered the assault. Smart man. Ten’s guys tortured Jaehyun inside that big house from sun up to sun down. Sending Jaehyun back to 127 house all covered in blood, naked and you couldn’t almost recognize him. Chanyeol drove him straight to the hospital and that is the end of Jaehyun’s career as an assassin.

Only families are allowed to visit him in his room and of course his family wont allow any of you guys to come near him. For all you know, he will never be Bitter Peach again. He will be Jeong Yoonoh everyday now.

While Jaehyun was in a coma, you were pretty busy with a lot of missions here and there. The squad and Chanyeol is busy with searching for Ten, but no one is getting lucky this time around. Your anger and drive to take revenge for Jaehyun has put aside because all you want right now is his safety and for him to wake up. But even though youre not doing anything right now, you swear to kill Ten and make him pay for what he did to Jaehyun.

But now… another thing is hurting you.

Like Jaehyun… you feel like a powerless person who couldn’t even visit the love of your life in the hospital. You can see how you’re 100% and perfectly incompatible for Jaehyun. You’re nothing but someone who works for his family after all.

The wait for Jaehyun to wake up was excrutiating. Depressing and uncertain. His wounds may be healing, but hes still sleeping soundly.

“The Jeongs wont cut Jaehyun’s life line right?” Yuta expressed his frustration when he overheard an ugly rumor about Jaehyun’s family cutting his life line.

“No. Mr. Jeong won’t have a successor and his pride wont handle that” Taeyong finishes Yuta’s worries.

He was in coma for two weeks. You can’t eat, sleep or even think properly because your mind is busy worrying. And when you received the news that he finally woke up, you were already on your way for a mission and all you could do is cry in the car because of happiness but of course with a mix of anger, how could Chanyeol sent you away for a mission now that Jaehyun is awake.

While you were way, you got the news that Jahyun’s assassin days are over. His father was scared that he’d lose Jaehyun again, even before Jaehyun could fulfill his duties. You also hard the news that they removed all his things from 127 house and they only see him through video calls now … and as Yoonoh.

“It’s like they forced us to forget the friendship that we had— Jaehyun was against it. Damn he looked sad during the meeting earlier” Mark said.

“He’s currently, learning shit about his family’s business while still healing” Taeyong added.

“Well guys, I have to go now. Thanks for the news. I’m really glad he’s safer than ever. You guys look out for him… for me” you said with a heavy heart before ending the call. This mission is taking too long its frustrating you even more. You wanted to hug him so bad and comfort him, tell him that he will do great as Yoonoh. But you can’t.

Then you saw your phone light up your dark room. It was Mark who sent you a text,

“Don’t worry. We’ve planned everything already. You just have to wait for him ;)”

After that message from Mark they never called you again or texted you, you just trusted your friends and their so called ‘plan’ for you and Jaehyun to meet up. And again, the wait was brutal. The wait lasted for four months and sure did felt like he was never going to show up. All you could do is hope that this mission will soon be over so you could go home and do things your way.

Tonight, the wait is over. He’s not 100% healed, he can’t walk straight yet and his right arm is still broken.

But he brought you flowers. And wore the biggest smile. If only you knew how happy Jaehyun is right now, seeing you and holding you in his arms again.

“Hi beautiful. Missed me?” he wrapped is left arm around you and kissed you one too many times. Oh you missed those soft lips.

“Are you warm enough?” you asked with worried eyes, “Are you hurting? How are you?”

“I’m warm, but you can make it better,” he winks and started to kiss your neck.

“Okay I’m convinced you’re all well now,”

The cold night became warm and even warmer as hours go by. You and Jaehyun did not even waste a second and made love the whole night.

This was far from everything you’ve had from New York, your place was small, cramped and it wasnt fancy at all. It completely symbolizes how you feel for the past couple of months while you’re away from Jaehyun.

