#henry x fem!reader

[damn-stark]

Chapter 2 Butterfly

Chapter 2 of Tragedy at the Miller’s

A/N- I LOVE LOVE ALL YOU GUYS WHO SHOWED THE FIRST CHAPTER SOME LOVE!! I hope you guys stick around and like this chapter!!

Warning- FLUFF :): angst, talks of violence, death and blood, swearing, long chapter.

Pairing- Joel Miller x daughter!reader, Henry x Fem!reader

Episode- 1x05 (half of it)

(If you want to be tagged let me know!)

————

*A FEW YEARS BACK*

Stench of flesh swirls in your nose, upsetting your stomach. Pained screams still ring in your ears. And slowly the more the fire eats away at their flesh, the more the infected and the former friends look alike—like nothing but a pile of bones.

It was the first time….the first time you’ve killed someone not turned into one of those monsters. An actual person. That realization doesn’t let you breathe or move; neither your limbs or your eyes.

“I told you to stay behind,” your dads voice breaks you away from the burning bodies.

You blink and look up at him as he turns to face you, and mutter in brittle voice, “daddy—”

“I told you to stay behind!” He bellows and strides over to you to grab you by your arms roughly.

You gasp at the roughness of his grip and the harshness of his voice. As you keep holding his gaze you see emotions he never directs at you; fierce anger that begins to scare you.

“Daddy,” you mutter and shake your head. “I…I was just trying to help you. I…I—”

“You disobeyed me,” he scolds you and grabs onto you tighter. “You could’ve gotten yourself hurt! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

You glance at the fire burning behind him, and begin to gape like a fish as you try to explain yourself to him through the shame and fear that begin to heighten at the realization of his words.

“I…” you mumble in a quivering voice. “I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to help,” you tell him again and meet his piercing glare. “I just wanted to help you, I saw them,” your voice breaks as tears form in your eyes. “I saw them, they were gonna hurt you! I just wanted to help you!”

“But you didn’t, did you?”

You gasp softly in disbelief, and feel your heart slowly sink at the sound of his sharp words.

“Joel?” You hear your uncle Tommy call.

You snap your watery gaze to him, and see him look down at the way your dad is grabbing onto you. He notices the anger, and slowly puts down his gun to look at your dad in disbelief. You proceed to pull away from your dad as his grip loosens and rush over to your uncle who welcomes you in a much more assuring and less angry way.

That’s when your dad realizes that his anger had gotten the best of him with you. Instead of trying to help you, trying to assure you, he snapped at you out of fear of his own.

“Y/n,” he calls out quietly. “I'm sorry.”

You step away from your uncle Tommy to face your dad, but still avert his gaze out of shame and slight fear. “It’s okay,” you mutter without truly thinking about it.

——

*NOW*

Sunlight dances on the flower patch down below, providing the fluttering butterflies with as much warmth as the sun can provide in the fall.

They’re peaceful insects, quiet and beautiful. Watching them just feed on the flower's nectar is calming in this cruel world, it’s one of the things that brings you peace.

Back in Jackson you grew a flower garden in the backyard of your house just to have them visit, to lay on the ground and read as they fluttered. It’s a silly thing, you oftentimes got picked on by the friends you live with, but what they don’t know is that in that meadow you grew in your backyard is where you see her; in those small purple flowers, in the sweet butterflies that feed off that nectar. That flower meadow is in memory of her, of the sister you had lost, Sarah.

Nevertheless, as you watch them flutter around, the silence that blankets you is broken by approaching footsteps. When you look back you see Sam approaching. You offer him a sweet smile and drag your feet down before you pat the empty spot beside you.

He doesn’t fret and joins your side on the ground. He looks below and then looks at you and takes off the string around his neck to write on the board he carries to communicate.

“What are you doing?” He writes.

Sam hands you the board, and you erase what he wrote to write back, “watching the butterflies.”

Sam leans over and reads the words, and smiles softly before signing with a word you do know now. “Why?”

You shrug and write on the board, “because it’s the closest thing I have to a tv, and I just enjoy watching them. It’s peaceful.”

Sam puts the board down, looks down at the flower patch below to watch the black butterflies mindlessly flutter around with you.

However, you quickly look away to grab his board and write their names that Sarah had told you once. “They’re called Black Swallowtail.” You tap Sam’s shoulder and point to what you wrote.

Sam's eyebrows knit together before he erases the board and signs again since he knows you know this one. “How do you know?”

You shift around and sign back, “S-a-r-a-h. My sister.”

Sam nods in comprehension and then looks down at his board to write, “do they make noise?”

You shake your head and write back, “they’re quiet, like you.”

Sam reads the words and takes them in before he erases it and asks, “do they hurt you? Like bees?”

You sign, “no,” and then erase what he wrote to write back, “they’re gentle. Ticklish.”

Sam reads it and looks at you with a questioning look, so you sign, “wait,” and proceed to slide down the small hill where the butterflies are gathered to pluck a flower from the ground. You then wait until a butterfly lands on it, and quickly shield it so it won’t escape.

Once the black butterfly with the yellow spots is secured, you look up at Sam and point your head to the side so he knows to come. He’s hesitant at first, but he trusts you, even if it’s only been a few weeks since you’ve joined their small group. Then again in small groups like these, when you’re trying to survive, it’s hard not bonding with the people you’re with.

It can be a good and bad thing because some people are big assholes.

Regardless, Sam slides down like you had and steps on his tiptoes to watch the butterfly flutter in your cupped hands.

You then slowly turn and crouch down to be at Sam’s level. You proceed to slowly move the shielded flower towards Sam, and very carefully pull your hand away from the flower. The butterfly stays on the flower like you wanted, so you move your finger towards it and let it crawl on your finger.

Once its little feet begin to tickle your flesh, Sam nervously grins, but seems to be more in awe. So before it can fly away you move your finger towards Sam’s nose, and gently guide the butterfly on his nose, making him immediately stiffen as he nervously laughs.

“See,” you sign. “All okay.”

The butterfly notices that there’s nothing where it’s perched and flutters off Sam’s nose quickly, and Sam only grins brighter. He then albeit quickly proceeds to grab his board to write down, “you were right. It tickles.”

You sign, “I told you.” You shoot him a cocky smile and point your head up the hill.

Sam looks up the hill and quickly begins to sign. You follow his line of gaze and see Henry. He had snuck up on you.

“Y/N…my nose,” that’s all you got from Sam signing to Henry. But hey! You’re learning, it’s been a few weeks and you’ve learned some stuff, that’s what counts.

“Did she?” Henry asks out loud and signs at the same time.

Sam nods and runs up the hill to reach his brother.

You then understand Henry’s question. “Did it hurt?”

Sam shakes his head and signs what you imagine is, “tickles.”

Henry hums and looks over at you to offer you a small smile before he signs and says. “Come on, let’s get going, dinner time.”

You beam at him and run up the hill, “great!” You sign in response. “I’m hungry.”

Since there’s nothing to fear at the moment Sam runs back to where everyone is gathered around, leaving Henry and you behind.

“So what?” Henry interjects. “Was it like, teaching moment with y/n?” He teases.

You feign a laugh. “Haha. And yes, actually. Black Swallowtail, that’s what those butterflies are called, and he knows that now. Thanks to yours truly.” You point at your chest.

Henry scoffs in amusement, bringing silence after, tense silence unlike before because now there’s unspoken feelings. At least from him because you know what you feel, you’re very in tune with your feelings, he doesn't seem to quite grasp what he feels towards you. Or at least that’s what Jace says.

So it seems you have to take matters into your own hands.

“What do you say after dinner, we wait for Sam to go to bed, and stay out to watch the stars,” you suggest with a racing heart. “Just the two of us.”

Henry falters in his pace, but turns his head to look at you. He seems quite surprised, but he doesn’t take long to answer, and stays nonchalant. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

You shoot him a smile. “Cool. I’ll bring my music.”

“I’d say I’d bring the drinks, but well we only have water,” he says with a small smirk.

You laugh softly. “That’s fine. I'm cool with that.”

Henry holds your gaze and his lips turn to a soft smile. You mirror his gesture and begin to feel your cheeks burn. Luckily he can't see that.

“I’ve never done this,” Henry breaks the sweet tension. “Date.”

Oh so he is in tune with his feelings.

“Oh, is this a date?” You mess with him.

Henry goes serious and shakes his head, making you quickly grin and assure him before he can take it back. “I’m messing with you, and don’t worry, going on a date is like hanging out. There’s just different feelings out in the open…well…that’s what it feels like anyway. In my 24 years of living I’ve only been on one date, and that guy was,” you let out a deep annoyed sigh. “He was different.”

Henry swallows thickly and hesitantly probes. “Different how?”

“He was a jerk. He only asked me on a date for some kind of game with his friends,” you share. “So if you’re not playing that then you’ll be okay.”

Henry shakes his head. “No, no, definitely not.”

“Cool.” You grin softly.

——

Night had taken over quickly, Sam went to sleep early due to his brother's behest, and now you’re navigating down the green meadow trying to find a spot somewhat secluded from camp.

“What happened to all the infected around here?” You ask Henry. “I haven’t seen many at all.”

Henry drops his gaze and sighs. “When Fedra was running Kansas City, they managed to drive them to underground tunnels.”

You hum and can’t decide if that’s smart or stupid. Both?

“You’ve been out there, what's the craziest infected you’ve seen?” Henry chooses to bounce off your question.

You scoff softly and answer right away. “Well there’s these fucking things out there, they have the fungus growing out of them, they can still see and hear, but they have that strength clickers do, and they like, stalk you. They’re fucking quiet and creepy as hell. It’s crazy as shit, terrifying, I still have nightmares.”

“You killed them?”

You begin to smirk smugly and nod as you hold his gaze. “Three. I’ve killed clickers too.”

Henry hums and then retorts, “show off.”

You laugh and shrug. “You asked.”

Henry lets out a small huff and then swallows back nervously.

It’s honestly very cute. You can tell that this is actually his first time being intimate with a girl.

“Here,” you point out and suddenly drop to the floor.

Henry had gotten a step ahead so he steps back and carefully sits by you.

Once he’s seated you pull out your Walkman and earphones to put them down between you, whilst Henry pulls out the bottle of water and puts it down before pulling out his lighter and igniting a small flame.

“How romantic,” you say with a small grin.

“Working with what we got,” he rubuts, and puts the flame out since it's a hassle having his lighter on the entire time. Instead he proceeds to probe nervously. “Okay….What now?”

You scoff softly and hand him a earphone bud while you put yours on, and put on some music at a low volume.

“I don’t have a lot of music options,” you share as he puts on the bud. “The rest is at home so, for now we’ll listen to…” you pick up your Walkman and check what you have inside. “Britney Spears,” you read outloud. “One of my favorite artists.”

“And,” Henry rolls out and carefully moves his hand over yours to slowly interlace his fingers with yours.

You grin and shoot him a smile. “Yes,” you assure him softly. “Good….Now though! I’m curious, are you lying to me about dating other people?” You squint your gaze.

Henry shakes his head. “No, I'm not. But I’m not clueless either, you know.”

You hum, and then rest your head on his shoulder.

He feels stiff for a few seconds, but he slowly relaxes and lets his shoulders fall.

“Now, we talk, like normal,” you let him know and look up to watch the twinkling stars overhead.

“Okay,” Henry whispers. “What’s….what’s your favorite color?”

“Purple,” you share immediately. “But not dark or violet, soft, like a lilac. You?” You ask and lift your eyes to look at him.

Henry looks down and meets your gaze as best as he can. “Red,” he says. “Like just red.”

“Boo,” you laugh. “Think harder, that’s a basic ass answer. I know that’s not it.”

Henry chuckles and draws in a deep breath as he thinks. “Okay,” he breathes out. “Blue…light blue, like the sky.”

You smile sweetly and nudge him gently. “See, I knew it.”

“Okay, now,” Henry proceeds. “I see you have many tattoos, but I’m curious about the one on your back,” he investigates. “The butterfly wings, do they have a meaning?”

Your smile slowly fades, and you have to hold back emotions that threaten to come out. “Yes.” You nod slowly. “My sister. She liked butterflies, I got it because of her so it’s like having her with me.” You glance at your hands and fiddle with his hand. “Do you have any tattoos?”

Henry shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I’m cool enough to get one.”

“You don’t need to be,” you assure him. “You can get one simply because you want one. That’s why I have the ones on my left arm, ‘Kay? And I think you’re cool. Sam thinks you’re cool.”

Henry turns his head and rests his chin on the top of your head. “You’re about the only ones then,” he mumbles. “No one else does.”

You squeeze his hand tighter and whisper, “don’t bother yourself by what others think, that shit, it’s poison. You live like that, you’ll only look at the world black and white.”

Henry lets silence linger for a moment before he asks, “how is it that you always seem to know what to say?”

You scoff. “Half of the time I make shit up.” You smile faintly. “Other times I repeat what I’ve been told by my uncle Tommy, or my mama Maria; she’s truly wise.”

“She your real mom?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No,” you share. “My mom died a long time ago, before all this shit happened…uh, complications after she had me. So, no Maria is my uncle's wife, my aunt. But I’ve known her for a long time now.” You sigh. “After we left Boston, she taught me a lot, like, about being a woman, protection, and the world. She took care of me like I imagine a mom would…” you smile softly at the sky and notice the dark cloud that begins to pass by. Yet you think nothing of the thick cloud and just admire the shining stars not covered by the thickness of the clouds, and stare at them with longing as if Maria’s presence was there.

“She loved me like one would. She’s the only mom I’ve known, so I call her that. Hopefully, you meet her soon. You’ll like her, she can be tough, but she’s good.”

“That’s good,” Henry says. “My mom tried her best, but it got hard. She focused more on keeping me alive soon after the outbreak happened.”

You blink and look away from the sky as his comment reminds you of someone else—it doesn’t sadden you anymore though, not as it once did.

“Yeah, my dad did that too,” you share your truth. “Sometimes he didn’t even feel like my dad….” You pause and want to add more, but in order to not sour the night and bring down the mood, you just leave that as it is and change the topic. “Okay, moving on please so we don’t bring this down. What would have been your dream job in the real world, pre outbreak?”

“Damn,” Henry mumbles. “I don’t know, but I do know that I would have wanted to ride a motorcycle around the country. You know those Harley’s?”

You hum in agreement.

“Well, I would have loved to have one of those and just ride.”

“You still can!” You exclaim excitedly. “I mean I don’t know about a country tour, but you can still have one.”

“Man,” he clicks his tongue. “I hope so. That would be a dream come true….now you, let me guess…you would have wanted to be an actress?”

You grin and gasp softly before you pull away to face him. “Yes!” You agree. “How did you know?”

Henry smirks. “Besides those stories you literally act out at night, you have the face for it.”

You smile wider and try to brush him off. “Are you sweet talkin’ me, Henry?”

He scoffs and shrugs smugly. “Maybe.”

You sit up and shoot him a smile as you slowly stretch your hands out. “I would’ve been a star, I know it.” You lean down close to him, and unknowingly make him nervously catch his breath as you hover him. “You would have seen me on your tv Henry Burrell.” You smirk.

Henry lets out a shaky breath, but composes himself and musters a soft smile, and knows how to sweet talk you. “I don’t doubt it.”

Your smile softens, and you slowly tilt your head to the side to glance at his plump lips before meeting his gaze again.

Many people have told you the same thing, they assure you that you would have been something if the outbreak hadn’t happened. But most of those comments are just that, comments, they’re meaningless. Coming from Henry though, hearing him say it makes you completely confident about a future you could never have. He makes you giddy about it, confident and flustered.

Maybe you’re a hopeless romantic, it’s been said, but you don’t have the luxury of time.

He knows that, he knows that holding back brings nothing good but regret so before you can move away, he leans forward and presses a kiss on your lips.

Albeit before you can savor the taste of his lips he pulls back. “I’m sorry,” he mutters out.

You shoot him a sweet grin before you lean down and crash your lips against his to reassure him that it’s fine, that he had nothing to apologize for. You pull him in and he’s caught off guard, he seems shocked a bit, but he doesn’t pull away, he sits up instead.

Henry’s careful, gentle with his kiss. You’re the one that guides him, that leads him on, but you’re not rough, you savor the sweet taste and make sure to mentally jot down every spark that you feel bounce out, every flutter your heart does. You memorize the sweet bliss that fills you.

When you eventually pull away you remain close, you don’t speak, you bask in the silence for a moment. He watches you with a sweet smile and a soft gaze, the softest gaze that you’ve noticed anyone look at you. So much so that it actually confuses you.

“What?” You probe.

Henry shakes his head.

You hum and provide silence.

Alas, it’s in that same silence that follows that lets you begin to feel droplets of water fall on your head.

When you both look up you see a thick, and much darker cloud covering the sky above. And soon those few drops turn to pouring rain.

“Damn,” Henry mutters under his breath.

You both look down and meet each other's gaze. And as you do, you both burst into laughter at the inconvenience of the pouring rain, and at the fact that you were so distracted with one another that you didn’t notice that it loomed so close. Overall you just laugh at the simplicity that was the rain interrupting your date.

“Come on,” you urge him and grab his hand. “The tree house is empty right now, let’s go up there.”

Henry grabs the bottle of water, and you grab your Walkman before you pull him up, and guide him there in a run.

However, it’s once you’re in that treehouse, as you go back to kissing one another that you catch the sound of distant rumbling. You wouldn't have cared about it, but the rumbling doesn’t come from the sky, so you pull away from Henry and crawl to the window, spotting there in the treeline multiple bright lights, headlights.

“Fuck,” Henry mutters sharply. “Fuck!”

That bliss you once felt is now quickly replaced with racing fear.

“It’s Kathleen,” Henry reveals the name of the rebel group that he said took down FEDRA, the group after him and the others he’s with.

“Go,” he whispers at you as he turns to face you with panic. “Leave!” He yells.

You shake your head without hesitance. “No,” you mumble. “No. I’m staying with you. Come on.” You shove your earphones in your pocket, and hook your walkman on the beltline of your pants before you quickly rush out of the treehouse, leaving Henry in slight disbelief that you didn’t leave now that your leg is healed. You should've, he thought, yet he's glad you didn’t.

——

*A DAY LATER*

“Kansas City belongs to the people!”

Flares light the sky. Chanting, yells, and gunshots fills the air carelessly as if the entire fucking world was liberated of danger and oppression; it’s only a city, and there’s still infected that lurk outside, stragglers that can still cause damage.

“Collaborators, surrender now, and you will receive a fair trial.”

Bullshit…

“We have control of the QZ and the open city. Anyone caught hiding will face charges of counter-revolutionary activities. Kansas City belongs to the people….” The announcer trails off and the current street you’re hiding on is silent again. Finally.

“Look at me, not at that,” you hear Henry whisper. And when you look over you see him communicating with Sam now that this was your next opening to run. “We’re almost there. To more blocks…” he turns and meets your gaze too. “Two more blocks,” he repeats so you can hear.

You nod in comprehension, and see him look back at Sam.

“Stay with me,” Henry continues to whisper softly for you as he signs for Sam. “Y/N, will be behind us.”

The boy's gleaming eyes drift to you to ask for reassurance once more, just like he’s asked all day since you’ve been running.

And it’s true, you were scared yourself, but for him you act confident, to see him at least lose a flicker of fear. “We’ll be okay.” You sign, and smile through your exhaustion. “I’m a wicked shot,” you whisper and let Henry sign that.

Sam looks back at you and sighs before nodding in comprehension.

“Ready?” Henry asks you.

You keep on your brave and confident face and nod. That lets Henry grab Sam’s hand once again to then bolt on ahead. You follow right behind their tail, with a hand on your rifle in case there’s suddenly a surprise.

Luckily though, you make it to the building some old man had told Henry about without any surprises. It was supposedly clear from any of the rebels too, so once that door closed and that lock clicked, and your flashlights lit the room, you were able to let your hand fall from your rifle.

“We’re going up,” Henry signs and whispers.

Sam nods. And you don’t need to say anything for Henry to know you understand, so he’s able to tell Sam to turn on his flash before they both slowly go ahead and you follow to watch their back.

Once you make it to the top, once Henry opens the door and reveals some storage room that old man doesn’t seem to be here.

Or at least that’s what you thought, because some old man suddenly jumps out from behind an old cabinet with his flash and gun pointed at the three of you, causing Henry to stop Sam and you in your tracks to point his gun right back at the man. Whilst you pull out your rifle and outgun the man.

However, given by the sound of their sighs, and the fact that they’re lowering their guns, this is the man Henry saw.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Henry says and looks back at you. “It’s okay, you can put the gun down.”

You glance at the old man with his gun lowered and hesitate for a second before you hang the rifle back around your shoulder.

“It’s up here,” the old man says and turns to pull down some hatch. “Climb up on this,” he says and taps the cabinet and some box.

You’re sort of unsure to climb up since it looks so eerie up there, but Henry doesn’t second guess the man and hands you the green bag of supplies so he can climb up first. He then helps Sam up without hesitation, so it must be safe…

“Go on, I can help with the bag,” the old man tells you, but you still can't be assured of your safety nor do you trust him like Henry does, so you clutch onto the bag and offer him a faint tightlipped smile as you shake your head.

“It’s alright,” you mutter and then climb up on the cabinet and box. “I got it.” You pull off the strap and hand the bag to Henry first before you grab only the edge and pull yourself up.

“You got it?” Henry asks you as he turns away from the bag he sat down to try and help you.

Yet you manage to get in all by yourself just fine. “Yeah,” you assure him. “I got it.”

Henry puts his hand on your back as you stand up regardless, and helps you to your feet, letting the old man come in last without help.

“You sure they don’t know about this?” Henry asks the old man, while you proceed to set your backpack down to pull off that damned weight. However, you keep your rifle on you, you just pull it off your shoulder to raise it and point your scoop at the gaps that are on the cardboards covering the windows, just to make sure that the street is clear.

“I got it from a FEDRA officer,” the old man says as he turns on the lamp hanging from a pillar. “Patient.”

You lower the gun and walk to the window Sam is sitting under to check through that one too.

“…owed me a favor,” the man continues, whilst you hear Henry put down the cans of food you had managed to throw in. “He said he found it himself, never told anyone about it.”

“What if they got to him?” Henry cuts in, making your curiosity grow as well. So you lower the gun and look over at both men to wait for the answer.

“They already did,” the old man deadpans . “He won’t be talking.”

It’s good to hear, but still not so assuring. Albeit you don't show your fear, not with Sam right by you, he’s already terrified, he looks even more so up here. So instead you put your gun down and tap his shoe with yours to try and assure him with a small smile, and a sign.

“Clear. We’ll be okay.”

Sam swallows thickly and slowly lowers his shoulders, but doesn’t completely untense.

“Hey,” you sign and then tap your firefly pendant.

Sam slowly reaches for the one you gave him and holds it in his hand tightly.

“Clear outside?” He signs his questions.

You nod, and exhale out deeply to release some stress so he can mirror your actions. And this time instead of remaining tense, Sam unzips his jacket to pull out his board.

You watch him for a second longer and notice he keeps grabbing the pendant as he begins to draw.

“Y/N?” Henry calls your name and draws your attention back to them. “How are you on bullets?”

You walk towards the pair and hum before giving your answer. “3 on my rifle, and 4 on my pistol. Not enough, but good nonetheless.”

Henry sighs and nods. “Good.”

“Mines empty,” the man says and puts his gun away.

“Yeah, so is mine,” Henry reveals his status.

“We weren’t shooting our way outta this anyway,” the man adds hopelessly.

“No,” Henry interjects. “So we’ll sneak our way out.”

You rest your hand on your hip and watch him count the cans you have.

“How?” The man probes.

“Tunnels,” Henry shares.

“Tunnels? Why go to the trouble? You can kill yourself right here.” The man comments.

You scoff and snap back. “It’s either that or we die up here. I won’t let that happen, we won’t. Infected aren’t smart, we will find a way out.”

The man glances at you and keeps quiet.

“Twenty two cans, and six pounds of jerky for the four of us,” Henry shares now that he’s done counting. “If we stick to the minimum. I think we can make it 11 days? So that’s how long we have to figure it out.”

Not good, but it’s enough.

“Is he scared?” The man refers to Sam still in the corner drawing and holding the pendant.

“Yeah,” Henry says. “Well, he’s seen a lot. Nothin’ I can do about that now.”

First, you all witness some of the people you were with get shot. Then you get separated from the group whilst you were running from those after you. And lastly the horror the city holds. Who wouldn't be scared?

“He’s scared because you’re scared,” the old man says correctly. That makes Henry stop what he’s doing to look at his brother for a moment before he walks over to him.

You let him have his time with Sam, and instead finally take a moment to finally sit after running all damn day.

“How good are you with that rifle?” The man asks you.

You glance down at the cans of food and shrug. “My uncle taught me, he was in the military before the outbreak, so I like to say I’m a good shot.”

The man slowly sits down too, and when you glance at him you see him nodding in comprehension.

“That’s good,” he whispers. “We’ll probably need that.”

You hum and look back at Henry and Sam, and catch them both drawing on the walls now.

It’s a simple thing just to pass the time, to make Sam happy and fully relaxed. Besides, seeing him like that makes Henry happy and relaxed. And seeing that they can both find a bit of happiness in this wooden cage, that Henry isn’t strict and just focuses on teaching Sam how to survive, makes you smile and watch him with admiration.

It’s good that he’s a brother and a father to Sam, he needs that….

You grin softly.

Henry seems to feel your stare as you get lost watching them and looks back, catching your gaze.

You offer him a small smile and look away right after, even if that won’t erase the fact that he had caught you staring at him. He also then proceeds to join you on the floor nonetheless, and taps your leg with his foot. “How’s your leg?” He asks.

You drag your feet up against your chest. “Fine,” you assure him and slide your eyes back at him. “It doesn’t hurt anymore thank god. There’s just a scar left.” You hug your knees and rest your chin on your knee caps. “How are you feeling, Henry?”

Henry sighs. “Besides tired….” He hesitates and averts his gaze. “Guilty.”

You slowly furrow your eyebrows in confusion and probe. “Why?”

Henry lets out a deep sigh and drifts his eyes to you. “I dragged you into this, into my problem. You could’ve been on your way home now.”

You lift your head off your chin and shake it as you reach for his hand in his pocket to hold it in yours. “No,” you argue and lean in close to him. “No, I choose to follow you. I told you I’m sticking with you and Sam. We’re going home together.”

Henry licks his lips and shakes his head. “You don’t know what I’ve done, y/n,” he rebuttals. “I’m not a good guy.”

“And you think I’m a good person?” You spat. “I know what you did, Jace told me…”

Henry scoffs at the mention of his friend's big mouth, but let’s you continue.

“You saved your brother. He was sick and you saved him, you—”

“And I got a good man killed in the process, y/n,” he cuts you off sharply since you don’t want to blame him like he blames himself. “That makes me a bad guy. I am a bad guy. And now I have you here, hiding, surviving off scraps. Can't you see?”

You blink, and let out a shaky breath before you slide your legs down to turn around and sit on your knees to face him. “Henry, listen to me,” you say softly and pull his hand out to cup it with both hands.

“I’ve seen bad people, I’ve looked into the eyes of bad people. I’ve been a bad person, a truly bad person. So I know. And Henry,” you say softly. “When I look at you, I don’t even see a flicker of that….” Your voice breaks. “You have got a good heart, I can tell, I have sense for that stuff.” You laugh softly. “You’re good, Henry. Sam sees that, he knows that. I know that.”

Henry lets out a deep shaky sigh, and drops his gleaming gaze. He keeps his hand in yours though, and then lifts his other hand to cup yours.

“You’re not a bad person either, you know that,” he tells you softly and lifts his gaze to meet yours. “You’re a survivor. A real one.” He lets your hand go and instead lifts it to let it hover your cheek. As if he’s hesitant about grabbing your face out of fear that he was stepping out his boundaries.

“A bad person wouldn’t be stuck here,” he continues. “A bad person wouldn't have helped. A bad person wouldn’t be as…optimistic as you are,” he grins softly, making your smile wobble. “Even after getting stabbed. I could say a hundred more things already to prove you wrong and I’ve only known you a short while. Sam,” he points back to the boy busying coloring. “Could say a thousand more.”

You scoff softly and lean your cheek against his hand, making him stiffen for a second before he begins to very slowly caress your cheek.

“Is that alright?” He asks and leans in closer to read you too. “It’s not….too fast?”

You shake your head. “No,” you assure him. “It’s fine. I like it.”

Henry's smile widens and he proceeds to let his gaze linger on you for a moment longer before he mutters. “Thank you.”

You drop your gaze and smile at the ground. “This was supposed to be about you,” you mutter.

“It’s okay,” he says with a hint of smugness. “I like talking about you.”

You giggle and shake your head.

——

*10 DAYS LATER*

The room is quiet, deafening so. Nothing compared to the loud nightmares haunting you.

The air is chilly, and your clothes are cold. As your eyes focus on the painted room you see it’s basked by darkness; no lamp—well there is light, but it’s a dim and cold light, and it comes in from the small holes on the cardboards.

Did you really not sleep at all? It doesn’t feel that way, but it’s dark so probably not.

You sit up and stretch out your arms, feeling them slightly sore from sleeping on the hard ground. You rub your face to get rid of all the crap on your face as best as you can with just the heels of your palms since you don’t have water to splash on your face.

When you put your arms down, and look back you catch Henry’s stare, and a faint smile he musters.

“Hey,” he whispers.

You turn yourself around to face him, and notice Sam sleeping on his other side.

“How you feeling?” Henry asks.

You let out a long breath through your nose whilst you shrug. “Sore,” you croak. “I miss my bed.”

Henry scoffs softly and leans forward to pick up a can of food. “Here,” he says and hands you the can of food. “We saved you some.”

You hesitantly grab it and blink in confusion. “You guys ate?” You ask with your eyebrows knitted together. “Again?”

Henry rests arm back on his knee and his smile turns to a smirk. “I…uh, let you sleep in for the day.”

An entire day?

You put the can down and lose your confusion to stare at him with annoyance and disbelief. “We have…” you pause and shake your head. “We have a schedule, Henry,” you argue. “I sleep at night and you sleep in the morning. That’s not fair.”

Henry looks down and shrugs softly. “It is because I don’t care, it doesn’t bother me. Besides, you seemed at peace so Sam and I let you sleep in.”

The thought behind it fills you with joy, and it makes your heart flutter, but it’s still…it’s still not fair for him.

“What about the old man?” You quip since he’s not here anymore.

Henry slowly lifts his eyes and his smile fades. “He hasn’t come back,” he shares. “He probably…got caught.”

You blink and lose your attitude as you’re now filled with slight guilt.

“That means that can is the last bit of food we have,” Henry continues and points to said object by you. “Until we leave.”

You look at the can of food and push it to him. “Leave it for Sam.” You tell him.

Henry quickly pushes it back to you and counters you. “No, we ate already. You haven’t since yesterday. You need it.”

Your stomach grumbles at the reminder of that fact, and you hesitantly take the can without any more fuss.

“We’re on our own now,” Henry whispers. “Which means…you can go y/n. I don’t want to hold you back, you have family waiting for you back in Wyoming, I want you to see them. Being here with us…I can’t guarantee you will.”

You snap your gaze up to him and shoot him a pointed glare. “Why do you keep saying that to me, huh?” You snap. “Like if I’m actually gonna take your word and just leave you guys behind.” You put the can of food to the side and lean into him.

Henry rolls his eyes down and sighs deeply at your stubbornness.

“Henry,” you insist and snatch his hand off his knee to hold it in yours. “It’s not just me anymore, it’s us. We’re going to Wyoming together, okay? We’re going to Jackson. We’re gonna go home, we’re gonna sleep on a bed.” You muster a small smile. “You’re gonna meet pretty girls….”

“Pft.” He breathes out and shakes his head with a small smile.

“We’re gonna eat a delicious sandwich from the bar, you’re gonna meet my uncle, and my momma. Sam is going to school, have friends. We’re going home.” You assure him sweetly.

Henry blinks, and meets your eyes with a soft gaze and a sweet smile that you like to see on him. He proceeds to cup your cheek and pull you in closer to him.

“Only girl I need is you,” he sweet talks you.

You scoff and roll your eyes, making him chuckle quietly so as to not wake up Sam, before he pulls you in for a deep kiss that you both linger in. That you both want to take further, but restrain yourselves and pull away and keep your foreheads against each other.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your lips. He never stops telling you that.

Albeit now you don’t tell him to take it back like before, you let him say it and relish in the silence before you press a kiss against his lips and smile. “Go to sleep,” you tell him. “I’ll keep watch here.”

Henry hums and pulls back to pick up the can of food. “I sleep, you eat.”

You scoff and nod slowly as you take the can from his hand.

Before you eat though, you go down and go to the bathroom, Henry goes down with you to keep watch. And once you get back upstairs, Henry is quick to fall asleep, letting you eat and watch him and Sam in the silence of the room that was only accompanied by the sound of their soft snores.

Or at least it was quiet for a while until Sam woke up.

“You okay?” You sign your question.

Sam yawns and nods. “Yes,” he answers. “I just had a bad dream.”

You put the empty can down and offer him a sweet smile. “Want to talk about it?” You ask him.

Henry hesitates before he shakes his head. “It wasn’t bad,” he signs back to assure you. “I'll be okay.”

You smile wider and nod. “Good,” you sign. “Now. Back to sleep then.”

Sam puts his finger up and turns around to look for something real quick. You drag your leg up, and rest your chin on your knee as you wait for him.

Once he turns back around he grins as he lifts a piece of cardboard that has three people drawn on it.

“I drew this,” he signs. “Today while you slept.”

You scoff and point your head to the drawing. “Tell me about it then.” You press him.

Sam smirks proudly and points to a small masked hero with a cape on it. “Me,” he signs and then drags his finger to another masked hero, this one albeit is taller than he was. “Henry,” he shares and then drags his finger to the last person; one with butterfly wings, eyes like yours, and half of the face covered by a black mask. “You,” he reveals, and smiles shyly.

You beam at him and probe with obvious excitement. “Really? Wow. What are my powers?”

Sam puts the drawing down and doesn’t fret explain what you ask for. “Flight because you have butterfly wings drawn on your back. And you can make shields like The Invisible Woman, because you are brave…”

Your smile softens at his explanation and you’re actually very touched by how much thought he put into it.

“And super strength because you are strong.”

You sigh softly and grab at your chest. “I love it so much” you sign back quickly. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Sam's smile turns timid, and he drops his head to hide his fluster.

As much as you do enjoy his company, and feel touched by his drawing, you do want him to sleep for a little while longer.

However, before you can tell him he snaps his head up and beats you to signing. “Will you tell me a story?” He asks.

