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cowboydisaster · 9 months

Text

* ˚ ✦ Compass * ˚ ✦

chapter one: La Belle Fleur Sauvage

pairing: arthur morgan x f! reader

word count: 7.9k

summary: modern au; Living out your dreams on a ranch in Colorado; Arthur finally proposes.

a/n: This is a little gift for @margowritesthings. I originally wrote this for you a year ago, but I've rewritten it for you for this christmas. xx

Arthur is nervous, his palms clammy as he pulls a Carharrt t-shirt over his head. The dark hardwood floor is cold against his bare feet as he slowly pulls his clothes on, layering up to defend against the harsh weather. You sleep comfortably in his bed, unaware of Arthur's absence from your side. He slowly approaches, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. You smile in your sleep.

"Gonna be a good day, darlin'.” He murmurs, pulling the white, fluffy blanket up over your shoulders before stepping out of the room, trying to keep his footsteps quiet.

The coffee machine beeps twice, notifying Arthur that the morning pick me up is finished. Two mugs sit by the machine, as always. But today Arthur doesn't grab his usual, opting instead for a travel mug. It's an old one. One that he'd gotten from some random bank event a while ago, "Strauss Financing" it read.

He'd used that bank to get a loan for the house and the barn. God– nearly ten years ago now, Arthur realizes.

The coffee is black and hot, steaming as it's poured into the mug. Arthur leaves the pot on for you before opening the door, and whistling in the direction of the bedroom. He can hear Copper jumping down off the bed, and then he rounds the corner, trotting towards Arthur and out the door.

"Hey there boy!" Arthur laughs and gives Copper a few pats. He's had the old vizsla about as long as he's had the ranch. Copper follows Arthur outside, happily trotting after the man. Everything outside is coated in a dusting of white. It's the kind of snow that looks like diamonds, where ice clings to the trees and rooftops, but the sun shines down, making everything sparkle.

When Arthur gets about a hundred feet from the house, with Copper circling around him, he stops and turns around. The log cabin stands proud before him, even after all these years. Arthur had built the place with his bare hands, just him and Copper.

The Colorado mountains stand proud behind the house, hues of purple and blue painting their cliffs, the morning rays of sunlight reflecting off of the snow on their peaks. When he looks at the slowly aging wood of the house, and the warm glow of the porch lights he can't help but smile. It's not the house itself that he is so fond of, it is what you have made the house– a home.

When the walls were bare, and the house was empty, save for the few pieces of furniture that Arthur could afford, it was incredibly lonely. He tended to the animals and worked on the ranch all day to avoid sitting alone in the house. He spent his evenings at the only bar in town, Pearson's Pub, drinking to forget and to ignore the empty house.

Things got better once you moved to town, working as a bartender. You warmed the man's cold heart. You were like a breath of fresh air in this old town. You still are. You managed to take his frozen, barely beating heart and melt it in the grip of your soft hands.

Arthur began to chat with you while you worked. After only a few interactions, he started coming in on the days he knew you would be there.

Then, one day, he offered to cook you dinner, and you accepted. Now, you lie in his bed, cozy and happy while he plans for the future. Funny, how things work out like that. All those years when Arthur was young, he'd hoped for someone to love. As an adult, he was content with his solitude, until you came along, of course. Divine intervention, you are.

Copper barks, stomping his paws in the snow, pulling Arthurs attention back to the present. The poor dog is probably cold. The nip in the air makes Arthur's cheeks and nose red, and his breath lingers in the air like a morning fog.

The truck isn’t far, sitting halfway between the house and the barn. Arthur shoves his hands in his pockets, shaking some snow off of his hat as he makes his way towards the old rust bucket. Snow and ice fall from the door frame as Arthur swings it open, leaning in.

He reaches across the steering wheel, jamming the key into the dash and turning it. He mutters a small prayer when the engine starts to stutter and hiss, but after a few seconds, it turns over. Once the engine is running, Arthur turns the heat the entire way up, setting the knob towards the windshield.

“Should be right as rain, now, huh, boy?” Arthur smirks, stepping down from the truck, shutting the door. Copper barks, running into the wooden barn where Arthur is heading, stalking the chickens, as Arthur slides through the wooden door.

He shakes the snow off of his hat, boots clicking on the floor as he grabs a few scoops of feed and dumps them into each horse's trough. Arthur greets each one, scratching behind their ears, patting their necks. He feeds, avoiding stepping on loose hens, until he reaches Boadicea's stall. A warm smile graces Arthur's face at the sight of the old chestnut mare. She brightens up at the man's arrival, and not just because of the feed he carries. Her head tosses as she whinnies for him..

“There's my girl." Arthur hums, dumping the feed, soothed by the sound of her chewing. Arthur scratches the underside of Boadicea's jaw, earning a slight whinny from the older mare.

"S’a big day today, y'know." Arthur releases a shaky breath as he strokes the mare's neck. Boadicea lips at Arthur's jacket, searching for treats that he doesn't have.

"I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

He huffs through his nostrils then, smiling as he pats the mare one last time.

"You're gonna be a part of it. I'm countin' on you, girl."

He then looks to the black quarter horse in the stall beside Boadicea. The horse has a star on his forehead, and a thick dark forelock that covers his eyes. When Arthur had gifted you the gelding, you'd named him Whiskey. It was both an homage to the bar where you met Arthur, and your preferred poison.

"Hey there boy. You better be good for the lady today, ya hear?"

He pats the horse who is hungrily lapping up his grain and then brings his wrist up to check his watch. The watch ticks quietly, showing the time as being 6:17am.

Arthur decides that the truck has had plenty long enough to heat up as he makes his way out of the barn, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. Copper has gone off, probably chasing birds in the woods, or attempting to play with the cattle. Once he's done playing he will come into the barn for shelter, at least until you wake up and let him back in.

Arthur's hands are tinted pink with cold as he opens the truck door, sliding in and shutting the cold out. The heat from inside the cab is nothing short of cathartic as it begins to thaw his frozen features, slowly melting away the ice and causing his nose to turn pale again.

Arthur turns the radio up a bit, driving down the long road towards the city. He tries to avoid Denver as much as possible. The tall, leering buildings are suffocating, reminding him of a very dark time in his life.

When Arthur's ma and pa died, he was placed into foster care. When he was twelve, he fought with the other kids, even beat a few nasty boys that were older than him. Arthur learned quickly that anger and aggression were the best ways to protect himself.

He ran from every foster home he was placed into, never having anywhere to go, just running. Arthur slept outside many nights, surrounded by vermin– both rats and people. He was spat on, cursed at, and kicked down by many of the people he encountered. It wasn't until he was fifteen that he found shelter- a home.

— — —

Arthur's feet pound against the pavement as he runs. The door remains open, swinging, as Arthur barrels down the driveway without shoes. The blacktop is rough on Arthur's feet, scraping and cutting into his heels as he scrambles, but he pushes through, determined to get away from the outskirts of Denver.

He follows the driveway until it meets gravel, avoiding it by running through the grass, into the forest. Tears stream down his cheeks, rough gasps for breath mixed with raspy sobs erupting from his chest.

Arthur bolts from yet another foster home– another abuser. He can barely see as the street lights get farther away, but he pushes on faster at the sounds of sirens. Sticks and rocks dig into the soles of his feet, but he continues, terrified.

In his hand, Arthur clutches a small bag, carrying the few things that remain of Arthur's childhood: his momma's ring, and a photo of her when she was young. His knuckles are white in their grip.

Horror trickles up his spine, sickness twisting his guts and making him sick. Tears prick at his eyes, threatening to send him to the ground

Did he just kill a man?

Disgust bubbles up in Arthur's throat as he searches around in the dark forest, looking for somewhere to hide for the night. Not far in the distance is a building with a light on outside, it appears to be a barn. Arthur tries not to think about anything as he stumbles towards the barn, feeling like he may collapse at any second. His arms are wrapped around himself, and he shivers as he parts the barn doors, stepping inside, sheltered from the cold winds.

A few animals grumble at the intrusion, but Arthur can barely hear them. His vision is blurry, breaths coming in quick pants as he trips. He makes it a few steps to a pile of hay, mind fuzzy and body cold. Arthur is exhausted and unable to breathe.

Suddenly his feet are falling away from him and he collapses. The impact is made softer by the pile of hay, but it still knocks the wind out of him. Arthur stares at his blood stained hands as they clutch his mother's things.

—

There is a shuffle. A door? Footsteps? They stop.

"My, my… What on earth do we have here?" A man says, his timbre deep enough to rattle the barn walls. Arthur's eyes flutter but he is not able to open them.

"Christ, Dutch– the poor boy's covered in blood, he can't be more than sixteen." A second voice chimes in.

Then Arthur is being hoisted into the air. He tries to fight, but slowly begins to lose consciousness again.

"Well take him inside, have Bessie and Annabelle fix him up… Once he's awake, we'll find out who he is, and.. what he needs."

— — —

Arthur thinks back on that time with distaste as his truck rumbles loudly through the crowded streets of Denver. Things got better after he found Dutch and Hosea. He stayed with them, working on their ranch for many, many years, and once he turned twenty-five the two gentlemen gifted him one hundred acres, enough to start a small ranch of his own.

Arthur sits at a red light, not far from his targeted destination. His fingertips tap the steering wheel impatiently as he thinks of that bag, his mothers contents inside. His stomach twists with anxiety. He hasn't been down this street in fifteen years. Muscle memory tightens his lungs as he pulls his truck along the street parking, brakes squealing before he pushes it into park.

Arthur sighs, eyes glancing up to the ornate, tall buildings before him. It makes his stomach turn. All this money poured into concrete structures when kids are starving in the streets.

He gets out the truck, straightening his shirt and jacket out of habit, before approaching the golden gate outside of the apartment building.

It's not long before he's in the elevator.

Arthur goes to knock on the ornate door, knuckles hesitating for a moment before rapping on the wood twice. It's the only barrier between him and the penthouse.

Arthur plans to make the trip as quick as possible. He’d vowed not to come here ever since the verbal assault had been thrown at him during an expensive dinner. He’d left in shambles, still young and naive. Arthur places his hands behind his back and pushes his shoulders back out of habit when the door swings open.

"Mary." Arthur acknowledges.

Her voice is soft, her southern accent spilling from her lips, "Arthur?” She seems worried, shocked. Her eyes scan him quickly, identifying that he's not hurt, “Is everything okay? Dutch? Hosea?"

"Yes Mary, everyone's fine."

Arthur takes note that Mary's father mustn't be home, and he instantly relaxes. His shoulders come down and his hands rest at his sides.

“Come in.” Mary says, opening the door, gesturing to the white couch in the middle of the living room.

Arthur hesitates at the door, but complies when she starts leading the way. Nothing has changed in all the years that he's avoided this place. The carpet feels the same as he walks across it. The couch dips under Arthur as it used to when he sits.

Mary sits on a chair across from him. The couch he's sitting on is far more comfortable than the one at home, but he prefers the quiet oak house compared to this busy modern apartment.

She looks to Arthur, her eyes curious. He hesitates, eyes unsure where to land– dancing between Mary's eyes and the floor.

"I-” He starts speaking and then stops a few times, before taking a breath, getting the words out, “I've met a woman…”

A pang hits Mary right in the chest, but she hides it well.

“Happened a few years ago." Arthur speaks low and quiet, his timbre is deep as he explains. Mary remains quiet and allows him to continue, eyes drifting towards the windows, mind caught up in memories that threatens to pull her under.

"She's a fine woman Mary, and… Well, I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

Arthur looks up to Mary then, her dark eyes contrasting his own. She has a puzzled look on her face as she replies,

"Arthur, I'm happy for you, but I’m afraid I don't understand…? Did you come all this way just to tell me–”

“Mary…” Arthur whispers, cutting off her snowballing thoughts, redirecting her to the point that he is trying to get across without being harsh. Without demanding.

She stops in her tracks then, realization dawning upon her, “Oh. I see.” She smiles, bittersweet. Arthur can see the regret in her eyes. He is quick to ease the tension, leaning forward, trying to soothe the old wounds that Mary has yet to heal.

"I'm sorry, Mary, I am– that things didn't work out between you and I, but– it means a lot to me, and there's no other-”

Arthur is stopped in his tracks as Mary raises her hand to stop him, “It belongs to you, Arthur. She should have it, really.” Mary smiles sincerely.

She loves Arthur, though she'll never admit it. She loves him enough to let him go, to let him be loved by someone he deserves. Mary doesn't know you, but she knows that since he came here, for this– you must be deserving of his love.

Mary places her pale hand up, signaling Arthur to wait as she stands and disappears into the doorway towards her room.

Arthur fiddles with his hands, emotion bubbling up as he waits. This is the final obstacle. Once he has his this item back he will be able to give you what you deserve, and if you accept, Arthur will be the happiest man alive.

Mary rounds the corner, her lips pulling into a bittersweet smile, a few tears dripping down her cheeks. There is a small black box in her hand, extended out to Arthur.

His green eyes transfix on the box. The one he hasn’t seen in almost fifteen years. Arthur places his hands on his knees to push himself off of the couch, staring in disbelief at the old thing.

It is carefully placed in his hands, and he slowly creaks the lid open, staring. It's a gold band, with a ruby placed in the center, and intricately placed diamonds on either side of the gemstone. It’s the one thing he has that ties the man he is now, to the happy young boy he used to be- when he was good. It was his momma's. One of the only things he has left of her. Arthur closes the box, tucking it away into his pocket.

“Best of luck to you, Arthur.” Mary whispers, a sad smile on her lips.

“Thank you, Mary.”

The ride home is quiet, for the first half anyway. As soon as Arthur is out of the city, back on dirt roads, he switches the old truck stereo on. A familiar song is playing, one that's been bringing him quite a bit of comfort in the past weeks.

“Now I know the only compass that I need”

He smiles. One of his hands rests on the steering wheel, the other rests on his jean pocket. He palms at the box as he drives, making sure it doesn’t slip away.

“Oh, is the one that leads back to you”

His voice is deep, rumbling in his chest as he taps his left foot against the floorboards of his truck. He thinks of you, riding your horse, smiling, of your hair in a messy bun and you in his too-big t-shirts. He thinks of how you love him, with a passion and a fervor.

“Now I know the only compass that I need Oh, is the one that leads back to you”

He thinks of when you met for the first time, your fates tying together in ways you never could have imagined.

— — —

Arthur enters the old bar, same as he does most every night. It's the same bar he's been going to for fifteen years now. Contrary to some of the other fools here, he doesn’t always drink when he comes here. Sometimes, he just sits at one of the tables, drawing the scenery.

Arthur comes here to drown out the silence of the house, to get away from the loneliness that he refuses to admit is swallowing him whole.

Tonight, he walks around the tables that adorn the small place, straight up to the bar, sitting down in his usual seat. The place is busy tonight. Arthur assumes there's a game being played, or a rodeo on the tv, but he doesn’t ask. Plenty of patrons sit around the bar, most with women or men in their clutches. Laughter and the sound of glasses being slammed on the bar fill the air, and a neon light flickers on the wall.

Arthur is all too aware of the familiar atmosphere around him, and yet somehow, he misses the new bartender serving tonight. Typically Pearson himself is behind the bar, but tonight someone else is handing out drinks.

Arthur knocks on the bar once, eyes watching the TV in front of him, a bulldogging competition. Suddenly, a form slides in front of him, blocking his view of the television. He adverts his attention to the person blocking his view, and his eyes go wide.

You stand in front of him, smiling and whipping a bar towel over your shoulder.

“What can I get for you, mister?” You ask, wiping your hands against each other.

Your eyes twinkle like they're among stars, and Arthur is sure that he’s never seen a smile so bright. He doesn’t respond for a few seconds, basking in your beauty. Your hair is not tied up, and it falls down, cascading over your shoulders.

Your black long sleeved shirt is tight, clinging to your figure, but Arthur is caught up in your eyes. He shakes his head lightly before responding.

“Yeah, uh… Sorry– just get me the strongest drink ya got. Make it neat.”

Arthur's typical order is a bourbon on ice, or a beer, but tonight he's going to need something stronger. Everyone knows everyone in this small town, but you're a new face, and Arthur can already feel the singe of the hot brand, burning you into his memory.

“Coming right up.” You raise a curious eyebrow, wondering about this man’s choice of drink. With your interest piqued, you grab a rocks glass and a bottle of patrón, pouring a few fingers of golden liquid into the glass, sliding it across the bar.

“Have one for ya’self too.” Arthur tosses a bundle of cash onto the bar.

“Thank you, mister.” You smile, pouring yourself the same drink.

You eye the mysterious cowboy curiously, noticing the softness hidden behind his rough features. He is attractive, very attractive, with dirty blonde hair, and a five o’clock shadow that exaggerates the scars on his lip and chin. His eyes are hidden from you by a dark cowboy hat, until he peers up and you are met with the most strikingly beautiful, bright, blue-green eyes you've ever seen.

You have to look down to hide the blush that creeps up on your cheeks from being caught in the act of staring. If he notices your gaze, he doesn’t say anything. Both of your crystal glasses are set on the bar as you lean onto it with your elbows.

“You ain't from around here, are ya?” Arthur asks. You smirk. The ruckus from the bar seems to die down in your ears. Even your busy mind quietens as you focus on the peculiar man before you.

“Is it that obvious?” You laugh, “No, I'm not from here, just moved.”

Arthur hums, content. There's an amused sparkle in his eyes.

“How'd you know?” You ask, wondering what gave it away. What's making you an outsider? You moved here to get away, to blend in. Anxiety curls in your stomach at the thought of being found.

“Well, miss, you’re far kinder, n’ far prettier than anyone in this old town… Don't help that everyone knows everyone here. We don't come by new faces much.”

Your anxiety quells, cheeks blushing a deep crimson, and after a moment, you raise your glass slightly, angling it towards his.

“Well thank you kindly, mister.” You hum.

“Arthur.” He corrects, clinking his glass against yours, swallowing down a swig of the burning liquid. You cock your head, not tracking at first.

“My name's Arthur. Arthur Morgan.” He reiterates, and you smile.

“Pleasure to meet you, Arthur Morgan.”

— — —

Your eyes flutter open slowly. The first thing that meets your eyes is the vase of purple flowers on your bedside table. The morning light hits them beautifully, reflecting off of their vase, refracting on the deep purple petals.

A wave of realization dawns over you.

Sunlight? What time is it??

You sit straight up in bed, eyes immediately seeking the alarm clock on Arthur’s nightstand. It reads 9:25am and your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit!” You curse, swinging your legs out of bed, body barely covered by your cotton shorts and cami.

You feed the horses at 6am every day. Today your alarm mustn't have gone off. You feel terribly, knowing that the horses must be starving. You frown, hair messily falling around your shoulders as you hurry to your dresser.

A piece of paper sits on the mahogany, and you hesitate in your rush, placing your pointer finger on the paper and reading its contents.

Fed the horses so you could sleep in. I had to run into town real quick. Should be back before lunch. Call if ya need anything, Sweetheart. Coffee is hot in the pot for you and Copper is outside. - A

The panic leaves your chest, replaced with warmth as you pocket the note, pulling your slippers on as you move towards the kitchen.

Arthur is always doing this for you, taking on little tasks to remove some weight from your shoulders. Doing anything he can to ease your troubles. He knows that you've been crazy busy with work lately, as horse training always picks up in the winter, and he's been doing everything he can to help.

You hum a tune as you round the corner, hand trailing along the smooth oak wall. Your slippers are soft and quiet against the floor as you enter the kitchen, eyes trained to where the black coffee pot rests on the counter top.

You grab your clay mug, the one you'd made back when you were taking pottery classes, and you fill it with black coffee and a splash of cream.

Wrapping one arm around your torso, you move to the glass french doors in the kitchen, overlooking the barn and the pastures. You sip at your coffee, eyes slipping closed as the coffee wakes you up, the warm liquid heating down your cold bones. Your eyes trail over your farm, the brown and black cattle, starkly contrasting the snow. Snowflakes flutter past the glass as you watch the sun peeking behind a few pine trees in the yard.

Copper runs through one of the pastures, throwing a stick up into the air and then grabbing it in his maw. You can’t help the smile that graces your lips.

You head back towards your room, pulling out a pair of jeans. They hug your hips and waist, but leave room for your boots to lay under your pants at the hem. You pull on a long sleeved black shirt and your beige ranch coat before leaving your room and pulling your boots over your socks.

With one last swig, you finish the last sip of your coffee and set it in the otherwise empty sink before opening the glass door and stepping out into the elements.

You expect the cold to wind-whip your face, but it doesn’t. Instead, the sun shines down, adding some resistance to the cold weather. It causes the snow and ice to sparkle like diamonds as your boots crunch through the snow.

You push the barn door aside, heart humming at the warm sound of nickering horses.

“Alright. Who's up first?” You hum, looking to the chalkboard on the wall. It's outlined with feeding schedules, medication times and dosages, and your training schedule.

You find the designated box for today, seeing that today you'll be getting your work cut out for you. You're working with Doob, a seal brown thoroughbred, off the track, with more energy than he knows what to do with. His owners had brought him in for a bucking problem, one that you're already beginning to curb.

You make your way down the aisle until you find his stall, promptly grabbing his dark green halter and slipping it over his head.

“C'mon, boy.” You whisper, petting behind his ears, “You're just a big sweetheart, aren't you?” You chuckle as he nuzzles your palm. Of all the client horses, he's definitely carved a home in your heart. He’s a funny little horse, a character. You'll be a bit sad to send him back when you’re finished, but you know his owners will treat him right.

A short walk through the snow leads you both to the round pen. You leave him loose in the small pen, and he immediately starts running.

“Yeah, here we go.” You hum, cold biting your nose. You grab a green lasso from the fence post, moving him up with it, pushing him forward as he runs around the pen.

“Good boy.” You call, “Easy does it.”