“I didn’t know you were coming today… I didn’t get the chance to tidy up—“ you apologize while you let Jaehyun kiss your body, feel his warm lips on your skin. It felt like you were dreaming, you almost lost him, he almost died…

“Stop it with your ugly thoughts, Im here now” he whispers beside your ear, giving you goosebumps, making your heart skip a beat. His touch is everything, it give you comfort, the assurance that you’re not dreaming and that he’s real and beside you now. He intertwined his fingers with yours, kissing it one too many times to make you believe. “I’m here” he said again and again and again. Putting your arms around his neck before he starts kissing your neck sweetly, his hands cant get enough of your being, kisses trails down from your neck to your boobs. Sipping on your nipples one by one, making it harder by the second, licking it just the way you like it and teasing you with a soft pinch without a warning just so he can see a faint smile on you face.

“Do I need to tease you the whole night just so I could see that smile?” He asked softly and proceeds to kissing your lips. You feel his hand go down in between your thighs, spreading them just the way you like it and checking your slit if you’re wet already. Of course. This man can make you wet by just a touch.

He teases you with his soft touch, touching your slit softly while he kisses your neck. Softly his fingers moved in between your thighs and dance softly on your skin, not putting anything yet inside, which make you crave for him even more. He kneeled in between your legs and spread them wide, still running his fingers on your slit to make you wetter. And without a warning, he planted a soft kiss on your inner thigh, which if course you know whats coming next… a soft lick on your cunt that soon became kisses. You feel both his hands spreading your pussy lips so he could lick you on the right places. Your body is on fire, you wanted to close your legs so bad but Jaehyun’s tongue felt so good. All this so you get hurt by the time he puts his cock inside of you.

By the time Jaehyun met your eyes again, you were catching your breath and holding on to his arm as hard as you could. “Babe, it hurts” he smiled handsomely and kissed you. You immediately stopped what you were doing and apologized, asked him if he was hurting to other places but the man in between your legs is currently so horny and is longing for your tight walls already. He kissed you hungrily, almost as if taking your breath away, and when you felt the tip of his cock by your entrance, he slowly pushed in until his whole cock is inside of you. “You’re soaking” he managed to whisper while thrusting in and out, his arms caging you while you take everything. Lips crashing every second while feeling his thick cock, listening to each other’s moans and groans, never ending touching and lust.

The night became longer when you two spent your time just talking and laughing. Tomorrow he leaves already. But he promised to fix everything and make you come home as soon he talks to the right people. He also promised that now that he’s not an assassin anymore, he can finally prove that he’s worthy of the name Jeong. He wanted to prove that Hendery is wrong, that he’s not a powerless Jeong.

“Now I know that this is not the original plan before we decided to get back again but…”

“You dont need to explain yourself Jae” you said while you snuggle and bring yourself closer to him. He accepts it by hugging you back and planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

He may not say it to you, but he is scared for himself too. Even though he promised you that he will give up his name just so he could turn his back someday, you let him shine and be Jeong Yoonoh still because this is right.

“What time do you leave?” You asked softly, careful not to break the silence.

“Around 6 in the morning? It has been a beautiful night— are you happy?” He asked. “I am. Im really happy right now” he added.

“Telling you I’m happy is an understatement,”

“Im sorry if I make your life complicated” he says, “just hang in there and we’ll have longer days and longer nights like this. For now… just let me make you happy in my own way”

Even though Jaehyun was scared for the drastic change in his life, he did it anyway. He did it even though he’s doubting himself. He did it even though he knew he’s not going to be good at it. He did it even though he misses you bad. He did it even though he’s tired. He did it. And he did with only a year of knowing the ins and outs of their business. Knowing every people involved in their company. Making it his own kingdom instead of making it control him. And of course he did this to prove to everyone that he’s the boss now.

Jaehyun changed for the better, even more respected, smarter and wiser this time.