You let out a deep exhale and first put a but. “And then you will sleep.” You insist.

Sam nods quickly.

“Okay,” you give in. “Let’s do it.”

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

As Henry wakes Sam up, you pack up what you can and what you have left, which isn’t a lot. A lot of Sam's crayons are wasted since he's been giving the blank attic some well deserved color. The food is gone so the green bag is mostly empty. And everything else you have goes in your own packs, so maybe you should be at least thankful that you don’t have to carry so much weight at the moment.

“Y/N,” Henry calls out.

You hum and look back at him with a questioning look.

“Can you pass me the red paint?”

You glance at Sam and notice that he has his eyes closed. You want to ask about it, but you just choose to wait and hand Henry what he asked for first.

“Watch,” Henry says to you and wraps cloth around his fingers to dip that in the red paint a bit before he leans towards Sam, and paints a thick red stripe over his eyes that makes it look like he has a mask on. Like the ones he paints on his hero’s.

“Wow,” you sign when he opens his eyes. “You look very cool.”

Sam smiles, and Henry pulls out his knife to let Sam see his reflection on the metal.

And once he does he grins and nods in appreciation. “Now,” Sam signs to you as Henry puts his knife away. “I have my mask on, like you have your wings.”

You grin and nod. “Yes!” You sign and lift your eyebrows to show your excitement, whilst you pick up your backpack off the ground since all you needed was for him to wake up so you could leave. “Exactly! We are cool now.”

Henry turns back around and helps Sam put on his jacket, while you grab his backpack off the ground.

“Now,” Sam tells you after he has his jacket on and his brother is turned away grabbing his own things. “Henry needs something too.” He stands up to his feet, and you hand him his backpack.

“We will have to think about what to give him,” you tell Sam as you strap your rifle on your shoulder.

Sam nods in agreement and drifts his eyes to Henry slowly trying to slowly open the door.

After making sure that the ghost is clear, you all proceed to climb out, and carefully walk down the stairs to reach the door that you had once walked through 11 days ago.

However, before you can walk out, even if Henry and you learned the patterns of the group, he puts a table against the door to climb on it and peek through the window over the door to check if the ghost is clear outside.

For inside you can hear nothing echoing in the distance; no shouts, running engines or distant gunshots, but you still wait cautiously, and watch Henry turn away from the window first before you can act.

“It’s okay,” Henry signs to Sam and you as he jumps down.

Just like you assumed.

However, even if Sam got the okay, he worries and questions his brother. “You don’t hear anything?”

Henry shakes his head and reaches over to push the table away. Albeit just as you take a step over to help him, tires suddenly screech, causing Henry to stop, and for you to do the same but grab Sam’s shoulder to hold him still.

Sam then turns to question what had made Henry and you stop, but tires screech again and a crash follows to sound, causing you to jump and cover your ears. Henry, though, grabs Sam, and your arm to pull you both down with him.

Sam signs something to both Henry and you, but you keep your eyes focused on the door as gunshots begin to go off. You remain frozen out of fear in the same spot Henry had pulled you down to, and don’t react or stand up until Henry gets back up on the table to peek through the window.

“Henry,” you call out and sign so Sam understands what you’re saying. “Stay down.”

“Let me just check,” he rebuttals.

You grab Sam’s hand and pull him with you as you take a step closer to Henry.

Another gunshot proceeds to go off though, making Henry duck, and Sam to tighten his hold around your hand as he watches his brother's reaction. And just as Henry slowly lifts his head again, you turn to face Sam.

“We will be okay, it sounds to be happening across the street,” you let Sam know. “Gunshots, but not a lot. Maybe a fight.”

Another gunshot goes off, and your shoulders jump, but you try to remain collected in front of Sam.

“Another gunshot?” Sam asks since he sees your reactions.

You nod and let him know, “Just one.” You turn to ask Henry what’s going on, but he suddenly ducks for a few seconds before he lifts back up one more time. After a few seconds he finally decides to jump back down as it goes quiet.

“What's going on now?” Sam asks Henry before you can.

Henry glances at you with a frown and shares his slight fear, before returning his gaze to his brother and looking nonchalant so Sam won’t worry as much.

“New plan,” Henry shares with the both of you. “We follow this man that just killed one of the rebels.” He explains making you feel shocked over that fact. “I know the streets, and even if we have you, y/n, we can possibly work together with this man.” He keeps his eyes locked on you to ask for reassurance, to wait if you’d argue, but you trust him and agree with a nod.

“We have to get out before more of the resistance comes over. Ready?” He asks Sam and you.

“Yes,” you sign and say, earning Henry’s attention. “I’m with you.”

Henry’s lips lift slightly before he gives you a thankful nod.

And just like Henry had mentioned, those same loud ass cars come soon, you can hear their loud rumbling engines, they make a commotion about one of their own dying and finding the people who did it; Albeit Henry did say it was only one old man. Nevertheless, by the time you imagine they get to searching the nearby places for that guilty man, you’re already out of the building, following that man you can’t see but Henry can.

Yet, it’s because of that same search that you have to be even more cautious like before. You have to hide in alleys, and take long pauses to wait for cars to roll by before continuing after the man.

Night comes, and you finally enter a building, but, you end up having to follow the fucking old man thirty something floors up the damn building. It’s safe sure, but so fucking high up after running all day.

Furthermore, as you’re walking to the room at the end of the hall, just as you’re about to reach the room, glass crunches under your feet, making Henry and you halt immediately, and for the both of you to stop quickly Sam too.

“Noisy?” Sam asks both Henry and you.

Henry agrees and answers. “Noisy.”

You pull your rifle strap off your shoulder, and watch Henry pull out a gun before grabbing Sam’s full attention. “Remember what to do?” He asks Sam.

Sam makes a gun sign and points to the door. Henry nods and then hands Sam the gun. And since it’s probably a bit heavy Sam lowers his hands, making Henry secure the boys hold around the weapon before looking up at you now.

“Y/N,” he signs and doesn’t speak for safety. “Stay here. If anyone comes in, jump them. Or if shit goes down in there and you hear gunshots, go in and surprise them for us. If you hear nothing then I’ll call you.”

You’re hesitant to obey, you want to go with him. But…after being stuck together in the attic for 11 days you trust him with your life, more than anyone. So you listen to his plan.

“Okay,” you assure him. “I will wait, but…” you pause and pull out your pistol from your holster. “Use mine. I have bullets, you don’t. I can’t have you go in unprotected.”

Henry glances at your weapon and seems hesitant to take it for a moment, but he has no choice but to trade guns.

“You know how to use it, yes?” You manage a joke.

Henry rolls his eyes and grabs Sam to walk ahead, leaving you to stand back and wait. Wait and listen.

Wait some more even when you catch someone else's voice inside; a young girl's not an old man yelling out the same name as your own fathers.

“Eyes on me,” you hear Henry command. “Eyes on me. You don’t have to worry about what to say. We don’t want to hurt you. We wanna help you.”

So they seem good?

Hm. You push yourself away from the wall and step in the middle of the hall, you try to get a view inside the room Henry and Sam had gone into, but it’s too dark. All you can go off of is Henry’s voice, which you can detect a hint of nervousness by the way.

“Okay,” a second voice says; an oddly familiar, deep and deadpanned one.

“Okay, uh,” Henry proceeds shakily, “I don’t know what the next step is with something like this…”

Oh sweet, sweet Henry.

You should’ve gone in his place instead.

“….but if I lower my gun, we didn’t hurt you, so you don’t hurt us, right?” He continues, providing a long pause that makes you lift your rifle and take one step forward.

“That’s right,” the manly voice responds in a deadpanned way. Which is funny because it actually sounds like your dad too.

“That’s a weird fuckin’ tone, man,” Henry snaps out nervously.

“That's just the way he sounds,” the young girl interjects quickly. “He has an asshole voice. Joel, tell him he’s okay.”

“Everything is great.”

Obviously not. But Henry doesn’t yell out for you, so you trust him and stay put.

“Dude.”

“Fuck!” Henry swears, making you look down at glass littered on the floor to step on the gaps that are clean—“okay. Listen,” Henry continues. “I’m gonna trust you.” Silence follows and you imagine he’s taking this time to communicate with Sam or think some more.

“But if either of you guys try anything,” Henry then exclaims. “Yeah? We also have someone else with us, she’s strong, so don’t try anything. Yeah?”

There’s a murmur you can’t make out before that manly voice speaks again. “Can I sit up?”

“Slow,” Henry says. “Get up slow. Y/N come on in…it’s okay!”

That’s your cue.

You only lower your gun a bit, but keep your hands tightly secured around your weapon as you slowly walk to the door.

“Who are you?” The man asks Henry now.

“My name is Henry. That’s my brother, Sam. I’m the most wanted man in Kansas City,” Henry’s voice gets louder the closer you approach the room. “Although, right now my guess is you’re running a close second.”

You reach the door and slowly push it open, announcing your presence to the others in the room. Yet as you step in the first person you focus on is Sam since he’s closer to the door. You’re about to ask if he’s okay, but you see the man behind him and slowly drag your eyes up to identify him.

And as soon as you land your eyes on his face, you freeze and gasp as you recognize his dark eyes, that face that has more wrinkles on it than before. You recognize his face even if it’s been years since you last saw him. After all, you could never forget how he looks, even with the anger you hold for him. You could never forget him, your dad.

“Oh my god,” you murmur and drop your gun as you keep your eyes on him, as you watch him slowly lose that furrowed brow, that look of nonchalance. You watch him grow disbelieved, or at least that’s what you want to think.

“Daddy?” You call out and stride over to him, whilst he walks over to you slowly as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing, as if he’s trying to debate if you’re some vision or not. “Daddy,” you murmur as you stand before him. “It’s me, It’s—”

Before you can finish your sentence he wraps you in embrace, he wraps an arm around your back, and slides his other hand to hold the back of your head. While you stay stiff in his arms.

“I know,” he murmurs against your ear. “I know baby, I know.” His voice is soft, not like it was a few minutes ago. He’s warm, and under the sweat you still recognize his own scent, it fills you with nostalgia and joy. It makes you hug him back and close your eyes to bask in the relief and safety you’re hit with in his arms.

“Let me look at you,” he whispers and pulls back to grab your face and study you. Study you after years of not seeing you. “Look at you….” He smiles softly and wipes away the tears on your cheeks that had broken out. “You’re all grown up. You’re so beautiful.”

You notice his graying hair. You see the exhaustion in his eyes, and the relief.

“What’s going on?” You hear the girl ask, but you don’t look at her or think further about her presence, all you can focus on is the man before you, and the fact that as of now that anger you held so close in your heart begins to wash away.

“Look at you,” you redirect with a wobbly grin. “You wear diapers yet?”

He scoffs softly. “I’m getting there.”

You laugh softly and linger in front of him for a second longer before you both hug each other again, before you cling onto his neck like you would when you were a little girl, when you’d greet him home from work, when he’d carry you after you woke up, or simply when you just needed his embrace. You cling onto him with fear he’d disappear.

So now, no one in the room could deny your connection.

“Oh baby girl,” he whispers.

You cry softly and nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck. You stay in the embrace for a few more moments, and he doesn’t try to pull away until you do to face Henry and Sam, and explain what they’re witnessing.

“This is my dad,” you sign and say out loud.

Sam blinks and looks at your dad by you, and then nods in comprehension, whilst Henry looks a bit disbelieved by the fact.

“Uh, sorry for the…gun,” Henry adds anyway.

“Dad,” you say and turn to look at him, “that’s Sam,” you point to the boy. “And that’s Henry….” You glance at the man and smile softly. “My partner.”

Henry meets your gaze and mirrors your gesture.

“Ellie,” the girl interjects and steps towards you to offer you her hand.

You snap your gaze to the small girl and quickly look at her up and down—brown hair, pale face, brown eyes. She can be his kid. Albeit she looks a bit too old to actually be his kid without you knowing about it. Then again it has been some time…so there’s a possibility….

“Y/N,” you share, and offer her a feigned smile as you take her hand so as to not be cold.

You then pull your hand away and think that she can be Tess’s kid with your dad, the girl kind of has a resemblance to Tess. However, you don’t see Tess here. Weren’t she and your dad inseparable?

You don’t ask about her though, even if you are curious.

“What are you doing here?” Your dad cuts in, letting you look at him. “You’re supposed to be in Wyoming.”

You sigh and nod. “It’s a long story, really. I’m sure I can share later.” You turn and head over to the gun you had dropped in front of the door. “What are you doing here though? It’s a long way from Boston.”

You hear your dad sigh. “It’s a long story,” he counters, making you scoff in amusement. “I’ll tell ya later. You talk to your uncle Tommy recently?”

You pick up your gun and hang it back around your shoulder. “No I haven't been able to,” you share and turn back around to face your dad. “I haven’t come across a radio in some time. Have you?”

Your dad swallows thickly before he shakes his head. “No,” he says, and you actually begin to worry by the hesitance in his tone.

Yet you don’t investigate further, leaving the room quiet, even if there was so much unsaid between you and your dad.

“Anyone hungry?” Ellie breaks silence.

You snap your eyes to her and nod for Sam and Henry. “Starving actually. You guys have some spare food? We’ve been on the run from the rebels outside, so it’s been a hard couple of days.”

“Yes,” your dad nods.

You offer him a thankful smile and then turn to Sam. “They have some food,” you let him know.

Sam smiles in relief.

“Why don't we set up shop, hm?” You say and break away from your spot to grab a lamp off some desk. “It’s crazy it’s been you this entire day,” you direct to your dad. “If I would’ve known we could’ve reunited earlier.”

The question about who Ellie is to him really kills you, but you keep holding back to avoid hearing what he’d say, what you were afraid he’d say.

“Well only if I knew you were here,” he quips in that same deadpanned voice.

You hum and turn to set the lamp down in between the cushions on the floor.

The girl sits down first and begins to rummage through her bag, while Sam and Henry sit across from her.

“I just got to Kansas City like maybe what,” you explain as you turn on the white lamp, providing at least some sort of light to an otherwise dark room. “Almost 2 months ago, or so.” You sit down across from your dad and meet his gaze. “I wasn’t planning to stay, but well,” you sigh. “Shit went down and I had no choice. That's when I met Henry and Sam.”

Ellie passes your dad something wrapped in paper, and as he opens it and reveals food, he looks over at you again. “Where were you coming from?” He asks and hands you some food that you pass to Sam first.

“Well,” you murmur and drop your gaze knowing he wouldn't like your answer. “A…” you hesitate and scoff. “Countrywide adventure to tell the truth.” You drift your eyes up, catching him stopping his hand midway as he’s about to hand you some more food. He narrows his eyes on you and shakes his head.

“Y/N—”

“Daddy,” you cut him off. “You can't be mad, I’m on my way home.”

A wave of emotions pass, and you swear you can even see a hint of sadness pass, but it doesn’t linger too long for you to confirm it.

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” he mutters and hands you a piece of food you hand to Henry. “I can’t believe your uncle Tommy let you leave.”

You scoff and shrug off your back pack, and put down your gun to grab your food now. “I was 22 when I left, I was grown. And he trusted me.”

Your dad blinks and looks at his own piece of food as he swallows thickly again.

“Why did you leave?” Ellie interjects.

You smirk and share your truth. “Prove to myself that I can survive.”

Ellie begins to slowly smirk. “Cool,” she says.

And it might or might not be a choice fueled by your dad, or really his past behavior.

“Where did you get these?” Henry interjects and changes the subject.

“From Bill,” Ellie answers. “He’s dead.”

Oh. Okay.

Silence passes, and your dad takes this time to hand Sam some more food.

And as soon as the boy gets it he taps your arm so you’ll look at him and what he signs.

“Yeah,” you assure him. “I’ll tell him.” You look to your dad and share what Sam told you. “He says thank you.”

“I’m guessing you don’t have much,” Henry adds. “So, this means a lot.”

You hum in agreement.

“How old is he?” Ellie asks.

Henry turns to Sam and shares what Ellie had asked him, making Sam answer.

“He’s eight,” Henry shares for Sam.

Ellie nods and smiles. “Cool. I’m Ellie.”

Henry once again communicates with Sam, causing Sam to look over at the girl and sign cool as he nods.

Silence then proceeds to fall again, but now you catch Ellie hit your dads leg to encourage him to introduce himself now, making you be more assured by the fact that she could be his kid. One he didn’t tell anyone about, not even you…

“I’m Joel,” your dad adds bluntly. “Look, you ate, we didn’t kill each other, let’s call this a win-win and move on.” He glances at you towards the end of his conversation, seeking you to speak.

Yet you don’t, you let Henry do so

“Well, I’m betting that y’all came up here to get a view of the city and plan a way out. And when the suns up, we’ll show you one.” Henry glances at you at the end, so you share an assuring look.

“There isn’t a lot we can see right now,” you add and look to your dad. “It’s dark. Once the sun goes up we can…” you pause and sigh. “Talk more. As of now if you guys want to sleep, go ahead. Henry and I can keep watch.”

“No,” Henry cuts you off. “You’ve been up all day, I can stay awake, Sam and you can get some sleep.”

You meet Henry’s gaze and come up with another option since you know your father wouldn’t be so open to that idea. And well you do want to talk to your dad too, someone you haven’t seen in years and suddenly appears here, Kansas City of all places.

“You sleep,” you direct at Henry. “I’ll…stay up with my dad, there’s things we need to talk about anyway.” You look over at said man, and meet his dark gaze.

And without adding much, your dad hums in agreement, making you smile softly.

“So,” you roll out and look down at Sam next to you. “You,” you point and begin to sign and speak quietly. “Need sleep.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but nods slowly. However, before he can stand up to find some corner, he adds one thing. “I decided what I want to have in Wyoming.”

You grow curious and probe.

“A giraffe,” he shares, making you grin.

“A giraffe,” you repeat. “Man,” you chuckle as you sign to him. “I don’t know how I’ll fit a giraffe in the backyard.”

“You said,” he argues. “Any pet.”

You sigh and drop your shoulders to try and pursue him to another option. “How about a goat, or,” you snap your fingers as the idea comes to mind. “A dog? A Cat?”

Sam shakes his head and looks at Henry and then at you to repeat himself. “A giraffe.”

You sigh in defeat, and nod your head. “Fine, fine, you twisted my arm, I will see what I can do, how about that?” You ask with a soft smile, in that moment missing how Henry was watching you; like he’s never seen something so beautiful in his life.

Albeit, you might not have noticed but your dad does. Your dad saw how you had just talked to Sam, so sweet and caring even through all this crap. So maybe he was right in leaving you with your uncle Tommy.

In the years before he left though, you were somewhat the same, you liked to see the good out of the bad even as young as you were, even as scared of the new world as you were. He doesn’t know how you did, where you got that from, but he knows that if you were stuck with him all your life, you wouldn't have stayed yourself. As you were before this outbreak, so, it’s good that you hadn’t been together until now.

“Are you sure?” Henry double checks as Sam walks away from the group.

You nod. “Yeah. I’m sure,” you assure him. “Go, get some sleep.”

Henry hesitates for a moment before he follows after his brother, leaving Ellie, your dad, and you left. Yet he sends Ellie off to bed too, and she relencutenly listens.

So now it’s just you and him, but neither of you speak until you know everyone is asleep.

“So,” you whisper as you move to sit by his left side. “Are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here?”

“It’s not as exciting as your reason,” he deadpans, making you smile. “I still can’t believe Tommy would let you leave. Tsk.”

You drop your gaze and do share the truth you hid. “He didn’t want me to leave, we argued…but at the end of the day, I was an adult, he knew he couldn’t hold me back.” You lift your gaze to look back at your dad. “You didn’t answer me though.”

Your dad meets your gaze and then glances at Henry across the room for a moment before he drops his gaze and mutters. “No offense or anything, but I don’t trust your partner. I trust you, but not him, so let’s save this conversation for later.”

So he hasn’t changed. That’s good to know.

“Okay,“ you grumble in annoyance, and instead chose to focus on the girl he’s traveling with. “The girl, is she your…”

“No,” your dad cuts you off before you can ask what he knew you were curious about. “She’s not anything. She’s cargo.”

Oh. Well now you’re even more curious. It’s bad he won’t answer a fucking thing.

“So what?” You retort. “Are you on some kinda mission?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Somethin like that.” He meets your gaze, and you let your own gaze linger on him as more questions build up, as you want to spill out so much more. But, right now, at this moment you don’t want to ruin the bliss of this reunion, you’re happy to see him again, and you want to focus on that.

“You,” he continues to speak. “How are you doing, hm? You okay?”

You nod and sigh. “I was hurt, that's why I stayed, but I’m okay now. You?” You ask and prop your elbows on your knees to rest your chin on your hands. “I mean besides being old.”

Your dad rolls his eyes and scoffs. “I’m okay,” he mutters. “And you're getting there too, what are you now 30?” He manages to tease you with a faint smirk dancing on his lips.

“I’m 24,” you correct him. “And 30 is not that old, okay?”

“Yeah, says you, you’re almost halfway there,” he reminds you, making you smile that he remembers. “You still make it a big deal?”

You snicker. “Daddy, you know me right? Of course I do.”

His smirk deepens. “What was it you said when you were a little girl?” He asks even if he still in fact remembers. “That Valentine’s Day was celebrated ‘cause it was your birthday that day?

You nod. “I still believe that,” you mumble with a stifled laugh.

He laughs softly and shakes his head. And you smile softly. It’s been so long since you’ve talked, so long since you’ve laughed together, and now after years of estrangement, sharing that same connection fills your heart with such heartwarming bliss you’ve missed.

“You going to Wyoming?” You quiere a bit mote seriously.

Your dad nods stiffly.

You scoff. “Uncle Tommy might get some kind of heart attack when he sees you.” You grin.

“He’s old,” you both say at the same time.

You giggle quietly and nod. Silence follows, comforting silence that lets you notice the watch on his wrist, the same one Sarah had given him for his birthday 20 years ago. He still wears it.

He never liked talking about her after she died, you can’t imagine that’s changed, but you still miss her and he still misses her too. So without saying anything you sit up and grab his wrist to carefully swipe your finger over the cracked glass.

Your dad watches you and of course doesn’t add anything, he lets you hold his hand to look at the watch instead.

“Get some sleep,” he mutters. “I’ll stay up.”

You let his hand go and breathe out softly before blinking and looking at him. “It’s okay. I’ll stay up with you. I missed you.” You admit.

The corner of his lips twitch to a smile, and he then wraps his arm around your shoulders to press you against him and press a kiss on the top of your head.

You smile and rest your head on his shoulder as he keeps his arm around you. You sit in the silence then, basked only by the dim white light. And you fight it, fight the sleep that came as you felt comforted and safe by your dad, but it overtook you, and regardless of what you told him you fell asleep with your head on his shoulder just like you would when you were a little girl.

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

“Welcome to Killa City,” Henry says whilst he, you and your dad look out at the city from an office building.

“No FEDRA,” your dad interjects.

Henry shakes his head. “Not as of 2 months ago, no.”

“We always heard KC FEDRA was—”

“Monsters? Savages?” Henry cuts your dad off, and looks at him as he nods. “Yeah, you heard right. Raped and tortured and murdered people for 20 years. And you know what happens when you do that to people? The moment they get a chance they do it back to you.”

“But you’re not FEDRA,” your dad mutters, and you sigh quietly and avert your gaze as you know what’s coming is something he won’t like.

“No, worse,” Henry says. “I’m a collaborator.”

You clench your jaw and peek over, catching your fathers immediate displeasure and judgment.

“I don’t work with rats,” he snaps at Henry, and side eyes you since he knows he had taught you better.

“Yeah,” Henry scoffs. “You fucking do.”

You sigh and drag your eyes to him. “Henry,” you warn.

Said man glances at you, but he doesn’t change his tone of voice.

“Today you do.” He continues. “‘Cause I live here and you don’t. That’s how we followed you here….”

Albeit you didn’t actually know you were following your own father when Henry told you.

“I know this city, and that’s how I’m gonna help you get out.”

“Why help us?” Your dad queries.

Henry glances over at you and his gaze softens. “Her, for one,” he points to you, making you feel flustered. “And two, I saw what you did, the way you killed those men,” he says and glances back at your dad, making you do the same. “Now, I know where to go, and I trust y/n would have gotten us out alive, but we are safer in numbers.”

You meet your dad gaze briefly before he directs his comment to Henry. “You seem capable enough. You’re armed.”

Tsk.

“You’re wrong, and wrong,” Henry rebuttals. “Never killed anyone. And pointing that borrowed gun at you was the closest I’ve ever come to being violent….so that’s the deal. I show the way, you and y/n clear the way.”

You nod in agreement, and then look to your father in hopes he’d agree too. After all, you are going to the same place.

Yet you can’t read the answer he may have, he makes it hard to do so. But you want to believe he’d want to stick around with you at least….

What if you’re not enough though? He’s left before.

You sigh shakily and want to pull him away, but then a distinctive laugh fills the room. When you glance back you see Sam laughing with Ellie.

She made him laugh.

“Haven't heard that in a long time,” Henry says.

You smile at the boy, and then share that same happy smile with Henry.

“So how are we gettin’ out?” Your dad gives in, making you look to the ground and smile wider.

Without hesitation Henry walks to the table and pulls a piece of paper and pencil from his backpack, making your dad and you gather around the table where Henry is to watch as he begins to write. And shortly thereafter Ellie joins the group too, leaving Sam to sit at the other side of the table in wait.

“Highways, downtown,” Henry explains and points and circles the spots with his fingers. “Us. This whole area belongs to Kathleen.”

“She’s in charge?” Ellie probes.

You cross your arms over your chest and nod before answering with what you’ve been told from Henry himself, and the others that were a part of his group. “Leader of the resistance.”

“You can see the way we’re bounded by highways,” Henry continues to explain. “They got people posted all around the inside perimeter. If we get close, we get caught. No question. So how do we get across?” He asks, but then taps the surface of the table to gain Sam’s attention.

And when the boy looks up Henry asks the same question, so Sam can write down the answer on his board. “Tunnels.”

Henry snaps his fingers and says. “Boom.”

“Kansas City has a subway?” Your dad questions.

“No, but they do have maintained tunnels,” Henry answers. “There’s a bunch of buildings all put up by the same developers. And they share these tunnels, including,” he says and looks back at his paper.

“A bank building here.” He writes down on the paper as he explains as well. “So we enter the tunnels here, travel underground, and pop up here. Westside North. Residential. There’s an embankment on the other side of the houses. We head down, pedestrian bridge over the river.” He drops his pencil and claps proudly. “Free as a bird.” He then shoots you a proud look.

And you might be impressed by his plan, but your dad doesn’t seem so.

“You’re right,” your dad comments. “It’s a great plan. So what do you need us for?” Your dad points to him and you.

Henry sighs and shares one concerned look with you before looking at your dad and explaining further. “You noticed anything strange about this city? I mean, other than the strange shit you’ve already seen?”

“No infected?” Ellie answers correctly right away.

“Oh, there’s infected,” Henry corrects her. “Just not on the surface. FEDRA drove them underground 15 years ago and never let them come back up. It’s the only good thing those fascist motherfuckers ever did.”

“So you want us goin’ into a tunnel?” Your dad quips as he looks between Ellie and you.

“Everyone thinks that It’s full of infected,” Henry adds. “Including Kathleen, which means that we’re not gonna be running into any of her people. But you see, what I know is, it’s empty.”

“You’ve been down there?” Your dad asks.

You avert your gaze and hear Henry’s response. “No,”

“Oh god,” your dad mutters in annoyance. “Y/N.”

Yes, it’s a very questionable plan, you know that, but that’s why Henry and Sam had you. To fight for them.

“…but the FEDRA guy that I worked with told me that it’s clean,” Henry continues. “Completely clean. They cleared it out. All of it.”

“When?” Ellie asks.

“Like, three years ago,” Henry says.

Your dad scoffs and shakes his head.

“Okay, maybe,” Henry quickly adds. “There’s one or two, but you can handle it.”

“What if there’s more?” Your dad counters.

“Or one of those blind ones that sees like a bat?” Ellie adds her question.

“Y/N has fought clickers,” Henry explains and points to you.

You nervously glance up at your dad, and meet his quick judgmental gaze only meant for one man.

“And now I know you have,” Henry continues. “You see? You’re the right people. If it gets bad down there, we turn around, and run right back out the same way we came.”

“Oh that’s your great plan?” Your dad argues. “Put my—”

“No, that’s my dicey-as-fuck plan,” Henry cuts your dad off. “But as far as I can tell…it’s our only shot.”

“Y/N,” your dad presses you to explain yourself and your decision to follow something risky.

“It’s our only choice,” you vouch for Henry. “They chased us out of the forest, and now they have the forest line surrounded. It’s either this way or we go guns blazing. Which is an actual stupid idea. Trust me. Can you do that? I know it’s been a while,” you swallow thickly. “But can you do that?”

Your dads gaze lingers on you, his answer is simple in regards to you, but it’s the man you’re with that makes his choice difficult.

“They’re saying,” you hear Henry interject before your dad can answer you. “They’re going to help us escape.”

You look to the end of the table and see Sam smirk and nod in comprehension.

“Right?” Henry asks.

“Fine,” your dad grumbles, making you smile softly at him.

Good thing it didn’t come to choosing sides because if it had you don’t know who you’d side with….

Regardless, you don’t linger in the building any longer, the next rotation would start their shift soon, so now was the time to flee while the ghost was clear.

There could be surprises considering they are looking for your dad now too. But luckily the run to the bank was clear, and the bank itself was clear—It seems that the resistance group isn’t as smart as they think they are.

The only difficulty is now navigating your way through the long dark tunnel that you’re in.

“This should be it,” Henry says once the door closes behind your dad. “You ready?”

You turn your flashlight on and step down the stairs first.

“Get your gun out,” you hear your dad tell Ellie most likely. But you take this time you pull your rifle down and have it ready just in case something jumps out in this silence.

“How many bullets do you have?” You direct to your dad and look over your shoulder, noticing him climbing down the stairs to join you so you can both lead the way to some other big metal door.

“Not a lot,” he says, and shortly thereafter stops to open the big metal door for everyone. “You?” He asks once it’s open.

“Not a lot either,” you grumble and continue to slowly walk forward with your light pointing at the long path ahead.

“You see? It’s empty,” Henry points out loudly and with pride. “The plan is good!”

You look back to kindly tell him otherwise even if you really don’t smell or hear anything concerning, yet your dad beats you to it.

“Shh,” your dad shushes him. “The plan is good?” He repeats and scolds Henry. “We’ve been here for two seconds. We don’t know anything.”

Henry meets your gaze, and you shoot him a comforting smile before he leans close to Ellie and directs his comment to her.

“Your dads kind of a pessimist.”

“He’s not my dad.” Ellie quickly rebuttals, at the same your dad also does

“I’m not her dad.”

Why do they sound offended?

Maybe there shouldn’t be a reason why you need to be jealous then?

“Just point your light forward,” your dad continues to tell Henry. “And be ready to run.” He continues walking, so you also continue to lead the way at his side.

It turns out to be a long walk. A silent one thankfully. It seems Henry was right about this tunnel now being infected free. Yet as you come approaching some colorful painted doors who knows what may lie behind them.

“Whoa,” Ellie utters as you all flash your lights at the colorful drawings that fill the three walls.

There’s a castle painted around the doors, flowers and plants on the other walls, children, rainbows and a sun. This must be the reason why the infected aren’t down here.

Yet it’s too quiet, and unprotected. And when you feel the walls to check if it’s fresh or old paint. Thankfully, or sadly…the paint is dry and crusted.

“Let’s knock,” you suggest. "If there's infected they’ll run to the door, if there’s people then we’ll hear them too. If there’s nothing then…the ghost is clear.”

Your dad hums and nods in agreement. And just as you step forward and lift your fist to knock, Sam passes you to reach the door, but you quickly grab his arm and face him.

“No,” you warn him. “It can be dangerous. Always, always check if something is safe first, okay?” You take this time to teach him. “You understand me?”

Sam's smile fades, and he quickly responds. “I understand, sorry.”

You shake your head. “You did nothing wrong, just always double check first. Wait. My dad and I will give the sign that it’s safe. Okay?”

Sam nods stiffly and steps behind you, letting you secure his hand under yours, and now knock.

Once you get no response your dad opens the door first and slowly walks in, letting you and the rest follow him inside, noticing a larger room with more painted walls, with furniture and books. A home. An abandoned home.

You let Sam’s hand go and turn your flashlight off since this room is basked by natural light that comes from the vents on the ceiling.

“I heard about places like this,” your dad comments as he slows his pace to study the room. “People went underground after Outbreak day. Built settlements.”

You hang your rifle around your shoulder and slowly begin to walk ahead to investigate more of this living space.

“What happened to them?” Ellie asks.

“Maybe they didn’t follow the rules and they all got infected,” your dad counters.

Or they got tired of underground living and left. That’s what you hope happened anyway.

“No way!” You hear Ellie exclaim, making you snap your head to her out of fear.

Yet when your eyes land on her, you see her and Sam around a small table checking out a comic book.

“I love these!”

Fuck.

You let out a relieved sigh and continue towards a shelf of records and movies. Ellie continues to talk, but you focus on the music and films that have collected dust, giving away the time of unuse; hinting mostly at how long this place has been abandoned.

“…fuck yeah man!”

“Hey, keep it down,” your dad cuts Ellie off. “We’re not out yet.”

There he goes…grumpy, and overly cautious.

“C’mon,” Ellie groans. “Can we just rest here for a while? There’s like, actually shit to do here.”

A certain movie called Curtis and Viper 2 grabs your attention, and makes you smile to yourself while they talked.

“Wouldn’t be so bad to wait the light out a bit,” Henry tries to persuade your dad. “Safer in shadows when we pop back out on the other side.”

You snatch the movie from the shelf and look over your shoulder to wait for your fathers response. And surprisingly he gives in, letting you focus back on the shelf of goodies.

Since the records take too much room in your pack you leave them behind unfortunately, and step over to the box of cassettes, finding many albums that you had left back home, some that were your favorite and haven’t heard in years.

You find books, two that practically caught your attention. You find accessories, and more stuff that you would have enjoyed when you were a little kid. Albeit you still do put on some heart shaped sunglasses for fun now.

And even if it’s a habit your father is used to or should be used to, he still questions your choice of accessory as you join him and Henry sitting around a table. “What are you wearin’?”

You grin and pull up a chair next to Henry. “Daddy, don’t they look great on me?”

Your dad scoffs and looks away. “Well it’s good to see you haven’t changed,” he mumbles whilst he hides his faint smile over the fact.

You grin and proceed to throw your backpack and gun down, to then rest your feet on Henry’s lap as you sit back on the chair. “Look what I found,” you bring up and put your stuff down to show them a pun book. “A pun book. These are so fun, you love these don’t you,” you point at your dad.