Doob gets his energy out, running to his heart's content, wind flying through his long black mane. You just let him run, only correcting when he tosses a buck or kicks. After a long while of working, he eventually becomes tired out.

“That's a good boy, whoa now.” You cue, and he stops on a dime, turning towards you, walking into the center of the circle. Your head turns at the sound of a rumbling truck, and your eyes brighten at the familiar sight of Arthur coming down the lane.

“Good job, Doob. That's all for today. You go on and play now.” You smile, handing a treat out to the thoroughbred. He takes it happily before you remove his halter, letting him out into the pasture with the other client horses. He'll surely run off more steam out there.

A few snowflakes are stuck in your hair, and your nose is already turning red as Arthur steps down from his truck. You make your way to him, ignoring the chill in your bones, and leaning towards the warmth before you.

“Hey, baby.” You smile as he turns to you, shutting the door to his truck. Arthur smiles back, his hands extending as he grabs your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips are cold compared to his, and he runs his hand up and down your arms to warm you up.

“Shit darlin’, you’re froze. I was gonna ask if ya wanted to go for a ride but-”

His eyes go wide as you jump a little, gripping at his coat with your cold hands, interrupting him.

“No, I wanna go for a ride! I'm not too cold, I've got more clothes in the barn.”

He chuckles, his warm breath creating a fog in the air as he hugs you tightly. You've never turned down a trail ride, not in all the time you've known him.

“Alright, why don’t you start tackin’ up the horses. I gotta run in the house quick. I'll grab some food too. We can have a picnic.” His deep voice rumbles against your ear as he holds you in his embrace.

“Okay, I'll grab the horses. Oh- grab the chocolate, okay? The good kind. There's some in the cupboard above the sink.”

Arthur chuckles, “Sure thing, darlin’.”

You go to pull away from Arthur, but before you're fully released from his grasp, he gently pulls you back by the chin, catching you in another kiss. He hums against your lips, and you relax into him, allowing him into your mouth. He chases after the taste of you.

After a few seconds, another light peck– or two– you pull away from each other. When your eyes slowly flutter upwards, you see intense emotion in Arthur's eyes. Love.

Arthur loves you, and he always makes sure to display it, but he's being extra affectionate today, which has your eyebrow raising in curiosity.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” you chuckle, hands resting on the thick blue fabric of his wool coat. You look up at him with those sparkling eyes, and he falls in love with you all over again. The snow has made your nose pink and cold, and Arthur leans down to kiss it.

“Cause I love you,” Arthur pulls away, “Now, go tack up those horses. I'll grab us a snack.” you peel away from him then, shaking your head.

One whistle for Copper, and the orange flash is running down from the pasture. Then, he's at your feet, whining happily. The snow crunches and creaks against your boots as you lean to pet the dog, and you both look at Arthur’s back as he opens the door to the house.

“Your daddy’s actin’ weird today.” You whisper, curiously eyeing the blue coat that moves through the door. Copper barks, as if he is trying to explain, but Arthur had sworn the dog to secrecy.

You pet Copper before standing up and brushing the snow off of your knees. When you step into the barn,you’re immediately surrounded by the soothing smell of oats and hay. The warm scents envelop you, and wrap you up like the warmth of the barn.

By the time you have both Boadicea and Whiskey fully tacked up, Arthur is walking through the front barn doors. He pushes the door open wide enough for your horses to step through.

“So where are we ridin’ to today? Maybe we could trail down to the creek? It's beautiful this time of year.” You ask, pulling yourself up into the saddle. The cold leather sends a chill down your spine as you rub at your thigh in an attempt to make warmth.

Arthur shakes his head lightly as he climbs up into the saddle, “Actually I was thinkin’ we’d go on up to the overlook today…”

The overlook? You hum. Typically you and Arthur only go to the overlook for special occasions. The last time you'd gone up there was about a year ago. It's a special place.

You both had said your first admissions of love there, let the words pour down into the plains below. Your first kiss with Arthur was at the overlook.

But the overlook doesn’t just house good memories. You and Arthur had split up, briefly, a few years ago. The separation took place there. It’s a place of much love and heartache, it's you and Arthur’s spot.

“Okay, sure… It’s been quite a while since we’ve been up there.” You respond quietly, curiously. Anxiety swirls in your stomach, but you push it down.

You and Arthur trot beside one another, carried by your mounts. The air is chilly, but your heart is toasty warm as you and Arthur chat, laughing and smiling as you go. The ride to Horseshoe Overlook is a long one, and you make the most of the time as you and Arthur ride through the bright snow.

“I'll race ya cross’ this hill up here.” Arthur drawls, his lips ticking up in a smile as he looks at you from under the brim of his hat.

You eye the hill in front of you. It's open, probably over one hundred yards. The snow isn’t deep over the grass and it doesn’t appear to be slippery. Adrenaline seeps through your veins as you eye it, swirling and pumping through your heart, flicking the hairs on your neck up like static electricity.

“Alright then…” You adjust yourself on Whiskey, preparing to run.

“Get ready…get set–” You are cut off as the wind whips your hair and Boadicea starts charging forward. Your jaw drops and you watch Arthur barrel ahead of you. Quickly, you spur Whiskey and kiss and cluck to move him forward.

“You cheated!!” You scream loudly, trumping the sound of pounding hooves.

Determination sets in your bones then, and you lean forward, spurring the horse forward with every ounce of might in your body. Whiskey shoots forward until he is running side by side with Arthur’s mare.

“I don't play dirty, mister!” You yell in Arthur’s direction. Hooves are pounding loudly against the snow. The two horses are breathing heavily, each determined to win their own races. You see Arthur laugh, but he stops when you spur Whiskey, charging forward.

Arthur curses as you shoot ahead of him and Bo. Whiskey's hooves kick up snow as he passes, sending it flying into Arthur's face. It slows him down, giving you the advantage.

You and Whiskey run hard until you reach the top of the hill, and Whiskey slides into a deep stop right before reaching the tree line. After ten seconds, Arthur and Boadicea are at the top as well, stopping hard and breathing heavily.

“Dammit woman, you can ride, I'll give ya that.” Arthur pants, face wind-whipped as you ride up beside him and lean over your saddle to kiss him.

His lips are cold, as are yours, but the kiss is still alight with warmth. You grip onto the collar of his shirt, not releasing when your lips pull away from one another. If anything, your grip tightens on his collar as you eye him.

“I know.” You smirk, winking at Arthur as you pull away and canter your horse away from him, and towards the entrance to the overhang.

He watches you canter on, shaking his head.

“You are somethin’.” He jests, trotting after you.

When the trees break, you nearly gasp. Though you have been here a handful of times, it always steals your breath away. You can see the house and barn in the distance, separated from you by miles and miles of white snow. Evergreens stand tall, dusted white, with a few herds of elk at their trunks. You can see for miles, past the house and to the tall blue mountains far in the distance.

“So beautiful.” You murmur, eyes bright with wonder.

“Sure is…” Arthur whispers, eyes not on the landscape, but on you.

You hop down from Whiskey, patting him for his good work, and offering him the same treats that you'd offered Doob earlier. You always keep a few extra in your pocket.

You walk towards the cliff, keeping a safe distance from the drop. Your eyes flutter over the rolling hills and plains before you. Everything seems so quiet up here. Troubles seem so far away. Unique snowflakes slowly drop from the sky, dusting your hair and coat with white diamonds.

Boots crunch in the snow behind you, stopping just a foot from your back. You smile, but don't turn around when Arthur's chest presses against your back. One of his hands wraps around your middle while the other, unbeknownst to you, rests on the small black box in his coat pocket.

The serenity of the overlook envelopes your senses as you breathe in deeply. The cold air carries notes of pine and sap, familiar scents that comfort you.

“Love you, y'know.” Arthur hums, leaning down, pulling your hair away from your neck, kissing the soft skin under your ear. Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you turn in his embrace, chest to chest.

“You’re actin’ strange, Arthur. Are you feelin’ okay?” You chuckle.

Arthur exhales sharply, otherwise ignoring your question. Instead, he pulls you up onto your tiptoes, your boots on top of his as he kisses you.

You melt under his touch, kissing Arthur feels like your muscles relaxing after a long day’s work, like rain after a drought. Kissing Arthur feels like coming home. He's been kissing you all day, unable to pull himself away from you.

You pull away only for a quick breath before your lips meet again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, straining on your toes to remain in contact with his lips. Arthur pulls away with a bite to your lip, smiling when he sees how yours are plump and swollen.

The wind brushes Arthur’s hair into his face as he backs up, pulling you by your hand. He has placed a thick wool blanket on the snow for you two to sit on. You plop down on the blanket beside Arthur, your head resting on his shoulder. Your head rests on his shoulder. Heat radiates from the man, and you are glad for the extra protection from the cold.

“So what snacks did you bring, baby?” you ask, curiously peaking into the bag that Arthur has laid on the blanket.

“Alcohol.” He says plainly. You laugh, smacking Arthur in the arm as he chuckles.

“And your chocolates.”

“Arthur!” You chide as he hands you a bottle of golden liquid. You peer at the label.

It's patrón. You quirk a brow at the drink of choice. Arthur rarely buys the expensive tequila. Curiously, you pull the round cork out from the neck of the bottle and take a small swig. The alcohol burns its way down your throat, warming you from the inside.

You don't mind the burn, watching as a pair of pronghorn bucks fight in the hills below you. Their hooves slip in the snow as they each attempt to win their battle. Your hands numbly grip the neck of the bottle as you pass it back to Arthur.

You huff before you speak, “I can’t believe we’re here Arthur. After everything we’ve been through we can just… live now…” You pull your knees up, curling more into his chest. Your past hangs over you, haunting you like a dark cloud. Bit by bit, Arthur has been helping you to push it away, to heal and move on. Today is a good reminder of that progress.

His hands place the tequila in yours, and you down a swig.

“S’ like your readin’ my mind, sweetheart.”

You smile up at Arthur then, placing your hand on his stubble.

“Y’know this is the first place you told me you loved me…” Arthur says, low and quiet. You smile, the good memories filling your heart as Arthur continues,

“Also the first place I kissed ya… a lot ‘a memories up here.”

Your stomach flutters at his words, your brain is flooded with warm memories of Arthur and you in the overlook.

“C'mere.” Arthur whispers, smiling, taking a shaky breath. Your eyebrows furrow together. but as he stands and extends his hand, you take it. Arthur pulls you up, hands in his own.

The overlook is beautiful in front of you, serene and perfect. A moment he'd capture with a camera if he had one with. Whiskey and Boadicea watch on from the treeline, ears perked up. They know what's about to happen. Arthur's been telling them about it every day for months.

“I love you.” Arthur whispers, deep and serious. His eyes soften, and your heart begins to pump loudly in your ears. A delicious red flushes into your cheeks.

“I love you too, Arthur… but why are you.. what's going on?” Your voice is higher than usual, eyes sparkling bright with wonder, reflecting the sun and the white snow.

It isn’t unusual for Arthur to admit his feelings to you, but there are too many factors for this to be a coincidence. Arthur was ‘shopping in town’ all morning, but had come home empty handed. He brought you out to your special spot, bought you your favorite expensive tequila– and is treating you with such delicacy, and love, that butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Arthur huffs, letting out a humorous chuckle and looking up to the sky, projecting a short prayer, before he holds your hands a little tighter and begins.

“I love you more than I ever thought possible.” He looks away from you for a split second, staring at the ground, before anchoring himself in your eyes again, and continuing, “I didn’t think my life was goin’ nowhere before I met you… I gave up in my twenties, said I wasn’t gettin’ attached to anyone.” Arthur admits, and you frown. You know about his past. You've talked about it, and now you're trying to show him how much he deserves to be loved.

“I stood by that for a long time…” Arthur's lips crack into a beautiful smile, a chuckle falling over them, “And then you stumbled along.” A single tear drips down his cheek, and landing in the snow below. Your eyes are threatening to overflow with tears of your own.

“Arthur…?” You whisper, voice cracking. He squeezes your hands reassuringly.

“You showed me what it felt like to be loved. And love ain't somethin’ I've felt in many a years.” Arthur pauses, gathering his words. A few tears trail down your cheeks, and Arthur’s thumb wipes them away.

“You make me want so much more outta life. You make me wanna wake up every day and work on this ranch, take care of these animals. You make me want a family. I wanna wake up n’ watch our kids playin’ from the window.”

“But what I want most in life? More than anything…?” A pause ensues, his loving, green eyes locked onto yours, “I want to be with you, every day, for the rest of my life.”

Arthur thinks back to the song he had been listening to earlier on the way home from the city.

“As long as my compass keeps pointin’ to you, I’ll be where I belong… I’ll be home.”

Tears flow freely from your eyes, and you gasp as Arthur reaches into his pocket, kneeling down on one knee in the snow.

He looks up at you, one hand still intertwined with yours, the other extending out the black box. Arthur snaps the ring box open, presenting a stunning gold ring to you. The band is adorned with a ruby, and several small diamonds decorate the sides of the gem. Your hands come up to your mouth, as Arthur looks up to you, smiling.

“This was my Momma's…” Arthur explains, and your eyes flicker down to his, “You’ve already made me the happiest man alive… and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you… So, would you do me the honor–” Arthur chokes up, “Would you marry me?”

He looks into your teary eyes, holding the ring box a little higher as he asks the question. You wipe the tears away from your eyes, sight locking onto the scene, wishing you could etch it into your memory forever.

Your head frantically nods, tears flowing down your cheeks as you cry tears of joy, “Yes, Oh, Arthur–of course. Yes, yes!”

Arthur smiles the brightest that you’ve ever seen, standing before you and slipping his mother’s ring onto your ring finger. The band fits you perfectly, and you marvel at it for a second before Arthur’s arms wrap around your waist. He lifts you up into the air, and you wrap your legs around his waist, laughing and crying, overcome with a happiness unlike any other. Your heart leaps with love and passion for the man in front of you.

His lips crash against your, wet tears dripping down your face as you kiss him. Your hands entangle into the hair at the back of Arthur’s neck as you both kiss, pulling apart only to breathe or to laugh. The kiss is deep, bodies singing with love, energy overflowing from the both of you. He keeps kissing you, over and over again, never wanting to leave the taste of your lips.

You pull apart, foreheads pressing against eachother's, his hands on your thighs, keeping you off the ground.

“I love you so much darlin’.”

“I love you too.” You whisper against him, the happiest you have ever been.

The ring rests on your finger as you kiss Arthur again, senselessly. The band of rubies and diamonds holds promises of a future, of a marriage and a life with him.

As the wind rustles through your hair, carrying your joy so far down the mountains that it can be felt radiating even miles away, you can’t think of anything you could ever want more than that promise.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 arthur

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dustydaddyyy · 1 year

Text

no strings attached | joel miller x fem!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem! reader

summary: you can't deny there's always been something between you and joel miller. The question is, is either of you going to do something about it?

warnings: swearing, unspecified age gap (reader is her late 20s and joel is canon age) canon-typical descriptions of violence, some good old fashioned pining, fluff, mentions of grief/death, implications of sex/smut, no actual smut, joel is disgustingly gentlemanly, no use of y/n

a/n:…………I know this isn't the next chapter of flashpoint guys, I know. But this has been in my drafts forever and I had some inspiration to finish off the final part. and now here it is, so please enjoy!! don't forget to let me know what you thought through reblog/likes/comments/asks, I love to hear all of your thoughts aka pls interact with my work or my motivation to write shrivels and dies inside

You had never been a fan of cold, which was funny, considering it was cold in Jackson almost all year round. Even the summers were mild, but you still found yourself aching for them every time the winter came around, nights getting longer and the days getting shorter.

You're standing on the main square in Jackson, hands clasped around a steaming mug of something as you look up at the building in front of you, but more specifically, the men standing on the makeshift scaffolding, working on the building. In your other hand you're gripping a large thermos, almost too large for your single grip, but you manage to keep it between your fingers.

They'd been working on the outer façade of the building for the past two weeks, after part of it had collapsed after a particularly rough storm.

There's a presence to your left as your eyes sweep over the scaffolding, and you turn your head to look at Maria as she lets loose a sharp whistle.

"Come have some coffee," she shouts at those working, and you chuckle slightly to yourself as they start to come down.

"Like dogs," you say jokingly, taking a sip of your mug, "Man, I need to learn how to whistle like that,"

"Don't say that to their face," Maria warns you jokingly, "There's much too much ego to go around in that group to take that with any kind of grace,"

You let out another chuckle, shaking your head with a laugh as you look away from her and towards the people walking in your direction. It was a relatively small group, maybe 5 or 6 men, and as they approach, you recognize Eugene's smile.

"Finally came out of your cave, eh?" he asks jokingly, and you narrow your eyes at him as you lift the coffee thermos.

"I'm happy to take this home with me," you inform him, and he laughs, before he extends an arm and pulls you sideways against him, almost spilling your drink.

You'd been in Jackson for 3 years now, having arrived at their large wooden gates early one morning in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, severely hypothermic, dehydrated and covered in injuries. You'd been barely conscious, almost collapsing onto the snow but managing long enough to explain your situation to the guard on patrol, who had been Eugene. You'd come from California, more specifically Santa Barbara, where the Rattlers, a group of militaristic slavers, had pillaged your settlement. You'd barely escaped with your life, and it had been a damn near miracle that you'd managed the two-week trek on foot with nothing but a handgun and a limited supply of bullets. Your only advantage had been that you'd had to walk across large parts of Nevada, the state in which you'd grown up and spent the first 9 years of your life before the world went to shit.

Hence the disdain for cold weather.

"She's cute when she gets all frowny, isn't she?" Eugene jokes again, and you roll your eyes, albeit jokingly.

"Let's see how cute I am when I shove my boot up your ass," you half-threaten, and Eugene lets out a booming laugh as the rest of the men arrive where you'd been standing, and he looks down at you.

"Cute and violent. . . " he muses, before turning to the group with a raised eyebrow, "Any takers?"

"I'm not cattle," you say with a scoff, shrugging him off of you with a sideways shove, before straightening out, "Now you better drink this coffee before I spit in it, Eugene,"

"I hear ya," he says with a chuckle, taking the thermos from you as you move your gaze towards the group of men talking.

You know most of them pretty well, and you watch as they huddle, taking cups from Maria. Only the two at the back are standing a little away from the group, talking to each other animatedly under their breath.

The Miller brothers had been an interesting addition to Jackson.

Tommy had been here when you'd gotten there, but only a few months himself, and it had been nice to talk to someone who hadn't been living in the settlement for years, already. You'd been fast friends, Tommy's open personality and kind heart matching with your own personality well. You'd watched him fall in love with Maria, even been the one standing by his side as a witness when they'd gotten married. Tommy was easy; and open book, you could almost always tell what was going in his head.

Joel, however. . . Joel had been an entirely different story. You'd only been in Jackson 2 years when he'd first arrived. It had been strange, watching as Tommy had reconnected, albeit not smoothly, with someone he'd only ever told you about. You'd heard stories of Joel, though not many, and so when he came to Jackson, you found yourself slightly disappointed by him. He'd been the most regular man you'd ever laid eyes on, not some superhuman killing machine, and together with Ellie, they'd felt like two feral cats waiting to be rehomed.

Then they'd gone again, only coming back a few weeks later, and you'd known something wasn't right. Ellie had been muted, almost a ghost of the person she'd been when she'd first arrived, and Joel had been. . . you hadn't quite managed to put your finger on it at first, but after a few weeks observing him, some things had started to make sense. He'd had a wound, on his left side, which had been stitched horribly and gotten infected, and hadn't been healing right. You'd never been much of a healer, but when you'd first arrived in Jackson the sick bay is where you'd originally been assigned, to work under one of the few doctors in Jackson, and so you'd been in charge of dressing the wound and making sure it healed, despite Joel's vociferous protests.

You hadn't taken it personally, ignoring his cold exterior and treating him the same way you had everyone else, until finally, he began to accept your help, and your tentative friendship. Still, you hadn't managed to put your finger on what had happened to Joel and Ellie, and every time you talked to him, it felt as though he was holding back, keeping something from you, from everyone.

It wasn't until you'd brought a pair of Joel's pants, which you'd found stuffed into a bag under his bed, to the laundry, and you'd cleaned the spatters of blood running up the side of Joel's pant leg that you'd figured it out. Well, about half of it, anyway.

You'd been discreet, washing the blood off the clothes quietly and without attracting attention, before bringing them with you one day when you had to change his dressing, and dumping them out in front of him.

"Explain," you'd said, your voice calm and your gaze open, raising an eyebrow.

He'd been angry with you at first, eyes widening in shock at the idea that you'd been snooping around in his house, but you had paid him no heed and sat patiently in the chair until his anger subsided and he was ready to talk.

You hadn't judged him as he'd spoken, and when Joel had told you everything, all the way from Ellie's immunity down to what had gone down in Salt Lake City, you'd sat in silence for a second, processing, before you'd nodded and moved onto treating his wound.

You hadn't talked about it past that, but Joel's attitude towards you had changed that day; he'd been expecting you to yell and scream at him, to be horrified at what he'd done and the fact that he'd probably doomed all of humanity to hell in one split-second decision, but you hadn't.

"I understand," you'd told him, as you cleaned his wound, "We all do horrible things in the name of love,"

In that moment, in the face of his horrible confession, you were calm, collected and accepting, and it was the first time Joel had felt comfortable around someone in Jackson that hadn't been Ellie or Tommy.

What Joel doesn't know, is that the minute you came home, you had hurled the contents of your stomach into your sink.

You didn't know what you'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that.

Maybe it had been a combination of the cold-blooded violence you knew he'd committed, and the idea of a cure so close within the world's grasp, but it had been such a deeply visceral reaction you were shocked you had managed to keep your face so impassive for the time it took for you to finish treating him.

Then again, you did understand. Joel Miller was not the only one who had committed atrocities for the people he loved; god knows your own hands were far from clean in that regard.