He didn’t want to be like his father. Scary and will opt for war in an instant. Jaehyun wanted to change the system. Enough with he killings, just strictly business. But even though he’s the boss now, his father is still the last call. He cant fully change everything, not until he’s gone.

Three years in the relationship

It was half past ten already and you’re still not sure about your target for tomorrow. You scanned pages of papers over and over again, reading every word and catching every detail but you still don’t have a clear shot for what’s coming tomorrow. It’s Ten. It was the same case as Hendery’s. But this time, you know the face that you need to kill.

And you can’t wait to kill that fucker. You will strangle him with your own hands if you have to .

“You look sexy when you’re concentrating, hi,” your boyfriend came out of nowhere who’s been gone for three days but you didn’t notice because you were too busy. You’re even surprised that he went straight here, in 127 house instead of your shared place. “Still flying blind for tomorrow?” He asks while his right hand soothes your back, giving you a slight massage to somehow relieve your stress. It felt like an invitation if you’re being honest. An invitation to ‘come rest and enjoy the night with me’, but at the same time you were desperate to finish this job as soon as you can.

“I think he will really show up tomorrow, and if I could only finish this, I could get home to you tonight— are you here to pick me up? I really can’t go home tonight” you said sternly but your voice was breaking. Frustrated because you missed him so much, and now that he’s here, you only have hours to be with him.

Jaehyun chuckled handsomely at what you said, looking at you lovingly and silently proud of the woman you’ve become. “I’m not going anywhere,” he planted a soft kiss on your forehead and you immediately wrapped your arms around him. “I’ll go home alone if that’s what you want. Pomise you will come home? In one piece and safe?” he joked while spreading kisses on your neck and caging you with his strong arms.

“Yes I promise” you said but still accepting what Jaehyun is doing to you. You don’t mind how his very touch melts your whole being, how his kisses are the best persuasion you’ve ever experienced, and how his hands are all over you but somehow he’s stopping himself. He left a sweet kiss on your lips which you returned without hesitating.

When Jaehyun left you alone in the study room, you feel bad for rejecting him. You know he longs for you, you know he misses you so much, and you know that you can die tomorrow and neglecting yourself from Jaehyun’s loving company is a stupid thing to do. “Fuck” you said as you think about the moment earlier. His touch, kisses, his very presence. You missed him. So much.

And so you arranged all the papers, cleaned up the desk and went to your room to prepare everything in advance for tomorrow. Guns, knives and other important things that might save you, you packed it all and drive yourself home to Jaehyun. The preparation took a while and Jaehyun might be sleeping already but whatever, you will sleep beside him tonight. You silently walked into your shared room see him dressed in his black sleepwear, calm and peaceful. Hugging a pillow and pretending that it’s you. Oh he looked so innocent.

“Hey,” you wake him up and removed the pillow from his arms because he doesn’t need to pretend anymore. “I’m here now and I’m sorry about earlier” you apologized sincerely and hug him tightly. All of a sudden the cold room became warm.

“Hmm. It’s okay it’s not your fault” he keeps you close to him and cage you with his strong arms. Oh you missed being like this.

“How was your business meeting?” You asked because you figured it was not easy given that he was gone for three days.

“Bloody, but I stayed alive,” he joked, pretending that he’s still an assassin. “You do the same thing too, okay? Come home to me”

“I will, always” you assured him.

“Want me to assist you tomorrow?” He offered. Just because he’s worried about you, and maybe because he couldn’t handle being apart from you anymore.

“No baby, I will be fine you need rest,”

He nods and said “I love you”

“I love you”

Its been three years since you almost lost Jaehyun. The past couple of years were hard on the both of you, mainly because his family never approved you as Jaehyuns girlfriend. But Jaehyun never actually cared about what people think, but you do.

Sometimes you imagine yourself disappear in this place and get away from Jaehyun’s love. Dont get me wrong, you love Jaehyun just as mush as you love him but until now, you cant help but think that you have nothing to give to him. When he introduced you to his family formally, they did not approved and clearly hear them gasped sharply when they heard that you’re part of the 127 squad.