His gaze drifts back to you and his eyes narrow. “Y/N,” he mutters, but you ignore him and open the book to read a random joke.

“A book,” you begin to giggle. “A book just fell on my head. I only have myself to blame—“ you stop and snort. “Fuck! No, fuck I said that wrong,” you giggle some more and correct yourself. “A book just fell on my head…I only have my shelf to blame.” You look up and see your dad keep his arms crossed over his chest and his nonchalance on his face, so you look over at Henry, and see him smile.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “I ruined that one.” You scoff and flip the page to read another one. “Ah, another! I used to be addicted to soap,” you laugh softly and glance up at your audience. “But I’m clean now.” You laugh and actually hear Henry giggle.

“Next…” you flip the page and grin as you find a good one. “Do you know what’s not right?” You ask and look up as you press the book against your chest to wait for a response.

“Left,” Henry answers, making you beam and nod.

“Yeah, yeah, you get it,” you laugh. “That was a good one.” You close the book and shove it in your backpack. “I’ll say more later….Now.” You say and sit up to grab another book. “Look. Little Women, my favorite book. Which,” you point the book at your dad and Henry. “I made into a play back home a few years back…”

You miss your dads curious look as you mention that you have made a play since you continue to speak.

“…I’ll let y’all guess who I played.”

“The main character?” Henry probes.

You put the book down on the table and shake your head. “Nope. Read the book and you’ll know. And look,” you continue and lift a cassette. “ABBA, and Kate Bush, Hounds of Love album, I love Running up That Hill.”

“I swear you love every song,” Henry comments.

You shrug and smirk. “Yeah, pft, well there’s too many to choose from.” You bend down and pull out your Walkman to put in the Kate Bush tape.

“Actually, before you do that,” Henry mumbles. “I found you something,”

You blink and snatch your sunglasses off to look up at him without the dark tint.

“It reminded me of you,” he says timidly and leans closer to you to pin something on your poncho.

When he pulls his hand away, you look down and see a small little gold sun pin.

“Uh, you can pin it to your backpack, or I don’t know, keep it there, but I just wanted you to have it.”

You smile softly and look up at him to meet his soft enamored gaze.

“Thank you,” you whisper and grab his chin to caress it before you lean in and press a small kiss on his lips, forgetting in that moment that your father was nearby—“I love it.”

“Good,” Henry says. “Good.”

You both let your gazes linger for a moment longer before you grab your book to hide your giddy grin as you sit back. You then proceed to put on your earphones on, and press play on the music, but can’t stop smiling like a love struck idiot.

But maybe you are one though….

Anyway, you read some pages of the book and miss the conversation that your dad and Henry have, you don’t look up, or listen in. You don’t look up until Ellie and Sam playing across the room catch your attention.

And at first it was just a brief glance since you could hear them faintly through your music, but as you see that they’re playing soccer, as you see Sam trick Ellie to take the soccer ball away from her, you grow nostalgic and sad. You remember Sarah, again, this time more than ever. You remember playing soccer with her in the backyard of your house, you remember tricking her to steal her ball away; the memory plays faintly in your mind, bringing tears to your eyes.

You remember her smile, her laugh. You remember those simple days, and miss her, just like you do every single day that passes.

“…Y/N…”

You blink at the sound of your muffled name and look up, catching your dad standing by you now. You pull your earphones off and hum to probe.

“It’s time to go,” he says.

You draw in a deep shaky breath and nod in comprehension. He walks away and you sigh as you pull your legs off Henry’s lap to pack up your things now.

“I don’t think he likes me that much,” Henry whispers.

You glance over at him and then look at your dad walking to Ellie.

“Just,” you quickly try to assure Henry. “Give him time. He’s,” you smile. “He’s a hardass, but he will come around.” You zip up your backpack and pick it up, before grabbing your rifle off the ground to then stand up.

Henry stands up from the chair too and sighs.

“Come on,” you urge him softly. “Let’s get out of here.”

.

.

.

.

A/N- I don't want to write what follows…

A/N- Can you guess who y/n played in her Little Women play? (That part was added for a reason 😙)

Tagged- @slut-f0r-u @star-wars-lover @traceylader @givemylovetoall @itzagothamcitysiren @sammy-13 @beloved-reblogger @emiriia @rues-daya @sunfairyy @littleshadow17 @mcu-starwars @bigtuffswordboy @riaqiax @dheet @queenofthekill @joliettes @d4rno @dgraysonss @rana030 @punisherinthealps @pedropascalluvr41

[yarrystyleeza]

Arduous Solitude

"I used to want to be alone. Now that you're here—I don't want to be alone anymore. The solitude that I once wanted took no place in my heart ever since I had you."

[series masterlist / main masterlist]

Taglist: @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @bellaxgiornata @babygirlmurdock @1988-fiend @v4leoftears @galaxies-and-moons-and-cox @floral-charlie-cat

[curiosity almost killed the cat]

Word count: 1.7k!

Warnings/tags for this chapter: none!!! Talks of art, cats, and tea. Someone gets a burn scar!!! other than that—there's nothing.

You looked even more interesting this close.

You eyed him curiously with high eyebrows— waiting for him to speak. He cleared his throat, flashing a smile. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he states, his voice was gravely but it was warm, even soothing. Eerly soothing.

It wasn't really matching his face, he was handsome, you couldn't doubt that for a split second, but he was a bit perturbing. He had a weird aura, maybe off-putting too, but he looked nice. Very nice.

Stop that, you literally just met the man. You mentally shook your head.

"Thank you, mister..." you stopped, waiting for him to finish your sentence.

"Henry," he said, "my name is Henry," he smiled once again.

You nodded, "pleasure to meet you, Mister Henry."

You introduce yourself. "Such a lovely name," he says, and you feel the blood creeping up beneath your skin.

"I apologize—it seemed like you were having a lonely time," he says.

You shook your head, almost instantly, "no worries, you didn't bother."

Why did you say that? Why did you sound so eager and... desperate? In your head, you smacked yourself across the face.

"Oh, um--" he trailed off.

You gasped. "Oh, I'm very sorry-- please come in," you swing the door wider, allowing him to pass inside. He took off his dark fedota and wiped his shoes at the entrance mat. He wasn't this 6ft tall huge—but he was huge, with broad shoulders and a wide dorsum. You felt a little small next to him, maybe more than just a little.

You show him the way into your living room, moving your cozy blankets out of the way for him to sit on your sofa. He gently settled down, eyeing the interior of your house thoroughly. Did he like the decor? Wait--why would you even care? It's your house, not his.

"Sorry again, let me go grab something for you to drink, you must be freezing," you say, turning in your heels and walking straight to the kitchen. He called your name. It pinned you in place.

You never liked how your name sounded more than now.

"Don't bother bringing anything, I don't really need--"

You turned, shaking your head, "that would be very impolite of me, Mister Henry, now allow me to bring you some tea to warm you up."

He surrendered with a huff, "alright," he quietly said. You continued your trip to the kitchen and placed the teapot over the stove.

"Would you like chamomile tea? Hibiscus? Earl Grey? The regular?" you asked as you scavenged through the cupboard for other options.

"Whatever you have there," Henry politely answered.

"Alright, I think we're up for hibiscus."

He stood off his seat to closely inspect your bookshelves. The last residents of this home were an elderly couple, so there's a chance he learns something new about the world from your perspective.

You seemed to be a bookworm, there were dozens and dozens of books on your shelves. He noticed you had a shared interest with him, too; miniature artworks. You loved to collect them, but he loved making them.

He wondered if any of his many miniature works ever made their way to your hands, maybe passed by someone to you, or you received it as a gift, or thrifted it from some local antiques store.

But then he saw the very petite canvas of a peacock. He remembers that, he just doesn't quite remember when, but he surely knows he painted it more than 250 years ago.

"Oh, you seem like you like my collection?" you cringed at yourself. Since when were you this outgoing and social?

You placed the tray down. "I'm sorry, I was just--" he trailed off, turning to look your way with your little art piece in his hand.

You shook your head, "it's alright, I got this one in an auction three years ago for only fifteen hundred pounds! It should've costed way more than that to be honest, it dates back to the seventeen hundreds, as I assume," you were astonished by how talkative you are now. Maybe you were just too excited about your miniature collection.

But he admired how dedicated you were to track it back to its date of manufacturing, and you paid this much for it and still had the will to pay more.

He couldn't help but smile.

"What fascinated you about it?" the artist had to ask.

You shrugged, "well... I guess I like ancient things, specially art," a warmer smile split the pitch darkness of his beard, "the size is enough to amaze you, and the artist was so dedicated in painting the blue feathers, I love it when someone pours their soul into something, it creates something magnificent."

"Are you an artist?" he asked, you nodded, gesturing at the wall behind the sofa. He turned around, his back now facing you, but you could swear you heard him quietly gasp.

"You made these?" he turned to look at you, his brows shooting up his forehead. You hummed, he looked back at the pieces you hung on the wall, moved closer to them, he inspected them, touched them even.

You've never seen a man this mesmerized by your art. All of your previous partners usually plainly reacted to it, other times they never even batted an eye for it.

But him, Mister Henry, he was in awe, his tips were following the wild and free strokes of your brushes, they walked over the ups and downs of the layers, and sensed the pebbles of dry paint so delicately, his fingertips almost dancing over the canvas.

That stirred something in you.

"Are you an artist?" it was your turn to ask this question, he turned to face you, his fingertips still lingering on the canvas. Your eyes shifted between his and his tips, still amazed by the fact that he was interested in your art.

"You can say that," he shrugged and winked.

This, somehow, changed the flow direction of the chemicals of your brain. The lights flipped on inside your head. Your face turns red.

You had no idea what was going on with you, but this was the most attractive thing you've seen a guy doing in years.

Not only he's interested in art, but he's also an artist.

You had to distract yourself from looking into his vast eyes with this unlimited amount of admiration. "The--the tea!" you ripped your eyes off of him, looking at the tray placed on the coffee table.

He hadn't drank tea in decades and never truly minded it, but now he wanted to drink it with you, he felt he missed what it tastes.

He was almost to grab his cup, but something buzzed the skin of his hand, and that's when he noticed that the tray was made of silver.

He almost killed himself for a cup of tea.

You reached down and handed him the cup, he nodded, his face was paler than a sheet, but he smiled to distract himself from the fact that he almost died in a stranger's house... For a little cup of tea.

He felt stupid for this.

"Can I ask you a question, if you wouldn't mind?" he said after taking a sip of his drink. He sure missed that warm and earthy and sweet taste.

You nodded.

"You seem to look like a city girl, what brought you here to the suburbs, in a house near the woods?" Henry is obviously more curious now.

You shrugged, "I needed to be alone, to breathe, and this is what I found, my very own little witch house," he chuckled at your answer, and you couldn't lie, you loved that man's chuckle, you fell in love with it.

It wasn't just because it's been a while since you had a man in your life, but he had something so charming and elegant about him. His fancy clothing, his wizardly attitude, his very sweet but dignified features and, his eyes.

You really, really loved his eyes.

There was an odd reflection of fire in them that you couldn't explain, you didn't know if he was born this way or was it the fireplace behind you or is your mind playing tricks on you.

Marmalade yelled from upstairs, it made your heart drop in your stomach, tearing your train of thoughts apart and shaking your ground. Although you've had this flameball for years now, you never really got used to his sudden loud shrieks; they always took you off guard.

Henry's ears visibly stood up, he caught the scent of fur and canned food, and watched as the little noise machine waddled down the stairs.

"That's Marmalade," you had to say—as you pulled him up to your chest.

"Hey Lad," Henry says, smiles and waves at him.

"He loves to let me know he's present, sorry if he scared you," you lull Marmalade in your cradle-made arms.

Henry gutted a giggle and shook his head, "never mind, he's adorable."

However, Marmalade's ears went into airplane-mode, he pushed you in the chest, forcing you to let go of him and ran up the stairs once again. You were astounded by his act, you turn back to look at Henry, who stood silently with his eyebrows shooting high and his eyes fixed to the ground.

"I'm really sorry, I don't know what's going on with him, maybe it's because he just moved in--" you were explaining, and you don't even know why you were justifying a cat but you stood there and did it.

Henry shook his head, "it's alright I'm... I'm not very favored by most animals," he shrugged, "however, I think I should be going now, I must've kept you past your bedtime and maybe it's why your lad was grumpy," he put on his fedora and passed you.

You were a little startled by the shift of his demeanor, but you followed him to the front door.

He turned the doorknob then turned to look at you. Quietly, he said your name with a smile, "it was a pleasure to meet you."

But this wasn't the last thing you saw of the very peculiar Mister Henry.

[previous / next]

[h0ttestgrlinm0urgu3]

𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔶 𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔟𝔬𝔴

𝖍𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

summary [henry let's you play with bows and you get carried away]

warnings [smut, mouth stuff🎀, bimbo~ish ig, no p in v, pet names, soft dom henry🎀]

being the type of girl you were you loved ribbons and bows. they weren't something you indulged in often as a child, growing up in the country and all, but once you got older you feel in love with them.

you'd put them everywhere, in your hair, on your clothes, there's even some on your walls and others tied around stuffed bears.

Henry had recently gotten you these really cute ribbon bow clips and you were currently sitting beside him putting them in his hair. he's not really paying attention to you, he's used to this kind of treatment and just sat scrolling on his phone. you dropped one of the clips from his hair and in to his lap. as you go to reach for it a thought flashes in your mind. 'can I put a bow on your dick?' you ask your boyfriend after retrieving the clip.

you see the way henry freezes and hurriedly say 'not these, like ribbon' you clear up. he lets out a breath and laugh before looking at you 'I was scared for a sec baby' he says tucking a peice of hair behind your ear making you smile. he returns your smile and leans in for a kiss. 'of course I'll let my pretty girl dress me up' henry says sitting back up with the clips still in his hair.

so excited you jump up and let out a squeal 'omg yay' you scream about to go into you and Henry's shared room for some ribbon. turning to him before you go saying 'don't get hard' which earns you an eye roll as you leave 'you wanna do it or not' he mumbles as your walking but you hear.

in the room your trying to figure out what color ribbon you wanted. you got it down to pink and purple, so you bring them out to henry. 'which one do you want?' you question, you sit beside him on the couch, getting comfortable with your upper half mostly on his lap. 'whatever matches my hair' he says as he scrolls through something.

you go with the pink since he had pink in his hair. unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out your really happy to see the he wasn't hard. it might sound odd but you liked playing with his soft cock. cutting the ribbon to length before throwing everything on to the floor. you start to tie the ribbon at the base of his dick, humming to yourself as henry continued on his phone, you could care less.

looking down at the pretty pink bow you made your so proud in your self. you let out a giggle in excitement and notice the way Henry's cock twitched when you laughed. your mouth begin to water. trying something else you lightly blow making it twitch again.

you mouth became the ocean and you desperatly needed to taste him. opening your mouth and letting droll drip onto the head of his cock before lowering your head and licking it up. 'ohh fuck baby' henry moans out at the unexpected pleasure, finally placing his attention on you.

you take the tip of this cock in your mouth savering the taste of him. opening your mouth wider you take his full soft length in. feeling the bow brush against your lips. feeling him swell you come up for air letting out a little whine at the fact that this is the first time he's ever fully fit in your mouth, and it's because hes never let you suck it soft. and it's not gonna last much longer, but you'll enjoy having him in your mouth either way.

looking up to meet his gaze he grips your jaw and squeezes your cheecks together. sticking out your tounge he roughly brings you up for a sloppy kiss, gripping the back of your scalp. he breaks the kiss to leave kisses all over your face before letting you go back down to his cock, which is now fully hard.

bow intact.

you lick from the base to the tip repetadly. bringing your focus more to the head of his cock you bring one hand to the base and the other to his balls. 'fuck baby you know daddy likes that' he moans out as his hips buck forcing the tip of his cock all the way into your mouth. you gag a little before you adjust to it returning to your pace.

henry looks down to the ungodly display infornt of him. you desperatly sucking his cock, pretty hands playing with his balls with a pretty pink ribbon rapped around his cock, your eyes are watery, the floor beneath you full of droll and pre cum. your looking up to him eyes glossed over moaning every so often telling him just how much you love his cock.

'ahh- fuckk, baby im gonna cum' he moaned out. forcing the rest of his cock into your moth and down your throat henry couldn't hold back any longer. his cum being forced down your throat and falling from the sides of your mouth around his cock getting your bow all dirty. removing him from your mouth with a giggle and a smile so happy that you grew into loving bows.

[a/n: this randomly came to me and I wrote it right away so if it's bad blame it on that. 🎀]

[henrioo]

WHY IS SO FUCKING HARD PUT A "FEM" IN FRONT OF THE "READER"???????

NOT EVERYONE IN THIS FUCKING SITE IS A FEM OR USES FEM PRONOUNS YOU DUMB BITCH

NOT EVERYONE WANTS TO READ HALF OF A HISTORY ONLY TO GET A FEM NICKNAME OR A FEM PRONOUN THAT YOU TAKE OFF YOUR ASS

JUST PUT THE FUCKING FEM READER YOU ASSHOLE YOU NOT GOING TO DIE IF YOU PUT THREE FUCKING LETTERS IN FRONT THE READER

IS SO FUCKING HARD DEFENDING SOME AUTHORS BECAUSE THEY CONTINUE BEING DUMB

SOME MASC PEOPLE HAVE A FUCKING DYSPHORIA OR THEY DAY RUINED BY THAT

YOU WON'T LIKE IF WAS A MALE READER WITHOUT SAYING IS MALE, THEN PUT THE FEM READER BECAUSE WE DON'T LIKE EITHER

[ro-is-struggling]

Secret Encounters || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon

Summary: They know it's wrong, but they can't deny the desire and lust that overcomes them every time they are together.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, porn with a little bit of plot (not really), fingering, penetrative sex, mirror sex, rough sex, size kink, belly bulge, breeding kink, dirty talk, mentions of cheating (reader is engaged), fem reader (she’s a princess)

English is not my first language

Word count: 3900

Notes: I promise I'll stop writing tragic princess x witcher stories after this one. Also, sorry for the shitty summary but it's only smut so it was kinda hard to come up with something lol

Geralt had never been fond of royalty, but the moment his eyes fell on hers he knew she was different. He didn't really understand why, but he felt some type of way whenever she was near. Her perfume was intoxicating, a sweet scent that lingered on his clothes and skin and accompanied him wherever he went. He could not escape her even when he wandered alone through the forest in search of the beast he had been hired to kill... not even when he was lying in his bed at night, surrounded by the darkness of the room as he tried to rest. Her scent enveloped him at all times, awakening something deep inside him. It drove him crazy, crazy enough to act on his desires. 

He knew it was wrong, it was inappropriate to take advantage of the king's hospitality like that. And she knew it was wrong too, she was a princess soon to be married, a woman of high value who had no business with a witcher like Geralt. And yet, neither seemed to be able to stay away from the other. It was as if there was some kind of energy force pulling them together, the very will of destiny imposing itself over their own. When Geralt showed up at her chambers she knew she should have turned him away. No matter how much she had been longing for him to take her in his arms and make her his, the right thing to do was to reject him and move on with her life. In fact, she had opened the door with the intention of doing exactly that, but when her eyes met the imposing figure of the witcher, towering over her as his amber eyes admired her face, she could not resist the temptation. She gave in to her desires, crashing her lips against his in a desperate kiss as she slowly pulled him into her room.

The feel of his touch lingered on her body for days, her skin permanently marked by the roughness of his caresses and the warm wetness of his mouth. The sound of his grunts of pleasure as he buried himself in her echoed in her mind at all times. He was all she could think about. She knew it was wrong, but she needed to feel his hands on her body again, exploring every inch of her skin as he showed her pleasure like no other man could.

Despite their desperation, they were able to keep their hands off each other for a while. Though all their self-control disappeared by the time of Geralt's last day in the castle. After slaying the beast —and collecting his reward— the witcher was ready to leave when the king made him an offer he couldn't resist. There would be a feast in celebration of the fall of the creature that had terrorized the town and Geralt, as their savior, was the guest of honor. He would normally have declined the offer, although the promise of free food and alcohol sounded enticing, he hated the idea of being stuck with a bunch of drunken noblemen. However, this time it gave him the perfect excuse to stay there a while longer and say goodbye to the princess the right way —the way he knew they had both been fantasizing about since their last encounter.

The party quickly turned into a game of cat and mouse, defiant yellow eyes meeting hers in the crowd, admiring her lips as she laughed and the way her body moved as she danced. She was doing it on purpose, accepting the proposals of all the knights who bowed in front of her to provoke him. She wanted to spark a reaction in him, see how far she could push him, how far she could push the boundaries of their secret relationship. The thought of being caught filled her body with adrenaline, her heart pounding so hard against her chest that he could almost hear it over the noise of the party.

She waited for the right moment and took advantage of the first distraction to escape to her bedroom. Her eyes met Geralt's before disappearing behind the side door of the great hall, her desire-laden expression a silent plea for him to follow her. She sat in front of the large mirror in her room waiting for him, removing the jewelry from her hair and combing her hair without any haste. And just as she expected, only a few minutes after her arrival, she felt the sound of the door's wood creaking as it opened. She saw Geralt lock the door behind him in the reflection of the mirror and she had to hold back the smile that wanted to form on her lips —a failed attempt to save some of her decency and not look so desperate.

"You're not supposed to be here." She said as if his presence didn't make her heart race. "It's wrong."

"That's not what you said the other night." Geralt's deep voice was music to her ears, his slightly mocking tone awakening that tingle under her skin. He walked up to her, holding her gaze in the mirror as if challenging her. He stood tall at her back, close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from his body, but not close enough to feel the brush of his hands on her skin. 

"The other night was a mistake." She affirmed, setting the comb aside. It was true, their furtive encounter, though pleasurable, had been a mistake. But they both knew well that neither really cared. The desire they felt, the tension in the air, it was all too much, it clouded their thinking leaving them at the mercy of their most primitive feelings. 

Geralt reached out his hands to her, brushing her hair aside so he could caress her skin. He noticed how she stifled a sigh through the reflection of the mirror, his warm touch awakening that flame within her. His fingers moved gently across her shoulders, up her neck until they reached her cheeks. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, losing herself in the moment. It felt just as she remembered it, warm and hard, yet strangely soft and comforting at the same time. It was as if his hands had never left her skin, as if his caresses were permanently carved into her body.

"Do you wish for me to leave?" he said, his voice barely a raspy whisper. He knew the answer to her question, he could read it on her face, smell it in the air, feel it in the vein in her neck that throbbed rapidly beneath his fingers. But still, he needed to be sure he was right, hear from her lips the plea for his caresses. He needed to know that she was as desperate as he was.

She didn't give him a verbal response, just rose from her seat and pressed her lips to his. Geralt's hands closed around her waist, pulling her body against his as he quickly took control of the kiss. She didn't bother fighting for dominance, acknowledging her subordination to him almost immediately. She didn't need to win, she just needed to feel his hands on her skin again, gripping and caressing every inch of her body in a rush of pleasure until the early morning sun forced them apart.

There was nothing tender and soft about the way Geralt's lips attacked hers, only lust and desperation, but she loved every part of it. She loved the way his tongue invaded her mouth and how his teeth nibbled at her lips before moving his wet kisses down her neck, sucking and biting at the skin without fear of leaving marks. He knew he could do whatever he wanted with her as she was completely at his mercy, surrendered to the pleasure only he could give her. She didn't care if she had to spend the next week finding creative ways to hide the evidence of their furtive encounter, she just needed to feel him. She wanted him to mark her, to declare ownership over her body. She knew she belonged to him, always would, even if she never saw him again after tonight.

Clothes soon became a problem, a barrier that kept them apart, so desperate hands worked carelessly to fix it. Her dress was the first to go, the expensive fabric pooling around her feet leaving her naked body completely exposed to Geralt's hungry gaze. She should have been embarrassed, but nothing but lust and anticipation pumped through her veins. He was looking at her as if she were the most beautiful and sensual woman he had ever seen, as if she were a goddess he had the privilege of pleasing. Never before had anyone looked at her in that way, so intense, so filled with adoration. She loved it, it made her feel special, powerful. 

Geralt didn't waste a second, calloused fingers caressing every inch of exposed skin. It awakened a fire inside her, a tingling that spread throughout her body, concentrating on her core. His teeth nibbled at the sensitive skin of her neck, sinking his canines into her as his hands moved down to her breasts, earning a couple of sighs from the princess as he showed attention to her nipples erect with anticipation. He smiled against her neck, proud of himself as the scent of her arousal lingered in the air. It was an intoxicating scent, the sweet forbidden fruit begging him to take it.

When his fingers slipped between her wet folds, she let out a moan of pleasure as her grip on the witcher's shoulders tightened. It was as beautiful as he remembered, a harmonious melody traveling through him and going straight to his cock. It was the sound of temptation, of lust, urging him to carry on, to forget all rules of morality and decorum and take what was his.

“P-please, Geralt.” She pleaded against his lips. Her breathing was rapid and she looked up at him through half-closed eyelids. He slipped two of his fingers inside her with ease, pushing them as deep as he could and moving them until he made her moan. She looked so beautiful like this, her eyes closed in pleasure and her parted lips releasing those beautiful desperate sighs, completely at his mercy.It was an image that would stay in Geralt's mind for quite some time. 

"I know, I know," he soothed her, his free hand coming up to caress her cheek. "I have to get you ready for me."

"I-I need to feel you, p-please." She whimpered in a pathetic, desperate attempt to get him to do what she wanted. She needed to feel all of him, his hot skin pressed against hers, his fingernails sinking into the skin of her hips as he buried his cock deep inside her, his ragged breaths in the hollow of her neck. She needed him as much as she needed the air she breathed and could wait no longer.

Thankfully he took pity on her, removing his hands from her body to unbutton his pants. She suppressed the whimper that wanted to escape her throat as she felt empty without his fingers inside her, knowing the sensation would not last for long. Geralt instructed her to turn over and her body obeyed him before she could process his words or wonder what he was up to. Her body no longer belonged to her, it belonged to him and always would.

He held her against his chest for a moment, one hand roaming her body while the other held her head steady facing forward. She could feel his hard member pressed against her lower back as his heat enveloped her completely. Their gazes met in the mirror once more and she saw the darkness of desire staining the beautiful yellow orbs. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her intoxicating scent before lowering his lips to her ear.

"I want you to look at yourself in the mirror as I fuck you, princess." Geralt whispered in her ear, his voice firm and slightly deeper than normal. His eyes never left hers in the mirror, studying her reaction in the reflection. "I want you to see how beautiful you look with your face scrunched up in pleasure so you'll remember it after I'm gone and your future husband can't make you feel this good."

He gave her no warning before pushing his hard cock into her tight wet hole, and he wasn't gentle either. A quick thrust of his hips and he was balls deep inside her as her velvety walls struggled to take him. Geralt was big, it was almost hard for him to fully fit inside her despite how aroused she was. But it wasn't painful, not in a bad way at least. She loved the way his cock stretched her, almost impaling her on it when it was all the way in. The burning only added to her pleasure, the knot in her belly tightening with the promise of her orgasm.

Geralt set a fast, torturous pace, earning a string of incoherent moans each time he touched that special place deep inside her. She could feel him twitching inside her as her walls closed around him, desperate to hold him in place. It was almost too much and not enough at the same time, a mixture of feelings born of her need for relief. The sound of skin slapping against skin combined with her cries of pleasure and Geralt's grunts filled the room. It was loud and she wouldn't be surprised if she discovered that someone passing through the corridor could hear them, but she didn't care. She felt too good to worry about anything else.

The pleasure she felt was so intense that she had trouble keeping her eyes open, her heavy eyelids closing involuntarily against the force of Geralt's thrusts. But each time she did, he tightened his grip on her jaw, growling in her ear for her to open them. The image reflected in the mirrored surface was too much for her to take. Her small figure wrapped in the strong arms of her lover towering over her and making her feel even smaller and more insignificant. The bulge forming in her lower belly with each thrust showed just how deep inside her Geralt was. His teeth on her neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin without taking his intense gaze away from her eyes in the mirror. And finally, her face, with parted lips letting out a string of melodious moans, and glassy eyes filled with tears that threatened to escape at the sheer intensity of what she was feeling. The expression of pure pleasure on her face was one she had never seen on her before  —and she feared that after tonight she would never see it again.

It was all too much for her, and the possessive way Geralt was acting didn't help her in the slightest. He was determined to leave a mark on her, both physically and mentally. He wanted her to see traces of him on her own skin after he was gone, but he also wanted to make sure she remembered him. Make sure she remembered the intensity of the moment and the way he had made her feel. He wanted her to think of him every time her future husband left her unsatisfied, touching herself to relieve the pressure inside her as images of him in this very moment flashed through her mind. 

He made sure to let her know his intentions between grunts of pleasure, feeling her walls close around his member with every word that left his lips. She liked it as much as he did and that only egged him on.

"Geralt, please," she begged, not quite sure of what it was she was asking of him. Please stop because the pleasure traveling through my veins is too much to bear? Please keep going and don't stop until I'm passed out from exhaustion and you've ruined me for the rest of the men? She wasn't sure, both options were equally valid.

"I know... just let go," he encouraged her, his warm breath crashing against the skin of her ear as he spoke. "Just let go for me, princess."

Her body took his words as a command and it wasn't long before the knot in her belly snapped, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her insides. Her orgasm hit her like a pile of bricks, leaving her completely stupid. Geralt's name escaped her lips like a prayer as she lost herself in pleasure. All thought left her mind, she could only feel as her lover's thrusts slowed, her body trembling in his arms from overstimulation.

She only had a couple of seconds to recover, whining as she felt empty when Geralt pulled away from her momentarily. Her legs were weak and she struggled to stand, so he took her in his arms and laid her down on the bed carefully. He settled into the space between her legs, taking a moment to admire her and caress her body before continuing. His hands ran over her warm, sweat-covered skin in an almost gentle way, an act that contrasted with the roughness of his behavior so far but was nonetheless welcomed by her.

The tenderness didn't last long, though, because once he slid his cock inside her once more, he returned to the animalistic grunts and punishing rhythm of his thrusts. This time it was more desperate and erratic, letting her know that he was close to his own orgasm. His cock twitched inside her, threatening to paint her velvety walls with his seed. The very idea was enough to have her on the edge again. 

"You feel me, princess?" He said, taking one of her hands and bringing it down to her lower belly. He pressed it against her skin, trapping it between his palm and the bulge forming there from his cock. It added a new sensation and she couldn't contain the moan that escaped her throat. "Feel how deep inside of you I am?

"Fuck," she cursed, eyes rolling back as her free hand clutched at Geralt's wrist to make sure he didn't move it off her belly. The pressure felt too good, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her with a force that left her breathless.

"I'm the only one who gets is deep, f-fuck, the only one who makes you feel this way." He wasn't asking, it was a clear statement, but still she nodded, letting out repeated affirmations between high-pitched moans.

"I belong to you... My body is forever yours, no one will ever make me feel this good." The animalistic growl he let out at those words almost pushed her over the edge, leaving her on the verge of her second orgasm. She knew he was close too, she could feel it in his erratic thrusts and the way his cock twitched inside her. She needed to feel him come undone for her, to paint her walls white as he emptied his seed inside her. She needed him to mark her, to claim her as his own. They both knew a relationship between them was impossible, but she would always be his in secret. Her body would always miss him.

"Please, I need to feel you." She managed to say between moans and ragged breaths. "I need you to fill me up, please." She sounded pathetic at this point, but she didn't care. All she cared about was feeling Geralt's seed trickling down her thighs as she tried to catch her breath. 

The witcher groaned, a cocky smile playing on his lips. One of his hands flew to the headboard of the bed, the wood creaking under his strong grip as he adjusted his position. The new angle allowed him to reach even deeper —if that was even possible—, impaling her on his cock as she cried out in pleasure. Her nails dug into his back, leaving traces of red marks on his skin.

"You're desperate for it, aren't you?" he teased her arrogantly. "Don't worry, princess, I'm gonna shoot my seed so deep inside of you that you'll carry it for days. Is that what you want? You want me to mark you as mine? You want to feel me between your legs while you swear loyalty to your husband?"

"Yes! Fuck, Geralt, please... mark me, claim me as yours, please." 

The witcher did not expect to find it so erotic to hear her admit her deepest desires, but he did. It awakened something inside him, a primal desire that took over his body. He became an animal, a fierce, possessive wolf that was desperate for some relief. After all, that was exactly what their relationship was, pure animal instinct, pure lust and desperation. An intense attraction they couldn't resist even when they knew how wrong it was.

He came with a loud grunt, emptying his load inside her warm, tight walls. She felt every drop of it, her cunt filled to the brim with his desire for her. The intensity of his orgasm triggered hers, her body trembling under Geralt's weight, her walls tightening around his cock, milking him for everything he had. His name fell from her lips as pleasure consumed her, a prayer begging him to stay with her. He knew it was impossible, but in that moment - mind clouded with pleasure as he felt her crumbling beneath him - he really considered it. He wanted to feel her body against his again, hear the sound of her voice as she moaned his name outside of his memories. He needed her.

But that was just a fantasy, the desire for the impossible. She was a princess who was soon to be married and he was a witcher who had nothing to do with the court and royal affairs. She was not his —even if her body was— and he was not hers. And that was the hard truth. So when he came to his senses he rose from his place on the bed, where he rested with her beside him. The princess watched him as he dressed, trying to ignore the strange feeling of emptiness that came over her at the thought that once he crossed the threshold of the door she would never see him again.

"Will I ever see you again?" She asked in a whisper, as if afraid of being heard. Geralt admired her naked figure on the bed as he contemplated his answer, liking the way the dim candlelight illuminated her skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. As wrong as it was, he would really like to see her again, but the truth was he didn't know if it would happen. The future was uncertain, especially in his line of work, so to give her a straight answer would be to lie to her.

"Only time will tell."

[milknhonies]

Daddy's Final Deal

Oneshot Summary: Your possessive Step-Father Bruce Wayne decides he cannot bare you leaving for college...so he leans on a friend who shares the same obsession for you. He offers him a deal.

Oneshot Warning: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Non-Con, CNC, Grooming (all characters are of legal age.) Bondage, P in V, Oral Sex, Threesome, Exhibition, Vouyerism, pseudo-incest between step-father & step daughter, pimping if you squint, breeding kink if you squint. No condoms/unsafe sex.