"Hey. . . you still with us?" comes a voice through your thoughts, and you shake yourself out of your mind, eyes moving up to look straight into Joel's.

It had been almost a year since his first admission, and since then, despite your initial reaction, you had found yourself getting closer to Joel. You didn't talk about it, and nothing had ever happened between the two of you, but it didn't take a genius to know something was there. Not acting on it had been a conscious choice from your side, and Joel had just never initiated anything either, which you supposed was in character for him.

"Yeah," you say, blinking a few times as you clear your throat and give him a weak smile, "Just zoned out a little,"

"You look tired," he offers, his eyebrows knitting into a slight frown, "You sleeping okay?"

"Gee, thanks," you let out in a scoff, and he gives you a look as you cover your exhaustion with a chuckle, "I'm sleeping fine, but it's good to know I apparently don't look that way,"

Joel lets out a breath through his nose at your tone, rolling his eyes slightly at your joke. "You ain't funny,"

The truth? Joel was right, you hadn't been sleeping.

You'd always suffered from night terrors as a child, sometimes waking up in all hours of the night screaming and crying and inconsolable for long period of time until your parents would wake you up and snap you out of it. You'd grown out of them, though, or so you thought.

They'd started up again a few months ago, ranging anywhere from waking up in the middle of the night in your bed with tears running down your face, to bouts of stomach-churning sleep paralysis that would leave you so shaken you wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

"Miller!" comes Eugene's voice from your left, "You want some coffee, or do you get your kicks out of chatting up younger women?"

"He's doing it a right sight better than you ever did," you fire back, almost immediately, "So you really shouldn't be saying shit,"

The men around Eugene burst into raucous laughter, and you watch as the corners of Joel's mouth turn up into the hint of a smile as his gaze moves down to his feet for a second, before he clears his throat and looks back up at you.

"Nice," he comments, and you give him a smirk, raising a confident eyebrow and bowing your head.

"Why thank you," you say jokingly, your chest blooming with the compliment, and he shakes his head slightly with a chuckle, before stepping away from you for a second to get some coffee. You watch him go, eyes following him as he pours himself a mug, eyes running over the expanse of his large hands–

You hadn't even noticed Maria coming to stand next to you until she'd cleared her throat, forcing you to look away from Joel hastily and to her. She's giving you a look, raising a single eyebrow as her eyes move between you and him.

"Not a word," you tell her, and purses her lips with a smile, shaking her head.

"Wasn't going to say anything," she muses, and you roll your eyes, before taking a deep breath.

"I think I'm gonna go,"

"Already?" comes Tommy's voice as he steps towards the both of you with a steaming cup in his hand, "You just got here,"

"I did what I came to do," you tell him, before raising a brow, "I ain't got all day,"

Maria's nose crinkles. "Ain't?" she repeats, before raising her eyebrows at you, "Some of that Texan charm rubbing off on you, kiddo?"

"I resent that nickname," you inform her, actively avoiding answering her question, your underlying tone humorous, "As if we aren't only a decade apart,"

"Hmm," Maria hums sarcastically into her cup, "That's a generous definition of decade,"

"You not sleeping well, kiddo? You look tired," Tommy asks, brow creased in concern as he looks at you, and you let out a groan, hands coming up slightly in exasperation.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, just as Joel steps back towards your group, his ears picking up the tail end of your sentence, "What is it with you Millers? You really tell it like it is, don't you?"

"You look radiant," Maria supplies, and you give her a false, sweet smile.

"Oh, thank you," you half-mutter, before shaking your head with a smile, "But I'm wrecked. . . I worked the double shift for Seth last night and again tomorrow night, so I need to just take a day and sleep,"

"That's fair enough," Tommy says with a grimace, before he gives your shoulder a pet, "Sweet dreams,"

"Thanks," you breathe through a laugh, before you look at Joel with a small smile, "I'll see you later,"

He gives you one of those rare smiles of his own, and it makes his features only more handsome, "See you later,"

Your gaze tears away from him to nod at Maria, who gives you a strangely knowing smile which you ignore, turning on your heel and trudging back through the snow.

Joel had never meant to be standing on your doorstep later that day. Yet, here he was, fingers twitching nervously at his side as he knocks on your door.

He's not even sure you're awake, but it's evening now, the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon and darkening the sky, so he guesses you might be. He's holding a plastic bag of groceries; it's nothing much, just some fruit and vegetables and some sausages he'd managed to trade for yesterday because Ellie loved them so much. But Ellie hadn't been in when Joel had got home that afternoon, leaving a note that she was spending the evening with a friend, but would be home for the night. He'd sat in his living room for a few hours, reading and trying to occupy himself, before deciding he didn't want to eat alone, and packing a few things from the fridge into a bag.

And now, here he was.

At your door.

After almost an entire minute of silence, Joel thinks to himself that you're probably still passed out somewhere, and just as he's about to turn and leave, the door flies inward.

The first thing Joel notices is your eyes. They're wet, as if you'd been crying, but somehow still filled with a groggy sleep at the same time. Your chest is moving quickly as your eyes focus on him standing on your doorstep, and some of the concern in your features melts.

"Joel," you let out his name, and your voice small, and tired, before you clear your throat, "Hi,"

"Are you okay?" he asks almost immediately, frowning slightly at your appearance, and he sounds alarmed, "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," she reassures him, shaking your head slightly, "I was just having a nightmare. . . I'm kind of glad your loud ass knocking woke me,"

You say that last part with a weak chuckle, voice lightening slightly as you try for a smile, "What can I do for you?"

Shit, Joel thinks to himself, and he finds himself rooted to the spot.

"I uh–" he clears his throat, "Ellie isn't in tonight, and, well. . . no one's seen you all day, so I assumed you didn't have any dinner plans,"

"You're not wrong. . . if I have my way it's going to be some stale crackers and cheese," you comment with a grimace.

"Not very nutritious," Joel hums, and you chuckle, nodding, "I'm no chef but I can definitely do better than crackers and cheese,"

Another beat of silence passes, before your eyes go slightly wide and you open the door further. "Sorry, sorry. . . forgot this was the part where I invite you in, I'm still half-asleep. . . come on in, please,"

Joel doesn't need to be asked twice, following you through over threshold of your front door as you disappear down the hall and into the kitchen, back of your hand coming up to wipe your eyes.

Joel isn't often in your house; it isn't entirely your own, and he'd heard from Tommy when he'd first gotten here that houses in Jackson were often shared to maximize space. He'd met your housemate, Bonnie, only a handful of times, including most of that handful when he'd fixed the wobbly bannister of your staircase a few months ago.

The house looks different since the last time he's been, and he can't help but notice new paintings hanging on your wall. They're strange, a haphazard mix of colored strokes with no particular pattern or purpose, but they're nice nevertheless.

"Where'd you get those?"

"You want the honest answer?" you ask, as you step out of the kitchen and watch him looking, and Joel frowns jokingly as he looks at you, waiting for you to go on, "Bonnie and I got high last month and painted them,"

Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead. "You what?"

Your smile becomes bashful as you purse your lips, Joel's inquisitive look making you squirm slightly.

"Yeah. . . " you say, clearing your throat with another bashful smile, before you try to shrug it off, "Eugene has–. . . anyways, it doesn't matter,"

You disappear back into the kitchen, and Joel looks back at the paintings, considering the new bit of context you'd supplied him with.

"You want a drink?" you half-holler, and you hear Joel's footsteps enter the kitchen as you reach into one of the cabinets, "I have tea or. . . gin, honestly. I know you're more of a whiskey man, but Bonnie makes it in the basement, and it isn't even half-bad,"

"You make gin in your basement?" Joel asks, and again you hear the same surprise in his voice as earlier, "Do you also run an undercover gambling ring, or. . . ?"

"Oh yeah," you respond, playing along as you step onto your tip toes reach into the back of the cupboard for two clean glasses, "We also occasionally organize cock fights, they're a big hit,"

Joel chuckles, setting the groceries down on your kitchen table, before he notices you struggling.

"Jesus Bonnie," you mutter to yourself, "Why do you always have to put the glasses in the back?"

"Here," Joel says, and he doesn't even think as he steps towards you, arm extending over yours to reach the glasses you're aiming for, the front of his chest brushing up against your shoulder as he grabs them, "I got it,"

The sound of his gravelly voice so close in your ear, and the feeling of his breath on the nape of your neck, makes you fight an urge to shiver, deciding instead to take a deep breath as you swivel around, facing him just as his arm comes down, two glasses clamped between his fingers.

"Thanks," you say with a soft smile as you look up at him, and Joel nods, eyes looking down and resting on yours for a second. You're standing almost face to face, the front of his flannel ghosting your own shirt. Then, he clears his throat, stepping backwards and away from you.

"I'll try some of that gin," he tells you, and your smile widens knowingly.

"I promise you won't go blind," you tell him with a laugh, and then you're on the move around your kitchen again, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out what looks like an old milk bottle filled with clear liquid, "Bonnie's good at it, believe it or not,"

"How do you even start brewing gin?" Joel asks as he sets the glasses down, and you chuckle slightly.

"We went on patrol once, in Grand Teton?" you explain, "She'd been making vodka by then already, but she saw a juniper bush and almost shit herself with excitement. . . it took us an hour to strip the damn thing clean of berries,"

"She a big drinker?" he asks as you unstopper the bottle, before pouring some of the stuff into both glasses, and you shake your head.

"Not more than me," you tell him, "But it keeps her busy, gives her something to do that isn't just patrol, y'know?"

Joel nods silently, before you hold the glass out to him. He takes it from you, ignoring his fingers brushing over yours and the way it makes his heart skip in his chest. You're not done with your drink, reaching into the fridge to grab another bottle, which looks like juice. It's a rich, dark pink color, and the little sticker on the side has a hastily scribbled 'Cherry' in your cursive handwriting.

"Takes the edge off," you say with a sigh as you watch him read the label, and Joel nods, before he takes a sip of his gin.

It's quite pleasant, much smoother than the bootleg Whiskey he used to drink in the QZ, but as it travels down his gullet, it brings with it a burn Joel knows is going to make him regret drinking it, later.

"You weren't wrong," he notes, clearing his throat after having swallowed it down, "That's actually quite pleasant,"

"Right?" you ask, before you take a sip of your own drink. A sip is generous, and before Joel knows it, you've downed the entirety of your glass, frowning for a second as the liquid burns down your throat.

You can tell he wants to open his mouth and say something, but you're grateful he doesn't, instead putting his glass down with a breath and grabbing the bag of groceries.

"Sit," he instructs you, motioning towards the chair at the dining table that's in the middle of the kitchen, and you don't protest, only moving to pour yourself another drink.

It's silent for a moment as he unpacks the vegetables, but after a second, Joel speaks up as he runs the carrots under the tap.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Joel asks, "That the reason you haven't been sleeping? Nightmares?"

Your response isn't immediate, and it's only when Joel looks back at you and sees your expression that he realizes this may be a sensitive topic. You give an uneasy smile, before shaking your head.

"Yeah," you manage to bring out, pursing your lips, "They're nothing too serious, I just wake up and then I can't sleep anymore, don't know why,"

You do know why. You know that sometimes the dreams are so intense, so scary, that you don't dare close your eyes again, at least not by yourself. Sometimes, you'd go downstairs, and crawl into bed with Bonnie. She'd been there, once, waking you from the middle of a dream while you'd been screaming the house down, and she'd not hesitated in taking you downstairs with her to sleep in her bed after you'd confessed to being scared out of your wits of being left alone.

Joel hums, nodding as he turns back towards what he'd been cooking, and you can't tell whether or not he's bought your lie.

"Ellie not home tonight then?" you ask after a second, and Joel nods, clearing his throat as chops some vegetables on one of your two cutting boards.

"She'll be home later," he informs you, "But she's out now, yeah,"

You give an agreeing hum, and for a second there's another silence that weighs heavy in the room.

"Joel," you let out, your voice a half groan, and he hums in question, peering over his shoulder, "The silence is killing me,"

Joel can't help the chuckle that escapes his lips as he goes back to dinner, shaking his head with a joking air. "Forgot you couldn't handle that,"

"I really can't," you agree, taking another sip, and Joel chuckles again. You watch the expanse of his shoulders and his back under the denim shirt as they move with his laughter, finding your fingers itching to just reach out and run your hand over the smooth lines of his muscles.

"You're in the wrong company for that then, darlin',"

The nickname jars you out of your thoughts, but it does absolutely nothing to quell the desire that had reared its head in your chest just seconds ago.

"I digress," you declare, trying to distract yourself from staring at him too much, "You're a good conversationalist when you want to be, Miller,"

"I'm so flattered you think so," Joel retorts sarcastically, and you smile into your drink, letting out something that sounds halfway between a giggle and a chuckle.

The sound bounces off the walls of the kitchen, and it makes Joel smile, aware that he's turned away from you and you can't see his reaction to your laugh.

"How was your day?" you ask after a second, your voice exaggerated.

"It was good," Joel says simply, aware that it's making you want to tear your hair out, "Fixin' the barn,"

"That was six words, Joel," you say, voice jokingly incredulous, "This is seriously like pulling teeth,"

Joel chuckles again, shrugging his shoulder, before he turns to look at you, grabbing his glass as he leans against the counter.

"Sounds like you got a decent challenge ahead of you then," he tells you, raising a teasing eyebrow as he takes a sip of his gin, corner of his mouth pulled into what can best be described as a troublemaker smile.

You love this side of Joel. Underneath all the rugged, surly exterior, he has something else to him; a witty remark, a teasing smile, a flirty comment. . .he has more depth to him than you'd ever expected at first glance, and something that spells trouble, something that drives you absolutely crazy.

"Never one to shirk from an honest challenge," you say, raising your own eyebrows, before you clear your throat.

Another silence fills the room as you look at each other, waiting for the other to say something.

"Okay," you say in a breath, rolling your eyes, "I guess it's up to me. . .but you actually have to answer some of my questions, okay? You can't just give me a wall of silence," you tell Joel, and he raises a joking eyebrow.

"Wall of silence?" he asks, and you give him a look.

"You know exactly what I mean," you tell him, pressing your lips together in thought, before you give a victorious expression, ". . . in fact, every time you pass on a question you have to drink," Joel chuckles, shaking his head as he crosses his arms over his chest, still leaning against the counter. "I can do that," "Okay. . .what is-. . .," you trail off as your eyes sweep across the kitchen as you think of what to ask Joel, "-your favorite color?' "My favorite color?" Joel repeats, and he gives you a mocking impressed face, "Those keen conversational skills really helping you along aren't they?' "Joel," you warningly, and he sighs, arms uncrossing. "It's green," he tells you, "My favorite color is green. . .what's your favorite color?" "I'm asking the questions!" you say with a small laugh, and Joel gives you a furrowed brow, corners of his mouth pulling into a smile. "Come on, you really think I'm going to let you interrogate me without at least getting to return the favor?" he asks you, eyes boring into yours You press your lips together as you let out a joking scoff through your nose. "Fine, you can ask me questions, too–"

"And If I have to drink when I pass–" he muses, to which you roll your eyes again.

"–so will I," you assure him, before grimacing, "Though with my tolerance, I might not make it to dinner,"

Joel snorts, eyebrows raising slightly in agreement as he turns back to the counter. "You didn't answer my question,"

"My favorite color is yellow," you inform him, and you watch as the back of his head nods.

"That makes sense," you hear him say, as your fingers tap nervously on the table, thinking of what to ask.

"Dream job?" you ask, before adding, "And you can't say contractor,"

Joel is silent for a second. "Farmer,"

You don't say anything, despite your eyebrows raising in surprise, and Joel peers over his shoulder when you stay quiet.

"Favorite season?" he asks, and you smile, giving him a pained look.

"Summer," you say in a groan, and he laughs, shaking his head as he continues chopping, "Which sucks because Jackson mostly has winter,"

"The summers here can be nice," Joel notes, and you let out a breath.

"Sure," you agree, "They can be nice. . . nothing compared to the ones we used to get in Nevada, though,"

"I bet," he notes, and you let out another wistful breath.

"Do you need help?" you ask him, and he shakes his head.

"Think I can manage some dinner,"

"But it'll be faster if I help," you protest, "Come on, I can chop some vegetables, or something,"

"Alright," Joel eventually agrees, and you get to your feet, making your way over to stand next to him, before holding out your hand.

"Put me in chef," you tell him half seriously, but the corners of your mouth are pulled up into that smile.

You're standing close to him, but not so close that you're crowding him. Your smell nevertheless tickles Joel's nostrils in a pleasant way.

Joel's own mouth twitches in mild amusement as he hands you the knife, handle down, and slides the cutting board over. "You chop these, then. . . I'll get started on the onions,"

"Good thing, too," you say with a nod, before getting to work as Joel moves away from you, "Onions make me cry like a baby. . . cutting board is in the third drawer under the stove,"

Joel chuckles as he rummages around for another cutting board and a knife, grabbing an onion from the bag.

"Okay," you hum, nothing but the sound of chopping filling the kitchen, "Any hobbies?"

"I thought you were helping," Joel comments pointedly, and you snort.

"You're not getting away from me that easy," you tell him, "I can help and interrogate, at the same time,"

"That so?" Joel hums as he chops the onions, eyes moving to you for a second and meeting your gaze.

"Yes," you tell him, nodding as a mischievous smile overtakes our features, "I'm a very good multitasker. . . now. . . hobbies,"

Almost the entire bottle and an entire dinner later, you and Joel are sitting on opposite sides of the dinner table, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink. You'd just stood up to reach into the cupboard for another bottle of something to replace the almost empty one on the table, reaching up into the cupboard. The shirt you're wearing rides up as you do, and Joel finds his eyes drawn to the exposed skin of your waist.

"I got one," you declare as you pause from reaching in the cupboard "Any tattoos?"

Joel actually laughs, head tilting back for a minute before he returns with his eyebrows raised but his smile intact. "An old man like me?"

"I'm sure you were young once," you counter with a laugh, and he shakes his head with another chuckle.

"Very funny," he tells you as you pull a bottle of wine from the cupboard, "Where'd that come from?"

"Emergencies," you tell him with a cheeky smile, before pursing your lips, "Or nice dinners,"

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Joel tells you, before downing the sip of gin that was still in his glass, and you hum as you come to sit back down.

"It was," you tell him, and when Joel looks at you, you give him an expectant look, "You never answered my question,"

"I have one," Joel says with a sigh, "But I got it when I was drunk, with Tommy. . . it's a stupid one,"

You let out a laugh as you open the bottle of wine. "No way! Where is it?"

"That's two questions," Joel reminds you, and you snort sarcastically, raising a single eyebrow.

"Didn't know we were actually keeping count, Miller," you retort, and Joel just smiles as he shakes his head, before he clears his throat as he sits up a little straighter.

"It's on my thigh," he tells you eventually, and a grin spreads over your face as you shake your head, before pouring him some wine.

"Classic," you say in a laugh, "I bet it was popular,"

"It was," Joel says in a humorous tone, nodding as he watches you pour yourself a drink, "What about you?"

Your eyes look up at him as your put the bottle down, tongue kissing your teeth.

"I do," you say, deliberately not elaborating, and Joel's eyebrows raise a little.

"I shared, darlin', now it's your turn," he tells you, and you laugh a little, teeth chewing into your lip as you look away, maybe a little bashfully.

When you look back at him, you speak. "I have four,"

Joel's eyes go a little wide as he looks at you in surprise. "Four? How come I haven't noticed four tattoos?"

"It's not that many," you defend, before shrugging nonchalantly, "Besides, they're not in places I usually show a lot of people,"

"Like exclusive access?" Joel jokes, and you give a full laugh, head tipping back slightly as your shoulders shake.

"Exactly like exclusive access," you return in between laughs, and for a second, it's just the two of you, sitting in your kitchen, laughing.

It feels almost normal, like you're just two adults, having dinner; no Jackson, no cordyceps, no apocalypse.

You take another sip of wine, eye calculating as you think about your next question.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" you ask him finally, putting down your glass.

Joel thinks about this one, leaning back in his chair, legs parting slightly in such a way that makes you fight the desire in your belly, pressing your legs together slightly as your heartbeat skips slightly. You fight an urge to blush at your own thoughts, chastising yourself for sitting here drooling over a man that's nearly twice your age.

"Yes," he says eventually, nodding, and your mouth parts slightly in disbelief, mouth curling into a teasing smile.

"You believe in love at first sight? You? Ice King Joel Miller believes in love at first sight?"

"Ice king?" Joel asks, raising an eyebrow, "You're giving me a bad rap, darlin',"

"You did that all by yourself," you note, half under your breath, taking a sip of your drink, and he frowns slightly.

"What do you mean?" he asks you, his interest peaked, and something bashful crosses your face.

"Nothing," you say in a nonchalant voice as you pour yourself more wine, the bottle already emptying way faster than you intended it to, and Joel raises an eyebrow as he sits back in his chair again. It's taking a lot of willpower for you not to stare at the way his legs spread or his arms cross, making the biceps under his t-shirt bulge.

"I'm going to try that again," he tells you, and his voice is almost chastising as his eyes pierce yours, "And this time you aren't going to lie to me,"

"Or what?" you ask him, shaking your head with a small smirk, drinking again. You don't know why you challenge him, but you feel some enjoyment at the way Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead in surprise and he kisses his teeth in mild annoyance as you let out a sarcastic chuckle into your glass, "You going to put me over your knee, grandpa?"

"Who says I won't?" Joel retorts swiftly, and he raises a single eyebrow as his eyes bore into yours.

It makes your heart skip, and something about his level, raspy tone sets something alight in your lower belly, which you try desperately to ignore. Joel enjoys the way your eyes flash with surprise and something he thinks he recognizes as lust, but it's gone so fast he can't say it with any certainty.

You're silent as you press your lips together, before you eventually let out a breath. "It's nothing major. . . just a bit of a reputation you have going,"

"As what?" Joel asks, frown deepening, but eyes still alight with curiosity as he scrutinizes your face.