You see every Jeong that you knew in the room, the very Jeongs that you swore to protect with all your life. But none of them are thankful to what you do for their family.

“You will be the cause of Jae’s death I know it”

And those words from Jaehyun’s sister still haunts you. It was just a dream right now but that scene really happened. And it broke your spirit.

You face Jaehyun while he was sleeping, caressed his face softly and left sweet kisses. He no longer sleep talks and scream in his sleep you thought, little did you know its all because of you. You are Jaehyun’s peace. “Good morning, I love you. I’ll see you in a few days” you whispered and snuggled closer to him.

While you were away, Jaehyun did not expect his father wanted to see him. He was clueless of what’s going on because every business meeting was already taken care of. Nonetheless, he still went to the office and give respects.

“You wanted to see me” Jaehyun said.

“Sit son,” his said.

“How are you?” his father asked, Jaehyun answered directly and fast because he did not like small talks. “How is Y/n?” this question made Jaehyun smile. Maybe he’s here because his father finally approves. But just after Jaehyun was so happy telling his father all about you, he wasn’t so pleased to hearing that your relationship is going strong.

“I was hoping that your relationship is in shambles and that she finally come to her senses and left you but- I won’t beat around the bush anymore. I want you to meet the daughter of my good friend Johnny. They’re americans, maybe just maybe, you will realize how y/n has no match to these other women who has education a family background and power. Do it for the family. Meet her”

“That druggie? Y/n protects our family, how could you say that to her” Jaehyun defends. At least he tried.

And then his father’s secretary knocked on the door to remind his father about other errands. Jaehyun felt so powerless at that moment, he can’t even make his own father listen to him. Ever since he was a kid, Jaehyun did not like how his father controlled him and that is why he never considered himself as a Jeong. He hated being a Jeong so much.

When you came back after a failed mission, good thing Jaehyun was waiting and expecting you to arrive. Ever since he stopped being an assassin his schedule became busier than ever, but of course, now that he’s one of the boss, he’s never too busy for you.

“I need to ask you something” Jaehyun started while pouring you another glass of his favorite wine, “If I ask you to marry me-“

“No. The answer is no, Jaehyun” you sat closer to him and asked him what’s wrong and what’s troubling him. You can see it in his eyes. He wouldn’t mention marriage out of nowhere if everything was fine. “Not yet. Please. We haven’t have any peaceful years in our relationship and marriage will just make it worst I believe” You added.

But the thing is, he couldn’t just say that he’s father is making him marry someone, Jaehyun knew your insecurities of course, he couldn’t just say and be honest with you right now. So he didn’t answer any of your question. He just left a kiss on your lips and drank his wine slowly. Looking at his glass, lost in the silence like you’re not even beside him even though his hand is holding your hand.

It’s clear that something is bothering him.

Or maybe… Jaehyun really wanted to get married already?

You wont know. You don’t know.

But for Jaehyun, if you don’t want to marry him yet. That’s fine. As long as you will stay by his side and to never leave him. But little did you know, Jaehyun has a plan. If you don’t want it yet, well he will give you reasons to marry him and say yes soon.

“Lets just have one peaceful year, then lets get married” you blurted out just so you can stop worrying. His silence is choking you. He smiled and let out a cute laugh, hearing that from you, completely changed the mood and made Jaehyun happy. He is never greedy in life, he never asked for anything else, but when it comes to you, he wants all of you. That’s all he ever wanted.

“Okay… so correct me if I’m wrong but… you’re saying that we could get married some time next year?” he chuckled and teased you.

“Ugh. Yes. It’s just that… I can’t handle it when you’re like this. I love you and I want to be with you too but… you have to understand that the life we curently have is not a good life. We don’t have freedom Jae” you expressed your worries.

The wine in front of you two is completely forgotten.