Word Count: 10.2k

Author Notes: This is a gift for @cardierreh15 after a playful dare. I hope you enjoy this babe 🥺✨

Gently laid on soft satin bed sheets, your thoughts were consumed with the evening discussion that you had during supper with your step-father Bruce and his best friend Clark, followed by the unexpected marriage proposal Clark had made. You were surprised Clark had wanted your hand for any other purpose than for your step-father’s wealth– you would have never guessed his feelings for your because he was usually so calm and friendly with everyone. Yet he had asked you softly if you would consider being his wife with a warm smile, and you knew he was serious from the glint in his eyes. It was like your lungs were drowning with how difficult it was to breathe.

For the first time, your heart stirred, void of fear and worry.

You didn’t outright decline his offer, but a decision of this magnitude deserved more than a hasty reply. You had to think this through being that you were so caught if guard in the first place, so you demurred by saying you needed time to think about your official answer. After all, you were just a month away from starting college. You wanted to be a journalist like Clark despite Bruce’s protests and alternative encouragement for you to remain home and attend charity balls with him. Besides, Clark was a bit too old…a little younger than Bruce but both men still had twenty years on you.

If age wasn’t the defining taboo, you had noted Clark was a gentleman who had the ability to make you laugh. If anything was to happen to Bruce or Alfred, you felt Clark would be the most reliable shoulder to lean against.

You rolled over and sighed, you held your blanket up to your chin and continued to ponder.

Clark Kent...he would be a decent husband, but did you have feelings for him? He was rather charming and undeniably handsome. It was something that you would probably lose sleep over in the future.

Clark had approached the topic very calmly, almost shyly, and Bruce had seemed to be expecting this. That made it obvious to your that Clark had asked your step-father first, and Bruce would not have let his best friend ask you if he did not approve first...Bruce in fact was smiling at dinner and that smile fell when you have your polite neutral response.

Suddenly the wine he had let your drink felt a little sickly in your belly. You excuses yourself as soon as you could to your bedroom.

You rolled over in your sheets and sighed softly, snuggling up under the thick duvet and nuzzling the thousand-dollar pillows. It confused you, but the more you thought about it, the less absurd it became. You giggled. Clark would make a very good husband, and you would be lucky to have someone such as him, of such a good but firm character, always with an easy smile or an encouraging word for you. And he had always been a good friend to you, respecting your interests in writing, sometimes babying you, which girls your age might find annoying but you didn’t mind.

The boys your age were so horny and stupid...immature. it was impossible to see them as providers for the families that they claimed to want for themselves.

So saying “yes” to Clark would feel a little weird to you, but what real reason was there to say no? Did you have someone else? You might’ve shared kisses along your teens in highschool, yet none of them swept you off your feet enough to like them.

You were just glad that Clark had agreed to let your think about it. His smile had been relaxed, and he showed no anger or resentment. His eyes did appear tighter, other than that it even seemed as if he had expected your hesitation and was willing to wait. Clark was always so understanding, why wouldn’t he be about such an important question like this?

You shut your eyes with a smile.

★★★

Meanwhile, the men remained downstairs in the library, in front of the fireplace, and Clark looked across the flames at his best friend.

“Are you sure you still want to go through with this Bruce?” he asked.

The men had known each other for years and had grown a close bond in friendship and other activities. And if course it was bound to slip from one man’s lips to the other about their depraved thoughts, desires and fantasies....it turns out they shared a common denominator... You.

Over a month ago they were sitting in the same place discussing the same issue about to occur...losing you.

They knew if you left for college, you’d meet some cocky asshole studying to be a lawyer or doctor, get pregnant, get married quickly only to suffer a uncommitted marriage and end in a heart breaking divorce.

What type of men would they be if they watched their favourite girl fall to such demise as that!?

Bruce had married your mother when you were fourteen and he was the best dad you could ever ask for. He helped with your homework and taught you to swim while he paid for your mother’s chemo therapy.

When she died three years ago, you’d just finished highschool. You were totally shattered and put off summer break and college until you knew you were prepared. But now Clark had dumped the marriage proposal.

Clark sighed. His best friend's idea wasn’t totally a surprise to him. Bruce had planned this.

Clark recalled how Bruce was constantly looking out for you; his protectiveness as a stepfather, while perhaps misguided, was undeniably apparent. It was clear that he cared about you deeply and had shown no interest in any other woman since the passing of his wife—your mother. Clark often caught Bruce gazing at you with a loving and compassionate gaze, as if he were contemplating the best way to look after you.

During those days Clark was scared to share his own perverse thoughts...oh how the man wanted to look after you. You always were so lovely around him, so eager to gain his attention and praise, perhaps as another fatherly figure she could cling to...It wasn’t hard for Bruce to see that Clark loved you dearly and was clearly proud of your accomplishments. Clark was proud like a second father.... Except he wanted to do things no father should ever do to their little girls. He almost lost it one day when he walked in on you, on your hands and knees scrubbing the carpet before Alfred could find the stains you’d made when stealing some red whine from Bruce’s cellar. Your skirt was a tad too short, the hem pulled up over your ass cheeks and crotch. Clark held back from ripping those white nylon leggings with those cute pink panties and shoving his cock deep in your tight cunt.

He wondered if Bruce ever found out about the stain...he touched himself imagining Mister Wayne spanking his wayward little minx of a daughter over his knees.

Clark wanted you. Bruce wanted you and the moment they both figured it out, neither of them could judge each other for their thoughts....

They decided Clark would ask for your hand and the billionaire of Gotham would give his best friend his blessing – on one condition.

The idea was foul and taboo, and Clark was not sure whether he should deny to it or not. But this was his best friend, the loving step-father who cared about the young woman Clark wanted to marry as much as he did if not more. You had shared things in the past, and whenever you had debated or ‘fought’ over things, it was always light hearted, and never bitter.

“Of course I do, if not now then not ever Clark....” Bruce replied with a brief nod, “Tonight might be the only chance we get.”

Clark nodded slowly for a moment. Yes, he cared for you and had done so for a long time. He was happy that when he asked, you had not acted with shock or revulsion. But you had seemed surprised and hesitant, and he could not blame your for being shy and uncertain.

“What if she says no?” he asked.

Bruce’s eyes darkened, “She will...at first. Are you capable of pushing through that Kent?”

The super man smirked sickly. Of course he could. Clark nodded.

“She is going to be scared,” Bruce replied with certainty as he slowly turned his head towards the stairway out in the hall that led to your wing of the mansion, “I have been expecting this since her mother died, I doubt she remembers that night…”

Clark sighed, “I recall you letting her drink. She was a giggling and crying mess when I carried her to her room to have a nap.”

Bruce curled his lips inward, and he nodded. The silence grew strained.

Clark’s eyes furrowed in curiosity, “Bruce…are you hiding something from me?”

“She…” his friend paused, his grey eyes grew hazed as he looked into the flames, “When you left, I went to check up on her,” he thrummed his fingers on his chin, “She was touching herself Clark... and I caught her and…well…she…” his eyes met the other man again.

Clark sat back in his leather seat, his throat bobbed, “You watched until the end?” the was no judgement merely a question to acknowledge what had happened.

The other man nodded again and continued, “I came in after she finished, she was half out of it. So when I tucked her in, she kissed me…fully…and…god Clark…she- she’s so beautiful, I can’t watch her go off to college.…”

The journalist exhaled and clenched his jaw.

And Bruce sighed, “That’s why my little girl is going to be pregnant tonight.”

Clarks eyes widened, his lips parted hesitantly. That was not in the original plan...He paused and struggled to find the right words. Bruce had given Clark the greatest opportunity and the wrong word would revoke all that granted privilege.

“We both care about you,” the billionaire sucked his teeth, “Forget what the tabloids will say. They are hypocrites with absolutely no moral sense. Afterall mr superman, aren’t you rubbing shoulders at the daily planet, surely you can take care of the backlash? We aren’t blood related and c’mon we have a right to her better than anyone on this cold spinning rock. With my wealth and your muscles, who else would take better care of her? No one else!” Bruce said fiercely, although his voice was a whisper, his eyes narrowed slightly.

Clark found himself frozen in place, his eyes locked on his friend’s face. It took him a moment to process all the emotions and thoughts that surged around inside him. Finally, he managed to nod his head slowly, as he tried to take in the unexpected turn of events.

“Okay Wayne,” his lips broke into a dark chuckle, “Lets go put a baby in our little girl.”

The wooden door your bedroom creaked open slowly. A bit of light from the hallway made its way past Bruce’s bulk form, illuminating his step-daughter’s face. When he whispered your name, you did not stir, and he smiled to himself. He turned around to Clark and nodded. The two of them moved forward stealthily. Bruce carefully slid his arms under the blanket, finding your form before scooping it up. You stirred but did not wake. Bruce carefully carried you to his master bedroom, a place he scarcely let you enter for the obvious reason of what he kept secret in his drawers. Clark shut the doors and locked them, heaven forbid Alfred managed to walk into this event.

It would be more comfortable here for the three of you, and warmer with how Bruce kept an electric fireplace and big flat screen tv on the wall. The flames continued dancing cheerily as Bruce gently laid his step-daughter down, looking at you with a small smile.

Several moments passed before Bruce lowered his hand, gently moving his hand under your nightie chemise, his hot palm over your stomach. The mattress dipped on both sides keeping you balanced. Another set of fingers creeped up your thighs. Since the touches were so gentle, you did not stir so easily. Clark watched silently, his heart pounding as Bruce slowly lifted your hem up showing off a set of fresh underwear he allowed you to buy with the allowance credit card.

A cute pair of cotton white panties with a soft yellow duck print on top of the crotch. Clark swallowed hard. His thumb scarcely brushed over your damp apex. A small wet spot was beginning to spread. You softly cooed, still not awake…surely dreaming of something naughty by what Clark could smell.

Bruce glanced at Clark before looking back at you, and carefully untied the small strings that held the top bust of your nightie closed. His hands were steady as he parted the folds.

And there they laid their eyes on your breasts, Clark had to hold back a loud sharp intake of breath. Your nipples were perfect, and he found himself craving to suckle them. Your nipples hardened slightly as the slight coolness of the air tickled them.

You groaned softly, your eyelids fluttering open. You shifted and rolled over onto your side, looking around in confusion.

‘Where am I? Where’s my cuddle pillow?’

You rubbed your eyes and registered that you were with your step-father and Clark…on Bruce’s bed…. Both men were staring down at you silently, and you gasped when you realised your nightie was open. You held back a shriek and quickly whipped it closed before shoving the hem of your nightie down past your knees.

‘What am I doing out of my bed and with my chest exposed? Why we my nightie up so high? Did they see my underwear?’

Bruce's faint smile and Clark's gentle expression might have brought you ease, but the situation was too strange.

‘Why was my nightie been untied and opened? Why was it so far up my legs? Did one of them do it?’

The idea was...absurd. But what else would have happened? You were not in the habit of sleepwalking. You tied your nightie closed and quickly sat up, looking at the two men.

“I um…Is...something wrong, Dad?” you asked oh so innocent and naively as you sat up, feeling Bruce’s thick blue cotton blankets under your body. Bruce’s large and callused hand gently grasped your upper arm, softly stroking it as if to comfort you. His kind smile stayed on his face, unmoving even as he shook his head. His quiet demeanour continued to soothe you with each moment, despite the overwhelming emotions swirling through your mind.

“Nothing is wrong sweetheart, you-…” he breathed, his other hand caressing your cheek. Your step-father was an affectionate man, giving your mother and you hugs often whenever you wanted them, but in all these years...he had never caressed your cheek like this. His thumb ran softly over your lips intimately.

Briefly turning your head to inspect Clark, you found there was nothing about his body language denoting immediate danger. He even leaned in slightly and rested a hand on your knee, shifting even closer toward you.

You sighed softly in comfort...until he said, “You...Don’t need to be afraid....”

Your eyes widened, “Be afraid of what?” you asked. Like some strange horror, the dotes were slowly connecting. The air around you felt taut. You were confused and even Clark could hear how your heart was beating faster, anxiously. Your lips parted slightly, but what could you say, surely they weren’t going to…were they? Why were they looking at you in that way? Why did they look so...hungry?

Bruce smiled and leaned in, placing a kiss on your forehead directing your attention back to him. Without answering your question, he tilted your chin up and sealed his lips over yours in a gentle kiss, his lips pressing against you in a firm manner.

Your eyes popped wider as you suddenly pulled away from the kiss. While other boys had given you tender kisses before in your youth, none had done it quite as passionately as Bruce, your own step-father. His kiss was gentle yet deep, unlike anything you had experienced before. The sensation of his tongue inside your mouth and the minty flavour of his breath filled your senses, making you feel both awkward and ashamedly excited.

Having predicted the situation, Clark quickly got behind you. You felt his thick toned arms snaked around you in a caging hug, holding you firmly in place. Bruce smiled and put his hands on your hips, leaning in and quickly resuming the contact of your lips. You couldn’t lift your arms to shove him away. Your head was pressed against Clark’s chest, unable to break free although you wiggled about furiously, trying to move to the side.

Clark's arms held you in place firmly, pinning your own arms. His hands were spread across your chest and stomach, while his mouth pressed against the shell of your ear.

“Good girl,” he praised, “Stay nice and still for Daddy and me hm?”

He ducked his nose a deeper and traced his lips along your soft skin, kissing along the shape of it as Bruce deepened his seductive French kissing for a moment before breaking it. You had been unable to break it since his hands cupped your face. A soft whimper escaped your lips as Clark started licking along your earlobe, and you gasped softly when he suddenly blew on the wet trail he had just left.

“Easy baby, you need to calm down… Please,” Clark whispered softly, kissing your neck and ear as Bruce placed light kisses along your cheek.

Your step-father smiled and pinched the front of your nightie down and open just a bit to expose your shoulders and collar bone, which he lavished in more wet kisses.

The attention being given to you by both men were gentle, but the whole situation was frightening to you. You knew you should’ve tried to bite their ears, but how could you harm them? The two men you cared about? The man stroking you was your step-father, how could he want to do this? And more importantly, how could Clark just let it happen?

“Please,” you jerked your head back, fruitless from breaking away from their searing kisses, “Let me go...I need to sleep...” you whimpered softly.

“Sh- shh-hh...” Bruce shushed hotly, suckling gently upon the part where your neck met your shoulder. The skin there was sensitive, and you gave a soft cry when you felt him nip gently.

“... D-dad, Clark I-, please...don’t” you whimpered. You turned your head to look up at Clark, looking for an answer. Clark merely gave you that warm, wide smile and captured your lips, closing his eyes as he kissed you with a gentle passion.

Your lashes fluttered, his lips were soft and he was not nearly as forceful as Bruce. He coaxed you to comply. The tiniest of moans left your mouth and filled his.

You shifted again as your step-father worked at your nightie, tugging it open some more. You gave out a weak mewl when Clark broke the kiss. You trembled under Bruce’s dancing fingers.

“Did- did I do something wrong? Why are you doing this to me?” you asked, the corners of your eyes watered. Had your step-father been expecting you to say ‘yes’ to Clark? Was he mad at you? Why was he also here kissing you like this?

This was your own step-father, the man who had raised you since you were fourteen. The man that had married and fucked your own mother. The betrayal felt like a deep and sharp cut. Is this how he saw you? Just some girl he could manipulate when she was of consenting age? You felt sick...and angry. It was practically incest, it was an abomination!

You could barely contain the whimpers and spurting tears rising.

Your question was ignored as the two men made short work of your entire dress, two pairs of hands removing it while keeping your restrained. You could barely contain your squeals when the fabric ripped. Bruce grunted as he tore through and tugged the damn thing from your goosebump skin.

Clark's hands caressed your belly while Bruce's moved to cup your breasts.

Bruce gave a shuddering breath and weighed them in his hands. They were so soft and succulent. He had dreamed of doing this to you many times, for so long during your sweet innocent hugs he’d sneakily brush his fingers against your chest whenever he could to steal and imagine how great your tits would one-day feel in his hands.

All of his expectations were met, and exceeded. And there was still more to see, to explore.

“Please, tell me! Why!?” you demanded. Clark's grip on your arms were gentle but very firm, and you could not scratch either of them. Bruce smiled at you fondly. He cupped your cheeks again and cooed.

“You have done absolutely nothing wrong babygirl. This isn't a punishment. See... We both want you to know how much we love you,” his face leant for and licked at your salty cheek.

“And it’s not like you have a good reason to say no to Daddy and I.” Clark whispered while Bruce fondled your breasts, pinching the hard nipples between his fingertips in a careful way. Clark peered down at what his friend was doing and observed your soft breasts. He was eager for his own turn to feel them, but he was not going to rush his friend. They had agreed to share and be fair about it, and he knew Bruce was a man of his word.

“… No good reason to say no?” you asked, your heart pounding, although your question was barely more than a whisper. They both nodded. Clark smiled and kissed your cheek before touching his nose against it in a loving nuzzle.

He cupped and massaged one breast, giving a brief nod to his friend before shifting his eyes towards your other breast.

Clark moved one hand and took your right breast, which Bruce had offered, and began to fondle it while Bruce played with your left one. Bruce was firmer in his kneading, and Clark was gentle as his fingers skimmed along the underside of the mound, as if he was afraid of hurting you. Both hands felt so good on you, and you squirmed around, afraid to submit to any pleasure from this shocking situation.

“Please... please, let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone about this, not even Alfred, please let me go now. Let me go. Leave me alone! I'm your step-daughter! Bruce! Y-you’re meant to be my Dad!” you pleaded, trying to get through to your step-father as he gave your breast a very firm, although not painful squeeze.

Bruce chewed his bottom lip and moved away. He got off the bed and watched his best friend touch you. He tugged at his tie and unbuttoned his blouse. His chest was covered in dark and silvery hairs. He fiddled with his belt buckle. His trousers fell to his ankles. His hand dove into his briefs.

Your eyes flooded with more tears. You were staring at Bruce’s erection.

“Come on princess...You know we won’t hurt you. Ever... Don’t be scared, relax, enjoy and be a good little girl…” Bruce said softly, climbing back on the bed he reached out and started caressing your arms.

You couldn’t help it, you screamed and tried to kick your step-father away with your legs as hard as you could. You hated that you had to hurt him like this. Clarks heavy hand clamped down on your squealing mouth

Bruce shook his head, slapping your kicking heels away. His lips curled into a mean sneer as he leant forward and tweaked your nipples, sending a jolt of pain through your chest.

You yelled out behind Clarks hand, trying to bite down on his palm. He didn’t flinch once. His nose flared, he was a little irritated with your teeth sinking into his skin.

“Better stop screaming sweetheart or Daddy’s going to have to put a gag in that little mouth of yours,” Bruce ground between his gritted teeth.

Your pleas were not doing the trick, and your desperate kicks weren’t either. They both played with your breasts and Bruce chuckled, drawing your nipple into his mouth and sucking firmly on the hard nub.

Clark bodily drifted his hand down between your legs, touching your duckling and creeping down further to your damp crotch. His fingers strong and hard, lazily rubbed in circles. Both of them seemed acutely aware of the pleasure that you were feeling at their attention even as you pleaded with them and tried to deny it. It only spurred them on and made them want your more.

“Daddy, stop it!” you wailed, “This is wrong and you know it too Clark!” you flung yourself backwards and tried to push the other male off you.

The man let your nipple free and looked into you's eyes. It had been so long since you had called him 'Daddy', having abandoned it for 'Dad' or just 'Bruce' in later years.

“Pumpkin…” he said, grabbing your wrists, giving Clark enough time to move away. Bruce pushed you back hard onto the mattress and sat on your ankles, holding your wrists down as he clouded you in his body. He hovered above you. You trembled violently, weeping hard.

“This is going to happen, and there’s nothing you can do or say to stop it,” his head lifted, “You finished stripping Clark?” he asked.

Your eyes flashed up. Your point of you made the world appear upside down. Clark sat his glasses on the bed side table...it was the last thing he wore.

“Bottom drawer, there’s a roll of duct tape.”

Clark nodded and pulled it out. The colour surprised him ...it was pink. Clark planned to use it on you one way or another, no matter what

Bruce trailed his nose across your face and pressed his lips to your forehead, “Trust your Daddy. Have I ever done anything to you that proved harmful?” Bruce asked softly, his blue eyes filled with a pleading for your understanding. You fell silent as you slowly shook your head whimpering and breaking down at the tearing sound of the pink duct tape. Bruce pushed your wrists together. The sticky sensation bound around your wrists tightly. He had always been such a loving step-father. But this went past the bounds of a step-father.

“No... b-bu-tt this-s... we're n-not...d-daddy, y-youre meant to be m-m-my dad-daddy...” Your voice was breaking, a soft pathetic whine as you pleaded, “Clar-k h-elp me.”

Bruce’s eyes glanced up at Clark. A tiny nod. Another rip and the tape was pushed flat against your sobbing mouth.

Clark rejoined you both on the bed and held your hands down for Bruce as the man bent down taking your nipple into his mouth again, his tongue rubbing it firmly as he suckled. A chest rattling gasp was muffled behind the tape.

Clark held you, massaging your other breast. You started to feel the fiery tingle between your legs. You were a virgin, but you were not stupid, and had touched that special place before...shame filled your mind because truly how much of a monster were you for being aroused by... your own step-father?

Despite the pleasure, you were afraid. You wiggled against Clark, twisting your arms and whining softly.

Clark's hands were gentle yet firm, and he held you in place even as you twisted. He moaned softly against your neck, and you felt the underside of his arousal along side Bruce’s, both touching the outsides of your thighs.

"Bruce...I need her,” he whispered, “Let me fuck your precious princess?”

The older man corrected softly humming, “Our precious princess.”

The two strong men lifted you up slightly from your laying down. You tried weakly kicked at them again before feeling Bruce slap the inside of your thigh and point a stern finger at your face.

“Enough. Don’t make me throw you over my knee babygirl.”

You sniffled and started to hiccup behind the tape gag. The tiny jerks from your body every time you hiccupped made the men’s faces soften.

You were forced to sit up on your knees and lay forward against Bruce’s chest. When Clark tugged your hips backwards, your bum was angled to the sky while your stomach laid in Bruce’s lap, your legs at either side of his torso. This caused your chest to be nestled into Bruce's lap, your breasts pressed against the hard hot flesh of his cock. You were effectively sandwiched between them, and wiggled around, trying to not think about your step father’s cock touching your nipple and switching against your skin.

His large hands touched your shoulders and laid it on your head, patting your hair softly. Clark's hands were at your rear, rubbing and kneading the cheeks and parting them slightly as he felt the pert rump. A soft playful spank made you jump and whine. You started sobbing again, wiggling against the firm grip of your step-father as he tried to soothe you. One of Bruce's hands cupped his cock and rubbed his precum into your swollen nipples.

You tried to kick at Clark as you felt his hands on the waistband of your panties, and you turned your face away from your step-father's throbbing erection that Bruce was raising to rub along your wet salty cheek. You tried to use your hands as leverage.

How was you supposed to get out of this situation? It was clear what they wanted to do and also clear that they would not be deterred. The combined forces of two fully-grown men, strong super humans at that, against that of a young woman, was quite overwhelming. They were not letting your go, and that was that. Bruce chuckled as Clark slid his step-daughter's panties down, exposing your pert ass. Clarks mouth looked dry...his tongue flicked out.

It was rather a lovely sight for Clark, and he sighed contentedly as he reached down to stroke your lower lips. You moaned softly, you used your knees to get away and to launch yourself up Bruce’s body. You managed to bury your face against your step-father's chest and the crease of his armour as you felt Clarks hot breath along your little glistening slit.

Soon Clark's fingers rose up to pet your wet pussy. He caressed the throbbing mound gently, fingers slowly pulling apart your slick nether lips. With one arm, he hooked it under your stomach and lifted your hips, forcing you back up higher on your knees. This allowed him to see your womanhood more clearly.

“How's it look?” Bruce asked calmly, stroking your hair and back in an attempt to soothe you, forgetting his own throbbing arousal for the moment as he tried to quieten your sobs.

“Ohh, Bruce, our little girl is so perfect,” he moaned, grinning as he gently felt your inner flesh with a finger. Your inner flesh peeked out shyly from your outer lips, like the petals of a flower. Bruce could not help but chuckle at Clark’s response as he ran his fingers along your spine, feeling your twitch and hearing a soft shudder come from the tape gag. He pressed his lips to your brow and hummed.

“Yea darlin’,” he broke into his relaxed southern drawl, “You goin’ tell daddy about how you probably used his credit card to wax this pretty pussy?”

Bruce’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped as he looked down at your eyes, pleading up at him wetly.

“It’s a real sculpted love heart...now who on earth is this for huh? Only little sluts get groomed like this,” Clark sat up and leant of you and Bruce. His lips pressed to the corner of your tapped lips, “Are you a little slut baby girl.”

Muffled sobs emanated from the girl as you pressed your face against your step-father’s chest and Clark paused. The men exchanged smirks.

“Have you let some boy fuck this cute hole Baby girl?” Clark breathed, softly, a mocking tone to his voice. He touched your side with his free hand, the other remaining at your mound but being idle, the finger now pulled out. Bruce looked down and gently tilted his step-daughter's chin up to look into your eyes. You looked very lovely with tear-stained cheeks, you had never looked more beautiful his eyes. His hand slowly ran along your cheeks, wiping your tears as he looked down at your tenderly.

“Sweetheart...My lovely little girl. You’re not in trouble, tell us the truth...” he said, softly, caressing your face. Clark bit his lip gently and resumed stroking your rear and your thighs, soon going back to rubbing your hot folds. There was no denying the pleasure, and he felt wetness.

You whimpered softly as you shook your head no while you succumbed under the gentle assault of four hands, all caressing and touching you in the most intimate and gentle of ways.

It was strange, they were not supposed to be doing this and you had been trying to fight them off. And despite all the fear, despite all the rough man handling, despite their mean mockery and degrading humiliation...your groin felt alive....You felt good,

You glanced back over your shoulder at Clark. He met your eyes and smiled. He pressed his lips to your forehead while his fingers were stroking and rubbing your intimate areas in a way that caused your to become wetter.

You hadn’t noticed how your crying was being replaced by snotty sniffling, and mewling moans.

Bruce smiled down at you when you turned your head back to him.

You felt his hand cup your bicep, pulling your bound hands up. You stretched your fingers. He held up his erection and pointed it to your palms

“Touch me baby,” he encouraged softly, “I trust you.”

You whimpered softly and shook your head, giving a sudden gasp with wide eyes as one of Clark’s fingers wiggled into you.

“Please...?” he purred lowly, smiling as Clark pressed second one inside and slowly scissor your insides. You let out a low shuddering moan as your step-father gently grasped your wrist, leading your hand to the swollen cock. Clark continued sliding his fingers in and out of you, before adding a third. Your walls clamped and tightened. You let out a soft hiss and were unable to stop yourself from pushing against Clark’s hand. The man then angled his fingers as he thrust them in slowly, causing them to press against a spongy place on your inner wall that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Bruce smiled, his hand cupping over your bound hands so you were forced to grasp the base of his erection. You tried to remove your hand – but of course, to no avail. His thick rod was very warm and solid, you made a small noise as you felt it throb under your hand. You squirmed slightly under Clark’s attention, finding it difficult to breathe as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

Clark peppered a flood of gentle kisses along your soft cheeks as he thrust his fingers into you. Your step-father released a soft moan.

Your hand tightened and rubbed your step-fathers shaft weakily. Your shuddering breaths and fluttering eyes told Bruce everything he need to know about how well Clark was treating their special girl.

Your fingers slowly slid up and down the shaft several times, before you wrapped your fingers around it more firmly and did just as he guided, pumping it slowly and seeing the head seep with a bit more precum. His head tilted back a bit and he gave a low groan of pleasure. You looked up at him and saw how much he liked it, then whimpered, it was so strange how you could have the power all of a sudden. Curiosity, getting the best of you as you looked down at it. It was impressive-looking, and you were becoming slowly bemused to think that he wanted to put this in you.

You pumped more firmly, looking up at your step-father's face intently. He was no longer holding your down, so you pulled herself up just a bit, Clarks fingers followed you as you weakly tried balancing up and off Bruce’s chest. You continued your firm pumping of your step-father's engorged member. Now the taboo excitement of watching him moan and dig his nails into the bed sheets made you conclude that you were getting a thrill out of all this. It made you wonder if there was something wrong with you just as much as there was something wrong with him.

At fourteen, who could deny that little sweet highschooler you had a big crush on your step dad before it developed into crushing on his journalist friend Clark Kent, the very man with three digits up your sweet silky hole.

It was time. You could definitely not ignore the pleasure you felt from Clark, who was working slowly and tenderly at your throbbing sex.

You whined, arching your hips, your toes curling and flexing, something Clark found cute. He chuckled to himself, trailing his free hand along the back of one of your thighs.

Bruce’s hand rose up and grabbed your wrists, he pulled them away to gently stop you. He knew he wanted to cum inside of you.

You looked up at him in surprise and your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, seeing him smiling kindly at you. Bruce pressed his lips against your forehead and chuckled.

“Are you trying to be a good girl now?” he asked touching the corner of the tape on your mouth.

You sniffled and nodded, moaning when Clark pulled his fingers out to trail down and rub into your pearlling clit.

He smiled, “Alright,” he whispered, “This is going to hurt-“ he said ripping off the tape before he finished his own sentence.

You yelped and hissed.

“Sorry baby girl,” he apologised.

Bruce then leant back against the pillows and watched you succumb to pleasure from Clarks speedy fingers. Your bound hands laid flat on Bruce’s chest, steading you from falling. Your fingers brushed and rubbed along his hairy chest.

Bruce cupped your waist and held you firm as he gazed at you showing your curious exploration. It was then he realised, you were touching some of his scars, covered by hair. Your eyes were growing softer...glassy...he couldn’t believe his luck...you looked the same as you did when you kissed him after your mothers death. If only he knew this was some sort of trance, a head space you were in all those years ago, he would’ve fucked you then.

Clark slid his fingers out of your and licked them clean. The pair, rolled you over onto your back.

You calmly glanced back at your step-father for a moment before returning your attention to the taller man, who was in a similar state of arousal as your step-father.

“My sweet little girl...” Bruce purred before kissing you deeply, his lips locking around yours passionately. Finally you found yourself leaning closer and meeting his same force. The wet sounds of your mouth and moans clouded any remaining sanity left in your mind. Your bound arms found their way around his neck, and he continued kissing you.

Clark waited patiently, knowing that he would have the soon enough, and watched as his friend lovingly cradled his step-daughter, continuing the hungry attentions. You were unable to resist kissing him back just as fiercely.

Soon your tongues came into the dance, with Bruce quickly gaining dominance, a sweet whine escaping you.

Clark smiled, and began to rub his shaft slightly. Bruce pulled away and pushed your bound hands off his neck. He shuffled your face to the side, pushing you to Clarks arms.

With bold confidence, you pushed up onto your knees and laid your loud hands behind his neck, pressing your lips to his. He playfully growled as your tongues fought, you lost and he hummed happily, eagerly exploring your sweet little mouth, his arms tightening around your body.

After a few more long moments of the passionate kiss, he broke it before licking up the strand of saliva that bridged your panting tongues. He grinned at you. You smiled and stared at him for a moment before looking down shyly. He saw this demure action and smirked.

“What’s wrong princess, still scared?” he asked softly, nuzzling your cheek. You continued looking down shyly. You had thought of asking Bruce who was watching you both, what your mother would have thought of what he was doing to his step-daughter, but you had no doubt that he had already thought of that.

Bruce cupped your waist and lowered his lips to your shoulders. His erection pushed against the swell of your ass.

Carefully you were pushed back onto the mattress. Bruce came up to put your head in his lap, languidly stroking your hair and cheeks as Clark rubbed your thighs. The man you had admired for so long spread them, eyeing your shuddering sex hungrily. Your body froze up, stiffening as it sunk in what was truly coming you squirmed around, pressing your knees together. You looked up at Clark pleadingly.

He sighed, disappointed. He leant behind him, reaching for the duct tape....was he going to duct tape your legs spread wide.

You panicked, “Are you doing this because I did not accept your marriage offer?”

“No.” he paused and didn’t grab the tape at all. He leant down and softly, kissed your lips chastely. Bruce leant down sand cupped the back of your knees, pulling them up and spreading them wide.

You shivered.

Clark touched your cunt gently and spread you open again. His face pushed forward, leaning in and licked from the bottom to the top of your slit. You had a sharp gasping intake as you felt the gentle licking there and you pushed his head away gently. Clark leaned back in and continued to lick you, lapping at the sweet wet with his thick tongue, resisting as you pushed at his head – although your pushes were fairly weak.

“You’re not being punished,” Bruce repeatedly assured you as if he read your mind, stroking your cheeks. Clark continued to lap at you.

“We just both think this would be a bit of....encouragement for you to stay baby,” Bruce purred, tweaking one of your nipples playfully.

You grizzled, “To st-stay?” your hips jerked a little as Clark sucked harder on your clit, your legs still held wide open by Bruce’s strong hands.

“Honey,” Clark murmured into your cunt, staring up at you with eyes that were mixed with lust, adoration and worship, “You don’t need to go to college when you have me and your daddy to heel you happy.”

Your voice caught in your throat, you couldn’t believe it...this was why? To keep you away from going to school? You bit your bottom lip. You would’ve been devastatingly hurt but with his tongue slipping inside and licking deep into your whole, you tossed your head backwards onto Bruce’s shoulder, crying out as a orgasm waved through your body.

“Clark, you can take her first,” Bruce softly granted.

“We can look at that sweet asshole another day and then,” your step father licked the shell of your ears whispering, “You’ll be allowed to fuck two big cocks at once down there.”

Clark got on his knees between your legs and Bruce steadied you, taking your hands into his own and squeezing them reassuringly before he let go. His large hands massaged your breasts, and reached down to rub your clit slowky as you felt Clark position himself, gently rubbing your slit with his tip. It had opened up to him through all of the loving attention, and was glistening with wetness.

Your eyes widened.

“Don’t… we shouldn’t…” you whispered, “Y-youre not wearing a condom.”

Bruce’s hands tightened around your wrists and lifted them pulling them backward to hook on his own neck. Your chest was so pushed up.

“It’s okay baby, we don’t need a condom,” Clark moaned, caressing your cheeks before his hands travelled down to your sides. He smiled kindly at you, and you found herself smiling back faintly, looking into his ice-blue eyes. You shivered as he slowly lowered himself, and the head of his cock gently nudged at your slit. You tensed a little, but felt your step-father massage your clit.

You gasped and arched a little when Clark penetrated you, and your step-father continued stroking you in a languid yet firm manner, his touches did much to soothe the passage and help you relax. You looked up at your Bruce for a moment, then back at Clark. Bruce tenderly caressed your cheeks and arms, while Clark's hands stroked along your sides. He was moving slowly, letting your get used to his girth, for he was almost as thick as his best friend. The wetness made it possible for him to move quite smoothly within you, and it was also so inviting.