"Emotionally unavailable, I guess?" you supply, and you try your hardest to keep your tone as neutral as possible, despite the knots of unease in your stomach.

Saying it about Joel was one thing; saying it to Joel? Awkward as fuck.

Joel seems to think about that, staying silent as you fight an urge to wring your hands.

"Listen, it's nothing too bad," you tell him, giving him a tense smile, "I mean, it could be worse. . ."

"Worse?" Joel asks you, almost jokingly, and you grimace.

"Eugene's blacklisted for being selfish," you offer, "That's pretty bad,"

"Blacklisted?" Joel lets out in a splutter, putting down his glass with a thunk, "By who?"

You shrug. "Women talk, Joel. . . this is a small community, word gets around,"

Joel seems to consider this, before he reaches over the table and grabs the bottle from where it had been standing in front you.

"And," he says, pouring himself another glass, "Is he?"

"Is who?" you ask, frowning quizzically, and Joel looks up at you as he takes a sip front the glass.

"Eugene," he tells you patiently, eyes curious, "He really selfish?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" you ask him, before you narrow your eyes at him, "You asking me if I've slept with Eugene, Joel?"

Joel stays still for a second, shrugging. "Just wonderin' whether you have any proof to back up these claims,"

"I have plenty of proof," you retort, giving him a look, "He went on a few dates with Jeannie last year and she told me he barely even touched her when they–"

You stop yourself, clamping your mouth shut and pressing your lips together, before you shake your head. "We're getting off topic,"

"Off topic?" Joel asks humorously, "I'd say we just got on topic,"

"I'm not talking any more about this," you tell him, but the corners of your mouth pulling up into a smile betray you.

"You can't just bring it up and leave me guessing," Joel replies, and you let out a frustrated breath, "Now I sort of want to know how selfish Eugene is,"

"Didn't have you pegged for a gossip, Miller," you tell him, raising your eyebrows, and he shrugs.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, darlin',"

"Hence the game we were playing,"

"Mmh," Joel hums non-commitally, "Still waiting on that answer,"

"Listen, all I know is that when Bonnie slept with him a few months ago, he didn't reciprocate much. . . apparently it lasted all of 5 minutes and not one was spent on her,"

Joel grimaces, nodding in agreement. "That sounds pretty bad,"

"I told you," you say victoriously, and he chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

"You sound entirely too pleased about it," he comments, and you snort.

"I'm not surprised, is what I am," you inform him, taking a sip of your wine, "Eugene is. . . well, Eugene,"

"You seem pretty close," Joel notes, and you don't know if you hear something else in his voice other than curiosity. You raise a single eyebrow.

"You asking something?" you ask him.

"I'm not asking nothin'," Joel denies, putting his hands up, and you shake your head, corners of your mouth twitching into a smile. Then, you let out a small breath.

"When I first got to Jackson, Eugene's the one that let me in. . . I was a mess. . . hypothermic, covered in blood, barely alive, and for all he knew I could've been part of some elaborate raiding scheme, or infected. He had every reason not to let me in, but he did. . . he's the reason I'm alive," you explain to Joel, before clearing your throat, "Maria was furious with him, which I guess I understand. . . she has her own people to protect. . . but he never let up. He didn't even know me, and he stood up for me when they were still considering throwing me back out,"

"I didn't know that," Joel comments, and you let out a small chuckle.

"You know the old bank building?" you ask, and he nods.

"Maria said it worked as a jail but they'd never used it,"

"Oh, they used it alright," you say with a curt smile, "They hadn't learned to train those nifty dogs yet when I got to Jackson, and I was covered in so many cuts and scrapes they couldn't figure out whether or not I'd been bitten. . . didn't matter what I said. I was in there for two whole weeks while they waited it out, and Eugene came to see me every single day. . . Tommy, too, but it took him a few days before he started showing up. . . he'd only been there a few months himself, and I guess he wasn't keen to step on anybody's toes, which I understood,"

"Jesus," Joel mutters, and you can see the flash of unease in his eyes at the thought of you locked up in one of the makeshift cells of the bank, "Not the warmest welcome,"

"I can't blame them," you remark, raising your shoulders in a half-shrug, "It's a miracle this place has survived as long as it has. . . I would also have been apprehensive,"

"But, to answer your earlier question–" you say, clearing your throat as you sit up straight.

Because we both know what you were really asking.

"–Eugene tried to kiss on me once, and I laughed at him, so safe to say we are friends,"

Joel makes another grimace, trying to hide the pleased expression on his face as best he can, but you can still see it in his eyes. "Nothing like laughter to crush a man's ego,"

"Some egos need crushing," you tell him with a single raised eyebrow, before taking a sip of your drink.

"That's true enough," he agrees, before a silence falls over the two of you. After a second, you let out a breath, looking at the pile of dishes in your sink.

"I better do those before Bonnie comes home," you tell him, getting to your feet, "She has a thing about dishes in the sink,"

Joel gives a rare, knowing smile. "I'll help ya out,"

"Thanks," you say with a small smile as you reach the sink, turning the tap on as Joel comes to stand next to you, "Grab that towel? You're on drying duty,"

"Yes, ma'am," he jokes, grabbing one of the towels hanging off the handle of the cabinet.

"Ok, your turn to ask questions, now," you inform him as you start cleaning off some of the plates, "I'm out of ideas,"

"Alright," he says with a nod, before pausing to think, "You never told me what your tattoos were,"

"Now what did we say about exclusive access?" you retort, turning your head to raise a playful eyebrow at him, and he turns to look at you, corners of his mouth twitching slightly. You're practically standing shoulder to shoulder like this, his arm and leg brushing against yours from time to time, sending shockwaves up your spine.

"You tellin' me I gotta find a way to figure it out for myself?" he asks you, and his tone is lower than it was before as he looks at you, his eyes dancing with humor in the light of the kitchen as you give an innocent shrug, sucking some air between your teeth in a teasing sound, lips pulled into an almost-smile.

"Can't just go around telling everyone, now can I? Kinda defeats the whole 'exclusive' point," you muse, and he lets out something that sounds like a chuckle as he raises his eyebrows, nodding slightly as his tongue runs alongside the inside of his cheek.

Joel is so close to you now, you can smell the gin and wine on his breath. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to, his gaze saying enough for the both of you as it briefly moves from your eyes to the other features on your face, lingering on your lips a second longer. You feel something which you think are his fingertips, ghost the side of your hand, which is resting on the edge of the sink, and you swallow as you look up at him.

"What?" you ask him, quietly, raising an eyebrow, and he shrugs slightly.

"I didn't say anything,"

"You're looking at me," you say pointedly, and Joel's mouth curls into a gentle, but teasing smile.

"Is it illegal to look at a beautiful woman?"

You swallow, hard, your chest thumping underneath your shirt.

"Are you calling me beautiful?" you ask him, and to your surprise, he nods.

"Yes," he says simply, confidently, his breath fanning over your lips, "Is that a problem?"

You're silent for a second, eyes looking into his as he watches your reaction. "No,"

The smile on Joel's mouth widens slightly as he leans closer to you, lips getting closer to your.

"Good," he whispers, before he moves to kiss you.

Except he doesn't.

Joel doesn't kiss you because at the last minute, heart beating furiously against your ribcage, you turn your head slightly to the side. His lips barely brush over the corner of your mouth before Joel freezes, which makes you cringe.

Stupid.

Joel pulls away from you slightly to look at you, and despite the amount of drinks you've had, your heart is beating a million miles per hour as you and Joel stare at each other, embarrassment dawning in his eyes as he pulls away from you more, closing his mouth and swallowing.

It's at that exact moment that you hear the front door swing open.

"Hello? You home, hot-stuff?"

Your eyes widen slightly as Bonnie's voice travels through the house, her nickname for you making your cheeks burn. Joel fully steps away from you now, putting quite a bit of distance between the two of you as he steps away from the sink and the counter, putting the towel down on the counter.

"Joel–" you start as you move away from the counter, but Bonnie's voice interrupts whatever you were going to say.

"I was working in the fucking school all day, and then we had movie night," she continues as her voice gets closer and you try and catch Joel's eye, but he isn't looking at you, "I know everyone loves the kid, but I swear little Johnny Raster is such a little cun– Oh, hello,"

Bonnie is a tall and broad-shouldered woman, and even though she looks relatively imposing to those who don't know her, she happens to be one of the friendliest people in Jackson. That's not to say she takes shit; quite the opposite, really, she has an even lower tolerance for it than you do, and you wouldn't recommend pissing her off. She's standing in the doorway, dark hair pulled into a ponytail behind her head, green eyes observing the scene carefully. "Didn't know we were expecting company,"

"I was just on my way out, actually," Joel says, clearing his throat as he gives a slight, curt smile, "Ellie will have gotten home by now,"

"Yeah, I thought I saw the light at your place," Bonnie tells him, and Joel nods, still not looking your way.

"Right, that's my cue, then," he says, clearing his throat again, demeanour beyond awkward, before he looks up at you very briefly, "Thanks for the drinks. . . good night,"

"Good night, Joel," you say, your voice soft, and you try to disguise the undertone of pity.

You want to explain yourself desperately, but something about the look on Joel's face makes you think that wouldn't go down very well right now, anyway.

He grunts out a 'Bye' to Bonnie as he practically flees out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing down the hall before you hear the distinct noise of the front door opening and closing.

"What's with him?" Bonnie asks, one eyebrow creasing down quizzically crunching her face as steps into the kitchen, "He seems even surlier than usual,"

"Don't know," you say airily, and she directs her scrutinous gaze at you as she picks up the bottle of wine, sniffing it.

"That's a pile of bullshit," she tells you disbelievingly, "What happened?"

You're silent for a minute, before letting out a sigh. "He tried to kiss me,"

"And you didn't want him to. . .?" Bonnie suggests, her tone confused as her sentence hangs in the air, before she frowns slightly, "He's hot,"

"I sort of dodged him," you tell her, grimacing.

"Ouch," Bonnie groans out, sucking some air between her teeth, "Well, that explains it,"

"Yeah," you agree, chewing on your lip, "It was really stupid,"

"I mean you're allowed to say no," Bonnie reassures you, "But did you want to say no?"

"I don't know," you tell her honestly, chewing on your lip as your stomach swirls with conflicting feelings, and she hums.

"Well, you better figure it out fast, hot-stuff," she tells you, putting the glasses in the sink, "Because if we can't call Joel when the banister in the hall acts up again, I'm going to need to learn to be a contractor real quick,"

You don't see Joel at all the next day; not in the town, not at the small market in the square you know he usually goes to on Saturday mornings. You think you spot him working on the scaffolding with the same group as yesterday, but you don't go and investigate, partly out of your own embarrassment, and partly out of respect for the fact that he's probably avoiding you for a reason.

Instead you spend the day cleaning the house, and helping Bonnie with her projects, and before you know it the sky is darkening again and you're on your way to the Tipsy Bison for your shift. You don't mind bartending, and there was no doubt you were a right sight better at it then you were at healing.

The bar is relatively empty when you arrive at 6pm, and doesn't start to fill up until around half past seven, when people typically finish up dinner and the patrons start trickling in. To make matters even more crowded, it's Saturday, and given the Tipsy Bison is the only bar in Jackson, Saturdays are usually the busiest nights of the week. Not that you weren't used to it; when you'd started a year and a half ago, Seth, who ran the place, hadn't hesitated to put you on Saturdays almost immediately, because, to quote "Who doesn't like to be served beer by a pretty girl on their night off?"

The people didn't really bother you, and to be honest, you'd gotten used to it pretty quickly, becoming a near expert in warding off any unwanted attention in a graceful way.

"Can I get a whiskey?" comes a familiar voice from behind the bar just as you're filling up a beer, and you look to meet Tommy's kind eyes, your face breaking into a smile.

"Whiskey?" you ask, frowning jokingly as you set the beer down for another patron, "That isn't your usual order,"

Tommy's eyes flash with something that looks like unease, and it takes a second for your eyes to move from Tommy over the bar, eventually falling on the one person you know likes himself a whiskey. Joel is sitting at one of the tables with the rest of the guys, observing your interaction, but when your eyes move towards him, he pretends to busy himself talking to Eugene. Your stomach sinks.

"Ah," you let out, your tone awkward as you look back at Tommy, your smile having dropped from genuine to half-disappointed as your eyes flash with something akin to sadness, "That's because it's not for you,"

Tommy clears his throat. "Look, I told him to just–"

You raise your hand to interrupt him, giving him a small smile as you shake your head. "It's okay, Tommy. . . you don't have to explain anything to me,"

"Right," he says, clearing his throat with an awkward smile as you pour the drink.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask him pointedly, and he nods, swallowing.

"Just a beer for me, thanks,"

It takes a second for you to make the drinks, and you strike up a conversation with him as you do. "You guys finished fixing the building yet?"

"Almost," Tommy says with a nod, "Though we missed your usual coffee delivery today,"

"Sorry," you grimace slightly, eyes flicking over to Joel for a second before they fall back on Tommy, "I, uh–. . . didn't want to make anybody uncomfortable, y'know?"

You're almost positive Tommy knows what went down between you and Joel last night; either his brother told him, or he guessed it when Joel sent him over here to order him a drink, but you can see it in the way his expression morphs into one of awkward understanding.

"Well, I can't speak for everyone, but you could never make me uncomfortable, kiddo," Tommy informs you, and the smile you give him is genuine.

"I appreciate that," you tell him, laughing slightly as you put down the two drinks, "here you are,"

Tommy nods as he picks up the drinks, before he seems to hesitate.

"For what it's worth, I told him he should talk to you about it, at least,"

"Well, you can lead a horse to water. . . " you say with a tight-lipped smile, and Tommy nods with a snort.

"Too fucking right you are," he notes, which makes you chuckle.

"Have a nice night, Tommy,"

"You too, kiddo. . . anybody gives you trouble we'll be right over there,"

"Thanks," you say with a small chuckle.

The rest of the evening goes by relatively smoothly, save for a few over-zealous customers near the end of your shift that you manage to handle, but not before you notice from the corner of your eye how Joel straightens in his seat, eyes boring into the side of your face as he gages the situation.

You weren't surprised; ever since that incident with Sean Mixon a few months back, when you'd first started doing closing shifts on busy nights, Joel had stayed close by. It hadn't been anything too serious, but you'd ended up on Joel and Ellie's porch after closing time on the verge of tears to ask if he'd had any antiseptic for a grizzly looking cut on your arm. You'd gotten it after Sean had flown into a drunken rage and hurled a glass at your head when you'd asked him to leave, and one of the ricocheting shards had caught your skin. It hadn't necessarily been the worst of cuts, but you'd been pretty shaken up nevertheless, and given Bonnie had been away on a night patrol at the time, you'd ended up sleeping on their couch.

After that, Joel had been there every time you worked a closing shift, come rain or shine, always staying all the way until the end. Even though he'd generally leave along with the last customer, you could always see Joel's living room light on and the curtains open as you walked home, sat in a chair reading or playing guitar but always keeping an eye on your porch as you got home.

This evening was no different, and it felt admittedly comforting to know Joel wasn't so angry with you he wasn't here as usual.

You'd spent the last 10 minutes doing most of your cleanup so you could corner Joel on your way out. You'd had pretty much the entire night to think and watch him, which had culminated into you talking yourself into what would probably be a relatively awkward confrontation about what had happened yesterday.

You wait and watch as Joel leaves, not looking in your direction, before you grab your coat off the chair and flick the light off, hurrying out of the door after him.

"Joel!" you call, watching as he stops in his tracks and turns back towards you, "Wait a second,"

You turn back to the door, locking it hastily, almost afraid he'll have taken off by the time you turn back, but he hasn't. He's standing still, half-facing you, hands stuffed into his jean pockets and shoulder hunched against the cold as you give him an awkward smile, jogging to catch up with him.

"Look, about earlier. . . " you start as you level with him, and Joel has to admit to himself he's surprised by the fact you get right to it. He had at least been expecting an attempt at some uneasy small talk.

"It's okay," Joel assures you quickly, hands still in his pockets, "I promise I can handle getting rejected. . . I was just a little caught off guard, yesterday, I thought–. . . well, it doesn't matter,"

"It's not that I'm not interested," you offer, almost timidly, and Joel feels a jolt in his chest at your words, despite himself, eyes moving from the ground to meet yours, "I just–. . . I want us to be on the same page,"

Joel raises his eyebrows slightly, his look urging you to continue.

You wring your hands slightly, letting out a breath that curls into the cold night air as your turns and start walking home, Joel falling into step with you. "Look, I'm not really a dater. . .um–. . . I lost someone I loved a few years ago and it was the most pain I think I've ever felt in my life,"

Joel is silent as you walk, hands in his pockets as he listens to you speak, patient, open.

He can see the grief in your eyes, but also a peace, one he'd longed to find for so many years and had only partially regained when he'd met Ellie. Sarah was a part of him he would always miss; the pain had only gotten less frequent, but it was never gone entirely, lingering within him like a smouldering flame.

"I'm just not eager to feel that again," you explain, giving him a watery smile, "So I just don't really get, er, involved. . . with, people. . . that's why I kind of dodged you, yesterday,"

Joel watches as your brow frowns slightly as you seem to cringe at your own words, taking another nervous breath as your fingers hang by your side, tapping your leg uneasily.

"At all?" Joel asks after a second, and your eyes shoot up from where they'd been on your feet to meet his.

His gaze is earnest, and you can tell he's genuinely curious, too. There's something else there, too, which you can't identify but gives you the nagging feeling you might've read Joel Miller wrong, after all.

"I mean, not at all," you bring out, frowning slightly as the corner of your mouth pull up into a slight smile, "I might be emotionally unavailable, but I'm not a nun,"

Joel lets out a small laugh, steps slowing as they come to a stop, and you look at him with a smile, stopping to face him. It's not very close to him, but Joel's steps carry him a little closer to you, closing the gap further until you're standing face to face.

"Good to know you're still open to enjoying the finer things in life," he jokes, and now it's your turn to laugh, shaking your head as Joel watches the smile on your features.

"Yes, I am," you say with a remaining chuckle, clearing your throat slightly as you look up at him.

"So–" he speaks after a second, swallowing as his eyes draw you in, voice slightly deeper than it had been a second ago, "If I were to kiss you, say, right now–"

His gaze moves for a split second from your eyes down to your lips, "You wouldn't object?"

"Joel. . ." you say his name in half-warning, but you can already feel the pads of his finger ghosting the fabric of your coat, and you swallow, "We can't get involved. . . this can't become a mess,"

Joel hums slightly, and you feel his hand move, pressing his palm over the curve of your waist as his eyes look for yours, "Heard you the first time, darlin'. . . I can be casual. . . that's what you're saying, ain't it?"

You look up at him, into his eyes, and Joel can tell you're fighting with yourself.

You are. Parts of you are protesting that this is a slippery slope, that this is dangerous, and then the other parts of you are drawn to him; his presence, his smell, his eyes. . .god, those eyes. He has an almost irresistible look in his eyes, coupled with the beginnings of that troublemaker smile he has that's oh so rare – but oh so attractive.

It's like a moth to a flame, and when you feel Joel's hand move under the hem of your coat, thumb pressing a gentle circle on your lower waist over the fabric of your t-shirt, you can barely stop yourself from throwing yourself at him right then and there. You draw in a sharp breath, and feel the corners of your mouth pull up into a coquettish smile as you give in to him.

"Well then," you say, and your voice is almost a whisper, your breath fanning Joel's lips, "You going to kiss me then, Miller? Or are you going to wait around for the grass to grow?"

He chuckles, and it's low in his chest as you feel his hand flatten against your waist, pulling you flush against him so your lips are mere inches from his, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. "You got a smart mouth on you, you know that?"

"Trust me, it's good for other things, too," you suggest, your voice half teasing, and Joel chuckles again, his nose bumping up against yours as his eyes dive deep into yours, rich and intoxicating and darkening slightly at your words.

"Well, in that case. . . "

Joel doesn't finish he sentence before he leans in, pressing his lips firmly to yours.

It's everything you imagined kissing Joel would be like, and as your lips move, reciprocating, you feel his other hand come up, fingers ghosting the side of your neck before you feel the pads of his fingers on your jaw line. When you press further against him, his hand moves to cup your cheek, fingertips grazing the hair at the base of your skull, under your ear, pulling you closer to him as you melt against his chest.

Finally, after a second, you pull away from each other to catch your breath, but as you do, you trap Joel's bottom lip between your teeth gently, tugging on it slightly as you pull away from him. You feel his hands tighten around your waist, and it makes the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a smirk as you open your eyes to look back him. He's looking down at you, pupils blown wide and a half-conflicted look in his eyes.

"What?" you ask him, voice almost a whisper, and he shrugs.

"I'm trying to decide if it's too crass to ask to take you home tonight," Joel says, almost carefully, and your smile grows slightly as you chuckle, before you lean in and kiss him again.

This one is longer, more inviting, and your hand moves Joel's from your waist down to the curve of your ass. Joel lets something akin to a groan against your mouth as his fingers dig into your ass, and you pull away from him with another teasing smile.

"I'd be a little disappointed if you didn't take me home, Miller," you muse, and now Joel's mouth curls into a genuine smile as you feel his hand take yours.