“Okay. Okay. I understand.” he pulls you closer for a hug, wrapping you in his strong arms, “No pressure” he says and kissed you softly.

But even though you two compromised already, he’s still on the missions to make you want to marry him soon. And he will try until he succeeds. Hopefully.

The next day, he brought you to his sister’s brunch event, it was an awkward place to be, but you and Jaehyun wanted to see Sofi, Jaehyun’s niece and wish her a happy birthday. It was also a statement to Jaehyun’s family that he will not take any of their shits from now on. He will love whoever he chooses.

“Uncle Yoonoh is here!!!” Jaehyun shouted while catching young Sofi and lift her to the ground. The little girl was ecstatic and excited, to be carried by her uncle. She also hugged you and said hello before she invites you in and to let her lead the tour and introduced you to her friends.

“Why don’t you marry and have kids already instead of pestering me with your visits. My kids are always looking for you lately saying “uncle Jaehyun is the best when is he going to visit?” Jaehyun sister says as she makes a perfect impersonation of her kids. Jaehyun chuckled and gave his sister a kiss.

“Ive been trying” Jaehyun says with a big smile.

“To what? To getting married? To whom? To the daughter of Johnny Seo? Jeez she was your type?” Jaehyun’s sister said without hesitation. Not even thinking about you.

“No. I’ve been trying to get Y/n to say ‘yes’” Jaehyun says directly, “You do realize that were never breaking up. I’ll handle the Seos , I’m sure I can make business with them-“

“You’ll gain nothing from her Jae. Look at you now, you’re already suffering. You have the Phantoms and the Seo’s choking you hard… and now the girl you love doesn’t want to marry you? Ungrateful bitch”

“Its love. She has her reasons. I’ll try and try” Jaehyun says with a smile.

“Whatever your plan is, do it faster. By the time that Seo girl takes over her father’s business, we’re screwed Jae-“

“Tell me, why are we in debt with the Seos again?” It was an honest question, “all I know is they lend us money back when father’s business isn’t going well”

“Nothing special. Johnny Suh is one greedy motherfucker. His daughter is ready to get married and of course pairing her to the heir of the powerful Jeong family is the best way to be richer”

“That’s it?” Jaehyun asked.

“Yep. No plots,” his sister laughs.

“This is our word Jae. It’s already fucked up, it doesn’t need a plot anymore. Dad made you an assassin and made you kill for the family and suddenly you’re the boss, haven’t you learned anything?”

It was quiet for a moment. Then his sister said something unexpected, something he didn’t expect shed say.

“Stop caging Y/n Jae… Don’t you think she deserve so much better than this? If you really love her, set her free. This is not a place for her, she earned her freedom. And marrying you just makes her permanently imprisoned under the Jeongs…. you want a plot?” she smirked, “picture this. Someday, when she’s all fed up with all of this shit, she will leave you and you can’t do anything about it because you love her”

After knowing the truth about the Seos and after hearing the ugly truth from his sister, Jaehyun drowned himself with work and stayed in his office alone for a few days. It was like his head was splitting into half. One second he’s thinking about business and deals wih the Seos. Then the next minute he’ thinking about you. It wasn’t easy. He was trained to be an assassin and fix things with a gun or a knife, but this… this cannot be easily fixed with violence and Jaehyun knew that damn well. It’s frustrating him,

“Hey-“ you startled Jaehyun. He was lost in all the paper work that he needs to finish. His mind is already tired, but the one giving him rest and peace has entered the room. His mood completely changed when he saw you. “What’s up?” You added.

You sat on the vacant table beside him and watch him undo his sleeves and roll them up. He’s ready to call it a day already, you’re here.

Jaehyun stood in between your legs, making you wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist. Lips immediately found its place on your neck, down to your chest. “Wanna have sex on this table?” Jaehyun asked while kissing you sweetly. You can only nod and agree to his crazy idea. Not to mention, its been too long since you two did something like this.