It was tight and yes it was uncomfortable but with the support of Bruce’s hand, in no time, he was sheathed fully, and you stared up at him quietly feeling his balls pressed into your soft ass. He was heavy inside you, an unexpected pressure. The tip poked the sponge of your womb.

There was a few frightful seconds where all of you were silent save for your soft breathing. Bruce glanced at the tape, prepared to hear your screaming again...but it didnt come. And then Clark smiled lovingly down at you, comforting you at that moment, before leaning in and kissing your cheek.

“How do you feel?” he asked. You shyly huffed even more, but kept your eyes on him. You couldn’t decide whether to smile or grimace.

“I don't know. I... feel very full...” you replied softly, feeling Bruce’s fingers brush along your forehead.

Clark lifted your ankles up onto his shoulders and took a deep breath.

“The best part is yet to come, my sweet angel,” Bruce promised. Clark smiled, and began to gyrate his hips, sliding his shaft in and out of your tight cunt in a languid manner. The reaction was immediate. His cock dragged along your sensitive walls, and Bruce smiled as he watched his sweet little step-daughter squirm around in pleasure. Soon enough, he himself would be doing that to you.

Clark released a deep groan, clearly in bliss as he thrust into you. His speed was tempered and gentle, languorous, making sure that the length of his dick dragged along your gspot with each thrust to create that glorious friction. He wanted your first time to be something deep and tender. And it was working. You hissed and flexed your back into Bruce feeling Clarks entire cock within you as you clenched hard. It had hurt a little at first, but there was no denying the pleasure to be had, and the gentle caresses were doing much to heighten your experience.

“Sh-shit shit shit, oh my god, Clark! Clark I’m-”

Clarks gentle lovemaking pushed you towards your glorious shouting orgasm, and you cried out when you hit it, arching up against him, clenching around him almost painfully. You had ever felt anything so wonderful in your whole life! Bruce smiled as he saw this, and leaned down to place kisses along his mewling step-daughter’s face, massaging your breasts as he did so.

“Isn’t it wonderful, babygirl? Doesn’t it feel so good?” Bruce asked warmly. All you could do was nod. Clark shot you a charming smile, thrusting more firmly now, and he whispered your name when he finally came. Your clenching drew it out, and multiple shots of his seed squirted deep inside of you, filling your up.

Clark placed firm kisses along your face, remaining within your hot pussy for a few more moments. You turned your face towards him, nuzzling him back, as your lips peppered his cheeks, Clark started grinning happily. A few moments passed, some tender caresses, before Bruce chuckled and shifted. Clark looked up at him and smiled, sliding out of you a little too quickly. You whimpered pitifully at the stinging sensation of being emptied.

Clark laid beside you on his side as Bruce moved down the bed to inspect the mess his friend had created. Clark kept his eyes on you, he shot you another reassuring smile before propping your head up with his arm. He laid there relaxed and enjoying the waving endorphins made from his orgasm, still reeling from the pleasure that your sweet noises and tight pussy had given him.

Bruce gently rolled you onto your belly. Your cheek still pressed into the pillow made of Clarks bicep.

“On your knees, baby, stick that ass up for Daddy…” Bruce whispered. You huffed and wiggled your hips up, propping you up on your knees. It was a lovely sight, and he rubbed your behind, kneading the cheeks lovingly as he glanced at your swollen and glistening sex.

“Good girl,” he rumbled, patting your back softly.

You moaned softly, knowing what your step-father was about to do. At this point, you had given up on fighting off the two men, especially because it felt so good. You rested your head against Clark and sighed, staring at his eyes that gazed you lovingly. With is other hand, Clark stroked your face and hair softly as you awaited for your step-father to take you, your heart thundered with anticipation.

Bruce took a moment to admire the glorious vision before him. Your sweet pussy glistened, dripping and dribbling out the creamy white Clark had squirted deep inside. Your outer lips were swollen from the recent coupling you had. Your rear end glowed under the light of the bedroom lamp, looking so plump and inviting.

“You’re so gorgeous, princess. How Clark and I resisted you for this long, god only knows,” Bruce chuckled and rubbed your bum.

You gave out a soft but contented sigh before he was pressing the head of his needy pole against his your slit, rubbing it up and down the opening a few times. You moaned softly and squirmed a little, but made no real attempt to flee.

Bruce grabbed your hips and gave a strong thrust, his cock sliding inside of you to the base with little effort despite your tightness. You whimpered out softly, in slight pain but more in surprise, and looked over your shoulder at your Step-father again.

Clark wolfishly grinned at you, as Bruce’s hips immediately thrusting back and forth. He pounded into you, hard and fast, your body quivering under him.

Clark’s lovemaking had been languorous and gentle, more than suitable for your first time. But Bruce’s way of taking you was savage and primal. Despite it...you found yourself enjoying this as well. It was rough and deeply bruising. You would be able to feel it tomorrow.

Bruce was not hurting you, it was not unbearable agony as he slammed his hips fiercely. Clark watched with half-lidded eyes, listening to your whines and touching your face every now and then as if to reassure you.

Bruce punched his cock into you with the ferocity of an animal in heat. You were so wonderfully tight and hot that it was impossible to just hold back.

“F-Fuck, Daddy!!!”

The way you responded to him, arching towards him and making small sounds of pleasure and mewls of pain only spurred him on even more. His heavy balls slapped against the back of your thighs, and you strangled around him with your walls. He gave out a low growl as he cummed, creaming deep inside.

You whimpered out another heightened, ‘Daddy!’ as your body quivered, your teeth chattering just slightly.

You bit your lip almost hard enough to cause it to bleed as you hit another orgasm, your eyes rolled back and clenching around him hard, trapping his cock inside with your tightness.

You looked at your step-father over your shoulder as he continued thrusting in you, his cock remained erect for a few moments before slowly becoming flaccid. You looked over at Clark then back at Bruce, whimpering out 'Daddy' again as you felt cum dribble down your opening. He stayed within your cunt for a while, panting as he relaxed his muscles. Smirking, he pulled out of your tightness and stroked your rump.

“Good girl baby...”

You remained on your knees for several more moments, cum still dribbling out a little as he traced his fingers along the firm curve of your rear end. What you had been through was unbelievable. You had just been dominated and fucked by the two men you cared most about in the world...one of them was your step-father. It seemed almost too impossible to believe, like it all had to been some sick dream- any moment you would wake up to find yourself alone, dressed, inside your own bed....But did you want this to be a dream?

The more you thought, the less sick it seemed to be...morally it was wrong...but at the end of the day, you weren’t related and Bruce was sure to take care of you just like he always had along with your own mother. Your mother might not have approved if she was alive...but...there was nothing she could do now.

And Clark was just as caring and understanding of your passions....So both clearly loved you, very much....

You felt Clark caress your cheek once more, and you looked to him as your hips fell down limp. He offered you a smile before leaning over to press his lips to your forehead.

“You did so well darlin’.”

You shyly smiled, feeling Bruce lay down behind you.

You felt Bruce slide something cold between your wrists and slice through the pink tape.

Your eyes fluttered. You could hear Bruce put that sharp object most likely a knife in his bed side drawer.

He cupped your wrists and gently massaged them, kissing the raw area. He then scooped you up into his arms, holding you close, as if he wanted to rock you to sleep. You rolled onto your back and looked between them. They were two content lions gazing down at the sweet kitten in their bed. Both of them held pleased but loving expressions on their faces, and you smiled shyly a little and buried your nose in into the blue sweat soaked sheets. Under the gentle embrace and caresses, you closed your eyes.

You felt one of them, you didn’t know or care who, pull up a duvet, covering your quivering body. The men sighed happily at one another as you snuggled sweetly between them.

It was a fact to acknowledge with their cum growing dry on your thighs how they now would never let you go. They would take you in the morning, and whenever either of them pleased from then on. You were there’s...you belonged to them, and they would always do everything to prove their desire for you. You fell asleep in their embrace, you pressed your face into Clarks chest, while you pressed your backside into Bruce’s hips. snuggled up to both of them, while their affectionate caresses and whispers lulled you to sleep.

★★★

When morning arrived it was still pitch black thanks to the roll down tinted glass windows.

Bruce’s grey his eyes cracked awake slowly, to the sounds of your soft snoring. Your soft cheek was pressed against his chest after the night of shuffling you must’ve done in your sleep. ‘What a wonderfully sweet thing to wake up to,’ he thought, smiling as he traced his fingertips gently along your other cheek. He looked to his left at the big bulk of a man under the covers.

Clark was still sleeping, his arm was covering your hip. Your plump rear end was against his stomach, and Bruce smiled at you both.

Your sweet drooling face stirred slightly as your cheek was caressed, but you remained asleep. Being cushioned and cradled in the warmth of two big men had surprisingly helped you to sleep well, as you had been so comforted by the obvious affection they had shown you. If they didn’t care about you, they would have simply raped you bloody and never paid mind to your pleasure they never would’ve focused on your feelings and overall care.

Clark loved you and wanted to be your husband, he had been serious when he asked for your hand in marriage. It was in the plan but Bruce knew Clark wanted to ask ages ago...

And Bruce loved you too, he wanted your utmost happiness but he desired your overall safety and company. If you left for college he wouldn’t know when he’d see you again...if ever...considering you held no real “blood” obligation to him.

Clark and he were good friends, and sharing you had been a odd thought at first, but last night proved that it would work out well between the three of you. And it was very comfortable, and would continue to be comfortable – after all, both of them wanted your happiness, love and companionship.

Bruce pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Wake up, baby girl, it’s daddy...” he whispered into your ear, gently nibbling along your earlobe. Your eyelids fluttered open and you whimpered softly, a bit disoriented at first as was common on waking up in a place so different to your bedroom but the disorientation faded as you rubbed your eyes and turned your head upwards a bit to look up at the eyes of your doting step-father smiling softly down at you.

“Good morning, Daddy...” you said softly, wiping the sleep away from your eyes and blinking a few times as you felt a hand caress along your hip, you didn’t know who it belonged to, but did that even matter?

“Good morning, sweet angel... Did you sleep alright?” he asked, caressing your hair. Clark stirred but did not wake. You shyly nodded. Last night was beyond taboo and though you were not entirely angry or disgusted, it would take a bit getting used to.

“I am glad...” Bruce replied before he chuckled softly and fondled your side. He looked over at Clark and smiled.

“...Will you marry him?” he whispered, kissing your cheek. You stared at him for a few moments before nodding slowly. You did not see why not – Clark was a good man and you had no interest in anyone else.

Bruce nodded, smiling happily. He was ecstatic that you had accepted Clark’s hand, and now you would be truly a family inside Wayne’s manor.

“What about you, Daddy?” you asked softly as your step-father’s hand gently caressed your side, “....Don’t you want me anymore,” your eyes glanced away in embarrassment considering how pathetic you sounded asking....

“Mmm,” he pecked the tip of your nose, “Clark and I already discussed this...I would like to keep our closeness when you are wed... Clark and I have shared many passions in the past...towards each other and it does not bother him.”

Your eyes started to widen. You didn’t know your step-dad was just as sexually active with men.

“He really agrees to this? You two... have no problem with... sharing?” you whispered as you rolled over onto your back to gain a more accurate gaze upon Bruce.

“Not at all...” he chuckled, “We are too good a pair of friends to fight over something wonderful like this as spectacular as you.” He stated.

You smiled and looked down shyly. He looked over at Clark once more and smirked almost deviously.

He reached out and playfully thumbed your nipples.

“Baby girl, it looks like Clark is a heavy sleeper...how about you go and wake him up for me?” His tone was seductive, and low. You could see from the corner of your eyes the two hardening peaks growing out of the bed sheets.

Bruce pushed his side down and cupped himself, using his enclosed first like a sight hole.

“C’mon baby, go wake up your other daddy,” he groaned.

You gasped and flushed even more as you stated at your step-father for several moments before carefully crawling over to Clark again.

You placed a gentle kisses along his face, saving his lips for last. Your hand caressed along his smooth chest, slowly making its way down to his morning organ. His nipples were given attention, your fingers teasing over the pink nubs and making them taut. Your palm felt along the toned muscles of his abdomen, and stroked the coarse dark hair above his cock, teasing your fingers along the treasure trail. The thin hairs had started as a thin, tapering line several inches below his navel, and spread out gradually to the thatch over his cock.

Bruce watched calmly, not at all bothered by his friend’s nakedness. He did not stare at Clark either, he just watched with interest at what you, his step-daughter was doing. You had such a lovely soft hand. You slowly patted the neither hairs as you started sucking on Clark’s angry red tip.

You flattened your tongue and looked over, making full eye contact with Bruce While he jerked off languishingly. He smirked and winked at you.

“Suck his cock babygirl, suck Papa’s cock.”

Papa...Daddy...oh god...what were you getting yourself into.

You leant your face down, filling your cheeks with the tip of his pink cock tip. Your tongue raised around the skin and flicked under the folds. You tried not to think about the smell but the taste alone. It was bitter, salty and a little tangy.

“M-mmh...” Clark let out a soft noise of pleasure, face blissfully slack. His manhood stirred and began to rise a bit, the touches arousing him even when he slept.

“Clarkkkkk...” Bruce cooed in a soft purr, gently touching his shoulder while you lapped at his foreskin, and Bruce started growing aroused, wanting to stick himself inside of you as he had a grand view of your little cunt, dried with flakes of white on your skin.

At the mention of his name, the man stirred and opened his eyes, smiling a bit, raising a hand to lazily wipe the sleep from his eyes.

“A-ah...Good morning...” he said, blurrily looking down at what you were doing. You smiled sweetly and placed a gentle kiss on his tip as you brought him to full attention.

“Clark?” you asked softly.

“Yes sweetheart?...hngh...” he shuddered, shifting a bit, his cock rising further. Bruce shivered, running his fingertips along your rear.

“I will be your wife,” You whispered softly. He tilted his head, and a wide grin came to his face. Hooking one arm around your arm he tugged you up to him to abandon you morning blowjob. He sealed his lips over yours in a gentle kiss. When you parted, he purred.

“Thank you sweet girl, I vow to always cherish you like last night and every encounter we’ve met.” His words made you giggle happily, as you had no real doubt of his respect for you.

He heard the fwapping sound of Bruce masturbating, watching you.

“Have you talked Bruce?” he added.

Your lashes fluttered.

“I accept him as well. I...I will stay home. College can wait or I can try online courses...You can both have me,” You whispered. Bruce ran a fingertip along your slit. You shivered and moaned, wiggling your rear end at Bruce as you kissed Clark again, your hand returned to slowly pumping his engorged organ.

Bruce smiled, he rubbed your slit gently and lazily, feeling the flesh quiver a bit and begin to slicken up. Clark moaned softly into your lips and his hand moved down, cupping one of your breasts and carefully kneading it, plucking at your nipples. You gave out a soft whine of pleasure and looked at Clark for a moment before looking back at Bruce.

“Daddy...” You pouted, “...stop teasing me.” You reached out to his cock with your other hand. In each palm you held two thick cocks at the same time and went about squeezing and licking them like a game....unwittingly teasing them both to release. The men both gradually sat up on their elbows. Before either of them could cum however, you let their cocks go and sat back, facing them with a childish smirk, biting your lip.

If they wanted to be depraved, you could be too...you wondered if they’d tie and gag you again. Would they pushed you around manhandle and humiliate you again?...a real sensational thrill soaked your bones at the thought. What a fantastic opportunity to test that theory...

You didn’t leave that room for probably three whole days except to use the master bathroom...

Alfred decided not to intervene.. after all it was Master Wayne he was paid by, not you.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒌𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒏

🍓the strawberry shack masterlist🍓

summary - after getting his heart broken, something leads clark to the strawberry shack, allowing him to release all his anger.

warning - smut, gloryhole, swearing, slight angst, creampie.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Lois had left him, she had packed her bags and walked out the door. Though she wasn’t expecting him home, which explained the shocked look on her face when he walked through the front door, seeing her bags packed and her keys in her hand. Clark watched her leave before flying off anywhere that could keep his mind off her. He stumbled upon a certain building that caught his eye, the flashing sign that read ‘The Strawberry Shack’ caused him to become curious, so he landed and walked in. 

Listening to the woman at the front as she explained things, his face turning red, jaw clenching and his brows furrow as he realised the type of establishment he walked into. “So, sugar. What’s it gonna be? Door one or door two?” 

“Uh… What the hell. Door two.” He pulls out some cash and hands it over before walking toward the door, he can feel his mind go crazy as he enters, never seeing this many naked women before. Clark could feel a pull towards a certain woman, not being able to control his feet as he walks in your direction. He’d have to remember to be careful, not wanting to literally split you open from his strength. “Hello.”

Clark was mad and you could practically feel that radiating off him. So, you spread your legs, inviting him in for him to use you however he pleases. “I can feel your anger, handsome. Why don’t you use me, take it out on me.” 

Clark glares down at your sopping cunt, licking his lips as he feels himself harden in his pants. His hands move subconsciously, taking his cock out and stroking it as he stares down at you. A groan slips from his lips before he begins to slowly push inside of you. Clark’s eyes slip closed as he revels in the feel of a new woman, slowly thrusting in and out of you, hands gently gripping your hips as he feels you squeeze around his thick girth. 

“Oh, you feel so good. Fuck me, please.” You let out a breathless moan, your back arches off the bench as he begins to slam into you, hitting that spot deep inside of you. Clark begins to lose control, thrusting faster and harder, his cock throbs as he really fucks you. He grunts and groans, tightening his grip slightly, his eyes glow red as lasers shoot from his eyes and he quickly blinks.

“Fuck…” His balls tighten, hips jerk as he growls, releasing thick ropes of cum inside of you, coating your tight walls. He continues to roughly fuck into you until his balls are empty, enjoying how you squirt around him. “F–fuck…” He pulls out slowly, cleaning you up before tucking himself back into his pants. “I–I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” Clark quickly worries, hurriedly running out the door and flying off, feeling ashamed for using you for his pleasure. 

You lie there, staring above as you can barely feel your legs, tingling between your thighs as stars cover your vision and a dopey smile rests on your face.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[loganbcrnes]

Midnight activities

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!reader

Words: 766

Tags: Dom!Sherlock Holmes, doggy-style, hard sex, dom/sub Ethnicity and body type isn’t mentioned. I want everyone to feel inclusive. Authors note: heyy whilst catching up on the requests, i figured i'd write this in celebration for Enola Holmes 2. I loved the movie, not as much as the first one, but seeing Sherlock again has made me feeling certain..emotions, so here's this drabble. Enjoy :)

Sherlock has you on your hands and knees, his deliciously thick body on you, weighing you down. You feel his body heat and the coarse chest hair that you love so much, on your back. Pinned down and with your legs spread apart he tells you, with your dripping pussy on display. “I’m going to fuck you, like this- hard and fast and you’re going to take it.” He brings down a hand to your ass and gives it a sharp slap, making you moan, your ass to his thick erection. As he groans into your ear. “God, you smell amazing, Little one.” He squeezes your ass. “You want it, Sir, it’s yours” you say breathlessly.

Without any other warning he slides his hand underneath your nightie that’s pulled up. He glides up and down a few times, taking in the curve of your back. He groans as his hand descend to your folds. Strumming his fingers down your center, gathering your arousal on his fingers. Circling your clit, round and round making you a delirious mess. “Stop teasing please, Sherlock… ahhh” you try saying as he smacks your apex. Making you moan loudly once more. He knew how you liked it rough. The red marks of his spanks marking you. Exciting a new wave of arousal. “Fuck, Darling, I can see how wet you are” You turn your head to the side to look at him. “then do something, you said you’d fuck me. But here we are” you say in a defiant tone. You watch him yank his sleeping pants down. You shivered, and elongated your arms up, pressing your face into the mattress. Getting ready for the fucking of the night. He rubs the head of his dick down and up your center. Groaning he slaps his dick against your clit. Making you try rolling your hips. He knows just how turned on you get when he rubs his cock over your pussy. He suddenly wraps your hair into his hand and wrist making your face lift up and making your back arch. “I wanna hear, Princess.” His low deep voice sends shivers down your spine. he slams his girth into you. Gasping from the full force of his thrust, he pulls at your hair exposing your neck. His mouth sucking a mark into your skin. Knowing damn well you have work at the bakery the next morning, he keeps sucking at your skin. He continues to pump his thick girth into you. a hand glides over your ass, squeezing the flesh. His left hand wanders up to your breast. Smacking sounds fill the room as his heavy balls slap against your clit. Coming from Sherlock a groan mixed with a moan as you squeeze his member inside of you. You feel his right hand on your clit, rubbing circles, “That’s it, Little one.” he says softly to you. “Taking your husband’s cock so well”. Your moans amplify with the hard thrusting, letting out “ahs” with each thrust. “Let me fuck you open” He keeps the pace fast and brutal making you feel full and crazy. You are almost at the brink of your orgasm, groaning he slams harder into you. “Fuck Princess, This… fuuuuck you feel like a dream” he groans loudly. He grabs at your hips with both hands with a tight grip. You know you’ll have the bruises the next morning. And you buckle and meet his pace. Both of you fucking back into each other.

“Sherlock, Sir!,” you say his name like a prayer, like a plea. You feel the orgasm forming once more. Feeling Sherlock inside your tight heat, pulsing knowing that he’s waiting for you to cum. Sherlock hand comes back down to stroke your clit, pulling a bit but rubbing in small circles. With that small administration of his hand you come undone. You yell a garble of his name. He pulls out of you, flipping you over and shoots his cum on the column of your throat. You stare up him in shock. He marked you, in a way he hadn’t in a while. His dragon eyes look down at you. A smirk playing at his lips, “why do you look so surprised Darling? You know you belong to me” he says as he spreads his cum all over your neck and with a delicate finger he brushes some on your lips. You automatically open your lips to suck at his finger. Maintaining eye contact you moan with his finger inside your mouth. His eyes darken, “Careful darling, you got work in the morning”

[cardierreh15]

Double Stuffed

Oreo’s aren’t the only thing that are double stuffed around these parts 😌 enjoy

***I do not give anyone permission or my consent to repost, translate or copy my work!

Warnings 18+: 3️⃣ sum, Cursing , Voyuerism , Oral Sex (Male Receiving) , Nipple Stimulation , Squirting , Facial , Penetration (Vaginal 🤟🏾) PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!

Pairings: Gus March-Phillips(Henry Cavill) x Black!Plus Size Female(Regina) x Anders Lassen(Alan Ritchson)

Special Guest: Betty 💕 @augustsprincess

Description: Regina has the time of her life!

Word Count: 3.8K

‘Oh girl c’mon it’ll be fun!’ Betty exclaimed as she tugged Regina’s hands, pulling her in the direction of the pub that was booming with country music, soldiers in uniform lingering about.

‘Betty!’ She snatched her hand away, watching Betty stumble before once again gaining her footing. ‘Girl, my daddy is in the service! What if someone saw me in there!’ She whined out.

Her small friend pursed her lips together hard, dusting off her polka dotted dress in frustration and running her slender fingers through her freshly done candy curls.

‘Your daddy-‘ she said the words with bitterness. ‘Ain’t here.’ She let out a loud sigh and placed her hands on her hips, ‘Look. I know you’ve been under the weather since the death of your fiancé and—‘

‘Oooh—‘ Regina rolled her eyes, interrupting Betty. She let out a humorless scoff, ‘is this what this shit is about?! Getting me out of the house?!’

Betty gave her a look in bewilderment, glancing to the side with her hands remaining on her hips, ‘Uh yeah? Listen, let’s just treat it as a girl’s night?’ She walked up to her friend and draped her arm across her shoulders. ‘Look at these tall, delicious specimens huh?’ She waved her free hand slowly in the air. ‘Sure you could take one home!’

She was challenging her.

Regina glanced over at her friend and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, ‘Oh Betty, I don’t know. This is a bar full of… crazy, nut jobs … pent up from rage, exhaustion, … lust.’

‘Mmmhmm?’ Betty egged on with an encouraging nod.

‘M-maybe we should—‘

‘That’s my girl!’ Betty exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air before clasping them together happily. ‘See I knew you couldn’t stand a chance! Come on!’ Betty snatched up her friend’s hand and led the way towards the stairs. ‘I promise if you feel unsafe or it just gets too wild in here— we’ll leave!’

‘Mmph, say you swear.’ Regina retorted, stopping the both of them in their tracks. Her pretty brown eyes glistened beneath the pretty bulbs that hung above them.

‘Cross my heart,’ Betty turned halfway and drew an ‘X’ over her chest, ‘Hope to die. Now. Can we go inside?’ She jerked her head towards the door.

Her stoic glare instantly shifted into something lighter, her grin spread across her face, ‘OK fine let’s go.’

The two women walked inside of the bar, hand in hand. The place was only lit by some old lamps that were screwed into the walls, and one old rusted chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Honestly, if it weren’t for that old thing, you’d have to squint to look at folks.

‘Wow! Look at this place!’ Betty beamed as she placed her hand over cleavage. ‘It’s amazing.’

Regina’s brows tugged into one, ‘Are we looking at the same place?’

‘Oh Regina, don't be so judgemental! Look at all this … man meat.’ Betty giggled and glanced over at the bar. ‘Let’s go get a drink in ya? Help you… mellow out a lil bit.’

Without an ounce of warning, Betty led the way towards the bar.

It wasn’t until their stroll when whistles began to fill the air. Mumbling and cat calling could be heard throughout the loud hymns of the music.

Both of the women were beautiful in their own right. Betty was blonde, with perfect porcelain skin. She had a slender figure but the waist of her dress seemed to emphasize the curves in her hips and the one on her rump.

Regina had skin that was brown as terracotta. Glowing like bronze when in the path of the sun. Her hair was dark as the shadows of night, patterned with tight curls and coils that cascaded down her back. She wore a black velvet bodycon dress that also enhanced her curves, dimples and hip dips.

When they made it to the bar, the barkeeper seemed to be startled for a second.

‘Ladies—‘ he stammered and quickly placed the rag and glass down upon the bar top. ‘Aren’t you two beauties a sight for sore eyes,’ he spoke in a heavy accent. And by the knot in his bottom lip, his tobacco was the reason for his twang. ‘What can I do you for?’

Betty gave him a charming grin, batting her thick dark lashes. She was bashful and convivial by nature. ‘Hi there. Can you pour me and my friend somethinggg… pungent? Thank you.’

Regina snapped her head over at her friend, glaring at her with eyes of astonishment. ‘Betty!’ She hissed, quickly snatching her wrist up in her palm.

‘Whaaat?’

‘Pungent? Really? I would like to know how we get home, please.’ She muttered.

‘Oh please stop being dramatic! What’s the point of coming out tonight if we can’t make the best of it? Relax.’

Finally tearing her eyes away, Regina looked to her right to scope out the room. Men of all colors and sizes were either looking in their direction, laughing and gambling or drinking til their hearts were content.

This really didn’t feel like a safe place at all.

When the barkeeper brought their drinks back, Betty pulled up her small clutch, ‘How much do I owe you sir?’

‘Nothing at all ma’am.’ He said, raising his hand. ‘The gentleman over there is willing to pay for your tab.’

Both of the women looked back at the mysterious male, whose bright blue eyes spoke before his lips did. He sported a thick mustache over his lips with his dark hair combed back to perfection. He stood to his feet, adjusting his brown slacks around his hips. His coat was decorated in pretty devices and ribbons. Some big hot shot.

He looked like he wanted to snap her in half. She was small enough to make that accomplishment.

‘Oooh. Regina?’

‘Yeah?’ Regina said as she stared at the handsome hunk of man that approached them.

‘I think you might have to busy yourself for the rest of the night.’ Betty quickly scooted off the wooden bar stool and knocked back her freshly poured whiskey. And in no time, the gentleman was towering over little Betty like a skyscraper.

Regina gasped, ‘Betty—‘

‘Miss?’ The barkeeper interrupted.

She snapped her head over at him at his call.

‘It appears you have secret admirers of your own.’

Her thick brows pulled into one as she sat up straight. ‘M-me?’ Plural? ‘Admirers? Who?’

The barkeeper glanced over to the corner of the room.

Her anxious eyes followed his gaze to the far right corner of the room. There sat two freakishly large men beneath a flickering yellow light.

One donned a large beard with a curled and dramatic mustache. His hair was curly and pushed back except one strand that dangled against his forehead.

The other had a clean shaven face with dirty blonde combed back hair. A set of round lenses sat on the bridge of his nose.

If their gaze had been daggers, she’d be dead.

‘Both. Of them?’ Regina hushed out.

‘You see em both lookin’ don’t cha?’

She swallowed her spit so hard she thought there was a lump there. She looked over at Betty who was getting more than acquainted with her new beau. Giggling and smiling like brand new love birds. Their whispers and flirts couldn’t be heard over the music.

‘Betty? There’s two! What do I do!?’ She was quite the neophyte when it came to things like this. Often men, one at a time, had courted her but two?! What would she do with two of them?!

Well, she would soon find out that she could do a lot more with two than she could do with just one.

Her friend looked over at her and gave her a wink.

Before she could coax an answer out of Betty, she felt the heavy warmth of their presence standing behind her.

Betty let out an excited giggle as her attractive stranger nibbled on her exposed neck.

Regina’s back stiffened with her legs crossed, unknowingly arching and causing her rump to stick out beneath her.

‘Excuse our intrusion Miss… but it would be great pleasure if you accepted our invitation to join us in our room this evening.’

The English accent was thick yet, blended with pure charm. His voice settled and nestled in the crevices in her brain.

She swallowed hard once again and lifted her shaky hand to scoop up the whiskey glass. Pressing it to her lips, she thought for a second.

If she took a sip of this drink, there was no going back! Ain’t no telling what these two strangers planned on doing to her once they were behind closed doors.

But perhaps, maybe this is what she needed. Her late fiancé had been gone for 1 year now and she couldn’t hang on to that forever. During her stage of grieving, she’d worked tirelessly to keep herself busy.

She deserved it!

Even if it meant getting torn to shreds by these two … delicious specimens.

Regina smirked at the barkeeper and knocked back the whiskey that burned her stomach profusely. She blinked hard before swallowing down the pain and courageously spun in her stool.

When her eyes had finally met theirs, she felt a pang in her chest. By the Heavens! Bless their mothers for carrying such prodigious of boys.

‘Oh!’ She placed her hand bosom. ‘My— you are big men.’

A smile curled up on their lips before they looked at one another knowingly.

‘Do you accept our offer, Miss?’ The blonde one spoke up. His accent was much different from the original one she’d heard.

She looked over at Betty who was now sporting her beau’s service cap and locking lips with him.

Well, Betty was having the time of her life. What kind of person would she be if she took their free drink and left?

What would your daddy say?

Fuck your daddy.

You deserve this, Regina. Go have fun.

Uncrossing her legs, she carefully slid off of the chair and adjusted her dress at the thighs. ‘I accept.’

They grinned in sync, showing off their darling smiles. It caused a knot to tie in her gut. By God they had to be angels sent from up above.

They turned as they both lended her their arms for her to grasp. Heat bloomed in her cheeks and her neck as she reached out to grab their biceps.

‘Oh my—‘ she giggled as she squeezed them both. ‘Such strong men I got! I’m a lucky girl.’ Regina purred as she looked up at the bearded one. ‘Shall we?’

‘We shall.’

***

They stared down at her with a desire only men in this time could only have.

Regina gripped the silk sheets in her sweaty fists as their studious glares began to roam her curvaceous body. Starting from her pink painted toes, her thick thighs, her hips and tummy, her breasts and finally… her pretty round, chunky face.

The woman felt like she was under a damn microscopic lense with how they were staring at her. Her thigh bounced vigorously. She couldn’t tell if they wanted to eat her or dissect her. Regardless, it scared the shit out of her.

‘Lassen?’ The fellow with the beard said softly.

‘Yes sir?’

Sir? Did these two work with one another?

‘You may start.’

‘Wait— wait…’ Regina called out first as the bearded one walked towards the floral embroidered chair and shrugged off his coat. ‘Could I know your names? I mean— I would like to know who I’m letting into my lady bits.’ She said humorously.

The one known as Lassen looked back at his comrade. And they gave one another a firm nod in approval.

‘My name is Anders Lassen and this is Gus March-Phillips. What is your name lovely?’

Anders and Gus. Should be able to remember that.

‘My name is Regina Carson…’

‘Mmm. Very pretty name, for a very pretty woman.’ Gus said as he began to unbutton his dress shirt.

An enamored grin curled up on her lips as her tongue gently grazed her pretty smile.

Her eyes then darted up to meet Anders as he pushed off his suspenders and pulled his tucked shirt from inside of his trousers. He then pulled the fitted shirt over his head and dropped it to the side of the bed.

Good lord, he had the body of a God. Muscles ripped and tight. Her mouth went to salivating almost immediately.

Grabbing her hand, he lifted her up to her feet and brought her body flush against his. He lifted her chin, bringing her lips up to meet his in a kiss.

Regina’s eyes fluttered closed as she purred at the welcoming warmth of his lips. At first, it was just him testing the waters but she quickly fell into place; opening her mouth allowing him to invade as he pleased.

Anders snaked his hands behind her, finding the fine zipper and dragging it down.

Suddenly, she felt the warmth of another set of lips on the nape of her neck. Regina tore her lips away from Anders as he began to help her out the sleeves of her dress. Her head lulled back against Gus’ shoulder before he brought her mouth into a kiss next. And just like Anders, she opened her mouth nice and wide for him.

His beard and mustache tickled her lips and cheeks.

Before she knew it, the three of them were fully nude.

The both of them stroked at their members; aching to feel how warm she was from the inside out. But first…

Gus carefully forced Regina to her knees before them. Her eyes grew in slight shock at the size of their members. Both uncut, veiny and hard enough to slice through bricks.

‘You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, sweetheart.’ Gus said as his fingertips caressed her cheek softly before pushing her thick hair behind her ear.

‘No. I wanna.’ She shuddered out before sitting up on her knees, wrapping her hand around Anders cock and her lips around Gus.

Both of the men let out a pleasant groan in unison as she massaged one and sucked the other.

Careful not to show one too much attention though, she alternated and began to suck Anders off while stroking Gus. Anders’ knees buckled as she began to throat him just the same as she did with Gus.

‘Ugh, fuck.’

‘Just like that.’

The boys groaned at her teasing. She did everything she could to please them. Tightening up her lips, gagging against their cocks when they touched the back of her throat, squeezing and massaging their balls delicately. At her rate, they both would be making a mess of her in no time!

‘Stop.’ Gus grunted as he carefully pulled his hips away from her warm mouth. He shuddered before letting out a sigh. ‘Anymore of that and I’ll explode. Up.’

At his command, she placed her hand in his as she stood to her feet. ‘Anders… you first. I’d like to watch.’