"What are we still standing around talking for, then, darlin'? Let's go home,"

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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theforesteldritch · 2 months

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my ramblings on transness, intersex-ness, childhood and growing up

i'm four. somewhere around there. i tell my mom i hate my name. i want to change it to robin, i say. she tells me i can when i'm an adult. i tell her i want my name to be robin now, today. not later. i don't get to change my name. eventually i forget wanting to be robin, or drop it, or stop talking about it. either way, i don't ever get to be robin.

i'm five. i feel wrong. i feel out of place in my own skin, i think. i feel like a poor shadow of a girl. i decide i want to be a princess when i'm older. in my mind, to be a princess, i need to wear a dress every day, even when it snows and i have to stuff the skirt into my snowpants to play outside. princesses must feel like real girls. if i was a princess, i would stop feeling like a snake writhing around in my own skin, desperate to shed. i tell myself that. at recess, we play some running game. i don't remember which one. boys vs girls. i don't want to play anymore.

i'm six or seven. i still feel wrong. i've stopped trying to be a princess. i'm off in my own world a lot of the time. i use the classroom scissors to cut tiny holes in the sleeves of my long sleeve shirts or to clip off a tiny chunk of my hair. during carpet time, i try to touch the hair of the people in front of me without them noticing. my best friend tells me she's a tomboy. i say i want to be one too. she tells me im too girly.

i'm nine. i've sworn off dresses. i reject pink clothes and sequins. i'm wearing a hat that covers my hair and the school custodian calls me young man in the hallway. i don't know why i like that so much. i try to fit in with the boys. i play grounders with them every day after school. i don't know why, but they don't like me. they make fun of me. i still play grounders with them every day.

i'm twelve. the girls around me have started growing breasts and getting their periods. they start getting acne and thicker hair on their legs that they shave off. none of these things are happening to me. i ask my mom for a bra. i don't want to be the odd one out. i feel a mix of relief and shame when i get one. now, i can pretend i'm like them. now, i can try to hide the growing feeling gnawing inside me that something's wrong, that i'm a freak.

i'm thirteen. i still haven't gotten a period. my mom is convinced it'll come any day now. she got hers at eleven, i must be a late bloomer. she makes me bring pads to summer camp. they lie unused in my bags. she does this next year, too, and the next. i try to feel normal. i sneak and use my mom's razor to shave the baby hairs on my legs that still haven't darkened and grown thicker like anyone else. i want to feel normal.

i'm fourteen. the girls in the locker room stare at me with funny expressions on their faces when i say i haven't gotten a period after they badger that information out of me. i ask my parents for deodorant, like the other kids. they tell me no, i don't smell enough to need it. i steal my dad's old spice amber deodorant. it smells like how i want to be seen, i think. i read magnus chase. i see myself in alex, how his gender shifts and changes. for the first time, i have a word, maybe, to describe myself. i'm like her, i think. i'm genderfluid, maybe, like alex fierro. i test the waters and come out to some friends as genderfluid, and then a boy. but i find myself still feeling the same itch under my skin. i'm not just a man, or just a woman, maybe i'm both. i go back in the closet.

i'm fifteen. my doctor is starting to get concerned that i haven't gotten a period yet. he orders blood tests. they think the results are a mistake when they see the testosterone levels. i don't have the symptoms that should come with those levels. i should be going through a male puberty with those levels of t, but i'm not. they do them again. it comes back the same. i'm diagnosed with complete androgen insensitivity syndrome. i feel alone, and like a freak. my doctors want me to get a gonadectomy. i push away how i feel like a snake ready to shed my own skin for a moment. i can't search myself for my gender when i'm trying, i'm trying so hard to get through this. knowing that going on testosterone hrt wouldn't work on me, it would break me right now to admit to myself the truth i already know.

i'm sixteen. i'm sexually assaulted by my doctor while under anesthesia for a biopsy of my gonads. without any hint of remorse or even knowledge of what she did to me she tells my mom that my vagina is still very short, but not as short as she thought on an earlier examination. i will continue to see this doctor. i push her assault down. i push this down. i feel like a freak. i feel so alone. god, i feel alone.

i'm seventeen, i'm eighteen. i know now why i feel like a snake trying to shed a skin. i'm not just a woman, i'm not just a man. i'm both and something in between. but i'm too male to be a girl and too female to be a man. i'm not allowed to be either. i cry sometimes. over how unfair this feels. over how i'll never look in the mirror and see myself staring back. i don't know how i'll get through this. i have to get through this. i have to live for the kid who wanted to change his name to robin. the need to live for her weighs me down like atlas holding up the sky. i know that one day, my grip will slip and the sky will fall. but i'm trying desperately to make that day not today.

#moth rambles #my writing #intersex #trans

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johnnydany · 2 years

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liannelara-dracula · 2 years

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Hi, hope u have a good day. Can you write hcs about studying and school with SMT boys + Kino? (Sorry if it spams there's a problem with my box)

Studying/School/Class w Sakamakis [hcs]

click here for M & T bros post

Hi Love,

Thanks, and you too, so I have to split this into two pieces because it was literally too long. Hope you all like it, this is literally why I haven't done much of anything else because I've put basically all the free time I've had into here. It's finally done though. :)

-Liannelara

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Prompt

Requests are open

Rules

Warning:

*certain words have been/may be censored for Tumblr guidelines.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Shu:

⤵︎School with him:

📓As his gf you are the one who must get him out of bed.

📓And he makes you late sometimes. Most of the time even.

📓“Shu, c’mon we're going to be late.”

📓Rather than getting up, he pulls you in bed and makes you late for school.

📓This causes you two to walk there instead and you scold him about it.

📓“You make us late all the time!”

📓“Next time carry me then.”

📓“Whatta I look like to you? An Ox?” Knowing he’d give a smart answer to that, you quickly added, “Don’t answer that!”

📓He’d just laugh before k!ssing you on the cheek.

📓If it’s winter and you’re cold with tights and a thin skirt/shirt he puts his blazer over you.

📓And if you’re lucky sometimes he gives you his cardigan.

📓But it almost never happens, you dreaming that bitch would take it off.

📓Sometimes he tells you to ditch school so you two can go to a cafe to get food and go to the bookstore in the corner of town. Especially when it snows because he knows you like days like that.

📓He likes to go there and get coffee with you and talk about things that will make you laugh.

📓Although on the days you don’t ditch school with him he likes to race you to the school.

📓 “Loser carries the winner back home after school!” He’d yell dashing off getting a head start.

📓 “Shu! Wait!” You’d laugh trying to catch up to him.

📓You end up losing of course (mostly bc he uses his vampire speed) and lets just say even tho you lost, he just ends up carrying you.

📓I know he seems pretty lively with you but I mean he’s with the woman he loves. He becomes very active with her because she gives him something to look forward to.

📓Plus, vampires are about living in the moment so he’d never waste a moment with you considering you make him happy.

📓Anyways when you two get on campus you are usually hitting him cause he cheated and he’s just laughing.

📓if you’re not a third-year or you just don’t have the same classes as him, he departs after you get your stuff out of your locker.

📓When switching periods he usually is listening to music and you just like to watch him relax.

📓Although typically he notices you first and tries to talk to you even if it's just five minutes. Cause he can’t stay the hell away

📓You constantly remind him to go to class.

📓“Go, I’ll see you after.” You’d smile between a laugh.

📓“Maybe I’ll just speed up the clocks.” He’d grin.

📓”Don’t!”

📓He leaves his stuff in your locker sometimes.

📓Has makeout sessions sometimes with you instead of getting to class.

📓If his stupid brothers try to get you into trouble or if you two do something stupid, he makes sure the triplets get the blame.

📓Keeps you away from Reiji and makes sure you rarely see him tho. Mostly cause he might give you hard time.

📓Although he does like showing you off to him sometimes.

📓Sometimes you sit on the bench before the limo arrives and he sleeps on your shoulder.

📓In the limo you sit next to him and usually it's pretty quiet and he usually falls asleep on you there too and you just play with his hair.

📓If he’s awake (or looks like he’s asleep) his hand is on your thigh.

📓Leaves you notes in your locker sometimes.

📓If you are jealous that girls leave him a lot of love letters he finds it funny.

📓There are probably some girls who have tried to bully you and he protects you from it.

📓Gets away with sucking your b⸸ood.

⤵︎Class with him:

📓He only attends the class because you force him to, only some tho since you can’t convince him to go to all of them.

📓Is always present in the classes you are in with him and he thinks that’s enough effort. It’s really just to have the excuse to see you.

📓He likes to sit next to you because he tea$es all he wants.

📓Plus he doesn’t want to be partners with someone else.

📓And he thinks you’d cover for him if he dozed off.

📓Which you probably won't.

📓If the teacher calls on you and you don’t know the answer he’ll laugh afterward and you scowl at him.

📓Whispers lewd things into your ear as the teacher is explaining.

📓Shares a pencil with you instead of having his own.

📓He doesn’t study and you do.

📓Doesn’t get caught for anything. Like he listens to music in class and no one will know.

📓Will sm!rk if he catches you staring at him.

📓If you two are in music class and you mess up while playing an instrument, he’ll laugh before helping you.

📓He teaches you a lot of secrets about the violin and will k!ss you when the teacher is too busy to look.

⤵︎Studying with him:

📓He is actually pretty smart so if you can’t figure it out, he gives you the answers and you get mad at him.

📓Laughs when you get shit wrong.

📓If you ask him if you’re right he’ll tell you are and then wait till you figure out that he’s lying.

📓He knows how to read stuff in Latin so if you want to know something you’ll ask him but he just tells you perverted sh!t.

📓Like sometimes you’ll catch on and you’ll be mad.

📓”Shu! That’s not even what I’m asking you.”

📓”But it’s what you want to ask me.”

📓”Shut up!”

📓If you two are sitting next to each other his hand is on your thigh, always.

📓Sometimes if you’re doing mental math he’ll just tell you the answer while his eyes are liked closed and he’s relaxing.

📓”X equals 36.”

📓”Shu! I’m trying to figure this out, I don’t want the answer.”

📓If you reach over to grab something on the other side of the table, he will casually lift up the hem of your skirt.

📓“Shu!”

📓“Chill out. I was just checking if you were wearing the matching set today.” He’d say closing his eyes to relax in the chair.

📓“Seriously, someone could see.”

📓“Aww, I thought you liked scandal.”

📓“Yeah the romantic kind, this is perverted!”

Reiji:

⤵︎School with him:

📓You’ll never be late, he makes sure you’re up and ready.

📓Even if you two have sex he’s able to schedule how much time you’ll have.

📓Like he calculates the damn time and doesn’t care if you didn’t climax within that time.

📓“We mustn’t waste too much time. We will have seven minutes.”

📓“But Reiji, can’t we just not look at the time?”

📓“Nonsense, with the data I have collected I have enough to precisely predict your body’s reactions.”

📓“You’ve done what?”

📓“Now, I have laid out this time for us, given that, you should be pleasured enough to release in that amount of time. If you fail to do so you will wait until we have arrived from school.”

📓“But seven is—Ahh!” He wouldn’t give you much time before throwing you on the bed and getting to work.

📓He’ll be very satisfied if he made you cum in like seven mins.

📓And even if he didn’t, it was purposely done to have you wait and ache all day!

📓He’ll totally give you a drug if you didn’t then to make it easier for later.

📓Although he doesn’t always have sex before school that’s only when he’s up really early and has everything ready. And plus it's only if he’s carefully calculated this many, many times and he knows he’ll have time.

📓He checks your uniform all the time to see if you're presenting yourself neatly.

📓Typically points something out just to touch you and adjust it, even if it looked right.

📓If you injure yourself he calls you a clumsy girl and an idiot.

📓One time you actually sprained your ankle after school and kept limping as you two were walking home.

📓Of course you were trying to hide it and not tell Reiji you were injured bc you knew he’d be mad at you.

📓Although he noticed pretty quickly and ended up carrying you home bridal style.

📓And he gets a kick out of it if it’s embarrassing to you.

📓“Reiji, put me down.”

📓There are times when after school he likes to take walks with you at night.

📓Even tho you forget things he always makes sure you have them. Most times.

📓Like if you forget your jacket, a water bottle, umbrella, hairclip, pencil, or a book.

📓There was one time when it was raining during one of your walks after school and he was mad at you for forgetting your umbrella.

📓“What a bother you are, forgetting everything as if you are a child. I told you it would rain, did I not?”

📓“Yes, but I was distracted.” You huffed confessing you forgot, you turned to look at him with your arms crossed, “Still, I’m not a child, Reiji.”

📓He’d grin pulling you closer to him, “Yes, evidently so you are no child. You’re a very . . . irresponsible girl.”

📓You’d scoff hearing this, “And here I was thinking you’d say something worth hearing.” You rolled your eyes about to walk away from him.

📓Before you could walk away he just pulled you in, teasingly asking you, “Did you want me to affectionately tell you what you are to me?”

📓“We’ll it would be nice to hear every once in while.” You snapped back.

📓 “Now why would I tell you something that you are already well aware of? Obviously, if I say so much about you there is an even deeper reason as to why I notice, correct?” He sm!rked, waiting for you to look at him again in the pouring rain and smile.

📓“You can be so complex sometimes.”

📓“Oh, my dear, it’s only for you. Now come here, I do not want my lady cold and drenched because she is simply incompetent.” He smirked, making you scoff as you now approached him to smack his arm playfully.

📓“Reiji!” You’d smile whilst averting your eyes as he laughed at your reaction.

📓Overall, he ends up using his umbrella to cover you both, and you can best bet he’d get his shoulder wet for you.

📓He’s even given you one of his jackets when it was cold outside. Cause you forgot again.

📓Tho he may act mad that you forget things he actually really likes it.

📓Plus I mean in his mind you’re the only one who can be a little stupid and get away with it. It’s kinda like the whole thing of “You can be so dumb, yet for you, I’ll make an exception.” But she’s not dumb she’s just a little carefree which is something he’s not.

📓But he kinda cares less with her, in fact, he’s kinda lively around you. At least when his brothers aren’t present.

📓Sometimes you rush to get ready and he stops you when you reach the front door bc your appearance can be off so he has to do a “thorough check”.

📓He will scold you for getting up late if it happens.

📓You have asked him to ditch school but he takes to much pride in going so he tells you that he promises to leave early that day with you and go on a date instead.

📓But has to fucking attend!

📓When you two are parting and leaving for your next classes, you tend to pull Reiji in by his blazer and give him a goodbye kiss.

📓Then after that he honestly doesn’t want to part.

📓He does sometimes smile at you and pat your head before leaving.

📓And if our bae rei really wants to get soft he'll even kiss your forehead or the side of your temple.

📓If you’re mad at him for the day tho he will put flowers and box of chocolates in your locker as an apology.

📓One very sweet and cute thing about Rei is that he will make his girlfriend cute bento boxes and his brothers are jealous.

⤵︎Class with him:

📓 He is usually paying attention and wants you to do the same.

📓Although he finds himself distracted with you sometimes.

📓Sometimes it’s your focused face that gets him. Or even just when you cross your legs.

📓If he’s sitting next to you he may break the rules of listening to the teacher and lean in to whisper something in your ear.

📓He likes it if you two are partners because that way he can teach you.

📓Especially if it’s science. He will especially love it if you mess up so then he can fix it and help you.

📓When you two are pared up he tends to put one hand on your thigh while the other he has on the paper he is showing you.

📓He will even rub your thigh up and down as long as no one is noticing.

📓Reiji is distracted in class because of you for a good amount of the time.

📓Like he notices so much about you and he literally, practically never takes his eyes off you.

📓But it’s fine because he already knows everything the teacher is saying he doesn’t need to relearn since he has a such good memory as a vampire.

📓So yes you can best bet he’s focused on the girl with the pretty ribbon in her and nothing else.

📓But if he sees you losing focus he finds a way to call you out.

⤵︎Studying with him:

📓He always insists that you study in his lab so he can privately tutor you.

📓Although sometimes you two study in the school's library.

📓But overall as much as Reiji is trying to study and teach you he gets very playful with you.

📓He always makes you guys tea but occasionally the tea he serves is special.

📓I've said this before but orgasm tea is something he created just for you.

📓He slipped it in once and you couldn’t stop yourself and begged him to stop.

📓This @sshole documented how many times you came.

📓Maybe he’d measure the amount honestly.

📓He likes watching you cross your legs to stop it.

📓You were begging him to give you a drug that would stop the feeling but he simply told you he had no cure and that it would wear off in 48 hours.

📓“Reiji, please, just give me the damn cure for this already. Or something.”

📓“Oh, are you not having fun?” He smirked looking up from his lab book.

📓“Seriously, how much longer—a-are you g-going to—ngh! Oh god! Not again!”

📓“I’m only giving you what you asked for dear—pleasure.”

📓“This is anything but pleasure, it’s torture!”

📓He likes it when you’re his test subject and he preferably likes it when you’re naked.

📓“Remove your skirt.” He'd mummer behind your ear.

📓He makes potions for sexual arousal all the time and tests them on you.

📓You’ll be sitting on the counter and he’s in between both of your legs as he gives you something to test.

📓It’s supposed to make you feel sensations at a much more heightened level. He waited a few minutes for it to take effect and then started to run his hands up your skirt until reaching a specific area only to have you act on it quite quickly.

📓“I see it responds quite well.” he'd smirk feeling your underwear get damp.

📓“Reiji!” You'd shriek when being pinned down on his lab table with your arms above your head.

📓Apart from the fact you’re supposed to study he uses you as a test subject as well this way you can help him.

📓Although usually, you find that these lab experiments are anything but related to school, they are mostly just for Rei’s amusement.

📓Has turned you into different animals and you have complained.

📓You’ve even turned him into an animal and it’s been an adventure.

📓He was once a parakeet, who was extremely bratty at times but very fluffy.

📓And ever since then you've begged him to go back into his parakeet form.

📓"Please, just one more time."

📓"Absolutely not."

📓"But you were so cute and fluffy." You’d pout.

📓I have a parakeet who acts just like Reiji so I named him after him and his brother Shu is such a lazy birb its just funny how much DL revolves around my life.

📓So when he’s lecturing and trying to explain something important about your homework you sometimes don’t pay attention so he will hit the desk with the ruler to have you wake up.

📓It's mostly because he enjoys your shocked expression.

📓But if he really wants to get playful he uses his ruler or his whip if you don't listen or get the answer right.

📓I've headcanonded this with @mikalara-dracula that Rei smacks your @ss with the ruler if you get the answer wrong.

📓"So then the answer would be no solution."

📓"What on earth are you talking about?"

📓"Oh, it's not right?"

📓"No, it isn't." He'd say pushing up his glasses as he grabbed his ruler.

📓He'd sigh before approaching you closer, "Stand up."

📓"Wha–"

📓"Do not face me." He'd whisper in your ear with his hands on the back of your shoulders before using his ruler.

📓He does like it if you complain about the pain.

📓Even if you just space out he'll do it.

📓"Reiji!"

📓"Pay attention!"

📓Oh gosh, if you end up moaning from the pain or make a sound that sounds suggestive he can't control himself.

📓One time you two were studying at a table, sitting in the two armchairs. You turned to get up and grab a book and when you bent down to get it he saw the opportunity to use his ruler.

📓He always wants you to use your brain so as you can expect that for a break you play chess.

📓But not just any kind, strip chess.

📓It’s just plain embarrassing. You lose every time.

📓“But I’m no good at this game you win all the time.”

📓“It is to exercise your brain, Y/n. Now please make the effort.”

📓“No, Reiji, it exercises your brain, but it leaves me naked and exhausted.”

📓“If you end up being exposed all the time it is simply because you haven’t learned yet. You know I cannot rest when you haven’t learned something I’ve taught you yet.”

📓“I think the only thing I’ve learned from this is that I’m more flexible than I think.” You’d mumble turning red.

📓“Yes, that has been a remarkable study. Of course, it never hurts to test such a theory again.” He’d smirk whilst you avert your eyes.

📓“Now, try to apply what I’ve taught you.”

📓“Okay, your move now.” You’d say, feeling confident about what you did.

📓You only managed to get rid of his blazer and tie.

📓Once it was his turn he’d sigh before winning again and taking another pawn of yours. Seeing this you sighed and were about to unzip your skirt but he stopped you.

📓“Come here.” He’d grin, putting his hands on your hips as he slid your skirt off.

📓While studying he presses his body against yours when teaching you how to use something.

📓Or even when correcting you with your pencil.

📓In this moment he will even put his hand on the back of your thigh and trail up your skirt and hook his fingers in your panties.

📓He’ll even use this as an opportunity to suck your blood.

📓In fact when he does or when you’re reading, he usually creeps on your shoulder and planting a kiss before biting you but tells you to continue reading anyway.

📓He sometimes makes the excuse that your collar is messed up in the back so he will have you turn around only to kiss your neck, making you surprised and even call him out.

📓Sex in his lab.

📓It’s not all the time but when provoked enough he will.

Laito:

⤵︎School with him:

📓 sex before, during, and after school.

📓He really likes it if you wear a leg garter to school with your outfit.

📓Or if your blouse is really open.

📓He really likes it if you don’t wear any underwear for the day.

📓It will bother him all day at school.

📓He lets you wear his fur jacket to school so everyone knows you're his.

📓Plus it’s also cause he worries about you getting cold.

📓You usually take a bath before getting ready and so he likes seeing you relax while he gets ready.

📓In fact he’ll usually sit next to you by the tub and talk to you. And he’d kiss your forehead before helping you in a towel.

📓I know he’s very sexual but if he’s your bf there are times when he’s less sexual.

📓But you’ll easily get him to be sexual if you take his hat away and wear it on the way to school.

📓Buys you macarons and you eat them at school together.

📓Will sometimes skip school and have you tag along so you two can go on dates.

📓He likes to be on the rooftop and talk to you about a lot of things.

📓 It's also where the two of you make out and have a lot of fun.

📓Keeps explicit pictures of you two in his locker.

📓But would be mad if someone saw them.

📓During the limo ride, he likes to put his hand up your skirt.

📓And this is where Subaru tells him to knock it off.

📓Sometimes plays the piano at school and you like to lean on his shoulder.

⤵︎Class with him:

📓Gosh, he teases so much.

📓He winks at you from afar in class.

📓Wishes you’d sit on his lap during class but you’ve gotten into trouble for it.

📓“It doesn’t matter what the teacher wants. We’re in love.”

📓Speaking of which you two were kicked out of class when making out during lecture.

📓And Rei was so embarrassed and very upset.