He was quick to remove your pajama, leaving your shirt and panties on. Obviously, this was a stress release, you can see it in his eyes that he was stressed for days already and now that he got time he’s just craving for your body and craving for you in general. You went down from the table, kneeling in front of Jaehyun and help him undo his belt. His Calvin Klein boxer briefs always looked sexy on him you thought.

“You dont need to do this” he bend down and kissed you on the lips before you pull out his cock and give it good lick. Making sure its all wet and hard, watching Jaehyun from below… watching him became weaker every lick that you give him. And when you finally put it in your mouth, his hands are both relaxed on your head, pushing in gently as possible so he could reach the depths of your throat.

Jaehyun is not hard to please, he loved everything that your tongue is doing to his cock. Sucking and licking, it takes his breath away.

“I’m gonna cum” he warns you and made you stand and bend you on the table. He was quick to pull your panties to the side and thrust inside you, hitting you with fast thrust that made the table rock, you thought it will break any second. Then he pulled you closer to his chest, putting your hands behind you, his lips on your neck as he continues to fuck you good while he cums.

Slowly, while he rides his high he continues to plant kisses on you, “your turn” he says with ragged breaths. He made you lay down the table and spread your legs wide, watching his cum come out of your cunt, playing it with his fingers, turning you on while he bend down and proceeds to suck you boobs. You can feel that even though he already came, he’s still hard, very hard. And when he thrusted in again, the stretch was incredible.

“You’re so hard, fuck Jae,”

“Does it hurt?” He asks while he continues to fuck you, his lips on your lips, his hand busy with kneading your boobs and teasing your nipples. Everything was too much.

You and Jaehyun went on for a few couple of rounds. Few, but dirty and wild. It felt like you bith have the energy to go on and on, fuck like teenagers and do anything you could think of.

“Can you stop taking pills? I’ve read that, its affecting your emotions its not healthy,” he says sweetly.

“Woah there, since when did you know so much about these stuff?” you kissed him sweetly on the neck, reaching for his cock and checking if he’s still good for another round. “Well can you stop cumming inside me?” You joked, but your hands got him on chokehold but not for long. He was on top of you again, kissing your body and spreading your legs.

“Then I’ll wear a condom just stop taking those and I’ll try not to cum inside you, just please be healthy Im worried” he said before he puts it in for the nth time tonight.

“Hi beautiful”

Your heart beat so fast in a matter of seconds the moment you hear his deep voice. You smiled and continue to prepare your things.

“I can see you smiling from this hidden camera planted on the lapshade… I’ll tell Mark to hack this for good-“

You chuckled at what you just heard, “can you please stop hacking Mark’s shit and let the kid work?— let us work, rather”

“I just miss you” he said.

“Miss me? You could have call me—“

“I’ve been calling you. The moment you landed on Thailand” you tried looking for your phone the moment he mentioned it but you cant see it on your desk, “baby, its at the back pocket” you can hear him laugh at you. “Oh can’t wait to take care of you for the rest of my life, anyway, Mark is on I should go. I love you. Come home, alright?”

Right before you could even say that you love him, Mark got his control with the system and jumped right into whatever details you need for the big day tomorrow.

The call was at least 3 hours. Full of plotting and brainstorming, nothing about this big plan was rushed. If there’s one thing that you learned about this whole thing, it’s perfect timing. Ten is hard to find, and it took you months to get a head start. Ten was even harder to track, and it took you a few more months to keep track on him… all because of perfect timing.

Revenge. “Happy Revenge day” you murmured to yourself.

A steady look through the snipper, breathing and out calmly as you watch Ten, the first Phantom, flirt with his lover at his private penthouse.. well, it’s not private anymore, because tonight you’re gonna invade that.

“Green light,” Mark’s happy voice was clear through your earpiece. “Are you going to kill his lover too?” Mark asks.