‘As you wish.’ Anders said with a devious smirk.

Watch?! While she’s never done something this spontaneous and … sinful, she had no idea people were into watching other people fuck. But if it were to please her boys… she’d do whatever they asked.

She watched him walk over to the same chair and plop down; his hard dick swaying and slapping against his thigh.

‘Bend over, darling. Feel free to tap me if it’s too much. I will stop.’

Regina giggled as she bent over the bed. ‘Too much? Please.’

Spreading her thick thighs apart, Anders took a hold of his member and pressed it at her sticky entrance.

With a quick thrust, he stretched her against her will.

The poor woman let out a wail that was mixed with pleasure and undeniable pain.

Perhaps she spoke too soon.

Tears brimmed her eyes as she held her breath for a second, gripping the cool satin sheets.

Anders let out a blissful moan, holding himself deep inside of her as his large hands caressed up and down her curves and folds.

Gus had one leg draped over one arm over the couch as he stroked at his member, watching with excitement in his eyes and an intrigued smirk on his lips.

‘Fuck!’ Regina cried out before she felt him slam himself into her once more, his fingertips digging into her waist. ‘Dear God! Ah!’

A few thrusts and Regina was able to take this intruder comfortably now. With her eyes rolling to the back of her head, she thought she was seeing stars already.

Anders began to pound into her hard and fast before reaching down to grip her hair in his fist. ‘Yeah. Call out to him baby. He can’t save you now.’

She looked up at him through her thick lashes. ‘Ooooh— my god! Yes! Anders please!’ She pleaded as his body collided into hers relentlessly.

‘Oooh. Fuck, you feel so good baby. Take me. Take me baby.’ Anders hissed through his teeth.

‘Aaaaah yes!’

‘Fuuuck, nicely done Anders. Show her what you’re made of.’ Gus grumbled as he reached his free hand beneath himself and squeezed his tender balls.

Hissing through her gritted teeth, she looked over to watch Gus get himself off. His chest and biceps tense as he stroked his girthy, thick cock. Such a beautiful sight.

Anders pulled Regina’s hair, making her stand up straight against him. He wrapped his large veiny hand around her throat, forcing her into a disgusting kiss. His thrusts became a little slower and forgiven as one hand cupped her breast and his other arm wrapped around her waist, gripping her belly for stability.

When he broke the kiss, he began to ram his hips into her once again as her breathing hitched and strained. ‘Hoooo— yes, yes, yes!’

Finally, Gus stood from his seat and approached them. He landed a slap on Ander’s ass and jerked his head to the side. ‘Don’t be stingy, Lassen. She’s ours.’

Ours.

Anders groaned in dismay but obeyed. Landing one more kiss on Regina’s mouth, he retracted his hips and took place on the bed; propped up on his knees.

Gus looked down at the woman with gentle eyes, ‘tap out of it becomes too much sweetie.’ He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her lips before sucking her bottom lip between his teeth gently.

Drunken with lust and pleasure, Regina dizzily plopped down on her back and spread her thighs for him.

‘Aren’t you a pretty sight? Might have to give you a son… or marry you? What do you think, Lassen?’

Anders laughed darkly as he scooted down so his still erected cock was pressed against her cheek. ‘Pretty indeed. Now open up doll… I wanna see you put those pretty lips to work while you’re getting fucked.’

His words caused her to writhe in excitement. Her core was aching to be filled once more. She lifted her head and parted her lips as she guided his cock back into the home of her mouth.

Gus sank his teeth into his bottom lip as he pushed her thighs back and pushed his tip inside of her and began to slowly roll his hips into her.

Closing her eyes, Regina hummed against Anders cock causing a vibration to rumble at the back of her throat. ‘Ohh—‘ his head fell back as his hand held onto the back of her head. ‘Fuck! You’re so tight.’ He swallowed as he reached down toying and pinching at her hardened nipples.

Gus began to pick up the pace, his finger tips digging in her plushy flesh tightly. Forcing her thighs back as he delved his hips into her once more. He then reached down and began to rub at her erected nub softly.

‘Fuck! You look so pretty with Anders dick in your mouth.’

Anders groaned as he thrusted his hips forward into Regina’s mouth; anglelessly hitting all the spots in her warm, wet mouth.

‘Mmmm—‘ Regina cooed as she pulled her lips away to curse, using her hand to jerk off Anders. ‘Fuck, Gus! Please!’ She begged, her thighs twitched at the creeping sensation.

Gus thrusted fast as he rubbed her clit in circles a little faster.

‘Gus! Oh, my god!’ Her thighs began to tremble as she felt her womb tighten up. Her body stiffened and her chest tightened. Gus stilled his hips and focused on her. ‘I’m gonna—‘ Her back arched and her toes curled as the heat in her body popped off like fireworks on new years.

She released a scream that could be heard throughout the hotel. And with that scream, came a sudden burst from her loins. She exploded like a damaged fire hydrant.

Gus looked up at Anders in surprise and Anders returned the glare.

‘Whoa—‘ both of the men laughed in darkly.

‘Have you ever done that?’ Anders asked with a grin spread across his lips.

‘Quite a few times.. you?’

‘Once.’

‘Well, we shall see if we can get a few more out of her, yes?’

‘I’m with you sir.’

While both of the men experienced this kind of mess, she never experienced a pleasure so great. Her head throbbed as she tried to process what the fuck just happened. Her cheeks remained hot to the touch, her trembling lips sore from all of their sweet, heavy kisses.

‘Brace yourself sweetheart. We aren’t done with you yet.’

Anders and Gus laughed beguilingly as their large hands caressed over her sticky, brown flesh.

A glint of thrill shown in her sex-crazed eyes. She was hyped. ‘O-OK!’

With the stamina of these two men, Regina was sure she lost enough weight to fit into her graduation gown from high school.

She was fucked into exhaustion and dehydration, so she was relieved when they both announced their arrivals.

‘On the floor baby. Yeah— fuck look at you.’ Ander groaned as the both of them helped her to her knees.

‘Open wide baby.’ Gus added as they both began to stroke their members until they reached their climax.

Regina’s eyes gleamed, her hands massaging their muscular thighs that tensed and squeezed beneath her touch. She opened her mouth, tongue out to capture those sacred drops.

‘UGH! Ba—‘

‘Fuuuuuck… yes!’

The two men groaned aloud as they emptied themselves upon her pretty face and mouth. Wrapping her hands around the both of them, she squeezed and coaxed the rest of their nut out of them.

Gus’ knees buckled as his eyes rolled back halfway. Then, she gave them both a kiss on the tip of their now flaccid dicks.

Anders let out an exhausted sigh. ‘Oh. What do we do with you now.’

‘Well…’ Gus added, ‘I have quite a few ideas.’ He trailed off.

Wiping her face and flicking off the sticky semen, she looked up at them in horror.

Now what?

2 years later…

Regina clamped her eyes shut tight as she rested her lower hand on her lower back. ‘Ooh… my days.’ She rubbed at the roundness of her belly with her free hand, as the other carried out a metal tray of fresh lemonade and a couple glasses of ice.

She walked out to the backyard to see Anders flipping burgers at the grill with his “Kiss the Cook” apron on while Gus tossed a football to Betty’s husband, August. Betty was bouncing her sweet baby boy in her arms, showering him with kisses and love.

This was the life.

A smile curled on her lips when Anders sweet, gentle eyes landed on her. ‘Let me grab this for you.’ He rushed over and carefully took hold of the tray and placed it on the picnic table. ‘How’s my girls huh?’

‘The same as yesterday, Lassen.’ She sighed heavily and rubbed her pregnant belly, ‘Tired. Aching.’

‘Aw. I know sweetheart. Just a few more weeks.’ He said before placing a kiss on her head. ‘Sit.’

Gus sat the football down in the lush green grass and jogged towards the deck. ‘There’s my girl. Hey, mama.’ He mused as he placed a kiss on her lips. ‘How are you feeling?’

Regina pressed her lips together and glanced over at her other husband.

Anders stared at Gus for a little bit and chuckled, ‘To save you from her wringing your neck … she’s feeling the same as she did yesterday.’

Gus sighed softly, ‘Oh my sweet. Forgive me for asking. Is there anything you need?’

She shook her head as her head fell back against the lawn chair. ‘No my darlings… I’m fine.’

Regina closed her eyes for a long second before feeling a sudden wetness in her bottom.

Her eyes flashed open.

‘Boys.. I don’t think I’m peeing myself again…’

Tags: @peternoonewantsthat @wa-ni @ellethespaceunicorn @milknhonies @the-kanamori @viking-raider

[joelslegalwhre]

Thank you sm! And thanks for the request love, i hope you like it <3

Destiny

pairing⁀➷ geralt of rivia x fem!reader

word count⁀➷ 1.5k

summary⁀➷ Geralt finds you injured in the woods (more in the ask)

warnings⁀➷ soft!geralt, fluff, mention of blood and injuries, swearing (only once tho), use of y/n once

a/n⁀➷ As always, tell me if I missed a warning please!

🥤my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip🩷

You had expected this day to be different. You were supposed to help your uncle and learn more about herbology so that one day, you would know as much as he does about taking care of the people in the village.

Not lying here, on the slightly damp forest ground.

It would be a long walk back to the village, and your wounds and aches would not make it any easier. Your limbs felt heavy. Your body ached. And before you could fight back, you were defeated by tiredness.

Your eyes opened abruptly as you became aware of sounds coming closer and closer to you. A horse was coming towards you, on it an incredibly muscular man who looked familiar to you.

You had never met him before, but when he came closer and you saw his bright amber eyes, you knew who he was, what he was.

When he saw you, lying there on one of the big roots, he quickly got off his horse.

"Wait here, Roach." he told the horse.

Fear washed over you as he slowly approached you.

"Please, don't hurt me." Your voice was soft, almost a whisper. But witchers could hear better than ordinary people, he had heard it clearly enough.

The witcher stopped for a second and seemed… offended? He shook his head slightly and looked you in the eyes.

"I won't hurt you." His voice was low. Incredibly deep.

There was sincere in his voice, it almost gave you goosebumps.

He was terribly attractive, and his eyes both frightened and fascinated you. He came closer and closer to you and you could only follow him with your eyes. Your fear had eased a little, but it wasn't completely gone.

"It's not that bad," you said quietly as his eyes examined your wound. "I just need to rest a bit before I-" you made a hissing sound as he lifted the fabric covering the wound. "You are not fine." he grumbled.

He knew you wouldn't be able to walk one step on your own without collapsing. As the witcher walked to his horse and took an elixir-like phial from one of the pockets, he asked,

"What happened to you, who did this?" his voice almost sounded angry. But not because of you.

"I was gathering herbs. My uncle needs them to medicate the people in the village. And-" you had to swallow at the thought of the attack.

"There were three-three men. They were looking for someone." The witcher grimaced in anger, as if he already knew what they wanted.

"They wanted to know where the Butcher of Blaviken was."

He said nothing but an annoyed "hmm," his hand still holding the fabric so as not to cover the wound on your hip.

The witcher looked you in the eye, and up close, his own ones were even more special.

"Don't move." he demanded and you nodded. Then he dripped some of the elixir into the wound. It burned like fire.

"Ahh fuck!" you had to bite your lip to stop swearing. "It'll be over in a moment." He took your hand and nodded at you encouragingly. You squeezed his hand so hard that your fingers almost started to hurt.

"Breathe, can you do that for me?" He spoke so calmly and collectedly. You looked at him again, his gaze never leaving your face the whole time. Then you took a deep breath, as deep as you could under the pain. And as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone again.

You were breathing heavily and it felt like you had been running for hours. The witcher bandaged your wound and looked you in the eyes again. The fear you normally had of his kind, fear that was taught as a child, was now completely gone. If he hadn't come to find you, you would still be lying here now and would probably faint in no time.

He had saved you.

"What's your name?" you asked the witcher quietly as he lowered the bloody piece of cloth onto the tended and protected wound. He inhaled sharply. "It's okay if you don't-" you started but he spike over you. "Geralt of Rivia." He replied.

Your lips parted a little. You blinked in surprise as you looked at him. Geralt had gotten up and walked to his horse to put the vial back. Quietly you whispered, "The Butcher of Blaviken."

He turned to face you, "I'm sorry they attacked you."

You were astonished, because you didn't expect an apology. Actually, he had nothing to apologise about either. After all, the men were not acting on his orders.

You smiled at him weakly. Suddenly everything felt so exhausting, breathing, being able to see, everything.

"It's the potion," Geralt answered your unasked question. "It makes you tired, to heal your wounds in your sleep."

"Oh." you said softly, before you felt two strong arms lift you up. Then you fell asleep.

Geralt entered the small village on Roach, and you laying safely in his arms.

All conversation died down when they noticed the witcher.

However, when they saw you in his arms, some began to whisper.

„He's a witcher!" "What does he want with her?" "Did he kill her?" "Where did he come from?"

Geralt knew exactly where to take you. A healer was usually quick to find, but especially in such a small village. "Stop Roach."

He got down, careful not to hurt you.

Your uncle opened the door before Geralt could knock, but when he saw you, his face paled. "Y/N-" His gaze went to the blood on your coat then darted to the witcher.

"She needs to lie down." Geralt commanded. He looked at your uncle with a penetrating gaze.

"What have you done to her, Witcher?" There was hatred and disgust in his voice.

"I healed her." Geralt replied dryly.

He pushed past your uncle and quickly found what he was looking for.

He carefully laid you down on the small bed.

Your uncle hurried after the witcher, but when he saw you, he realised that what Geralt had said was true.

Your coat was bloody but the wound looked well taken care of. "I put a potion in her wound, it should work. She'll have to sleep for a while for that to happen though." Geralt sat down on the floor beside your bed and leaned his back against it.

Your uncle looked overwhelmed, but he knew well enough that there was nothing he could do now.

"Thank you, Witcher.".

"Hmm." Geralt simply replied.

While your uncle went to his herbs to make you some tea, Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out.

With a loud gasp, you woke up. You looked around in confusion, as you saw familiar walls and herbs, the ground was softer than before in the forest. As you slowly sat up, leaning on one elbow, you knew you were home.

Something moved beside your bed. No, not something, someone. Geralt stood up and looked at you with a soft gaze. "How are you?" he asked in his deep voice.

Your eyes went to your wound, or to the place where it had been. Your skin was completely healed, no cuts, no blood. You brushed your finger lightly over it, but it didn't even hurt anymore.

"Thank you." you whispered gratefully without really answering his question. "Thank you Geralt."

You stood up and in a matter of seconds you wrapped your arms around his strong torso. "Thank you." you mumbled into his chest once more.

Geralt was surprised, and at first he just stared down at you. You still had your arms wrapped around him when he carefully put one arm around your waist, then the other. He smelled terrible but that didn't matter right now.

He had saved you. You looked up at him, still in the embrace. Something in his eyes had changed, his look had changed. You didn't know what it was.

Geralt, however, knew, and he could not suppress it.

The way you looked at him without any fear, how you had thanked him so many times. Nothing even suggested that you thought he was the monster so many people saw him as.

Slowly his arms moved down your back. Your faces were so close that you could see the finest, smallest scars on his face. Geralt could hear your heart beating, not evenly but fast and irregularly. You looked into his amber eyes the ones that had even followed you into your sleep.

His hands pulled you closer and the moment, when his lips met yours, fast yet slow, hungry yet gentle, felt like time had stopped. As if there was only this moment, only the two of you. Your fingers played with Geralt's hair, feeling his strong neck and pulling him down even further towards you.

When you had to gasp for air and your lips parted, he still held you close to him. You bit your lip as you looked at him. Geralt exhaled heavily. "I don't believe in destiny," you whispered. "But you might've changed that."

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

[damn-stark]

Chapter 1 Beautiful girl

Chapter 1 of Tragedy at the Miller’s

A/N- I really hope you guys like the first chapter, I’m very proud of it! And I hope you guys stick around for more :)

Warning- FLUFF :): violence, death, blood, swearing, and suggested sexual assault.

Pairing- Joel Miller x daughter!reader, Henry x Fem!reader

Episode- 1x01

(If you want to be tagged let me know!)

————

“Alarm.”

There’s slight movement on the bed, and a weight gets lifted off your neck.

An annoying sound fills the room, but you ignore its screeching cries even if they don’t cry for your attention.

“Alarm!” Sarah yells out.

You groan and stretch out, feeling the bottom of your feet hit flesh.

“Come on,” you hear your fathers hoarse voice nearby before you feel a hand wrap around your arm to pull you up. “It’s time to get up.”

The hand around your arm slips off, letting you drop back on the bed. And the additional weight that once was on the bed is lifted off. You keep your eyes closed to avoid the warm rays of sun that already kiss your face, and groan softly before you flip around and curl up on the warm and sunken place your father was just laying on, finding solace in his smell that clung onto his pillows.

“Tomorrow,” you groan in a feigned deep voice.

There’s a scoff before suddenly arms wrap around you and pick you off the bed to throw you over his shoulder. You keep your eyes closed as he begins moving, but wrap your arms around his neck to keep warm and smile as you pat his back.

“Happy birthday, daddy,” you mumble since that’s not something you’ll ever forget, even if you still feel sleepy.

You then lift your head off his shoulder to press a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you baby,” he says as he gently caresses the back of your head.

“I have a present for you,” you share happily and lay your head back on his shoulder.

“Do you? Is it hm, maybe, brushing your teeth.”

You finally open your eyes and pull back to meet his gaze and giggle. “No!” You swipe back the strands of hair that were tickling the corner of your mouth as they stuck to your face due to the drool that had been spilling out of your mouth when you were sleeping.

Your dad then sucks air in through his teeth and narrows his gaze as he leans in and sniffs. “Oh no? Because your breath kinda stinks.” He remarks and places you down on your stool placed against the sink counter.

You roll your eyes and shift around to face the mirror, making sure to brush back your poorly cut bangs you had ruined last week because you swore you could be a hairstylist at 4–you still kinda do think you can be one.

Regardless, you grab your purple brush off the cup and put it under the running water, before you quickly squeeze toothpaste on the brush and begin to brush rapidly since you do have to show your dad a part of your present.

You brush up and down, side to side, and spit out the toothpaste before splashing water on your face and hopping off the stool.

“Change!” Your dad shouts from the bathroom with his toothbrush in his mouth.

Of course you know to do so that’s what you’re doing now. However, you don’t grab your own clothes, you run to his drawer and go on your tiptoes to pull open his shirt drawer. Since you can’t actually see, you just grab whichever shirt your hand lands on first and swipe it before running out of his room to run to yours.

The smell of breakfast runs up the stairs and travels to your nose, waking up your appetite and causing you to rapidly throw on your dads shirt that drowns your body and fits like a dress. You then proceed to search in your white chest full of costumes.

“Come on,” you mumble and lean further inside as you search for something small.

However, at that moment you end up finding your fairy wings and throw them out even if it doesn’t match your costume. They’re just sparkly and catch your attention. And they’re your favorite.

After that you then continue to search for your intended item.

“Y/N, come on!” You hear your dad call out from the hall before his footsteps recede down the stairs.

You mumble something you don’t even understand, and finally, stuck at the bottom of your chest is the black swirly mustache you need. So you peel it off the wood and stick it on yourself before you pull away and swipe the fairy wings off the floor to put them on as you finally run out to join your sister Sarah, and your dad downstairs.

“Morning,” Sarah says as she hears you running down the stairs whilst she takes out orange juice from the fridge.

“Mornin’!” You greet back and hop off the last step to then run to the high stool against the island.

Since it’s so high off the ground you slap your palms on the surface of the chair and struggle to push yourself on top to watch Sarah pour orange juice in your glass cup.

“Here,” she says and slides the cup over to you. “I’ll give you more later.”

You lean over the table and slide it to you. “Thank you,” you say and shoot her a beaming smile, catching her own smile as she sees your costume in all its glory.

She then grabs the other cup and pours juice in that one too to offer it to your dad as he turns around to face her with his mug of delicious smelling coffee.

“Vitamin C,” Sarah deadpans and places it down on the counter so your dad can take it.

“Daddy…” you call out for his attention and chug some juice as if you’ve never had anything to drink before. “…Look,” you sigh when you’ve swallowed.

As your dad is drinking his juice he turns, and his eyes immediately widen as his lips lift to a smile when he sees how you’re dressed.

“I’m you,” you reveal as if it isn’t obvious by his shirt and your fake mustache. “Happy birthday!” You shoot him a beaming grin.

He places the cup down and his grin widens. “What’s up with the wings?” He points.

You peer back at your fairy wings and shrug. “I like ‘em. You like it though?! And my mustache?!” You ask and pat it.

“It’s like part one in her four part present,” Sarah explains for you. “She’s worked hard on it.”

You nod in agreement and slide off your seat with your cup in hand.

“I love it, baby,” your dad says. “You look just like me.”

You pump your fist in excitement as you head to your seat around the small wooden circle table.

“You get your homework done?” Your dad asks Sarah whilst you find it easier to climb on these lower wooden seats. “Fractions?”

Sarah laughs and before long, breakfast is brought to the table, and the three of you peacefully eat eggs and cooked meat you don’t touch.

“How old are you again?” You ask your dad as you shove eggs in your mouth.

“Thirty-six,” he says.

You swallow and laugh, “that’s so old,” before Sarah interjects too.

“Gonna have to wear diapers soon.”

You giggle and watch your dad for his reaction.

“Who says I don’t already?” He retorts, causing you to laugh harder.

“That’s so gross,” you comment.

Your dad leans over and points at you. “You’re gonna have to change 'em.”

You stick your tongue out in disgust and shake your head, making him laugh before he pulls something out of his mouth. “Shell,” he says.

“Calcium,” Sarah counters and shoots your dad a grin that’s full of food.

“Lovely.”

You smile at her with admiration before you laugh softly. “You’re so silly, Sarah.”

Sarah looks over at you and nods with a sly smirk. “Aren't I?”

You nod and scrape up more eggs on your spoon.

“Is there enough for Uncle Tommy?” Your dad asks Sarah.

“Well, there would’ve been.”

You look down at your plate and see that you still have a piece or two left. “He can have some of mine,” you suggest, and then look back as the garage door opens and your uncle walks in.

“Uncle Tommy!” You greet with excitement.

Said man walks over and pats your dads shoulder, “Hey! You’re still alive, you old fucker.” He ruffles your hair and steals half a sausage from your plate.

“Aw, he loves you,” Sarah says.

“He’s dependent on me. Not the same,” your dad redirects.

You snap your head to the other side to look at your uncle in the kitchen.

“I think it’s the same.”

“It’s definitely the same,” your uncle bounces off your sister's comment. “I thought we was havin’ pancakes.”

“We’ll pick you somethin’ up on the road—”

“Uncle Tommy,” you cut your dad off. “You like my costume?” You furrow your eyebrows and clear your throat to mock your dads voice. “I’m daddy.”

Your uncle looks over and chuckles right away. “I love it. You nailed it, you look just like him, Sunny. Especially that mustache,” he says and points to your fake mustache.

You grin and kick your feet before you show your dad your smile as he watches with a serious face you quickly mock.

“Eat,” he grumbles.

“I am,” you whisper in your normal voice and focus back on your food whilst he continues to speak.

“Concrete guys gonna be there?”

“Yeah, they said maybe,” your uncle answers your dad.

“Maybe?” Your dad quickly snaps back. “We can’t frame until we pour. We’re not gettin’ paid until we frame.”

You sip some juice and look between the two men.

“Well, we could bring someone else on, get the job done faster.”

“No, no,” your dad counters your uncle Tommy. “I’m not splittin’ this job. I barely wanna split it with you. We could work a double.”

You may not understand at all what they’re saying even if you are very much intrigued by their conversation, but you do know what your dad means by working a double. He’s gonna stay out longer.

“What?” You whine.

“Literally?” Sarah protests in annoyance. “Today?”

Your dad looks between Sarah and you and tries to assure you both. “I know. I’d be done by nine. By nine, right?” He asks your uncle for reassurance.

You begin to pout in anger and sink back in your seat to display your frustration.

“Yeah,” your uncle Tommy confirms.

“I’ll bring back a cake,” your dad continues and pats your hand. “I promise.”

You perk up and ask, “chocolate cake?”

Your dad meets your gaze and nods. “Yeah, of course.”

And with that your anger sweeps away and you feel happy once again.

“…continued disturbances in Jakarta, but are advising U.S. citizens…”

“Jakarta,” your dad comments as he pulls his hand away from yours to grab his mug. “Where is that, Middle East?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” your uncle Tommy says. “It’s definitely a country. Or maybe part of Asia?”

“Jakarta isn’t a country,” Sarah interjects. “Being a part of Asia isn’t mutually exclusive with being a country…”

Her words tune out of your ears as all your hear is a jumble of mess you don’t understand, nor do you want to understand. You show that confusion clearly on your face and look over at your Uncle Tommy, and he shares a teasing smile.

“Shit,” he then says and looks at your sister. “Hope for us yet.”

The microwave then beeps and then it hits you at that moment, the next part of your dads present.

“Daddy!” You exclaim and stand up on your feet. “Can I sing you your birthday song?!”

Your dad looks up at you and nods, whilst Sarah already begins to discreetly laugh before you can even do a thing.

“Yay,” you mutter happily, and clear your throat before you begin to bop your head and sing a song you had heard a hundred times before in the place you get taken care of.

“Go, go, go, go, shorty. It’s your birthday. We gon’ to party like it’s your birthday, we gon’ sip—”

However, before you can finish, you come to an abrupt stop as your Uncle Tommy begins to chuckle loudly.

“No,” you whine and fall on your seat. “Uncle Tommy!” You cry and slam your head on the table. “Don’t laugh!” You shout.

No tears come out of your eyes because you don’t really intend to cry, you’re just pretending because you’re angry at him, and your dad gets your uncle in trouble when he makes you cry.

“Don’t laugh at me!” You continue to shout.

“I’m not laughin’!” He chuckles. “It’s just cute that’s all.”

“All right,” your dad interjects and ignores your fake sniffles. “Finish up quick, we'll drop you off.”

You continue to sniffle and peek an eye out, seeing your dad walking to the sink with your plate and his in hand. Since you haven’t gotten the reaction you wanted you keep yourself plastered on the table.

“I’m still eating my egg shells,” Sarah complains.

“You got seven minutes.” Your dad tells her.

“Your t-shirt is inside out,” Sarah points out.

“Shit,” your dad curses as he walks back to the table to pick you off the chair. “Come on you, let’s get you changed.”

You sniffle and shed a single tear. “Uncle Tommy laughed at me.” You say and hook your arms around his neck.

Your dad caresses the back of your back head and assures you, “I’ll talk to him. I liked your song though….Where did you learn it though?”

You begin to smile. “Miss Denise, her son Dwayne listens to a lot of songs she doesn’t like. They always fight about it.”

Your dad hums and then does as he said, he helps you get changed before he turns his shirt the correct way. And like all the other times he doesn’t fix your hair since he’s in a hurry to leave for work, he just gets you changed, puts your shoes on and carries you out after he helps you.

“Tommy,” he says and puts you down in the garage. “Can you take y/n across the street, I’ll load the stuff onto the truck.”

“‘Course,” your uncle Tommy agrees since it is a basically routine already. “Come on now, Sunny,” your uncle says and offers you his hand.

Choosing to forget that he laughed at you for now, you happily grab your uncle's hand. And once you walk out of the shade the garage provides, you immediately get greeted.

“Morning y/n!”

You look over and squint your eyes to block out the sun. “Morning!” You greet the old man back happily.

“You want a biscuit?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Nah, I already ate!”

Your uncle then nudges your arm and whispers. “What do you say?”

You hesitate for a moment before it clicks. “Thank you!” Your dad then passes by and you smile as you remember. “Hey, did you know it’s my daddy’s birthday! He’s turning thirty-six!” You share.

“No,” the old man exclaims. “Now I know! Happy birthday, Joel.”

You beam, and see your dad let out a sigh before he turns to face the neighbor taking in the morning sun and feeding Nana some biscuit.

“Thank you,” your dad says, whilst your uncle begins to encourage you forward

“Come on, let’s get you across the street,” he says.

As you follow at his side you peer back one more time to direct your dad a goodbye. “Goodbye daddy!”

Said man peers over his shoulder and waves goodbye. “Goodbye, baby. I’ll see you after work. Your sister is gonna pick you up after she gets home from school, okay?”

You nod and yell out your response. “Okay! Goodbye!”

——

*LATER*

All morning, even up to now there have been loud sounds rumbling in the sky, sirens have been crying all day, and Miss Denise never let you watch t.v. because she said she had to watch the news. And all day you’ve been bored because someone forgot to pack your toys and crayons.

You’ll forgive him though because it’s his birthday. The good thing now is that you're gonna have cookies!

“I was thinkin’ we’d make some cookies.” Mrs Adler says.

You beam up and run to the stool. “Chocolate chip?” You ask with excitement.

Mrs Adler turns around and meets your gaze with a happy smile. “Raisin,” she says.

That’s what she’s happy about? Fruit cookies?

Once her back is turned to you, you look back at Sarah and scrunch your nose and stick your tongue out to show your disgust.

She nods and mirrors your gestures before she walks over and helps you on the stool.

“Daddy forgot to pack my things,” you whine and prop your elbow on the table.

Sarah walks to her seat and pulls her backpack off her shoulders. “It’s okay, I brought you back up paper and crayons,” she assures you as she unzips her backpack to pull out what she said and hand them to you.

So while she does her homework you work on your next present for your dad, a drawing. You even stick out your tongue as if it's the hardest thing in the world—Because it really is to you because you want it to be perfect.

Yet that actually gets your stomach grumbling. But when the timer alerts that the fruit cookies are ready, that hunger isn't as important.

“You wanna give me a hand?” Mrs Adler breaks you away from your drawing.

You lift your gray crayon up and look up—your dad always said to be nice to old people, so you nod and slide off your chair to reach her side.

“Here,” the lady says and helps you on a step so you can reach the counter—“Now,” she adds and hands you oven mittens. “Wear them or you’ll get burnt.”

You do as she says and laugh as the mittens look funny on your little hands. You try to pretend they’re puppets, but then Mrs Adler hands you a spatula so you can help her unstick the cookies from the pan to place them somewhere else.

“Hey, Mrs Adler?” You hear Sarah call out before you see her walk in the kitchen. “Could I borrow this?” She asks and hands the lady a movie box once she reaches the counter.

“Yeah sure,” the lady laughs, whilst you lean over and see that it’s some adult movie—“It’s one of Danny’s,” she continues to say and hands Sarah back the movie, letting your sister then look at you to share a brief look that you understand.

“You know what?” Your sister interjects. “Our dads gonna be back real soon. We should go.”

Without hesitation you spin around and slide off the chair.

“Are you sure?” Mrs Adler probes.

Sarah nods, “yeah.”

You reach for the counter and swipe your drawing off the table.

“Well, you girls are takin’ some cookies,” Mrs Adler adds.

Great. Fruit cookies.

“Y/N,” the lady says. “You want one now? They’re cool enough to eat.” Without waiting for your answer she walks over to you to hand one to you.

Since you don’t want to be rude to hurt her feelings you take it and shoot her a wide smile as you bring it close to your mouth, whilst Sarah packs her stuff in her backpack.

You open your mouth and pretend you're going to take a bite, but just as Mrs Adler turns around you stuff the cookie in your pocket and just pretend to have your mouth full

“Good?” The lady asks with her back turned.

You hum and nod as you keep your cheeks puffed out.

“Good!” The lady says and walks off, letting you breathe out.

“Come on, let’s go, y/n,” Sarah calls out and reaches for your hand.

Eagerly before you can be given more fruit cookies you wipe your hand on your shirt before grabbing your sister's hand to walk to the door. Yet on your way there, Sarah stops as Mercy, the Adler’s dog begins to whine.

“What’s wrong with him?” You ask as you look at him in worry.

Sarah shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says and steals one last look at him before she continues to pull you out. However, you keep looking back at the whining dog until you can’t see him anymore once you’re out the door.

“I’m hungry,” you say and rub your stomach as you both hop off the step.

“Me too,” Sarah agrees as she walks you over the grass to wave her hand under the sprinklers. “We can have some leftovers at home.”

Once home, you eat as you finally watch cartoons. You wait for your dad to come home and finish his drawing. However, waiting turns out to be an eternity, the sun that was once outside disappears and leaves the sky dark, and with even more sirens every few minutes, and more loud noises in the sky. Eventually you begin to feel your eyes get heavy, but you’re determined to stay awake to wait for your dad.

And luckily after a long time keys jingle before the door opens, and your dad walks in.

“Daddy!” You greet happily and shoot up from the couch.

“Hey, baby,” he greets back as he walks over. “You’re awake?”

You nod and hop off the couch to run to the kitchen and grab the cone birthday hats from the table as he talks with Sarah. When you run back you place them on the table to wait for Sarah to give her his presents first, and instead head back to the couch. “Scooch,” you mutter to your dad.

He huffs at your comment but does as you say and makes room for you on the couch at his opposite side.

“Where’s the cake?” Sarah asks, making you realize that he in fact didn't have the chocolate cake he promised.

“Shit,” he groans.

You groan too and shake your head in disapproval.

“C’mon, man,” Sarah mutters with discontent.

“I’ll get us one tomorrow,” your dad assures her as he takes off his work boots.

“Swear, or you don’t get your present.”

Your dad looks up and questions your sister's comment, “you got me a present?”

“Swear.”

“On my life,” he whispers, making Sarah hesitate for a second before she turns around to grab his gift.

You stand up on the couch right away to watch eagerly, catching your dad turn around to look up at you. “You’re not mad at me are you, Sunny?” He asks and wraps his arms around you.

You beam down at him and wrap your arms around his neck. “Of course not. I can never be mad at you, daddy, ” you comfort him sweetly. “We can have cake tomorrow, or the day after that. Or Mrs Adler can make fruit cake.”

“Fruit cake?” He query’s with his brow quirked.

You scrunch your nose in disgust and nod. “Yeah. She made fruit cookies today,” she sigh

“Gross,” he mumbles before he pulls you down to sit you on his lap and press a kiss on your head before you both look over at Sarah as she hands him a small box.

“Wow,” he comments and shows it off to you first before he opens it, revealing a watch with a green strap.

“Fixed it for you,” Sarah says.

Your dad gets the watch out of the box and pulls it up to his ear. “Did you?” He asks her.

Sarah’s eyebrows furrow and she quickly retorts, “what?” before she pulls his hand towards her.

“I don’t hear anything,” he says.

Sarah looks at the watch with concern for a brief second and makes your dad begin to laugh. Sarah hears and then pushes him back, causing you to move back too.

“Hey!” You exclaim.

“That was lame,” Sarah quips. “You’re lame.”