📓“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

📓“But Reiji we’re in love. It’s only natural, you know that.”

📓When you two are about to go your separate ways for classes he can be quite petty, saying he only wants to go to the classes that you're in.

📓So you make sure to have him wait in anticipation the next time he sees you.

📓If you sit next to him in class he whispers dirty things in your ear.

📓Would be so turned on if you put your hand on his thigh and whisper things into his ear.

📓Honestly, wouldn't mind having sex at school.

📓"Ohh are you going to play teacher? And I will be the naughty student."

📓Of course his dream would be short-lived as he only got to unbutton his shirt because one of his brothers came in.

📓He likes watching you during P.E. its to the point where he will end up tripping.

⤵︎Studying with him:

📓He likes brain teasers so he sometimes has you do crossword puzzles with him while you sit on his lap.

📓“Y’know baby, I think I need some help with this crossword. Would you mind instructing me?”

📓“Instruct you?” You’d deviously smile. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

📓I don’t think there is a particular subject he likes but he may like English because he will try to have you read erotic novels.

📓Or even if it is something like science he will tell you to use him as an example for anatomy.

📓Especailly when you’re talking about the reproductive system.

📓If you’re confused about a body part he’d use a pointer to direct you to where its located on your body.

📓From the way this is all going it sorta ends up with him pinning you to the floor and having his hand on your chest.

📓Will have his arms wrapped around you and tries to take your skirt off.

📓Might even try to finger you if you’re in his lap.

📓Instead of studying, Laito will begin to procrastinate by putting salsa or tango music and beginning to dance with you in the living room

📓And if you don’t know how to dance either of those, he’s more than happy to instruct you.

📓He blasts the music so loud that it ends up with Reiji coming into the living room and scolding the both of you.

📓And if it’s not Reiji, it’s Subaru and he ends up dissing and telling Laito to turn it down.

📓In fact, Subaru will just break the radio.

📓Sometimes you like to study on your bed and you’ll just be reading your textbook and Laito feels the need to look down at your slightly unbuttoned blouse.

📓And you can definitely bet that you two have gotten kicked out of the library too.

📓He has some weird fetish of having sex in there and getting caught.

📓You once were in there after hours and he tried to initiate that.

📓“Laito we’ll get in trouble.”

📓“Aww, but where’s your spirit, baby? If we stop here I can’t control myself on the ride home. You wouldn’t keep me waiting would you?”

📓“Hmmm, now that you mention it. I’m so tempted to leave you hanging.”

Kanato:

⤵︎School with him:

📓He is usually the one to wake up his princess. He doesn't like it if you get up first.

📓But you two usually don’t get out of bed super fast because of all of the lazy kisses he keeps planting on your shoulders.

📓And from how much he plays with you in bed it's difficult to just get ready in general.

📓Kanato does help you get ready and makes sure you look pretty too.

📓So he tells you to take a bath and relax and all that but afterwards he’s doing your hair and make-up.

📓And he’s pretty gentle with all of this.

📓While he’s doing your make-up he sometimes steals a kiss, at least when putting on soft pink eyeshadow since your eyes are closed.

📓Once he’s done giving you soft curls he will place a kiss on your cheek to say he’s finished.

📓I swear he'd put a bow in your hair.

📓In the limo ride you usually rest your head on his shoulder and if you don't he gently puts a hand around your head and has you rest on his shoulder.

📓So either way your head rests on his shoulder.

📓Likes to play with your hand and nails as he holds your hand in the limo ride.

📓However if one of his brothers points out that he's being sweet he will get upset.

📓“My, my, aren’t you sweet Kanato. Your care for her is adorable.” Laito would tease only for Kanato to get upset.

📓“And my patience for you is thin, screw off.”

📓He likes to kiss you on the cheek as you two are walking to class, or just before you head into a class you don’t have with him.

📓Holds your backpack and usually puts a gift in there or a letter for you to read.

📓Though, he sometimes likes to tease and keep your backpack from you.

📓“Hey, give it.” You’d smile, as he kept keeping it from you.

📓“Follow me then.” He’d smirk.

📓So you may have to run after him for your backpack.

📓“Kanato, give it back. We have to go to class.”

📓Kisses you in the hallway and doesn’t care if it blocks a line.

📓He buys sweets from the cafeteria but tends to eat yours but will share it with you, mouth to mouth of course.

📓Would love it if you made him a lunch box cake.

📓As much as it seems that he’d like you to feed him, he loves to feed you even more.

📓Mostly because he gets the excuse to have you in his lap and be in his arms so he can feed you.

📓He especially loves it if he can get you to blush about the situation and even shy away.

📓No one should dare to hit on you tho. He will give them the biggest death glare while pulling you close to him.

📓Cause we all know how paranoid he is about cheating.

⤵︎Class with him:

📓He likes it when you sit next to him but doesn’t mind if you sit from far because that way he can admire you.

📓However if you set next to him he has a lot more fun.

📓He likes to put his hand on your thigh and rubs it.

📓He even trails up your skirt to have his hand in between your legs which causes you to give him a look.

📓When this happens he usually just whispers things into your ear.

📓“I’ll have you begging later.”

📓He would try to suck your blood in class between you and remind you that he can’t do that. And he gets a little annoyed.

📓If someone is staring at you in class he won’t hesitate to call them out.

📓He is like your bodyguard.

📓He sometimes messes with your hair since you two sit in the back row of class.

📓Especially if you have ribbons in your hair he likes to pull on them.

📓He also likes to put things in your backpack, usually notes about how you look pretty.

📓He really just observes you and gets lost in doing it.

📓If he is sitting next to you and the teacher is busy, he steals a kiss from you.

⤵︎Studying with him:

📓He literally might make you study in a cemetery.

📓Wants raspberry pudding or he cannot concentrate. Period.

📓He’s not that great with grades so you probably help him.

📓Although when it comes to a language like Italian or some other romance languages, he can be helpful.

📓Since he had a spell in Italian I’m now thinking he might know the language soooo….

📓Yeah, this would be his strong suit and he’d be helpful but also teasing.

📓“You know, one phrase people use is ‘dammi un bacio.’ Go on, try it say it now.” He’d say, acting sincere.

📓“. . . uh . . . dammi un bacio?”

📓“You’re a really needy girl, Y/n. Well, if that’s what you want then.” He’d smirk.

📓”“Huh? wait--” You cupping your face with his hands and pulling you in for a kiss.

📓You’d push him off in shock and utter embarrassment, “You tricked me!” You’d pout, making him laugh.

📓He’d push strands of hair away from your face as you’re reading and then kiss you.

📓If he gets really in the mood he will bite your lips.

📓And you’ll get him going if you have your hands on his chest or shoulder.

📓He can be very distracting, he sometimes licks your ear.

📓May try to initiate sex if you two are somewhere peaceful and he wants to do something.

📓Seriously this gremlin has sex a lot and it’s just so surprising.

📓He usually isn’t able to concentrate but if you can he loves to disrupt your focus by telling you what you’re like in bed.

📓I know this seems out of character but after he had sex with Yui, he was talking to her about what she was like and what she did. So I think he’d use this to his own advantage.

📓I could see him shamelessly saying this stuff to you.

📓“You always make such soft sounds.”

📓“Stop! I’m trying to study.”

📓“Stop studying and do something with me.”

📓“I can’t!”

📓A few minutes later he’d just try again, “Your expressions were so cute last time--”

📓“Quit it! It’s gross.”

📓“You know when you try to lie it's cute.”

📓“I’m not.”

📓While studying he sometimes gives you gifts. He once gifted you a small teddy bear keychain.

📓When he reads he has reading glasses so you will witness a rare sight with this.

Ayato:

⤵︎School with him:

📓Gosh you two are always late to school.

📓You sometimes miss school too because he ditches and wants you to tag along.

📓He has tried to make you tie his shoe but you tell him he can do it himself.

📓You’ve offered to help him tie his tie, but he says he likes the way he keeps it.

📓If you can’t open your locker and he can, he feels like such a man.

📓But would be butt hurt if you ended up learning how because he doesn’t have an excuse to tease you about how to use a lock.

📓You’re probably a cheerleader for the school and he brags about you all the time.

📓He always wants you to come to his practice tho.

📓And he loves watching you cheer.

📓It literally distracts him from the game, and sometimes his own teammates yell at him in the middle of a game.

📓And it’s just really funny, he’d probably even run into a pole because he’s so distracted.

📓He sometimes tells you to wait until everyone is done in the locker room so you two can make out.

📓He is very shameless about PDA and holds your hand when you two are walking in the hall.

📓He literally plays tag with you during track.

📓He also likes watching you stretch before running.

📓Ties your shoes.

📓Likes watching you do sports.

📓Ayato gets in fights at school and you do get mad at him.

📓He will teach you how to play basketball if you don’t know how and loves messing around.

📓Ayato will put his hands on your waist when he’s trying to teach you how to shoot the ball.

📓Has made you win sometimes.

📓He occasionally stares at you and doesn't even realize it.

⤵︎Class with him:

📓Pretty obnoxious, especially with his friends.

📓Insists that you’re his partner and would tell the teacher he wants it to be changed if you two are not partners for a certain project.

📓In cooking class he has you do everything.

📓All he does is eat.

📓He depends on you for answers to any quiz, test, exam or homework assignment.

📓“Psst, what’s the answer?” He’d whisper.

📓“Ayato, figure it out.” You’d say hushing him to not cheat.

📓Will ask a teacher if another teacher is chill.

📓He is very loud and tries to troll the teacher in class, especially if he can derail them and homework ends up getting canceled.

📓He embarrasses you by being so obnoxious so you sometimes pretend you don’t know him.

📓Is competitive with you in p.e..

📓Tells other guys that they can’t sit next to you cause the seat is taken.

📓He makes you get into detention.

📓He eats candy in class and tries to offer you some but you tell him to put it away.

📓Will laugh if you fall asleep in class or in study hall.

📓And with this, he will even poke your face or possibly draw on your face.

📓And then you will be so mad.

📓He has a secret handshake with you it looks like this.

⤵︎Studying with him:

📓It’s just so chaotic.

📓He brings snacks and gets food on the homework.

📓He plays with your hair.

📓And with your bra strap if it’s showing.

📓He will poke your boob if you’re stretching and you get so upset with him.

📓Because he is taller he tries to look down your shirt and see your boobs if he can.

📓When you get really focused he likes to poke your face.

📓And always leans back in his chair.

📓Just be aware he is really dumb and so you will be tutoring him.

📓Oh gosh and if you wear glasses he takes them away and you have to chase him to get them back.

📓Or worse, he teases you about looking like his brother Reiji if you wear glasses.

📓”That’s insulting!” You’d say.

📓He sometimes calls Reiji for help because he doesn’t know what to do.

📓However most times he tries to figure things out with you.

📓He makes the excuse to go on break all the time.

📓Is usually bugging you to spending time with him and ditch studying or to give him your blood.

📓“C’mon, do something for Ore-samma at least.” He’d whine.

📓“No oreo, I’m busy.” You’d answer, trying to read still.

📓“Fine, I’m taking the book away then.” He’d say snatching you textbook from you.

📓“Ayato, stop! I need that.”

📓“Then come chase me for it.” He’d grin.

📓“Ayato I’m not chasing you for a textbook.” You’d cross your arms, glaring at him.

📓“Aww too bad then.”

📓“Fine, then no kisses for you.” You’d state.

📓“Whatever.” He’d brush it off, thinking it wasn’t the worst.

📓“And no boob grab.” You’d say, finally getting him to lower his guard down with the book in his hand.

📓“Hey, hold on a sec--”

📓“Hah! I got it.” You’d shout, snatching the book away.

📓“Wha--hey, c’mere you little-” He’d grin, tackling you to the floor just to tickle you.

📓“Stop!”

Subaru:

⤵︎School with him:

📓You constantly tell him you have school and he tells you five more minutes each time.

📓At some point he even tells you to go on your own.

📓You of course try to pull him out of his coffin but he is so heavy.

📓This gives him the excuse to pull you in instead.

📓“C’mon Subaru, we have to go to sch---Ahh!” You’d shriek by his hand pulling you into his coffin.

📓“Shut up, and forget school.”

📓It’s usually pretty awkward considering how your body is pushed up against his.

📓So this always gives him the excuse to grab your ass.

📓Sometimes he gets up on his own but it’s pretty rare.

📓Usually you’ll have try to get him out of bed.

📓You’ve thrown water on him before and he’s gotten mad.

📓It’s rare but sometimes you tell him you’re going to shower and for some reason he has the energy to get up because he wants to join you.

📓Tries to be in the room when you change.

📓And will hide your skirt from you.

📓”Subaru I can’t find my skirt.” You’d say, looking around the room.

📓He’d shrug with a grin on his face, “Guess you’re gonna have to go without it.”

📓Being fed up with him, you’d say, “Find. Then give me your pants.”

📓He holds your skirt up high from you so you’re unable to reach it.

📓“Give it back, I have to get dressed.” You’d explain being in only your blouse and underwear.

📓“Then take it.” He’d grin, holding it out to you only to take it back.

📓You’d roll your eyes at him only for him to add, “Wait. First, turn around.” He’d smirk.

📓“No! I need to go to school.”

📓“Alright then, good luck getting this back.”

📓“Ugh fine,” you’d say turning around as he approached the back of you, “Now give it back.”

📓“Okay, here.” He’d grin playing with the seam of your underwear that rests on your ass only to pull it back and have it slap against your skin.

📓“Subaru!”

📓You two usually take the limo and are pretty quiet but he sometimes listens to music and gives you the other earbud.

📓He tries to make excuses to have you sit in his lap.

📓When you get up from a seat he has a habit of pulling your skirt.

📓One time he ripped your skirt, he says it was on accident but you can’t believe him.

📓You were so mad at him that day.

📓And he just took advantage of that by teasing you.

📓“Heh, bet you were hoping I’d rip it more.” He’d smirk.

📓“Shut up!” You’d shout.

📓“I could just rip your shirt and make it even.” He’d add.

📓“Quit it!”

📓He sometimes carries your bag for you but makes fun of the charms you have on it.

📓“Tch, thought only kids had these.”

📓“Shows how old you are.” You’d tease.

📓“Watch it.”

📓If you did your hair, he’s going to mess it up. Like if you put a ribbon in it, he’s going to pull it out.

📓He walks with you at school but never really hand in hand.

📓He prefers you walk beside him but you sometimes hug one of his arms.

📓Just to annoy him.

📓But he also likes to walk with his arm around your waist or with a hand on your ass.

📓His locker is far away from yours but he comes by and will make fun of your locker if it looks cute or has girly things in it.

📓It would secretly warm his heart/get him cocky if you have a photo of you two in your locker.

📓Likes towering over you and corning you against the lockers.

📓Literally blocks your way to class in the hall cause he’s that annoying.

📓Will fight a guy if he’s hitting on you.

📓He sometimes walks home and doesn’t wait for you.

📓Subaru walks so fast it’s unfair.

📓Literally makes fun of you for being slow and says he’ll suck your blood if you’re too slow.

📓“Not my fault you can’t keep up.”

📓“You have long legs, asshole.”

📓”Heh, and yours are easily opened.”

📓”Shut up!” You’d say playfully hitting him, leaving him to laugh.

📓While walking home, he might even try to ditch you and sneak up behind and give you a scare just to piss you off.

📓If on the way back home there’s a shopping square and you wanna stop by for a while, he’s a little annoyed but doesn’t mind it too much.

📓You make him carry the bags lmao and he can’t help but complain.

📓“I thought we were going home.”

📓“Well yeah, but you’re also gonna play bellhop along the way.”

⤵︎Class with him:

📓He likes to kick your seat and tug at your hair just to annoy you.

📓He stares at you from behind.

📓Subaru is the kind of guy who will stare at you in class but then will look away when you look.

📓He’s literally so annoying he “accidentally” drops his pencil and knows you’ll pick it up.

📓This is all just for him to get a view of your ass

📓In P.E. he watches you stretch or practice dance.

📓And if he’s your partner he makes a lot of comments while he’s helping you stretch.

📓“You know this position makes you look really vulnerable.”

📓”Shut up!”

📓Sometimes during P.E. he likes to mess around and pick you up.

📓“Stop put me down!”

📓He’d literally drop you or act like he would but then he’d stop you from getting hurt.

📓He won’t admit it but he likes giving you a piggyback ride when you walk back home.

📓And he’ll tell you you’re heavy just to make you upset.

📓Calls you pipsqueak if you’re a lot shorter than him and you argue with him.

📓Honestly whenever your mad at him he loves calling you that.

📓He’ll even say it in the hall with other people around, “C’mon pipsqueak, I didn’t mean it.”

📓“Don’t call me that.” You’d frown, walking to your other class.

📓Sometimes he tries to ditch you to make you upset but you usually just find it as a way to do some girl stuff you haven’t been able to do.

📓He passes you notes in class and it usually annoys you or makes you blush.

📓They say things like, “nice ass” or “what color is your bra?”

📓Likes it when the teacher calls you out because after class he can say that you were being a bad girl.

⤵︎Studying with him:

📓Hides your textbook or pencil to keep you from studying.

📓He tells you the only way you’ll get it is through staying over for the night.

📓Always tries to sneak a hand up your skirt and rub your thigh.

📓He especially likes it if you bend down or if you're trying to get a book from a high shelf because he can lift your skirt up.

📓If you’re wearing a low-cut top and you stretch across the table to get something he will just admire the view.

📓He’d literally try to aim his eraser in between your boobs.

📓When you’re reading he likes to come behind you and grope your boobs just to catch you off guard.

📓When you’re trying to write stuff on your paper he likes to pepper your face and neck with kisses, especially if you're ticklish.

📓Literally loves it if you’re ticklish and will poke your sides all the time when you’re trying to figure something out.

📓He will fake yawn when you’re explaining just to get you to glare at him.

📓You doodle on your page and he makes fun of you.

📓“Aww, are you drawing me?” He’d tease.

📓If you are working on the whiteboard or blackboard he can be so annoying so you sometimes write things on the board as a response to him.

📓Hence the photo in the mood board.

📓And he just laughs.

📓When he knows the answer and you don’t he tries to confuse you.

📓You two don’t really get to study.

📓If you bring or make snacks he just steals them from you.

📓He copies your answers since he doesn’t really care.

Kino:

⤵︎School with him:

📓You two are late more than half of the time.

📓And he will blame you and you just glare at him.

📓He wants you to make him lunch and you sometimes do.

But if he makes you mad, you end up making it inedible. Just depends on how mad you are and what he did.

📓Although it is pretty rare you usually tell him to order some from the cafeteria.

📓Ties your shoes, he likes doing it for some reason.

📓Likes listening to some albums with you in the car.

📓And he’ll definitely change the song that you like on purpose.

📓You take his blazer sometimes when you’re cold.

📓He likes to skateboard to school and so you are either learning how to skateboard or you already know how.

📓Would laugh so hard if you fell though. Like, he’d be a total ass about it.

📓And if by chance he caught it on film, he’s fuckin’ posting it.

📓Oh no, dude. He sucks.

📓Because he’s on his smartphone a lot he likes to take videos during your walks and so you’re on his vlogs a lot.

📓“Hey babe, say hi to everyone.”

📓You’d just roll your eyes at him and being fed up with his bs.

📓Likes to ditch school and pressures you to go with him to the skate park or arcade in town.

📓He is always on his phone though and he definitely likes to take photos of the two of you.

📓If you’re mad at him and you walk by him in the hall he will randomly smack your ass to get your attention.

📓“You know I’m still mad at you!”

📓“What? I thought you were over it.”

📓Tries to grab your ass when you two are sitting on a bench.

📓Complains that he hasn’t seen then you in a while but it’s only been an hour since last period.

📓“I haven’t seen you in a while.” He’d whine, giving you a kiss.

📓“Kino, I saw you an hour ago.”

📓Follows you around, even in the girl’s bathroom.

📓“Uh ladies' room, Kino.”

📓He makes out with you to make you late to class.

📓Being his girlfriend means you will be in the principal’s office often.

📓And you usually have to bail him out, but sometimes he gets you in trouble.

📓He takes the blame but he sometimes blames it on you.

📓Like one time the principal caught you two making out in the hall when class was in session and Kino just blamed you.

📓“Sir, it’s all her fault. She was all over me, I couldn’t stop her. I didn’t think it was right to put my hands on a girl either.”

📓You’re honestly so embarrassed you can’t even look at him when he was the one who started it. In fact, you're upset but the principal knows that this is just Kino being an idiot and you’re innocent.

📓In the cafeteria if you guys have some food that he doesn’t like he will rub it on your cheek or nose.

📓Only shares his guava juice with you.

📓Would fling your tray across the room if he saw that the cafeteria was serving sausages.

📓“Kino, that was my food.”

📓“It doesn’t matter, just have my bread.”

📓Gets into food fights with Ayato and they get you involved which is one of the reasons why you get into trouble.

📓If Ayato doesn’t have a girlfriend, Kino likes to piss him off by kissing you in front of him.

⤵︎Class with him:

📓Always gets you in trouble.

📓Makes sure you both get into detention.

📓Plays with your hair.

📓“Stop it.” You’d turn around to slap his hand away.

📓when the teacher hands back tests and he gets a higher score he is very annoying about it.

📓I mean he gets so in your face about it that if you have food nearby you’ll throw it at him.

📓If he’s sitting next to you in class and the desks keep you two very close he tries to touch your ass.

📓While you are focused in class he will carefully untie your shoelaces and have you trip once you get up.

📓This way he has the excuse to catch you and say, “See? What would you do without me?”

📓Other times he’ll have you fall and then help you up.

📓If you’re in class and he’s not there he approaches the window and makes funny faces to try to get you to laugh.

📓He will sometimes mouth perverted things and you flip him off.

📓And it's all fun and games till the teacher asks what’s going on.

📓The teacher does separate you two often because Kino is so annoying that you get distracted and he will continue to pester you even if you’re far away, he will just text you in that case.