“Yeah,” you answered calmly, “he wanted to kill me too when he thought he killed Jaehyun”

By the time you remember how Ten tortured Jaehyun, you pulled the trigger… and killed his lover. You watch Ten for a few minutes to do everything he wanted.. cry, call for help, shake his dead lover, watch him get scared and take cover.

As long as you watch him suffer.. as long as you see the sadness in his eyes because the love of his life died right before his eyes… he’s good as dead to you.

There’s a part of you that you didn’t want to kill Ten, not because youre nice. But because you wanted to make him suffer even more and live with the pain in his heart forever.

“Consider this as mercy,” you whispered through the cold air, wishing that Ten could hear it. And in a matter of second, your mercy was released. And you watch Ten bleed on his expensive marble floor.

It’s done.

5 Phantoms dead… and there’s only one left.

You smiled at the thought of your achievement. You smile as you watch the beautiful sunrise in front of you.

When you got home everyone applauded you for killing Ten, they couldn’t believe that you did all the work alone from investigations to finally killing Ten. He was a bit of a work you thought, he was hard to track, hard to find, and hard kill. But you saw his weakness… because you two are the same. You two have one thing in common.

Your lovers are your weakness.

“I’m happy you’re here beside me,” Jaehyun whispers while he pats your head softly.

You squeezed him and hugged him tighter.

“And since, it was such a beautiful kill,” you both giggled, “we should celebrate, we should go to a fancy restaurant tomorrow and celebrate” Jaehyun says excitedly but you looked like you’re not interested, maybe you’re tired, or maybe you just wanted to get on with it as soon as possible and find Kun.

“What do you know about Kun?” You asked Jaehyun.

“Well, he’s the riches among them. He knows all sorts of thing. A real family guy- he can fly a plane”

“Well maybe he’s not down here you know—“

“What? Do you think he lives on the clouds?” Jaehyun joked. “Please babe, you just got home. Take a breather, rest” Jaehyun once again provided calm to your life. And while you two enjoy each other’s warmth in his cozy bed, he’s playing with your engagement ring and kissed you good night.

He’s more than happy that you came back and now you’re safe in his loving arms.

The next day, he brought you to a fancy restaurant and had dinner together. It was a public space which you think was beautiful. Normal people eat on public spaces like this. They chat, dine, laugh until their stomachs hurt… it was all refreshing to you. And Jaehyun knew that.

That’s why he’s smiling from across the table, looking at you while you look at the people around you. He loves seeing you like this.

“Have you ever thought of early retirement Jae?” You asked him with a smile while he drinks wine.

“As an assassin? No.” He answered truthfully and poured you another glass of wine. “I would rather be Bitter Peach than Jeong Jaehyun”

“Sorry I forgot-“ he reach for your hand and told you its fine. He understands that you’re overwhelmed with the surroundings.

“You know while you’re gone.. me and Taeyong.. weve been growing tomatoes and herbs,” he had a proud smirk before he reaches his phone from his pocket and showed you pictures of what he has been doing in the gardens. “I’ve thought of someday having a winery…”

“That sound cool,”

“Have a winery while growing old with you” he added.

“Well, that’s beautiful” you said while he reaches for you slowly and give you a kiss.

But after that beautiful kiss you suddenly dropped on floor.

Your nose was bleeding and slowly you’re loosing air.

Slowly your vision fades out. You can’t move but your mind is telling you to stay awake. “Baby! Dont you dare close your eyes!” You hear Jaehyun yell at you, but even though he’s yelling and slightly slapping you to help you stay awake, you felt useless.

Then you coughed blood.

Jaehyun is already on the phone with Mark, asking for help. “Mark hurry up— she’s bleeding so much!” Jaehyun yelled through his phone.

You watch him try his best.

You saw his perfect clothes got stained with your blood.

And that was the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes.

Thank you so much for reading this work of mine! If you love what you read, please leave something in my inbox and tell me how you feel! CLICK THIS LINK. I hope we can practice, give and take.

Stay tuned for the next part! -B.

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