“Yeah, I know,” your dad agrees and grabs onto you tighter so you won’t fall back. “Where’d you get the money for this?” He asks her as he begins to put on his watch.

“Drugs,” she deadpans. “I sell hardcore drugs.”

“It’s better than what I do,” he mutters.

“It was only twenty dollars, which I stole from you.”

You cover your mouth and say, “oh,” with your eyes wide in shock.

Your dad shares a quick teasing look with you before you both point your looks at Sarah.

“I could’ve stolen 60,” she explains herself, “but I put the change back because I’m an honest thief.”

He hums and shares another look with you, making you cross your arms over your chest to then stare her down.

“Besides, it’s the thought that counts. And you were never gonna do it yourself, so.”

Your dad looks back at her and lets his gaze linger for a moment before he looks at his watch he finishes fixing on his wrist.

“Thank you,” he mutters.

You let your arms fall and look at Sarah with admiration, catching her soft smile.

“What do you say?” Your dad asks you with a teasing look. “Should we forgive her?”

You meet your older sister's gaze and shoot her a smile before you nod without hesitation. “Yes.”

Your dad scoffs and smirks.

“Why don’t you give dad your present, y/n?” Sarah encourages you, making you slide off your dads lap to grab the birthday hats.

“Daddy,” you say with a grin and turn to jump on the couch to put a red birthday hat on his head that simply says ‘happy birthday’ on it. “That’s for you. I have one for…Sarah…” you trail off and jump off to go to her.

She sees you get close and ducks her head down so you can put a hat on her head. After that you place the last hat on your own head. “And one for me!” You smile.

“Oh, wow…” your dad says and pushes the hat back from his forehead. “We look funny.”

You giggle and nod. “Yeah. I know.” You then jump and spin around to grab the drawing from the table and show it off to him.

“And my last present, a drawing,” you squeal, and look down at the paper to point at him drawn floating off the ground and with the same red hat on his head. “That’s you, you’re frowning because that’s what you always do….”

“So true,” Sarah snorts, whilst your dad just scoffs.

“And that’s…a cake,” you point to the tiny brown circle cake in the middle. “I couldn’t fit thirty-six candles so I just put one.”

You shift your eyes across the page and point to the curly headed girl that’s taller than your dad. “That’s Sarah,” you point out and slide your finger to the side. “And that’s me,” you point to yourself holding her hand. “We’re smiling ‘cause you’re gonna blow out the candles and make a wish.”

Sarah giggles, and your dad begins to grin.

“And this…” you point to the tiny man next to him with a big smile. “…Is Uncle Tommy. He’s tiny because he laughed at me today.”

Your dad snorts in amusement before he narrows his eyes and points to the gray and black swirls over your uncle's head that come out of his smile. “What’s that?” He asks.

You look closer and giggle. “That’s his smoke from his cigarette.”

Your dad chuckles and takes the drawing from you. “Wow, baby, this is amazing, you’re so good!”

You climb on his lap and smile proudly. “You really like it?” You ask and hold your hands together.

Your dad looks down at you and nods with a happy smile on his face. “I really love it. Thank you.” He says and leans down to press a kiss on your head.

You clap your hands and grin before you cling onto his neck to hug him.

“Oh, there’s one more,” Sarah adds and turns around to pull out the movie she had brought from the Adler's house. And that immediately makes him happier.

“Borrowed it from the Adler’s,” Sarah continues as your dad looks at the movie of a ninja and some guy.

“This is the one with the deleted scenes,” your dad points out in amazement.

“Yeah, imagine how bad those have to be. C’mon,” Sarah nudges him. “Pop it in. While it’s still your birthday.”

Your dad holds onto you as he gets off the couch to put in the movie. When he returns to the couch to change the tv, Sarah gets closer to him and cuddles at his side, while you cuddle yourself on his other side.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he tells Sarah and you.

“‘Course, I won’t, it’s too riveting,” Sarah says.

You shake your head. “I won’t either,” you assure him.

However, once the movie begins to play it fails to grab your attention, so it doesn’t take long for you to finally give in to the sleep that had already been lurking. And all you know before you fall asleep is that you were holding onto your dads arm and resting your head on his shoulder, while Sarah lay her head on his lap. You knew you were in the living room, and only saw them before the darkness came.

But when you wake up to more loud noises rumbling in the sky and bright lights flashing over your eyes, your dad nor Sarah are with you anymore, you’re not in the living room, you’re actually in your room, on your own bed, alone. Since the noises scare you like the nightmares and the shadows in the corner of your room, you get off your bed and run over to your dads room.

However, when you walk in he’s not in bed. “Daddy?” You call out in a quivering voice. You slowly walk further in and part your lips again, but nothing comes out because then another light flashes outside that scares you right over to Sarah’s room.

When you see that she’s sleeping you carefully close the door before you tiptoe over and climb on her bed. When you get under her sheets she probably feels you because right away without a fault she wraps her arm around you and pulls you close to her.

She may not be your dad, but she is one of your favorite people, she still brings you comfort, she still makes you feel calm. Enough so that you fall asleep again in her arms.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

“…come on, babygirl…”

There’s soft murmurs of a familiar voice by your ear, but it tunes out quickly as you remain half asleep, thinking that the voice you hear, that the sensation of being carried is all a part of some dream.

“…hey, I have her. Let’s go. Come on…”

The voice gets louder now, and second by second your mind begins to grasp that you’re not asleep anymore.

“…Denise, you get back inside the house! You lock your doors! Now!”

You begin to flutter your eyes open, and the first thing you see through your blurry sight is the outside of your house from inside of the truck.

“C’mon, c’mon, get in!”

You drift your eyes to the side and identify a blurry sight of your dad getting inside.

“Daddy?” You ask groggily as you wipe your eyes.

In that immediate second your dad looks back with his eyes wide and full of fear you can easily detect.

“It’s okay, baby,” he tries to assure you. “We’re just going away for a bit okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper and drop your hands. You then blink and spot your uncle Tommy driving, you drift your eyes to the side to look outside the window, spotting the Adlers outside their house as your uncle drives by; they’re walking and seem to be in their pajamas, but they also have something on their shirt. “Daddy? Why is Mr—”

“Hey,” he cuts you off and snaps his head back. “Look at me, just look at me, okay, baby? Sarah, get your seatbelt on and then help your sister.”

With the fear in his voice and the way it’s risen louder, you immediately begin to feel a fear twisting your heart strings.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!”

You gasp softly at the shout and try to look back, but Sarah then calls for your attention. “Hey, you want to help me grab your straps.”

You blink and meet her gaze, catching that same fear on her face, but she tries to assure you as she helps strap yourself on your seat.

“Okay,” you mumble and reach your left hand back to put your hand through the strap before you pull it forward and hand it to Sarah, so she can buckle you in.

Sirens then drive by, flashing their bright red and blue lights and stealing your attention out the window.

“Daddy—”

“We don’t know,” your dad cuts Sarah off.

“They’re saying it’s a virus…” you hear your uncle Tommy input.

You slowly look over at him and try to understand what that means, noticing an empty backpack on the car floor by your feet in the meanwhile.

“…Some kind of parasite.”

“Is it from terrorists?” Sarah asks, but you can’t understand, all you can do is listen and find no meaning to their words—no, actually all you do understand is fear.

“We don’t know,” your dad interjects.

“Are we sick?” Sarah continues to ask, making your eyes widen and your heart beat faster.

Your dad looks back and assures your sister. “No. Of course not.”

His words comfort you even if you don’t understand the grand scheme of things.

“Why did things blow up?” Sarah continues.

Yet she gets no answer. Your uncle speaks but not on that matter. “No cellphone, no radio,” he says and turns off the static that had begun to annoy you. “Minute ago, newsman wouldn’t shut up.”

“How do you know?”

“What?” Your dad probes Sarah’s question.

“How do you know we’re not sick?”

Again? Why is she asking that again?

Unless….

“We’re sick?” You interject panicked.

Your dad looks back and meets Sara’s gaze before he looks over at you and shakes his head. “No, we’re not sick.”

You blink and swallow thickly out of lingering fear.

“They’re saying it’s mostly people in the city,” your uncle adds. “It’s why they got the highway blocked off.”

You blink again, and as you look out the front window you catch a bright burning fire swallowing a house whole.

“God,” your uncle mutters. “That’s Jimmy’s place.”

As you pass by you lean closer to the window beside you to watch the blazing flames, and all you see is a great angry monster that destroyed the house, that wanted to eat you and everything else.

“Daddy, what’s going on, I’m scared,” you whisper in a quivering voice and with your eyes brimming with tears.

Said man looks back and reaches his hand over to pat your knee. “It’s okay, baby, you’re gonna be okay,” he comforts you.

You let your eyes linger on him and nod slowly as you choose to believe him. “Okay,” you whisper and grab onto your seat straps.

“The Adlers would take Nana into the city,” Sarah adds. “To the hospital for stuff.”

“That’s right,” your dad agrees. “They would. That’s probably why.”

Are they sick? Is that why they were outside?

“But you’d have to go a lot, right?”

“We’re fine,” your uncle assures Sarah. “Trust me.”

Sirens echo out from outside, but when you peek out the window all you see is darkness, shadows and monsters lurking within them.

“Sarah,” you mumble and look at your sister sitting beside your car seat. “Can you hold my hand?”

Your sister looks at you and nods with a very faint smile on her lips. “‘Course,” she whispers and reaches over to wrap her hand around yours.

You smile softly, but that’s when you catch people outside on the street waving and calling for help, making you hold onto Sarah tighter.

“What are you doin’?” Your dad spats as the car slows down.

“Got a kid, Joel,” your uncle Tommy points out, letting you notice a small kid probably around your age hugging his mom.

“So do we. Keep driving.”

Without hesitation the car speeds up and the man cries out louder. Now rather than looking back you look between your dad and your uncle, and wonder why your dad wasn’t nice enough to let the strangers in the car with you.

“Fuck!” Your uncle then exclaims, making your shoulders jump. “Everybody had the same fuckin’ idea.”

You lift your eyes from Sarah’s hand and see that you’re now driving to the freeway, you see hundreds of red lights from the hundreds of cars not moving. Some cars even try to go the wrong way, resulting in them almost crashing into your car, and making you close your eyes to avoid seeing them as they flash in your eyes.

“I can’t get through this,” your uncle Tommy says.

“All right, let’s think it through, we’ll think it through,” you hear your dad say.

“Fuck!”

“All right, take the field. We cut across and we pick up on the west side.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.” you hear your uncle agree. “West, west, all right. All right, hang on.”

The car ride begins to get bumpy, and out of curiosity you open your eyes to check out what's going on, and see that you’re driving on grass now. You’re driving to some place with a lot of lights, but then they change their mind and turn to drive towards a town instead.

The further you get though, the more the noises become; like the plane's engines that fly low, the quicker your head begins to spin and heighten those fearful thoughts. The more the car keeps moving, the more people you see run and hear scream, the harder your chest begins to hurt whilst your breathing quickens. You couldn’t even find solace with Sarah next to you.

You try to close your eyes, block out everything that you saw, everything you heard, but just as you try, lights flash at your side, and when you look over a car almost crashes at your side of the car, making you scream and cover your ears.

“Daddy!” You cry out. “I wanna go home!”

“It’s okay baby, just keep your eyes closed, okay?” He says and pats your knee again.

You don’t answer this time because even with words, even with his touch you still can’t calm down or keep your head from hurting. So you keep trying to squeeze your eyes tighter. However, that doesn’t block out all the shouting outside, or your dads yelling, you can hear it all booming in your ears.

Albeit, suddenly something cuts it all off, something louder sounding behind you, it even rumbles the car. When you look back you see an airplane approaching the car.

“Daddy?!” You cry out.

As the plane gets close you slap your hands over your ears again, you try to call out for your dad again, but then…

There's nothing….

——

“…Y/N…”

You groan and feel inklings of pain all over your body. You hear flames burning, but it’s all dark.

This must be a dream. You’re on Sarah’s bed, having a nightmare.

“Y/N?”

That’s him, your dad, he’s back.

Once again you flutter your eyes open, but instead of seeing Sarah’s room, you see the car again, however now everything is upside down, Sarah, your dad, your uncle, the streets. And now you feel stuck and in pain.

“Daddy?” You whimper out and begin to pant. “It hurts.”

Your dad sighs in relief and reaches his hand out, but he can’t grab you. “Don’t move,” he says. “Don’t move. Your uncle Tommy is gonna help you, okay?”

You keep your eyes glued on him and nod, “okay,” you say in a trembling voice.

There’s finally no more yelling outside, or loud planes, there’s nothing but ringing in your ears that gets lower and lower.

You try to look to the side to check on Sarah, but just as you catch sight of your sister and your dad beginning to crawl over to her, the door beside you opens and you see your uncle Tommy.

“Hey, Sunny,” he says in a soft voice. “Ima gonna help you out, okay? Hold onto me,” he instructs and then crawls over to you to grab you from under one arm while he uses the other to try and unbuckle your restraints.

You reach over and wrap your arms around his neck, but just as he tries to pull off your restraints there’s sharp burning pains that suddenly slam into you. “Ow! Ow!” You cry out.

Your uncle's eyes meet yours and he quickly tries to comfort you, “I'm sorry, I’m sorry, the restraints are cutting you, I’m sorry,” he says, but continues to pull, only causing more pain.

Until finally the sharp pain disappears, leaving only the burning pain as you feel weightless.

“Hold on tight,” your uncle says and pulls you towards him before he grabs the backpack from the floor, and then crawls back outside.

And once you’re out from under the car your uncle puts you down on the ground. That’s when you see that fires are in fact true, they weren’t just part of your mind, they burn all around….

“Look at me,” your uncle startles you. “Don’t look anywhere else, okay?”

You shut your mouth and curl your hands to fists as you nod and try not to cry.

“Joel, how you doin’ over there?!” Your uncle shouts as he grabs your hand and yanks you to him.

“Sarah,” you hear your dad yell, “her leg is hurt, can you hold onto y/n?!”

Your heart sinks at the sound, but you also feel happy to hear from your dad again.

“Yeah, yeah! I can! Y/N,” your uncle then calls, making you meet his gaze again. “I need you to climb on my back and put your legs through the backpacks straps, and wrap your legs around me, okay? You then have to hold onto my neck very tight, okay? Don’t let go, ever.” He instructs as he swings on the empty backpack.

You sniffle and nod quickly whilst you keep your eyes on him like he said, you ignore the fires and the people that lay on the ground. Once he’s done he picks you up, and you climb on to his back to put each leg through a backpack strap to sit like if it were some baby carrier moms wear at the parks.

“Hold onto me,” your uncle repeats.

You nod and cling your arms around him, managing to see everything now that you’re on his back; the fires from all the cars crashed onto the street, broken windows, open stores, bodies and…red blood. Real blood.

Up to this point blood only existed when you got cuts, it hurt, but your dad always made it disappear. Blood existed in the movies, it was fake, it was never puddled and gushing out of people.

“Where’s my daddy?” You ask in a quivering voice.

“He’s helping Sarah,” your uncle assures you before he turns around to face the truck that you notice is flipped upside down and broken like the others.

“We gotta get off the street!” Your uncle yells, not even seconds later a police siren screech’s out, causing him to run away.

However, he doesn’t make it far because he then falls down on his knees as the car crashes into the truck and triggers an explosion that forces you to close your eyes and squeal.

“Tommy?! Y/N?!”

Your uncle gets up, and you snap your eyes open to look to where you heard your name, seeing the fire envelope both the truck and the police car now.

“Daddy?!” You call out.

“Tommy? Y/N?”

Your uncle approaches the cars on fire and stops by them to crouch and shout. “Head to the river! I’ll find a way.”

You lower your head and see your dad past a gap of the cars on fire. “Daddy?” You call out again.

His eyes snap to you at that moment and he points. “Y/N, you listen to your uncle Tommy, okay?” He says. “Sarah and I will see you again in a bit, okay?!”

You squint to try and see your sister, but you don’t catch a glimpse of her. Much to your disappointment.

“Get her outta here, Joel!” Your uncle yells.

“You take care of her!” Your dad shouts back. “Keep her safe!”

Your uncle nods. “I will. Go!”

Without waiting a moment longer your uncle Tommy begins to walk ahead, towards the bodies, towards the fire, towards people…towards...people eating other people.

“Uncle Tommy,” your jaw drops as tears escape down your cheeks now. “Why…why,” you stammer as your eyes widen in horror. “Is that man biting that other—”

“Hey, you close your eyes,” he cuts you off. “Close your eyes.”

You blink and look back as he makes a turn into a store. You keep your eyes on the man eating that other man as if your eyes were stuck on them, and ask yourself why. You can’t grasp for a single second why they’d do that.

That’s all that occupies your mind besides the horror that paralyzes you, that single question.

You only close your eyes after, hoping it would all be a nightmare, hoping that when you open them again you’ll wake up next to your sister, or your dad.

But no, when you open your eyes you just see bright white lights on the ceiling, and shelves of food. Behind you there’s still fire and people eating other people. And once you get past the cash register your uncle comes to a sudden halt before he makes a sharp turn around to point his gun at a woman bleeding out on the floor.

“Is she gonna eat us?” You utter and keep your eyes on the lady as your uncle slowly walks back.

“No,” he shakes his head. “No. Just close your eyes…”

His words trail off as from the corner of your eye you catch a tall skinny man twitching in between one of the aisles. “Uncle Tommy,” you whisper. “There’s one—”

Before you can finish however, the man snaps his head over to you and looks at you for a second before he breaks into a sprint towards you. You scream and your uncle doesn’t hesitate to try and run to the back door.

Nevertheless, the lady that had been on the ground suddenly gets up and heads towards you too.

You open your mouth to try and scream, but not a single sound escapes out of your mouth from the terror, so instead you proceed to squeeze your eyes shut, and press your head against your uncle's shoulder as he runs into the back room.

“Hold on y/n! Hold on!” He yells as you feel him running.

Albeit he suddenly comes to a sudden halt just as you feel the cold breeze hit your body; he moves his leg up and groans before there’s a thud. You want to open your eyes to see, but then in that moment suddenly something grabs you by your hair and yanks you back, forcing you to open your eyes and cry out at the top of your lungs.

“Uncle Tommy!” You screech and claw your nails in his shoulders as you begin to get pulled out from the backpack.

You snap your eyes up and see the lady from before opening her mouth and leaning down to try and bite you with something weird coming out of her mouth. “Uncle Tommy!” You cry again.

A shot then goes off before in a flash of a second your uncle swings his elbow back to smack the woman in the face, causing her to let go of you and let you slide back inside the backpack. He then walks to her and smashes the end of his gun on her face until she doesn’t move anymore.

“Are you okay?” Your uncle asks and doesn’t waste a second to run out of the store, trapping the skinny boy inside. He then proceeds to run into a dark alley and asks another question. “She didn’t bite you?”

With tears streaming down your cheeks you shake your head. “No,” you say between pants. “No. I’m okay.”

“Good,” he mumbles and slows down to a jog. “Let’s go find your dad and sister.”

Once you’re out of the alley you come across a grass field and immediately hear gunshots echo before there’s screams. You don’t think of it at the moment, you don’t think it’s your dad and sister, you don’t actually see anyone until your uncle climbs down a small hill and shoots someone in a uniform. When that man falls down you then see your dad and Sarah lying on the ground.

“Dad—”

“Oh God,” your uncle cuts you off.

You watch your dad look back before he crawls over to Sarah, while your uncle gets closer. And once he does approach them, you see Sarah laying on the ground, you hear her panting and crying, and hear and watch your dad trying to help her.

“Move your hand, baby. Move your hand.”

You lift your head and see your dad press his hand against the blood that comes out of her.

“Sarah,” you call out softly with growing concern.

Your dad tries to help her up, but she begins to scream in protest, making you whimper.

“I know, baby, I know, I know, I know, I know. I know it hurts.”

She keeps crying and panting, she grabs him, but she doesn’t get up.

“Uncle Tommy,” you whisper. “What’s happening?”

Yet you’re ignored and the air is filled with your dads voice again.

“I know, I know,” your dad keeps repeating himself as he keeps pressing his hands on her body. “I know this hurts. You’re gonna be okay.”

You blink and slowly begin to grasp that she’s hurt. That she’s crying because she’s hurting.

“Sarah,” you whisper quietly and feel your throat tighten as your eyes sting again.

“All right, baby, baby, baby, listen to me. I gotta get you up, okay? I gotta get you up. All right? You come on.” Your dad begins to lift her up and her screams become more intense, and begin to stab at your heart, filling you concern.

“You come on. I know, baby. No, no. I know, I know. I know, I know. I know. I know. Tommy, help me!” Your dad yells and looks back.

“Joel,” your uncle whispers as Sarah then stops moving.

Your dad looks back at Sarah, and he begins to cry. “C’mon baby girl. C’mon, baby girl. I gotta get you up,” you hear your dad say as he cradles your sister in his arms. “Come on. Come on, we’ll get up. C’mon, baby girl. Come on, come—please.”

Your dad then begins to cry louder and it shatters something in you. You don’t fully understand why, but hearing him cry, seeing him hug your older sister, seeing her not move, it shatters your heart.

You know you’re young, you can’t understand most of what’s happening, but you understand that she’s gone.

Yet you don’t try to move. Tears run out of your eyes, but you don’t move. You just watch her with tears streaming down your face and tell yourself that she’s going to wake up again, that she’ll get up again.

Sarah is going to wake up again…

——

*20 YEARS LATER*

The metal is cold against your fingertips, the silence is deafening in your ears, and the breeze is bitter against the only bit of flesh that’s exposed, your fingertips.

The sky above is littered with gray clouds, providing a dull white natural hue, and adding better cover without having the metal of your weapons reflect around the woods.

The bottom of your boots crack a branch that you didn’t catch before, making you stop and glance around just in case anyone pops out from the tall greenery that covers the forest floor. When no one does you keep stalking forward until just ahead the greenery begins to shake.

You let go of the pendant around your neck and reach for your pistol holstered on your hip, but mock a bird's whistle first and wait for a response.

The greenery then stops and you lower your head to wait with your breath held in your chest.

And luckily seconds later there’s a bark, letting you sigh in relief and finally stand to your feet to continue walking ahead.

“Austin,” you call out.

The greenery continues to shake for a moment longer before your black German Shepherd comes out.

“All good?” You ask rhetorically since he can’t really answer.

He tries his best though and turns to lead you ahead in a trot.

“We’ll camp just ahead,” you keep telling your dog. “Then I can take this stupid thing off,” you grumble and pull on the mask around your mouth.

Austin's ears shift but he doesn’t say anything in response, he keeps trotting through the woods. Until he suddenly halts in his tracks and perks his ears up.

Without hesitation you stop too and glance around, yet you don’t see anyone, nothing moves, there's just wind. However, he’s never wrong so you reach for your rifle strap and slide it off your shoulder. You raise it and slowly begin to look up at the branches above, but then a gunshot echoes and Austin falls to ground without a single pained whimper.

You lower your gun and see blood pouring out of your dog's head. “Austin,” you call out in disbelief, and begin to pant as you see his brown eyes rolled up.

“No, no,” you mutter before you clench your jaw and tighten your hold around your rifle and snap your head up to the point above where the gunshot had sounded from.

Nevertheless, just as you catch a figure disguised amongst the leaves and branches a heavy net falls over you and shoves you to the ground, trapping you under the rope beside the corpse of your beloved dog.

“Fuck,” you mutter and flip to your stomach to grab your rifle off the ground, but then a thump lands beside the net and a boot then is pressed on your wrist, disabling your reach.

“Tsk, Tsk,” the person above you clicks their tongue. “You should be more careful next time,” a scratchy manly voice says, making you go rigid. “Look up at the sky a bit.”

The man crouches down and pulls the net off your body to grab a cluster of fabric from your hood.

“Let’s see what hides beneath the hood,” he chuckles.

You scoff and begin to wiggle your fingers to try and reach for your knife hidden under your cloak.

The man proceeds to pull the hood off your head and quickly grabs you by the back of your head to yank your head up so you can see his dirt covered face, and meet his piercing blue-green eyes. Albeit your face is still partially covered by the mask over your mouth so he grows more curious.

“Hm,” he hums and reaches his long pale finger for the mask to pull it off your mouth, relieving your entire face and the gender you tried to hide for your safety now that you’re alone.

“Well, well,” he says with a malicious smirk. “A woman. Look at her Max. All pretty and shit.” He reaches for your chin, but you pull back.

He scoffs, and you feel the handle of your knife under your fingertips, so you quickly grasp it and throw your hand up to stab his neck, but then, the other man you assume is Max whips wire around your wrists and pulls your hand away from the man above you, causing you to drop your knife.

“She’s brave too. Oh doll face,” the man above you says and hits his chest. “You make my heart yearn.” He snickers and grabs you by your elbow to lift you up.

Yet as he does you swing your nails across his face and scratch him down his cheek, making him yelp like a little wimp and step back.

“Mother fucker,” you spat at his face and swing your fist across his face, feeling something his nose crack at impact.

Max tries to pull you back by pulling the wire, but you then reach for your gun holstered at your side, and quickly wrap the wire around your hand to pull him before you shoot his face.

“Fuck you, that’s for killing my dog bastard,” you sneer, and proceed to turn around to face the other man, to try and kill him too. Albeit you end up ducking as he shoots his pistol.

The bullet hits the tree behind you, luckily, so you then choose to break into a sprint, leaving your rifle behind for now; just until you get rid of this man.

You actually make it a few paces ahead, yet your luck ends at the moment you pass a wide tree surrounded by bushes because someone comes out from your left side and tackles you down to the ground, making you drop your gun.

“Oof,” you breathe out and feel a dull pain radiate on your side.

You quickly slap your hand on the dirt and try to push yourself up, but then a large hand grabs you by your arm and flips you to your back.

It’s another man, this is one plumper than others, but he’s still dirty and nasty. This one pins your wired hand back over your head before grabbing your other hand to do the same and then wrap the wire around both hands.

You try to keep squirming, you try to kick your feet, but then the man crouches down and keeps you from moving, forcing you to see his older and much rounder face.

“So much trouble,” he mutters in a low gravelly voice. “We were gonna take you to our camp, have some of the others have fun, but you’re trouble, we’ll take you here…” he trails off and reaches down for your pendants.

“Get your fucking dirty fingers off me!” You snap, but he pulls a pendant up regardless.

“A firefly,” he reveals as he sees the insignia engraved on one side. “What a surprise you’re all alone, you're all usually traveling in packs.” He scoffs and turns it around to read the name. “Tommy…Miller,” he scoffs and drifts his eyes to you. “Can’t be right. You’re too pretty to be a Tommy.” He winks and lets that pendant go to grab the other one.

You scrunch your nose in disgust, and slowly proceed to drag your leg back to try and knee his ass. But all of sudden something sharp stabs your leg, making you groan in pain.

“I have had enough of your tactics,” the same scratchy voice from a moment ago snaps before he shows his face above the older man’s head. “Go on Mike, show her how to behave.”

The older man snickers and lets your pendant go before he can read your name, and instead reaches for your cloak to rip it off your body.

“No,” you grunt and try to swing your body from side to side, but the man just grips onto your chin and shoves your head down.

“Behave!” He bellows, spitting drops of saliva on your face.

You close your eyes and groan in disgust, but don’t stop fidgeting. He then proceeds to lower his hand down your body to unhook your holster belt from your hip.

“No, please,” you plead, feeling your heart pound in your chest and your head begin to spin with fear.

Yet, to no avail, the man then reaches for your pants.

Albeit just before he can do anything else a gunshot echoes and the man behind the older man drops, causing the older man to let you go and snap his head back. He parts his lips to speak, but before he can utter anything another gunshot goes off and hits him through the head, spilling drops of blood over your face, and making his body begin to fall back.

You catch his movement, and quickly out of adrenaline use the other man’s corpse to push yourself back and get out of the older man’s way before he can fall on you.

“Fuck, fuck,” you say between pants, and even if you’re in pain, terrified, and still shaken with disbelief, you flip around to quickly get on your knees and reach for your pistol thrown on the ground.

“Jace get the wire,” you hear someone say behind you.

You ignore the pounding pain from your leg and crawl forward until a tall young man who seems to be around your age, with a shaved head and a shaved goatee, and who reminds you of your friend from Jackson, gets in front of you.

He’s not dirty though like the other three, he’s not clean either, but he isn’t using camouflage like the others. And he doesn’t have his gun out.

Still you can never be sure with people. They’re worse than infected because at least their actions are predecible, people’s aren't.

“You touch me and I’ll put a bullet through your eyes,” you sneer and point at his hand.

“Whoa, whoa, girl,” the guy, Jace says and raises his hands. “I just want to help. We just saved you!” He exclaims with panic.

You scoff. “So what? Want me to get on my…” you trail off as you catch what you’re going to say and just keep pointing.

“Hey,” the other voice cuts in as you hear his footsteps approach from your side. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

You keep your gun on Jace, but snap your eyes to the side, seeing a man a bit shorter than Jace. His skin is dark, and his eyes even darker. He has a better shaped mustache and goatee than his friend, but shorter shaped eyebrows than his friend. He also…has a nicer face, he’s cute, and more musclery built.

“I’m Henry,” he introduces and points at his chest with one hand whilst he raises the other to show he means no harm. “That’s Jace, my friend.” He points to the other guy, but you don’t bother looking at Jace anymore, you hold Henry’s gaze, as he holds yours, and swallows thickly too.

“Those guys,” he points to the man dead on the ground, “are hunters from the city. We have a camp nearby, we mean no harm. We’re just trying to survive like you. Let us help you.”

You hesitate and keep your eyes on him, finding yourself being able to trust him with his words alone. After all you’ve seen the eyes of evil men, he doesn’t have that look at all.

“Fine,” you mutter and lower the gun to let them drop their guard and their hands. “But if you turn out to be some kinda gang I’ll shoot you first.”

Henry scoffs softly, “fair.” He then begins to approach you, and you let him.

However, before you can meet his gaze as he crouches down in front of you to help you with the wire around your wrists, you look at Jace. “I’m sorry,” you tell him with sincerity.

Jace parts his lips in surprise and lets out a small huff before he retorts, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

You hum and drift your eyes back to Henry to finally give him your name. “I’m Y/N.”

Henry lifts his eyes from the wire and pulls the corner of his lips to a faint smile. “Firefly, huh?” He refers to the pendants hanging from your silver chain necklace around your neck. “We’ve been trying to look for them.”

You scoff and lower your gaze to watch him unwrap the wire. “I used to be one. A long time ago though, sorry to disappoint.”

Henry shrugs. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll keep looking.”

You hum and lift your gaze at the same time he does, you part your lips to say something, but you then catch the sound of additional footsteps approaching and quickly look over, catching a little boy that has Henry's complexion, and red paint over his eyes.

They are telling the truth then. They really mean no harm. If they truly did they wouldn't be carrying that little boy with them.

“That’s my brother,” Henry says. “Sam.”

You offer the boy a gentle smile, but he just looks at you up and down before he gets closer to Henry.

“And, it’s off,” Henry assures you as he finally frees your hands from that sharp wire that was cutting your skin.

You sigh in relief and rub your wrists for a second before you fall back on your ass to get a better view of the wound on your leg. “Fuck,” you murmur and lean forward to pull your pant leg up. “Fuck.”

“We have some stuff at camp, you can patch yourself up there.” Henry interjects.

“I have stuff in my backpack,” you counter stubbornly and drop your pant leg to twist around and look at the dead men.

“Well regardless, you can patch yourself up at camp, we need to go, it's going to get dark soon.” Henry adds.

The stupid man you punched has your rifle, fucker. You push yourself to your feet, but it hurts too much to add much more weight now that the adrenaline isn’t pumping in your blood.

“Here,” you hear Henry say before you feel his hand wrap around your arm. “Come on, get up,” he whispers as he helps you to your feet. “You’re okay, you can walk.”

You grunt as the pain pounds harder, and quickly grab his wrist to keep yourself from falling.

“You’re okay,” he assures you again and finally gets you to stand. “There you go.”

You huff out in frustration to your own wound, but you can’t find yourself to be cold, so as you keep your hand on his wrist for…support (not because he’s warm), you drift your eyes to the side, glancing first at his hand around your arm before looking up to meet his gaze.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly.

He holds your gaze and hums as a response.

You let your gazes and touch linger, ignoring the curious stare from his friend Jace.

And after a moment you finally pull away first and immediately limp towards the man with your rifle to yank it off his body. “Fucker,” you grimace before you spit on his face. You then grab your holster belt off the ground and hook back it on your hip, before picking up your cloak off the ground that is now ripped. Great.

Whatever, it can still work.

You throw it over your shoulder and turn to face the direction you had come from.

“Gimme a minute,” you tell the guys and don’t wait for them to say anything before you limp towards Austin.

“Hey, it’s not really safe out there!” You hear Jace shout.

You nod. “Yep!” You yell back. “But you’re gonna help me right?!” You retort.

“I..I guess?!”

You scoff in amusement and notice that they keep their distance, but don’t leave, they just keep their distance and respect what you want.

Once you reach your dog your eyes well with tears, and you fall on your knees by his body.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him as you reach your hand over to close his eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn't get you home. You were good though,” you whisper and slowly caress his side like he liked. “You were a good boy till the end.”

You press your head down against him and muster a wobbly smile. “Ima go home soon, okay? I promise. Rest easy buddy.” You press a kiss on his head and slide your hand over to his neck to untie his orange bandana from his neck and wrap it around your wrist.

——

*LATER*

“So new girl…” a young girl that’s a part of the group says. “Tell us where are you from? I can’t place your accent.”

You look up from the fire burning away the logs and meet her blue gaze.

“Austin Texas,” you reveal. After all, the group you were brought to has been nice so far. And most of them are young, except for the little boy, Sam. There are some older people amongst them, but as Jace helped you patch your leg up he said that most of the adults left when the military left too, leaving behind those they thought wouldn’t survive by themselves.

“Of course that was my home before the outbreak, I’m now from Wyoming, a small town called Jackson.”

You’re hesitant to tell them about your community, about all you have back home. No matter how nice they are you still can’t bring yourself to fully trust them. It’s just a survival instinct.

Then again Jackson is still far, most of them won’t survive the journey. Actually maybe none of them…maybe not even you will.

“A camp?” Jace probes.

You drop your gaze from the girl with red blazing hair that actually called herself Blaze, and hesitate a moment before you nod slowly. “Something like that,” you avoid telling the truth.

If there was one thing you liked about what Joel taught you, it was this, be cautious with strangers. Albeit you also won’t be cold to them forever like he was with people, with time as your leg heals up you’ll watch them, and if they’re actually good enough to these new world standards, then you’ll take after your uncle Tommy and be nice.