📓He literally spams and sexts you too much.

📓If the teacher catches on he makes the excuse that he can’t think without you.

📓“But you don’t understand, I can’t focus without her.”

📓And this just causes you to bury your face in embarrassment.

📓 Afterwards you won’t talk to him when you get out of class.

📓If you have extra curricular activities he will be there to embarrass you.

⤵︎Studying with him:

📓Super obnoxious, rather than studying he’s making vines or scrolling through TikTok.

📓And he tries to include you in them.

📓“Babe, come over here and try this dance with me.”

📓“Kino, seriously?”

📓“C’mon it’ll be fun.” He’d say, hoping to convince you.

📓The only way to get him to study is through putting consequences if he gets the answer wrong.

📓And they have to be sexual to have him get interested.

📓“Ah man, this stuff is lame.”

📓“Yeah, well what if I told you that for every right answer you can do whatever you want?”

📓“So you’re like applying a game to it? Alright, that’s kinda sick, so whenever you make a mistake I get to punish you.”

📓“I didn’t say it was sexual.”

📓“It is now.”

📓He sometimes reads porn magzines instead of studying and you are so annoyed.

📓“Man, I didn’t know you could do this. Hey, take look a this.” He’d say, handing the book to you.

📓“No!” You’d argue, pushing the it away.

📓“What? It’s interesting. C’mon you should really take a look at this.”

📓“No Kino. Gosh, I regret telling you to study. Just play a game.”

📓“But I wanna play with you.”

📓 “Kino!”

📓He honestly can never be silent either, he always wants to talk.

📓Overall, you really can’t study with him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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desertfangs · 4 months

Note

For the writing prompt thing: "may I have this dance?" with Lestat/Daniel

I know this took me a millennia to get to so I appreciate your patience. I'm still working on the rest of these as well. This is some Court Angst with Lestat/Daniel, featuring Louis/Armand, Louis/Lestat, and Armand/Daniel. All the angst and drama of that weird New Court Era. About 1600 words. Thank you for the ask/prompt!

Daniel shifts the collar of his shirt, trying in vain to loosen it. When that fails, he tugs at the hem of his velvet doublet instead. Marius and Armand had been delighted to dress him in purple finery and hose and Daniel enjoyed the process, but now that he’s stuck wearing the outfit all night, he feels awkward and uneasy, like he’s wearing a costume.

Of course, everyone is dressed in various styles of historical finery. Pandora wears a bright orange dress layered over a cream-colored one, sandals on her feet, hair up like a Roman goddess. Marius is dressed in similar fashion, in a red and orange Roman tunic, his blond hair loose around his face, while Armand’s outfit is similar to Daniel’s, though rich blue in color, and his auburn hair is long and loose around his pale face. Daniel watches as his maker moves effortlessly across the room toward Louis, who looks like he’d stepped out of the French court in the 1700s. He pushes down a flare of envy at how Armand gravitates toward Louis so automatically these days.

He continues scanning the crowd and spots Lestat not far away. Lestat is wearing leather: leather pants with studs on the pockets, a torn white shirt, and a leather jacket. It’s an interesting choice, given that most of the others look like historical reenactors, although an argument can be made that the 1980s are now a historical period. That’s a strange thought, and Daniel looks down at his own outfit, fashion from over five centuries before. How long until Lestat’s wannabe Billy Idol attire will look as antiquated? He laughs at the idea.

Lestat raises an eyebrow and glances his way. He’s talking with Alain and Gregory, but he excuses himself and makes his way over to Daniel, who’s hovering against the wall.

“Something funny, Molloy?” Lestat asks, expression hard.

Daniel grins at him. “Just thinking how you look like you’re planning to host the MTV Video Music Awards.”

Lestat frowns. “Do they still do those?”

Daniel shrugs.

“I’d make an excellent host. Perhaps I should call my agent.”

Daniel roles his eyes.

Lestat smirks. “Although I see you’ve opted to dress like one of Marius’ kept boys. I’m sure he’s thrilled.” Lestat leans in and speaks right into Daniel’s ear. “No doubt he’s eager to get you alone.”

Daniel elbows him in the side. “You’re the one in tight leather pants. Who are you hoping to lure in your bedroom this evening, huh?” Lestat turns his head almost automatically toward Louis and Armand, who are now dancing together in the middle of the dance floor. He stares at them for so long that Daniel adds, “If it’s Armand, you’re working too hard for it.”

Lestat jolts, pulled from his thoughts. Daniel can’t read them since they both have their mental walls up but he can guess. He’s looking at Louis longingly, as if they’re estranged. Funny, because they were walking together in the village just last week. Wasn’t it last week? Time seems to compress itself here at Court, especially in the winters when the snow can be relentless.

“Armand does look delectable in his little Venetian boy attire. I suppose you two make a nice matching set. Perhaps it’s your maker who has designs on getting you alone, hm?” Lestat smiles wickedly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I think he and Marius just like to put me in anything but jeans and t-shirts,” Daniel says honestly. Although both of them did give him long looks earlier this evening.

The music switches from classical to a pop song Daniel recognizes. He thrusts his hand out toward Lestat. “May I have this dance?”

Lestat takes his hand without hesitation and leads him to the dance floor, positioning them suspiciously close to Armand and Louis, who, with the change of music, are no longer clinging to each other. But they still dance together, a modern sort of dance common in nightclubs, which looks all the more fascinating in their getups. Daniel realizes he must look the same way.

Lestat bops to the beat, moving right into Daniel’s personal space, practically grinding on him. It’s hot as hell and Daniel moves with him.

Armand catches sight of Daniel and smiles at him until he sees who he’s dancing with. Then his expression turns stoney. Annoyed, maybe, or even jealous, though which one of them he’s jealous of is anyone’s guess. So many little jealousies here at Court, when everyone has so much love for each other. But then, Daniel is not immune.

Hell, even seeing Armand dance with Louis now brings up those old feelings of resentment and loss, his frustration that Armand found such solace in someone else’s arms, while Daniel, mad and out of his mind, was hardly a blip on his radar.

Lestat grabs Daniel’s face and turns his head so he’s looking at him, right into those intense blue-gray eyes. He smiles and then leans in, kissing him on the mouth before Daniel knows what’s happening. Not that he’s going to complain. His lips are soft and pliant as they move against Daniel’s, his tongue sliding into Daniel’s mouth eagerly. Daniel kisses him back, arms winding around him and soon they’re not dancing at all, but standing in the middle of the dance floor making out. Daniel pulls back when he realizes it, cheeks heating as they undoubtedly go a little red.

Everyone is watching—of course they are! Lestat is the prince, everyone is always watching what he does!—but most of them have the decency to pretend not to be. Louis and Armand have stopped dancing, too, and Louis turns and walks away.

Armand looks angry.

Daniel isn’t sure why. It’s not like he and Lestat haven’t kissed (more than kissed) plenty of times before. Lestat turns and disappears into the crowd. Uneasiness worms through Daniel’s gut and he feels like he’s been played somehow, only he doesn’t know what the game is.

“Sorry,” he mouths at Armand, who probably doesn’t see; he’s too busy staring daggers at Lestat’s retreating form. Yeah, Daniel definitely missed something. He slips off the dance floor, face flushed, and follows Lestat out of the ballroom and down the hall. He finds him standing out on a balcony. The air is freezing and a fresh coat of snow glitters on the ground down below.

“What the hell was that?” Daniel demands.

“I thought you always enjoyed our little dalliances.” Lestat keeps his back to him so Daniel walks up beside him and sees him clutching onto the railing.

“What’s going on between you and Louis?”

Lestat looks mildly surprised. “Doesn’t your maker tell you everything? You two are always sneaking off into dark corners and having intimate little meetings.”

Daniel swallows uncomfortably. They’re off in corners, yeah, making out and actively not talking, because talking leads to dredging up all the shit they’ve yet to work out between them. Talking leads to fighting. They steal away into the nooks of the Chateau to kiss and touch in a setting that’s not conducive to talking. Daniel knows they need to move on from that but things are still new and strange, and the kissing is nice.

“He didn’t mention anything,” Daniel says.

Lestat stares at him, as if trying to judge if he’s lying. Then he turns around and hops onto the ledge of the railing, sitting on it effortlessly. “Louis is here to be my royal consort and yet as soon as your maker arrived, they’ve been inseparable.”

Daniel sighs. That’s a bit of an exaggeration but Daniel understands what he means. Armand and Louis spent so much time together that they are entwined now in a way that Daniel and Armand used to be. He feels Lestat’s frustration. His jealousy. And he hates that he does. Armand and Louis were together long before Daniel was even born. It’s not their togetherness that incites such envy, but rather how they seem like a unit now, two parts of a set, and Daniel doesn’t know where he fits anymore. Obviously Lestat feels similarly.

“Louis came here for you,” Daniel points out.

“Did he?” Lestat scoffs.

“Yes,” Daniel says. Daniel remembers how hurt Armand was by Louis’ decision to do so, and how, though he refused to say so, he hadn’t wanted Louis to leave Trinity Gate.

Lestat is silent for a long moment. Then he reaches out and brushes a stray hair off Daniel’s velvet top. “He’s acting as if he doesn’t want to be here.”

Daniel shakes his head. “He’s dressed in finery and at a ball at your behest. He’s making an effort.” Daniel looks down at his own clothes. “We all are. This is all so new. It’ll take some time to acclimate.”

Lestat considers.

“Tell you what,” Daniel says, “I’ll go pull Armand into a corner for a bit and give you a chance to steal Louis away for a dance or two.”

Lestat smiles. “Please. I can steal him from the little imp’s grasp anytime I desire.”

“Then why are you out here sulking?” Daniel asks.

Lestat punches Daniel in the shoulder. Daniel rubs his arm. Lestat jumps down from the balcony. “But you make a good point. I need to help Louis see what his role here at Court is meant to be.”

Lestat grabs Daniel and kisses him on both cheeks, and then the lips again. Then he stalks off back toward the ballroom, leaving Daniel out on the balcony alone. He smokes a cigarette and then heads back inside.

When he reaches the ballroom, Louis and Lestat are dancing in the center of the room. Armand is off to the side, watching them with his intense amber eyes. Daniel touches his shoulder. He nods at the exit and then takes Armand’s hand in his and leads him out of the ballroom. Lestat spots them heading out and gives him Daniel a wicked smile.

#daniel molloy #lestat de lioncourt #lestat/daniel #armand/louis #armand #louis de pointe du lac #loustat #louis/lestat #armand/daniel #vc fanfic #vc fic #court era #prince lestat #prince lestat era #tvc #the vampire chronicles #my fic #prompt meme #prompted fic

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shyficwriter · 10 months

Note

8 & T - Yondu X daughter reader ❤️

Thanks for the prompt! 8. Snow down back of neck T. Tickling [Send me a prompt and I'll write a drabble]

***

"Zip up your jacket." Yondu scolded you flatly as he locked up the ship.

You ignored him and continued chattering about the winter festival that would be happening in the nearby town the next day and how excited you were to see the lights. "I read that the trees look like mini nebulas they're so bright!"

Yondu had decided to take the crew on the rare vacation that wasn't on Contraxia. Currently most of his men were in the town drinking it up and the two of you were heading to join Kraglin and Peter by an out-of-the-way ice-fishing hole that Yondu was familiar with. He had sent them ahead to set up while he and you stayed back to repair your collapse-able fishing rod.

Yondu knew the repair would have actually only needed maybe five minutes to complete, but hey, it got him out of having to saw holes in the frozen lake and he knew you wouldn't complain either.

Now the two of you were on your way to join them, following the tracks they had left in the snow.

"Eh- probably exaggerated to bring in tourists," Yondu said, responding to your earlier comment about the lights.

"Can't you let yourself be excited for once?" you half-whine, half-tease.

Yondu glanced at you with a grin. "Nope."

You playfully punch him in the arm.

He returned your playful punch, and told you again to zip up your jacket.

Again you ignored him, a mischievous grin forming on your lips as you allowed yourself to fall behind in your pace just long enough to quickly grab some snow from the ground before recovering your pace to rejoin him at his side.

You turn the subject towards a job you knew was coming up after this vacation would be over, asking about the planet it was to be set on. This, of course, was just a means of distraction before you enacted your mischief. Nothing big. Just a little snow down his back... heck, you could probably blame one of the trees overhead for it.

Yondu starts to answer, and you think you're in the clear to pull off your prank, but the second you go to raise your arm he reaches out and grabs your wrist, making your hand open on instinct and drop its snow.

He turns to you with an eye roll and a smirk, still holding your wrist. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice? You gotta be sneakier than that, kid."

It takes a second for the shock to wear off, but once you recover you return his smirk with one of your own. "Or have a good backup plan!" and with that you swung your other hand up over his shoulder and shoved the other handful of snow you had grabbed down the back of his coat, sure that you possibly even made some of it go down into the back of his shirt.

Yondu's eyes widened and he recoiled as soon as the cold hit his skin, immediately releasing your wrist so he could reach back and attempt to fish out any un-melted snow- though of course that was a lost cause.

In the meantime you just stood there, laughing your ass off.

After a moment Yondu turns back toward you and narrows his eyes. "Betcha thought that was real funny, didn't ya? Real proud of yerself, ain't ya?"

Still giggling, you nod. However, your giggling slows once you notice the look on his face.

He steps towards you and just glares at you for a moment. By now you had stopped giggling and started to wonder how many toilets he was gonna make you clean back on the Eclector for your little stunt.

The silence hung for a good couple moments before Yondu spoke. Eyeing you, a playful smirk played on his features as he asked, "Thought I told you to zip up your jacket?"

You only just had time to look down before Yondu lunged for you, his hands quickly flying past your open jacket, latching onto your ribs, and sending you into hysteric laughter as you tried to fight him off.

You squealed out a "No! No fair!" as he continued to tickle the snot out of you.

"I think it's more than fair, missy!" he laughed. "You ignored me twice about zipping up your jacket, and then you shoved snow down my back! Far as I'm concerned that's three strikes against ya right there! If anything I'd say I'm going soft on ya!" with that he moved his hands up to tickle under your arms, which practically made you scream as it was one of your worst spots.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" you squeal out, grabbing his wrists, but unable to push him off you.

"Yeah, bet you're really sorry. Sorry that you got caught, and sorry that you didn't zip up your jacket when I told you too!" he laughed.

Through your hard belly laughter you manage, "I give! I give up! I'm sorry!"

"Ya gonna do it again?"

"No!"

Yondu finally released you. "That's what I thought. Now get your jacket zipped, it's cold out here."

Still giggly, you finally obey his command and zip up your coat. "That was so mean!" you whine, punching him in the arm again.

"Yeah, you deserved it, brat." He answered with a smile and pulled you into a side hug and ruffled your hair. "You're lucky I didn't decide to bury you in the snow and leave ya there."

You simply stick out your tongue in response, and after he playfully shoved you in the shoulder in response to that, the two of you continue on your way to meet the others at the fishing hole.

#christmas writing prompts #drabbles #gotg fanfiction #papa yondu #yondu x reader #yondu fanfic #dad!yondu #daughter!reader

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slicznymartwy · 1 year

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Hello, can I request Billy Lenz with an s/o who is also a murderer? Like one of the members of the sorority had snapped and started killing or maybe Billy accidentally witnesses a murder when he's out of the house and develops an obsession? Love your writing!!!

fish .. ur so genius as always. i loved writing this so much, like genuinely i want to expand on this more one day .. just 2 very sick people against the world ueueue warning: brief mention of suicide/self harm, bullying, the sorority sisters are kind of mean in this one im sorry T T u guys know i love all of them, minor oc character death (she deserves it)

☾⋆⁺₊ billy lenz x gn!reader

The puddle shimmers under the dim light coming from your bedside lamp; it’s a mix of glitter and little shards of glass that get swept up in the spreading fluid. The base of the snow globe lays in the rubble, the little Bambi figurine is broken too. You can see his decapitated head lonely on the floor.

“Oops,” Susan says. You can’t stand to look at her, but it sounds like she’s smiling. This must be really funny to her, you think to yourself, still watching the snow globe’s blood spread.

Your hands tighten into fists. Your breath shudders. Your ears are still ringing from the sound of your most precious treasure shattering on the floor.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to cry,” Susan goads, but your eyes feel dry. You used to cry when her bullying began. She would stand on the other side of the bathroom door and let you hear how hilarious she thought you were being. You hate her laugh. It’s ugly, like a braying horse spooked in its stable. No one else seems to mind it, though. None of your sorority sisters ask her to stop, even when she’s laughing so hard that she cries too.

Your father bought you that snow globe. He used to shake it up for you then put it in your hands, making you promise to be careful with it. He died when you were ten. The glitter in Bambi’s eyes makes it look like he’s weeping for you.

“It’s just a piece of shit toy, anyways. You’re too old for a stupid Bambi snow globe, aren’t you? I mean, that’s probably why no one wants to date you. Everyone can tell you’re just a weird loser freak. I don’t even know how you got into this sorority. I’d ask if you slept with someone to get here, but I don’t think there’s a single person on Earth that would take you up on that.”

You keep watching the puddle. It turns the wood dark as it flows into the cracks. Susan laughs and laughs, you can see her holding onto her stomach like she’s making herself sick.

“Hello? Are you ignoring me now?”

You look up at her. Her smile is ugly and mean.

She follows behind you as you walk downstairs.

“Where the fuck are you going? Are you leaving? Don’t you know it’s rude to ignore someone who’s talking to you? Hello!”

She’s in your ear like a gnat. You don’t know why she can’t just leave you alone. You walk into the kitchen, and you rip your arm out of her attempt to hold you back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Are you broken or something? You can’t just ignore me!”

You pull a knife out from the storage block. She guffaws, rolling her eyes.

“Seriously? You fucking bitch. Is that for me, or are you finally going to off yourself already? Everyone’s placing bets, you know,” she says, still laughing. “Go ahead and do it. Slit your wrists, I won’t save you if you do.”

You’re not laughing. You stare at her. The knife is surprisingly heavy in your hand. You lift it up by your head.

Her laughter dies down.

“You can’t be serious. It was a joke!” she says. She stumbles back, but you follow her. “Stop it! What the fuck is wrong with you!”

She runs up the stairs and you follow her. In the long straight hallway, you lunge and drive the knife into her back. Susan screams as she falls, and you follow her down. She’s screaming and writhing in pain, but you sit on her hips and drive the knife down again and again. She’s leaking like the snow globe, her fluids spreading across her shirt. Once she’s quiet, you sit back on top of her.

Sniffling, you lay down the knife on top of her back. You feel numb inside still; part of you had hoped that doing this would snap you out of it, but it didn’t. You don’t react when you hear someone climbing down from the attic. You only barely glance at him when he kneels down next to you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur to him.

“It’s okay,” he whispers back. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I think I did,” you admit.

“Bitch whore deserved it. Fucking cunt.” There’s so much animosity in his voice. You wonder why you’re spared from it. You wonder who this stranger is.

Still, you don’t respond to him. You keep watching the blood grow.

“I can help,” he says after a moment. His voice is quiet and nervous, like he’s never said those words before and wasn’t sure how to pronounce them. He gestures you to climb off of her and you do, standing up shakily beside him.

“How?” you ask. He doesn’t answer you, just hands you the knife and takes a hold of your dead sister. He holds her wrists and hauls her towards the attic ladder. Her blood smears like jelly on hardwood toast.

“Fuck. Fuck,” you mutter to yourself. You need to clean the mess before it stains. You hurry to the bathroom, running the hot water and putting on gloves. When you get back to the hallway, all that’s left is blood. You clean diligently, and it’s all mostly out. What’s left might be unnoticeable to someone who doesn’t know where to look.

The man comes back down, his sweater covered in blood. You frown.

“I have to wash that before it stains,” you say. You take him to the bathroom, and he sits shirtless on the floor next to you as you rub out the stains in the tub.

He keeps looking at you, you can feel his eyes on the side of your face. You don’t look back at him.

“I can help,” he says suddenly. He sounds more sure now.

“It’s almost out,” you say, shaking your head.

“I can kill the rest,” he says. Your hands stop moving in the freezing cold water.

“You don’t have to,” you murmur, still not looking at him.

“You’re so pretty.”

“They’re not all like her,” you tell him gently, ignoring his comment.

“They’re pig sluts. Disgusting shit-smelling whores,” he spits. You look at him then.

“What about me?” you ask him quietly. He looks into your eyes.

“You’re so pretty. I like Bambi,” he says.

You couldn’t cry before, but now you mourn your snow globe. Your face crumples, and the stranger hugs you.

“They’re so mean sometimes,” you whimper. “I don’t know why they hate me.”

“I can help,” he says into your ear. “Billy wants to help Bambi.”

You know there’s no saving Bambi, though. His head is cut off and he’s crying in his own blood. All that’s left are shards of glass.

a/n: reblogs and replies are really appreciated <;3

#billy lenz #black christmas (1974)#billy lenz x reader #slasher x reader #₊*. ⋆༘ — requests #billy lenz x gn!reader #billy lenz x you #billy lenz x y/n

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alwaysshallow · 11 months

Text

coffee at midnight, part 6

John "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

Pure domesticity with Soap, and meeting old friends. Your feelings are less clearer. (4,9k)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

READ ON AO3

A/N: i lied. i couldn't wait any longer lmao

Everything changes – you knew it too well, but when snow appeared on your apartment's balcony, for straight five minutes you were looking at it funny, like it was something unusual. It wasn't, you knew it was going to snow in the night from TV, yet, you couldn't stop looking.

Being on medical leave had you observing things around with your whole attention. Not even kidding; you couldn't somehow recall when you paid attention like this in the past. Field? Of course, but it was your job. You had to do it, and in your home, you usually just wanted some sleep, food, and you were onto another mission.

You were at home, though, so it had you paying attention to little details; how petals and leaves were no longer present, how green got more ashy, how days got shorter and nights longer. How dim lights around your apartment were light up quicker than usual, with orange light blinking on the street.

Most of it all, you even became friends with your neighbours. Not like you had any other way with Soap blabbing about your health and helping you, but you happened to visit some ladies to eat a pie with them. Most of them were simply lonely, so that's where the gesture was coming from, but so were you and Johnny, so discarding their proposition would be considered rude.

Besides, these pies were really, really good. Not to mention that they always packed some of it for you later, a win-win situation.

So yeah, everything was changing in a way.

What didn't change though? Soap being right by your side. Being on leave had a good influence on him apparently, even if he was addicted to military just like you were; he learned how to cook, it was wild waking up to not burned eggs one day. Maybe he wasn't the best in spices, giving too much or too little, but that was the gesture that counts. You definitely appreciated his tries to give you a healthy, non-ordered meal, especially when he didn't let you cook still.

You opened your balcony door slowly; you stepped right into the snow, barefoot, looking at the view outside. Whole city looked magical – unreal in the way because you swore that you haven't seen something like this for so long. Deployment, changing location every now and then, it was just... impossible to notice that little things that were constantly changing. Sometimes you didn't even were in your home for winter times.

Standing in snow though, on shorts and a simple t-shirt that was way too big for you, you realized that you like winter probably more than other season. It was so peaceful, so... simple, yet the simplicity of it all was warming enough; spending time under warm blankets, drinking cocoa, watching Christmas movies, baking. So many things to do, so many things to be happy about in winter. You could probably ramble about it on and on.

"Ain't ya cold? Thought I'm the stupid one" Johnny scoffed, taking your cold hand in his. Warm one, contrasting so much to yours; you looked at him with one brow raised. "Barefoot. On winter. In snow. You're askin' for a cold" he explained, pulling you inside.

He closed balcony door after him. "You talk exactly like my mom. Literally." you rolled your eyes, laughing, when he looked at you absolutely dazed with what you said. "Seriously! I hear her in your words. Rosalie, you're gonna be sick, come home, now."

"Okay, that's" he pointed at you "not what I thought 'm gonna hear. 'st taking care of you, aye? You need it."

"Need?"

"To be back in the field. Not taking chances with cold." he ruffled your hair, taking a few steps back, when you almost punched him in the arm.

"It wasn't even five minutes."

"Doesn't change a thing, bonnie." he shrugged, walking up to the door. "Coffee on the table, 'm gonna take a shower, just came from the run and..."

"...you were running?" you asked, your eyebrow a bit arched in question. "Willingly? On weather like this?"

"Yeah. Gotta keep myself in shape, eh? Next time, yer comin' with me." he winked, grinning even more when you shook your head. "What? Good for buildin' yer stamina!"

"Mmm, let's say, I will prefer a run in the gym, than on streets like this." you laughed, following him to the kitchen; a hot cup automatically warmed your hands, at which you sighed, relieved.

You automatically thought of Christmas market happening in your town, when you looked out of the window to see busy people and snow surrounding them so beautifully. Balconies decorated with trees, candycanes, snowmans, lights that were literally blinding you by their brightness.

Everything screamed winter, and when you looked around your apartament, it was a complete... well, a complete nothing. Nothing screamed Christmas, nor winter, it was just an apartment that had literally no spirit whatsoever.

"Hey, Johnny?" you called out, when the idea striked you. A quick "yeah?" coming from the bathroom, followed by him turning off the water, confirmed that he's listening, so you've decided to continue. "Thought about... well, buying something for Christmas, you know? Lights and shit like this."

"Oh. We can do somethin' like this, if ya want this badly. We need to do shopping anyway for our apartment, so."

"Badly, I need Christmas spirit here! Besides, you know it's my apartment, yeah? And you have yours?"

Not even a second after you said that, water turned on again in the bathroom; with higher pressure this time. "Can't hear ya, lass! Make us a breakfast!"

You let out a laugh, as you shook your head; he acted like he was there from the beggining and he didn't actually just stayed one day, deciding that he's gonna help you with everything. What was even funnier, but respectful in a way, he transferred money to your bank account, when you paid rent. It was hard to forget a smirk on his lips, when he handed you a cup of tea, telling you that now it's not one lady apartment, but two people apartment. When you asked him what does it mean, he just quickly said "you know", and he disappeared into the kitchen.

Most people, when they felt lonely in their space, adopted something. A cat, dog, perhaps something smaller, like a turtle or a fish, just to add something into their miserable lives; to make a difference.

You adopted Johnny.

What was even funnier, you didn't pay attention to his presence anymore – he wasn't a intruder when you felt bad and wanted to be alone again, he was like a monstera in your bedroom. Something that was just there, something that you wanted to be around, just because your vision of this apartment wouldn't be the same. You really couldn't imagine not watching a movie before sleeping, drinking coffee in the morning without him, nor gossiping with him about your neighbours dramas that happened way too often for your liking.

A certain routine, in your life. The domestic routine that you learned to like, but that routine had to include him – otherwise, you wouldn't be interested in it the same.

Hour later, you actually left your apartment with Soap, after a quick breakfast and after listing in your notes what exactly you need. Important as fuck, considering that your attention could be easily distracted in that environment; full of decorations for winter time, and you were just a sucker for them, it was embarrassing. You couldn't count how many times you bought something completely useless, just because a big, woody deer right in front of your door seemed like a good idea.

Spoiler, it wasn't a good idea. Mostly because that deer lived maybe a week or two, before some people completely destroyed him – and that was when you were deployed, so you didn't know who exactly.

The bitterness stayed, though.

"Bloody hell" MacTavish grunted; you were walking with him so peacefully around the Christmas market – with pavement that was covered practically with pure ice. He almost slipped a few times, and every time, you couldn't help but chuckle. "Whit's sae funny?"

"Nothing, Johnny" you grinned. "Just, you know. You could listen sometimes, I told you that sneakers aren't really for that weather."

He rolled his eyes. "See, I thought it wasn't that motherfuckin' bad. They could, like, get rid of it."

"Yeah, surely" you looked at him with amusement. "Just listen to me, sometimes."

"Mhm." he sneaked his arm around yours, bringing you closer. "For now, yer gonna be my support, aye?"

"And when you're gonna fall, I'm gonna fall with you. Not so smart, MacTavish."

"Oh, it is smart. You're gonna fall at me, so it's pretty rewarding after my fall."

"Won't stop teasing, hm?"

"Mmm, never."

The number of little shops around was enormous – lights, Christmas ornaments, snacks with weird combinations that you wanted to try, even if it was roasted beef and candy cane. You could swore that the amount of colorful lights would leave you completely blind with every step that you took; didn't stopped you from being adored by the view, though. Old ladies had all of your heart, and you just couldn't say no to them when they wanted to chit-chat with you for second or two.

Legend says that Soap had something against it – only a legend because he was even more of a sucker for them. They almost gave him every freebie from the food that they had, stuffing him with that stuff, while you just looked at your best friend, amused how adored everyone was. Good thing you had benefits too, with multiple discounts on their products, your fridge most certainly was gonna be full after this.

Old cute ladies weren't the only ones stopping you in your tracks; so were the men that talked with you, smiling widely. Market thing, you thought, it was bright as the sun they wanted to sell more, tactics worked like this, but Johnny was beyond disgusted with that, you noticed. Getting so touchy, wrapping his arm around you and being so close, when you were picking out things. Discussing about hanging things in "our home" – and he awfully tried to emphasize that every time. You got more time alone when he gone somewhere to get that cheese he wanted.

"No fucking way."

A voice you could never forget, and a voice that automatically got you grinning like idiot, when you walked closer to one of the little shops; with lights, this time.

"A way, I'm afraid." you said, glancing at your old friend behind the cash register. Cody went to highschool with you – worst and best times of your life, but your ways splitted after you decided to go for a military route.

You two were always close, though; your moms liked him enough to let him be around you, even joked a few times about you getting together. What they didn't know though, it was a few kisses between you and him, even more, but it wasn't the right time for starting something deeper. Not when you were so excited about your career.

"Gets tough at military, huh?" his gaze went to your arm for a second.

"Sometimes. Mostly, a job of my dreams."

He nodded, like he got exactly what you said. Probably he didn't even thought of things that you've done to get the mission done, but the less he knew, the better for him. "Looking for any specific lights?"

"Mm, no. I want to hang them on tree, so nothing too extreme. Maybe white?" you shrugged, giving him a little smile when he started looking. "I've picked white and blue ornaments, mostly. A bit of gold too, if that helps?"

Cody placed right in front of you lights in different shapes; classical ones, snowflakes, hearts, eve little trees. "If I were you, I'd pick white and blue ones. To make it more fancy." he winked, tilting his head.

"Fancy? You think I like fancy?" you raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "Or it's like, a marketing tactics on your old friend?"

"Does it work? The tactic?"

"To make me buy more lights than I need? Yeah, like, I'm literally gonna insane with those snowflakes ones and-"

"-well, not only that, but your number, perhaps? To catch up."

You coughed, a bit startled – guy was definitely not wasting any time. "See, after another month I'm probably back into the field, and time after that is... limited." you explained; tried doing that at least because catching up with Cody could mean one of two things in your mind.

"...Rosalie." Cody laughed, shaking his head. "Let's focus on today, yeah? You don't have to give me that, but..."

"Don't need to give him what, bonnie?" you didn't need to look behind you, when you felt a protective arm around. Not only that, Soap managed to sneak one of his hands in the front pocket of your jeans. His tensed muscles brought to you a lot of questions, but you've decided to ignore them for a while.

"Cody is old friend of mine." you swiftly avoided the question. "Cody, it's John. We know each other from military. Johnny, it's Cody, we went together to the same highschool."

Cody smiled awkwardly, extending his arm. "Nice to meet you, Johnny."

"John. Nice to meet you." he murmured, totally ignoring the proposition of handshake. The level of tension could be cut with a knife, and you just wished that Soap wouldn't interrupted you two. Hell, you wished that he wouldn't know that Cody existed in your life somehow, his tone wasn't pleasant at all.

That awkward silence had to be broken. "I'll take white snowflakes and blue classics." you said after a while; your eyes met with your best friend's, who hummed in agreement, giving you a little squeeze. "And as for phone number..."

"1-800-985-5990" Soap interrupted you, with fake smile on his lips; Cody almost dropped his pen while he was writing. It was definitely not your phone number, but you had no heart to tell him that and humiliate yourself like that.

"Thanks."

"'s alright. Gotta help a fellow brother, hm? We'll get goin' now." he waved to him, as you two walked.

"Hands to yourself, will you?" you murmured to him, right after that guy was out of sight. You honestly couldn't believe his behavior; the audacity, his snarkiness, sudden disapproval and tensing muscles. It wasn't a competition, yet, it felt like one.

"Cannot do, hen. Pricks are eatin' you up, none of them worth ya time, gotta protect you somehow" he shook his head, looking at you with shit-eating grin. "Besides. Thought you like when I'm a bit handsy, eh?"

"Pricks? Come on, they're not that bad." you rolled your eyes. His hand still caressed your waist, and you barely managed to keep yourself together – his touch always was comforting for you, calming, but in that moment... it was such a contrast. Such a contrast, because you could swore that his touch was burning something in you.

Something that you thought you're not gonna ever feel. Yet, here you were, conflicted.

"'st sayin'. You deserve someone worthy." his nose nuzzled against the top of your head, which caused your cheeks to heat up a bit; Soap acted like he was absolutely smitten. "Should we go to apartment? Drop these things off, or there's somethin' else you want to do?"

"We can go, I think. After we buy that jam, though, from that old lady in the beggining. I promised her."

"Yes, ma'am."

Oh, how you wished that wouldn't get you so much.

Three hours after you arrived to your apartment, pretty sure that you wouldn't go anywhere, you had to put your winter shoes and jacket again.

Why?

Well, there was this festival of lights Soap thought was a good idea to go to – and he couldn't tell you sooner, no, cause you were "romancing too much" with Cody-guy. You thought it would be better to remain silent on this topic, so you just coughed awkwardly, asking him details, which he happily told you.

It was supposed to be a light show on the building mostly, with releasing lanterns when it's gonna be a little bit darker outside. Releasing them had to be apparently with certain "intention" in mind; something like a wish, a dream that you wanted to come true, which was cute enough for you to agree on his idea.

"Gonna wish you a better arm" he joked, nudging your hip with his. A quick eyeroll from you caught his attention enough to trap you between his arms. "What? Am I wrong, lass? You need somethin' a bit better to put up with my arse."

"Alcohol will do good enough." you mumbled, which made him laugh – and it wasn't even your intention. Urge to give him another eyeroll was high.

"Like it would save ya." he winked, as he continued his walk to your couch, where he sat comfortably, patting the seat next to him. "C'mere. We can watch the end of the game, then go. Gaz won't be here for like... a hour top."

"Mm, right. I want him to take that lady he texts with" you sat beside Soap, opening up the chat with Garrick. "I have to remind him again."

Gaz also happened to be interested in that festival of lights, or whatever it was called; as he'd text you, "bonding with friends" were more important than ever, considering that the three of you were the only one on leave. It was only fair to take him with you two – he had to arrive first, right, but the feeling of having him by your side was warming enough. You missed your friend and texts weren't enough like a real conversation; hell, you even wanted at some point to meet with him eye to eye and get drunk, to talk with him about everything that happened over the days.

Maybe including how confused Soap made you over the days, but that's for maybe. Hard enough that he was also Johnny's best friend, wingman, and a partner in crime that everyone wished to have. Kyle was lovely, of course, but his tongue was a bit loose if it came to telling things to members of Task Force.

And you respected your privacy enough. Not like you didn't trust him, no, but you didn't need to complicate things more than they already had been.

"Told you I'm gonna always win, yeah?" you showed the screen of your phone to Soap, so he could easily read the conversation between you and Gaz, where he agreed to your plan of taking that "friend" of his.

Friend, which he talked to daily on base when he could – you teased him about it one time or two, to only meet with him being frustrated all over again. On morning run, before you got shot, he admitted that he indeed was flirting with someone; a civilian, and it caught your attention enough to be a bit of a matchmaker for him.

That boy deserved nothing but happiness. And if you could help your friend? You would do anything.

"We're goin' on real matchmaker mode, ain't we?" Johnny quipped; you rolled your eyes with a small smile, while you fastened your seatbelts.

"He needs a little help. Who knows, might be his love for life" tease coming from your mouth made your friend laugh a bit, while he was retreating his car, one hand on the wheel, another in the back of your seat. For the better view – you knew it, but you couldn't help to think that was something attractive to do.

"'s gonna be pure dead brilliant to see the moment they're not getting along."

"Soap!" you smacked him in his arm, giving him a bit scolding look because you were amused at this thought too – just a little, though.

"Ow! Seems like yer hand is pretty good right now, eh?"

"You have to support your friend." you pointed out, when his car left the parking under your apartment. He gave you amused look.

"Aye, but his taste is..." he took a minute to think "...questionable. You'll see what I'm talkin' about, Ros."

"Oh, like your taste isn't questionable" you rolled your eyes; a bit of snarkiness in your voice immediately drew Soap's attention to you, his eyes on you.

"Somethin' particular on your pretty mind?"

That blonde chick was on your mind, of course. But would you confess to something like that? Not in the million years, considering that not only he wouldn't let you live through it, you would also possibly give him a clue that you were jealous.

You weren't jealous. Slightly pissed off that he was flirty at work, but that was all, not really other reason, yeah? At least you liked to think that way, not dig deeper into this because it would cause something like snow avalanche, and for that you weren't ready.

Especially when you lived with Soap. If he would stay in his apartment, it'd be easier to be blunt because you could hide in your place and ignore him.

In this case... you had no other option that be silent and brush everything off, like it was nothing.

"Generally speaking" you lied swiftly, shrugging. It wasn't the place to tell him things like that; you weren't bold enough, too. Probably after alcohol you could brought it up easier.

"Uh-huh. You have advice for me, then? To be a bit better in my choices, eh? Yer a specialist, after all." his tone was challening; he knew what he was doing. Trying to lure you into telling him your thoughts.

You were best friends for over a year, you know these tricks a bit too well to fall in. "Don't think only with your dick, for starters?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Hen" he started, looking at you when he stopped at the red light "if I'd think only with my dick, trust me. It would'a been a bit different, things here."

And that single comment, even if you weren't hundred percent sure what he's thinking about, made you blush; you didn't answer this. Instead, you just switched the radio station and looked outside, paying attention to the snow that still was falling on the street, adding to the piles that were already there.

One point for Johnny, zero for you. Not a good score, but you eventually would manage.

It took you more than twenty minutes to go on that stupid festival, and more than ten minutes to find the right spot with Soap driving around like a madman. Apparently, finding somewhere to park was hard, people loved lights more than you've assumed – thank God for Gaz that appeared out of nowhere to lead you to right spot.

"Lookin' good, Ros." Kyle grinned, nudging your side, when you finally stepped out of the vehicle; he went automatically for a hug, and you did too.

"Everyone would look good after a break from Task Force."

Kyle theathrically put his hand on his chest, close to heart. "Very rude, considering you have Soap around."

"Hey!"

"Well, he's at least helpful. Sometimes." you poked out your tongue playfully, looking at almost offended Johnny, who walked with you side by side. His hands were close to your waist, but he wasn't touching it.

"Sometimes..."

"What about yer lass, eh? She's here, or she bailed already?" MacTavish asked immediately, which made your friend a bit confused. He scratched the back of his neck to say something, but a scoff from Scot got him off-guard. "Saw that comin'."

"She's gonna be here any minute now, quit it" he barked.

"Whatever ya say."

"Any minute" turned into an hour. Show was about to begin, you already ate some of the candies that local sellers offered, and you could just see the nervousness on Gaz's face, which was sad at some point. Your friend deserved so much, and yet the girl that he wanted to introduce to you two, finally admitting she's a real person, not some imagination of his (as boys claimed), wasn't even there.

Very upsetting turn of events to look at – at least for you because Soap was living his life with seeing Garrick like this, telling him some crap how people can't believe in love and how it's better to just drink and forget.

Apparently, it was suiting for him because he went to find warm wine that he read about before the festival.

"You really could quit on supporting his alcoholism" you chuckled, looking at the man next to you; even if it sounded like a joke, it was partially it. Everyone around knew that Gaz liked to drown his sadness into various beverages, and you liked to prevent something happening.

"It's not supporting alcoholism." he rolled his eyes with a little smile. "I know Gaz, trust me. It's not the lady he wants."

You raised an eyebrow, shivering a bit from the cold outside. "Not the lady he wants" was a statement that got you a bit shocked, considering that Soap didn't look like the one who talks about stuff like this. "You know what he wants? You don't even know what you want."

"Sometimes." he shrugged, casually. Noticing that you're cold, he wrapped his arms around you from the back. "And sometimes I do."

That gesture got you off-guard; arm around you so casually wrapped, like it was nothing for him; like he was doing it all the time.

You looked back at him, wanting to say something, but the words were stuck in your throat the moment your eyes crossed with his; sapphire ones, sparkling so beautifully in this dim, orange light. Snow was falling at his hair, and you couldn't help but notice that he looks even better with slightly wet, messy hairstyle – your stomach did a little flip when you realized how close you are. Your back, pressed to his chest, his arms around you, it felt...

It felt right, it felt like home.

"I told you to bring a hat" you whispered; not even fully understanding why are you whispering though, but it felt right in the moment, even if you were talking about something else before. Scot scoffed at that, shaking his head slowly.

"Not really thinkin' about that right now." he muttered, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear with such a gentleness to it.

You tilted your head a bit, letting the top of your head to rest against his shoulder; just to have a bit better look at him. "What occupies your mind, then?"

"Oh, wouldn't ya want to know." he chuckled; for a split second his eyes dropped to your lips. You didn't notice it since it was so quick; what you've noticed though, was Soap's muscles tensing a little bit. Probably he was thinking about it – if you're gonna call him out on that, and if so, what excuse would he give? Observing?

He wasn't even sure what made him look at your lips, but they looked pretty soft for him. Plump. Ideal to...

"I would, yeah. Tell me."

"Mostly, 'm pretty interested" he whispered right to your ear, causing your body to shiver at the feeling of his warm breath "in keeping you warm 'n cozy. Is it workin', bonnie?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat slowly; it was such a stupid question from him. Of course it was working – you were a mess when he was only touching you and despite many times that you tried to deny it, he had more impact than you liked it. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm warm. Since you know what you want, Soap" you bit your lip "what other things could you be..."

"Hey! Found that wine y'all were talkin' 'about. Not for you Soap since you're driving, but" Gaz waved to you two; probably interrupting the most intimate contact that you had with Johnny, and the contact that...

You didn't even want to think about it, it's not like you had time for it– instinct told you to back off before Garrick would notice how close you were. It could be more than awkward, so you tried to do the right thing and free yourself from that grasp that Soap had on you.

"Tried" was a really good word, though. His grasp became iron; if that was possible, his arms tightened around you even more, and he, with a smile on his face, nodded at Gaz with silent greeting. You tried to lure him into looking at you, so he would at least try to explain himself, why he wouldn't let you go, but it was unsuccessful. He wanted to prove something to you or what?

You could only wonder.

"Thanks, Gaz." you nodded too, smiling awkwardly when you got the cup, taking a bigger sip from it. You needed it, considering the situation and the look Garrick gave you two when he got closer, and you barely managed to hold that wine; thanks to Soap's arms that were snaked around you, like you were his precious prey, not an actual person.

Maybe something was in it, though; the way he held you, close to himself, like he was actually afraid to lose you, his earlier behavior...

Hell only knew with this man; he was driving you insane with this sudden mood changes, flirting, being possessive when you were taking your chances. In your mind, you tried to tell yourself it's because he cares, but that argument was faltering when he was closer, looking at you like you were his only treasure.

And it was like that – maybe you didn't know that, but you really were his treasure. No one else's.

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