“What are you doing all the way out here then?” Henry cuts in, causing you to lift your eyes to look at him across the campfire, and catching him using his hand to also….talk.

“If you’re all the way from Wyoming what are you doing here in Kansas City?” He asks and keeps moving his hands like he was communicating in sign language, like, from the books you’ve read about it.

You scoff and shrug. “I felt…rebellious I suppose,” you begin to smirk. “I wanted to see the country, I saw it, and now I’m on my way back home.”

“Must be nice…” you identify Blaze interjecting. Yet before you can look over at her, you drift your eyes and notice Sam paying close attention to what Henry was signing—actually now that you think about it he hasn't been talking whatsoever.

He probably can’t.

“…having a place to call home, and to go back too.”

“Yeah man,” Jace bounces off Blaze’s comment, pulling your eyes to him sitting beside you. “I don't know why you’d leave.”

Besides, what you just told them, there were also…other reasons, but you won’t share those with them.

You sigh and smile softly at the ground. “I’ll tell you what I told my uncle and my mama Maria…I don’t know when I’m going to die…it might be tomorrow, next week or years from now, it will happen though, and I don’t just want to know these walls, I need to live for myself, not be protected all the time…I want to see the ugly and the beautiful, know it before I die.”

You look up as you finish speaking and the first gaze you catch is Henry’s. The fire reflects the softness in his eyes, yet you catch the admiration he has for your words, you can’t read that.

“Well shit,” a older Asian man says. “When you put it that way.”

You briefly glance at the man and scoff softly.

“No fireflies for you then?” Jace asks.

You shake your head. “Nope. I’ve been away from home for far too long. My family is waiting,” you sigh.

Fuck.

“My camp is pretty big,” you begin to say regardless of your previous caution. “It’s strong, y’all can come with me if y’all want.” You look at the six people gathered around the campfire and continue. “I know we can take y’all in. There’s more kids,” you mention and look at Sam and Henry. “Food. Power…”

The people around shift in their seats at the sound of your comment, and their eyes widen.

“It’s far from here, but together we’ll be strong,” you finish. “Think about it. Once my leg is all healed I’m leavin’.” You glance around the group again, and now neither of them say anything, there are hopeful looks. It's especially noticeable in Sam's eyes, but they all ponder your invitation.

Then again it is a big risk.

However, it’s the thinking they fall into that leaves the group silent and kinda awkward. Thankfully Blaze breaks it once she can’t take it.

“It’s almost lights out, why don’t we finish with a story?” She looks around, but no one volunteers.

Now you are pretty tired, but this, telling stories is your thing.

“I can go,” you offer and sit up with a growing smile. “Now, I don’t like to toot my own horn…”

You do.

“…but I do produce and act in my own plays back at home, so.” You grin. “I’ll go.”

You clear your own throat and look around at all the faces once before starting. “It is about home, so if you are thinking of comin’ with me, think hard,” you say dramatically. “There’s stories of something, shadows and creepy crawlers that people call Skinwalkers that lurk in the woods. I never believed it, but once when I was out on patrol with my uncle at night, as I was looking through my scope I saw the trees move.” You lick your lips and lower your voice.

“I zoomed in, but nothin’, no infected, no person, just nothin’. I told my uncle, but when he looked nothin’. Thinkin’ it was just my own mind I kept patrolling…until suddenly right. By. My ear there’s a whisper…y/n,” you whisper and lean your face closer to the fire. “I called out, thinkin’ it was my uncle Tommy, but he looks at me like I was crazy and says, I didn’t call you,” you mock his voice.

“I didn't believe him, he likes to play jokes with me,” you continue in your voice and look around at all the amused faces. “Yet I didn’t say anything back, I shrugged it off and kept doing my job. It was quiet for a few seconds, but that’s when I felt a chill crawling up my neck. It was summer, it was warm at night, so it wasn’t because I was cold, it was somethin’ else, somethin’ blowing on my neck. I look back,” you say and act it out. “Nothin’. I look ahead and there in the woods are red eyes staring right back at me.” You scoff and swallow thickly, pretending to be frightened yourself.

“I grab my rifle and look through the scope but nothin’, it’s clear. At this point,” you say and shake your head. “I get close to my uncle, but I don’t tell him anything. I keep lookin’, and as I lower that scope there they are again, bright, blazing red eyes, closer now. And again…y/n—I shake my head, close my eyes, rub em’, and when I open them they’re closer, that chill wraps my entire body now.”

Jace beside you swallows thickly from fear, while Blaze looks unaffected, but you can see her fear make her go rigid. The older people don’t seem bothered but they are entertained, and Henry seems unfazed, Sam however, looks invested.

All their reactions make you happy.

“….I quickly look through my scope, I need to check it out, make sure I’m not goin’ crazy, but I hear my name again, by my ear, a whisper, the voice of my sister who’s been gone a long time….” You swallow thickly and shed a fake tear. “I begin to shake, I want to turn to my uncle, but all I can do is tremble, I can’t move my head. I can’t speak. My gun falls….and there…right in front of me is…is…” you prolong the end as they’re all holding their breaths, and grab a pinch of gunpowder from your pocket to throw it to the fire.

“Nothin’!” You exclaim as the fire sparks and the flames jump up, making some people gasp and others laugh nervously. They all jumped though, you saw it.

Yet when you look ahead, there’s a smile from Sam. Even if he jumped too, he grins.

Henry notices his brother's gesture and scoffs in disbelief before he looks back at you and meets your gaze with a soft smile, and that same soft gaze.

“Don’t worry,” you say and then meet Sam's gaze with an assuring smile. “It’s not real. I’m scared shitless of night patrols so I avoid them,” you chuckle. “So please do consider coming with me. If my uncle hears I spooked y’all away, I’ll get scolded for sure.” You sit back and pat Jace’s shoulder as he tries to catch his breath.

“That was a good one,” he mutters nervously.

You look over at him and smile brightly. “Why thank you. I love to hear that.”

“Okay, well thank you,” an older woman interjects. “I for one loved that shift in the atmosphere you brought darling. We needed it.”

You offer her a soft smile and bow your head as a thank you.

“Now it’s light out, Henry, you have night shift today,” the lady continues. “Sam can stay with me. I'll keep an eye out on him tonight.”

Henry gets up and nods in agreement. He then turns to say something to his brother, and Sam seems to look hesitant, but he gives in and stays as Henry begins to walk away.

“Henry!” Jace calls out and shoots up.

Said man stops and peers back to wait for what his friend was going to say.

“Why don’t you take the new girl.” Jace suggests.

What?

You look around in confusion.

“Show her how things are done,” Jace continues and grabs your arm to force you up to your feet, adding a sharp pain to your leg where your wound is. “Y’know so she can pull her own weight until she leaves.”

You sigh, but catch Henry glance at you before he directs you his next word. “Only if you want. You’re hurt, you can rest.”

It’s a new place, surrounded by strangers, you’ll go in your tent but you won’t sleep, so…fuck it. Besides your mind and heart are pushing you to accept.

“Fuck it,” you respond and pull away from Jace. “I’ll go with you. I won’t sleep anyway.”

You peek over at Jace and catch him smirking. He then notices your stare and just offers you a simple tightlipped smile. If you didn’t know better, you might say he’s up to something…

Hm.

You grab your rifle and backpack from the ground and catch up to Henry as he waits for you where he stopped.

“It isn’t far,” he mutters and puts his hands in his pockets as he continues walking with you at his side. “And there are definitely no skinwalkers, so you don’t have to worry.”

You chuckle and nod softly. “‘Kay,” you say and play along. “Thats a fuckin’ relief.”

Henry scoffs softly and briefly glances at you from the corner of his eyes as you take this time, this short silence to then admire the starry sky.

“So,” you interject in the silence and blink to look at Henry. “Tell me, why stay here? In Kansas City, and so close to those hunters too.”

Henry sighs deeply and shrugs, “we’ve been waiting. It’s not so simple with infected, people. Besides, it's not easy finding fireflies.”

You scoff and nod in agreement. “I’ve heard the groups are becoming less and less now. But,” you utter with hope. “You and Sam are welcome to come with me, I have everything mapped out, it isn’t far anymore, we’ll make it there quickly, and with luck we’ll make it there safely.”

Henry hums and makes a soft left turn towards a run down treehouse. “Up here,” he points.

As you approach the steps nailed to the tree you stop and put your hands on your hips as you slowly look up in pain.

“I can give you a boost,” Henry offers. “You shouldn’t put weight on your leg.”

You let out a small sigh and blink to meet his gaze. “I can do it,” you assure him stubbornly, and filled with pride. “Just hold this,” you say and slide your rifle off your shoulder to hand it to him.

Henry takes it and just as he was going to try and argue against you, you rub your hands together first and then grab onto the new slabs of wood that don't match the tree house whatsoever. You then lift your uninjured leg and let the other one just dangle as you strain to push yourself up. Henry folds his arms over his chest and watches you struggle after refusing his help.

“How are you doing?” He asks.

You nod and silence your pained groan. And finally after a few more seconds manage to slap your hands on the floor, and use all your upper strength to pull yourself up. It hurts, it hurts like a bitch, but you get on and turn to look down at Henry with a smile.

“Made it.” You let him know and wink at him, catching him scoff in annoyance before he begins to climbs on, causing you to crawl back to look out the carved window. That’s when you ignore your pain, as you see the blades of grass flowing by the chilly breeze, when you see the glimmer of the moon's light reflect on those green blades. That’s when you just take a moment to enjoy the song of the crickets below.

If you weren’t out here looking out for infected, and people, you’d say it was blissfully peaceful. But you can’t say so.

“I always wanted a treehouse,” you share when you hear Henry climb inside. “My daddy was building me one actually. He and my uncle would build it on their days off, but then,” you sigh sadly. “It happened and I never got it.”

“I had one,” Henry deadpans as he sits next to you.

You roll your eyes to the side, and catch his smirk. “Lucky,” you remark. “What else did you have?”

He begins to smirk and places your rifle down against the window. “A nintendo. It was red, gorgeous. Got it for my 5th birthday. I had that sucker for a few weeks and then bam, had to leave it behind.”

“Sucks,” you whisper. “My sister wanted one too. She never got though, my daddy said she had no use for that kinda stuff.” You scoff and smile softly. “He probably would’ve gotten it for her though, he was a sucker.”

Henry nods slowly and averts his gaze to watch the field ahead. “Was? Is…your dad gone?”

You shrug. “I don’t know,” you mutter. “Last time I heard of him was two years ago before I left. I haven’t heard a thing since. Knowing how he is though, he’s probably still out there, livin’.”

“Sister?” Henry asks.

Perhaps before, years ago, speaking about Sarah would’ve hurt, it would make you sob, but now…as a 24 year old, her death doesn’t tear you down as it once did. Her death does ache you, you’ll always miss your sister, you eagerly wait to see her again one day, but speaking her name, sharing memories doesn’t hurt as badly anymore.

“She passed a long time ago,” you share and drag your uninjured leg up to your chest to rest your chin on your knee. “The day of the outbreak.”

Henry swallows thickly and mumbles, “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine losing a sibling. I can’t imagine losing Sam. I’m sorry.”

You drift your eyes over to him and offer him an assuring smile. “It happened a long time ago, I’ve moved on. Sometimes I’m grateful she didn't get to know this new world,” you continue and look up at the white shining moon. “But when I miss her, when I really miss her, I wish she had lived just to be with me. So I admire you Henry…”

Said man snaps his eyes over to you, and you catch his eyes squint slightly in confusion.

“I know I haven’t known you long,” you continue. “But I admire you for looking out for your little brother.” You begin to smile, and catch his look of disbelief. “I’m the youngest sibling too, so trust me that little boy looks up to you. You treat him well.”

Henry scoffs and nods softly. “I always will. Sam is all I have in this world,” he shares quietly. “I can’t lose him.”

You let out a small breath and leave it at that.

The silence that follows is short, not awkward, it is tension filled but not awkward. He uses the silence to look out for danger, and you use it to think about Joel.

It’s been a long time since you’ve heard about him, but it’s been even longer since you’ve actually seen him. Too long perhaps…

God you should have visited him when you passed Boston….

Sarah would be so mad that it’s been years.

At least you like to think she’d be upset, the sad truth is you hardly knew how your sister really was, all you know was what she showed you; caring, sweet, funny, smart, pretty. Perhaps she’d be mad at him too, perhaps not….You’d never know….

“So, tell me now,” Henry cuts you off from your train of thought. “What do you have in your town?”

You draw in a deep breath and focus on the field. “A lot,” you breathe out. “We have schools, good schools, not those crap military schools. We have…uh,” you begin to smile. “Bars, shops, horses, hot water, chickens and a greenhouse. We have movie nights, and parties,” you grin and lift your head off your knee to turn around and face him. “And of course my plays, which I produce and write myself, it’s always a full house,” you show off with a smug smirk. “And a lot of people our age…I mean,” you stammer and squint your eyes on him. “How old are you?”

Henry meets your gaze and answers without hesitation, “25. What about you?”

You smile. “24. So,” you continue sharing stuff about Jackson. “There’s people our age. Boys, girls,” you wiggle your eyebrows, making him smile and scoff in amusement. “Whatever you're into. We got our own houses,” you grin. “I mean I got my own house. With my guitars, my clothes, which I do miss,” you grin. “And music, I got a record player, cassettes. So you got that to look forward to, your own house. For you,” you say softly now. “And for Sam.”

Henry lowers his gaze and his smile fades. “It’s tempting, it sounds like…heaven almost.”

“I wouldn’t call if that,” you interject and keep your eyes on him.

“Still,” he continues. “It’s tempting. I mean a school for my brother, other kids he can actually be friends with instead of just talking to me,” he scoffs softly. “A place of our own. A community…girls,” he teases and meets your gaze.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help your faint smile from tugging on your lips.

“You don’t have to decide now,” you assure him. “Think about it.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I want to go. It’s better than taking ourselves to the fireflies, I mean we’ll always be moving with them, at least with you,” he says and holds your gaze with a soft look that makes your heart begin to beat faster. “We can sort of have something stable, even if it’s just for a little while….let me just see the others off and I’ll go with you. That is…if you’ll wait for me?”

You offer him a soft smile and nod softly. “I would,” you mutter softly.

Henry mirrors your smile, and for a moment, for a moment that seemed to go on for eternity, it was just him and you under the moonlight's hue, in the silence of the night, two beating hearts, two pairs of desire-filled gazes.

Your uncle Tommy found someone, why can’t you? Why shouldn’t you?

You deserve some taste of bliss.

“So,” you break the tension and slide your backpack off your shoulders. “You wanna listen to some of my music or what. I got some sick tunes.” You snicker at yourself and unzip your backpack to pull out a Walkman littered with stupid stickers, and black earphones. “We’ll listen to it low so we don’t miss anything,” you assure him and show off your things to Henry.

“But if it is bad,” he says and grabs an earphone to put it in his ear. “I will make fun of you.”

“Trust me,” you say confidently. “You won’t. But do keep in mind I had to leave a lot of my cassettes behind.” You press play and the first song that plays is ‘Time After Time’ by Cyndi Lauper.

Once she begins to sing, Henry immediately stifles his laugh.

“What?” You quip. “You don’t like it? I think it’s great,” you trail off and listen to the song with a smile, as soon as the chorus begins to play though, you snap your head to the side and begin mouthing along to the words.

Henry snorts and shakes his head. “You truly are something,” he comments. “How do you do It?”

You roll your head to his side and just answer bluntly. “I choose not to live a boring life.” You scoff in amusement and lick your lips to answer more seriously. “This outbreak took so much already, I can’t let it take me. Who I am.” You meet his gaze and sigh. “That’s all I have.”

Henry smiles softly and nods. “I admire you then. For that.”

You scoff and roll your head to the other side to hide how flustered you are.

You then sit in silence to listen to the song. When the next song plays however, it’s a song called by Outkast, Henry is going to comment on it, but before he can, you both hear footsteps approaching, and stiffen.

It’s coming from inside the perimeter, so you don’t quickly pull your rifle to you, but you do reach for your holstered blade, whilst Henry takes his earphone off and stands up to peek down the entrance of the treehouse.

You grab the edge of the window to pull yourself, but just as you were trying, Henry’s shoulders fall and he quickly throws you a comment, “it’s okay, it’s just Sam.”

Since you can’t move that much you just sit back down and put a pause on your music.

Once the little boy climbs in, his eyes find you, but he quickly looks back at his brother as he begins to sign to him.

“What are you doing up here?” Henry asks out loud as he communicates with his hands.

The little boy lets out a small breath and responds back, causing Henry to translate.

“Miss Daphne was snoring already. It’s early I wanted to come keep you company.”

You scoff softly at the response, finding it sweet.

“I have company,” Henry responds and then points at you before he signs letters—he signs your name, you know that much. “Y/N. You should be sleeping.”

The boy shrugs, and responds.

“Later,” Henry translates before he sighs and gives in to what the boy wants.

“You are very welcome to join us and stare at nothing, Sam,” you say and look at him, seeing Henry translate for you.

Sam's eyes drift to you, and you recognize the thank you sign he gives you. He then goes and sits at Henry’s other side as Henry takes his seat again.

“So,” you add. “If I wanted to get his attention, how would I do that?” You ask Henry.

“Tap his shoulder,” he shares and translates what he says since Sam is watching. “He can read lips, so just make sure to talk slowly and face him when you want to talk to him….thank you for asking.”

“Of course,” you nod.

Sam then begins to sign something as he meets your gaze. And once he’s done Henry translates.

“He’s curious to know how you’re brave to travel alone.”

You scoff softly and correct him. “I wasn’t alone,” you say sa you face Sam, while Henry translates. “I had friends, and my dog, Austin. But…” you sigh sadly. “They’re gone now.”

“Still,” you hear Henry say for Sam. “You were alone, I don’t think I could be that brave.”

You offer the boy an assuring smile and share your truth. “I was scared. I am scared, but you know what keeps me brave?” You ask rhetorically. “When I feel lost, when I feel scared, I look for hope. I look for the light. Because that’s all we have, if we’re not brave, hopeful, we lose, and we’re not losers, are we?”

Sam smiles and shakes his head.

“Good,” you tell him and briefly meet Henry’s gaze.

However, you then get an idea and jerk up.

“But,” you add. “You know what also helps…” you trail off and take off your chain necklace to carefully pull out your Uncle Tommy’s pendants and leave one of yours hanging from it.

“This,” you continue. “And drag yourself a bit closer to both boys. “This is my firefly pendant, when I feel scared, I hold my uncle's pendant and it helps. So whenever you feel scared, just hold it in your hands, okay?” You push the chain necklace towards Sam, but he first looks to his brother for reassurance to check if it’s okay.

And Henry first looks at you. “Are you sure?” He asks.

You nod. “I’m sure,” assure them. “I have another one. And I have my uncles with me, that’s all I need.”

Sam looks at the pendant and carefully takes the chain from your hand. He admires the firefly emblem for a second before he smiles and puts it around his neck. He then looks back up at you and grins as he once again gives you his thanks.

This time however he adds a comment. “I like you,” Henry translates.

You shoot him a smile and shrug smugly. “Thank you, you boost my ego.” You giggle and catch Henry’s gaze on you, it glimmers under the moonlight, and his smile softens before he mouths to you.

“Thank you.”

You offer him a sweet smile before you look out as the room falls silent again.

And as you watch the grass flow, as you sit under the moonlight and glance at the stars, Henry watches you for a lingering moment with a longing gaze before he pulls his jacket off and puts it on your shoulders.

You get surprised by the weight, but feel your heart flutter when you realize what he did.

“You’ll get cold,” he whispers.

You have a jacket and a warm poncho packed, but he’s being sweet, plus you like his gesture; it’s like something you’ve seen done in movies—And you like seeing his smile when you don’t turn down his gesture.

You deserve a taste of bliss. Someone to call your own, like how your uncle Tommy has Maria.

You deserve it and nothing can get in the way of it. Of what you’re feeling for him. What you want to happen. Nothing.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Before you ask yes Joel still has the drawing y/n drew him….AND one more thing…how do you think she’ll react when she sees her dad after years and sees Ellie with him?

Tagged- @slut-f0r-u

[yarrystyleeza]

YOMNA'S MASTERLIST ♡ ⋆｡˚

Note: I only write Fluff/Angst x fem!reader, and my works might contain violent/bloody themes due to the nature of the fictional characters/fictional works I write for.

I do not write smut.

Another important thing, a lot of these works are old ones so, figurative language, phrasing and my very style might be a little messed up—but it progresses. I am not a professional writer but I'm always trying to improve my writing, and it is more visible in my more recent works, hopefully.

ᐅ Last updated: 01/03/2024

tone nav. : F/fluff — A/angst — V/violence

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[ellethespaceunicorn]

Don't Kill My Vibe

Title: Don’t Kill My Vibe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Warnings: mention of a breakup, recreational drug use (marijuana), friends-to-lovers trope, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids

A/N: This is an AU where Clark Kent is not superpowered and Superman does not exist. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time Clark asked to try some bud, but it was the most pathetic. His gorgeous blue eyes were puffy from crying over that woman. As much as you wanted to say, “I told you so," you didn’t want him to feel any worse about the failed relationship with his reporter beau, Lois Lane.

And yet again, you think to yourself, ‘Fuck Lois Lane’.

When he showed up at your place an hour ago in sweatpants, sneakers, and a button-up pullover, you were surprised to see he opted for something other than his normal flannel and jeans. His hair was mussed, and he avoided eye contact with you. Something was wrong.

You dragged him into your apartment, turning down your Spotify playlist on the Bluetooth speakers so you could talk over the mellow tunes. While you flopped down on your couch, Clark sat down slowly and sighed.

You were already elevated, having taken a couple of puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “Oh wow” occasionally. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick, and Clark wasn’t stupid.

His eyes looked from yours to the tray on the coffee table that held your various assortments of smoking apparatus, grinder, lighter, and stash box. Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, he motioned his chin toward everything and said, “I know you’ve said no a million times, but I could use an escape. And before you say no again, know I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to get over somebody, and nothing is working.” 

“I have a feeling there’s another thing you haven’t tried either, but whatever,” you rattled on, waving off his confused expression. “Fine. It should be illegal for you to use those puppy eyes when asking me for something, by the way.”

So here you are, preparing a strawberry cone for you and Clark to share. You were always weird about people using your favorite bowl. You also figure that for a first-timer, it would be the easiest for him to start with. Twisting the end after filling the cone, you reach for the lighter and ashtray.

“First things first,” you purr, using your phone to turn the music up. “Now, watch what I do. I’m going to draw the smoke into my mouth and then hold it for a few seconds, or as long as I can, before blowing it back out. Ready?”

Clark nods as he turns toward you, tucking one leg under the other. Now that you have his full attention, you suddenly feel flustered. Casting your eyes downward, you take the cone into your mouth and light the end. You inhale deeply and take it out of your mouth. Savoring the citrus flavor of the strain, your tongue licks your lips, and you exhale. 

You close your eyes and take a few breaths. After a moment, you hear Clark’s voice breaking through your haze: “Everything good?”

Your eyes pop open, and just like nothing happened, you perk up. Handing him the cone, you blink as he holds it like someone who has never smoked. You’ve known Clark long enough that you have a suspicion that is probably true for him. 

He’s polite, almost to a fault. He screams Boy Scout, altar boy, and ‘promise ring’ all at the same time. What can you say? Clark was a good boy. And you were getting him high. You little devil! 

Clark takes a short pull from the pink-colored joint and manages to hold it for about two seconds, then attempts to exhale. A small plume escapes his mouth, he inhales sharply and has a coughing fit. You take the joint back before he drops it and sit it in the ashtray.

Rubbing his back, you try to talk him through catching his breath. You grab your water bottle and hold the straw to his mouth when he nods his thanks. He sips the water, then clears his throat loudly, burping up a bit of smoke. He laughs quickly as he sees it exit his mouth, reminding you of a little surprised dragon.

“That was fun,” he sputters, his voice deeper than usual.

“It gets easier, Clark. Trust me, coughing is normal. And most of the time, coughing gets you higher,” you laugh, picking up the joint to take another hit.

You inhale, exhaling into the air, and hold it out for Clark to take again. He sips from your water bottle and gives it to you in exchange for the joint.

Holding it between two fingers, he brings it to his lips. You watch his mouth curl around the tip, and your brain conjures up the vision of what else that boy’s mouth can do. He takes the joint out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds, then blows it out slowly. He gives it back to you and leans back against the couch.

“I don’t think I feel any different yet. How long does it take to kick in?” he asks, crossing his arms and pouting.

It being his first time, he is completely unaware that he is already high. His body language is different; Clark Kent doesn’t slouch even a little. He also certainly doesn’t fidget; his hands suddenly become very interested in the material of his pullover.

“You’ll feel it sooner than you think,” you mumble, the joint between your lips as you speak.

Twenty minutes later, Clark tells you exactly what the last straw was that ended his relationship with Lois. He pauses to take a hit, handing it back to you as he exhales. “But it was always whatever she wanted. I treat her like a queen. And she goes and blows Jimmy-fucking-Olsen. Then she lies about it after Jimmy comes clean to me. I…,” he trails off, looking over at you and shaking his head as he laughs.

“What?” you question when you realize he stops talking.

“Nothing. I just… I think I’m high,” he giggles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he smiles at you.

“Besides being high, can you describe how you feel?” You press, wanting to know just how high he is.

“I feel lighter. Clear…er? Is it clearer or more clear? Whatever. I think I also just figured out how I want to finish that article on The Wayne Foundation,” he explains, leaning back so he is lying on his back with his head on your lap. “Is this ok? Your lap looked so comfortable,” he wonders aloud, looking up at you.

That’s when you realize three fundamental truths at the same time. 

1. Clark is single. 

2. Clark is literally in your lap.

3. The crush you have on Clark is swiftly turning into lustful infatuation.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you smile at him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s ok.” You focus on the heat radiating from your best friend as he makes himself comfortable so close to your thirsty pussy. 

“You are the best,” he replies, closing his eyes as your hand finds its way into his curls.

“This cool?” you dare, hoping that you can continue to push the boundary between friendship and something more.

As if the groan from the back of his throat wasn’t enough, he voices his satisfaction. “More than cool. I love having my hair played with. Feel free to go to town on me.”

Oh, the importance of phrasing.

This man is not going to make it easy on you.

You’re explaining to Clark about that episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob and Linda accidentally get high after eating cookies laced with marijuana at their accountant’s office. “So, anyway. Bob, Linda, and the accountant build a pillow fort from the cushions on his couch, and somehow it makes them feel safer which I get because pillow forts were the height of safety when we were kids. And sometimes, people feel safer thinking about the simplicity of their childhood,” you rattle on, leaning forward to grab your water bottle and forgetting about Clark’s head, which is still very much in your lap.

An oomph is spoken into your boobs, and you shoot straight up to a standing position and knock Clark off your lap and onto the floor. 

“Shit!” he cries from his spot on the floor.

“Fuck, Clark! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” You cringe, your hand touching your forehead as you watch him pull himself up.

“Hey, hey. It’s cool, I’m fine,” he reassures, his hand grabbing yours to take it away from your face. With the other hand, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your head up, he smiles and counters, “Are you ok?”

Yeah. Fine. My tits were just thrust into your face for a bit there. Oh, and you have no idea that I like you. And that pesky curl is falling into your pretty eyes again. And your handsome face is close enough to-

One second, you’re staring at his smile; the next second, you’re attacking his mouth with yours. His lips are just as pillowy and soft as they look. At first, the kiss is timid. Surprise gives way to need as he deepens the kiss. His tongue seeks solace as it slides against the seam of your lips. Granting him entry, he licks into your mouth like an explorer discovering new lands. 

His hands find their way to your hips, bringing you impossibly close. He feasts on every whimper that leaves you, peppering in some moans of his own. This is the kiss of a man waiting for a moment like this. At least, that’s how it feels.

Begrudgingly, you slowly break away from Clark. His kiss-swollen pink lips beg to be reunited with yours, but you must prove this is real. You look up into his dilated eyes, noting how blue is almost completely taken over by black. 

You open your mouth to speak, but Clark beats you to it.

“Unless you are about to tell me you don’t want this, please just kiss me again,” he breathes, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what’s more intoxicating. This drug or having you so close to me.”

Instead of worrying about what this means, you throw caution to the wind. Tilting your head, you slot your lips with his, devouring the subtle whimper that escapes him. From nervous to commanding, you feel Clark’s demeanor change as his hands wander over your body.

He picks you up by the waist, your legs instinctually wrapping around him. With you in his arms, he walks blindly to your bedroom. Once he lays you down, he covers your body with his. The hard length against your mound gives you pause, but you quickly recover as you angle your hips to meet his.

Clark breaks the kiss to sit up and remove his pullover and shirt. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he watches you scan his torso while you bite your lip. Leaning down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt, wanting you to get rid of it. 

You oblige, now topless in front of your best friend for the first time. You don’t have time to freak out over that information because Clark hooks his fingers in your leggings, his eyes begging for permission. You raise your hips, and he pulls them down your legs along with your underwear. 

You sit up as he chucks his sweatpants, his heavy erection now visible. Your first thought is, “Now that is a pretty dick.”

“Thank you,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You wonder aloud, already knowing the answer.

Clark smiles, nodding at you before coaxing you to lay back. He sinks between your legs, holding them open to kiss your thighs. He teases you a bit, licking and nipping at your mound and outer labia until you wiggle your hips and whine. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Patience, please,” he cautions, shaking his head at you. He winks at you, diving fully into your snatch and sucking your clit between his lips. 

You throw your head back in ecstasy as his tongue slides over your swollen button. Humming while sucking on your nub is a fucking power move, and your hands tangle in his hair. You dig your heels into his back as he laps up the juices that accumulate at your entrance. Looking down at him as he worships at the altar of your body, you are taken aback as he peeks up at you over your mound.

With your eyes locked on each other, he watches as he tips you right over the edge. He groans into your pussy, his mouth and chin soaked, as your walls contract around nothing. The euphoria of being high mixes with the joy of being with someone new for the first time.

But this isn’t just anybody; this was your best friend. Warmth and comfort exist between you, allowing you to feel safe enough to fall and that Clark will catch you.

You come down as he plants a kiss on your mound, grazing his lips up your tummy. When he is back above your face, he runs the tip of his dick across your wet folds. He maintains eye contact while he slides in for the first time. 

Once he is fully seated inside you, he lets you adjust to his size before he withdraws slightly and thrusts forward. The wet squelch of your pussy and the smack of your bodies against one another are music to your ears. Clark’s grunts as he fucks into you only fuel your impending second climax.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Not going to last long,” he warns, sitting up on his knees as his hands go to your waist. Throwing his head back, he growls and picks up the pace, using your body like his personal fucktoy.

Your back arches as he repeatedly hits that hidden bundle of nerves. A searing fire erupts in your belly as your cunt clamps down on his dick, spasming and coating it with your cream.

“Good girl! That’s it. Fucking come for me, just like that,” he encourages. “Oh, shit. I’m right fucking behind you. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck.”

You lock your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he is as his dick spasms and fills you to the brim. Your hands smooth down his big chest, feeling the muscles ripple as he comes down from what is probably the most intense orgasm he has ever felt. He stills soon enough, breathing back to normal as his softening length slips from you.

Flopping down next to you, Clark wraps an arm around you. You curl into his side, an arm across his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. Contented silence fills the room as you both take in this unforeseen turn of events.

Clark’s hand makes idle patterns on your back as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You close your eyes for only a moment, missing Clark smiling at you. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your head, causing you to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“You hungry?” you guess, feeling a bit peckish yourself.

“Yes!” he exclaims.

“Good. I know a great place down the street that makes the best samosas. Does Indian food sound good?” you ask, already tasting the rich spices of the food.

“Sounds perfect,” he says, picking up his arm to let you get up from the bed to grab your phone, watching your hips sway as you walk out to the other room.

Once back in bed, you order various dishes for the both of you. While you wait for the food, you pass a joint back and forth and steal a kiss or two. You decide there is plenty of time for you and Clark to talk. There is no use in killing the vibe for heavy stuff.

With the way Clark is looking at you, there’s not much to talk about anyway. 

🍃The End🍃

A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

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[henrioo]

I'm the only guy who uses masculine pronouns who gets really pissed off when he reads a fanfic and it says GENDER NEUTRAL, so when you read it you simply find what

"Girlfriend" "My girl" "My woman" "Mama"

Like, bitch doesn't matter if you're using a neutral pronoun, the moment you use a feminine pronoun stop being a gender-neutral reader

But I think this only gets worse in smut fanfics

The person goes there and puts GENDER NEUTRAL AFAB READER

So if you're a person with afab who isn't cis, wow, a fanfic with my genitals but neutral pronouns so I don't have dysphoria or feel uncomfortable!

And guess what? Again you will find it there

"good girl" "my girl" "my woman" "my girlfriend" and blah blah

Look man, let's be honest, do you want to write solely for female and Afab readers? Okay, it's your right! You can do this completely at will and with a clear conscience

But for god's sake! DON'T PUT ON THAT YOU'RE A FUCKING GENDER NEUTRAL READER IF YOU'RE GOING TO EVENTUALLY USE FEMALE PRONOUNS

THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS, IF YOU WANT TO USE FEMALE PRONOUNS JUST SAY IT'S A FUCKING FEM READER, IT WILL SAVE US READERS WITH MALE OR NEUTRAL PRONOUNS FROM READING THIS

That's it, my outburst of personal hatred and at the same time an extra determination to write more male reader

Because besides having a lot of fem content, it seems that the creators who try to make it gender neutral are too stupid to understand how gender and neutral pronouns work

Just say it's a FEM reader, you're not gonna die if you do this asshole

[ro-is-struggling]

The Chase || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Requested by anon: "reader constantly calling geralt the white wolf or just wolf during sexy time and him breeding his pups in her bcs of it???"

Summary: Geralt always tried to keep the wolf inside him caged in order to control his animalistic impulses, but with you that didn't seem to be required at all. 

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI! Porn without plot, public sex (technically since they’re in the woods), rough sex, penetrative sex, fear play? (not really, but Geralt does chase the reader through the woods so maybe? adding it just in case!), scent play, size kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, biting (like there’s so much it’s a warning in this fic), fingering, possessiveness, a little fluff at the end, fem!reader

English is not my first language

Word count: 3300

Notes: This is definitely NOT inspired on THAT scene from beauty and the beast that has been going around twitter all week, nope, not at all

Geralt was used to being called 'wolf' or 'white wolf'. It was a nickname he'd had for most of his life and was constantly used by Vesemir and the other witchers. He never thought much about it, just like his own name, he had it so internalized that he automatically responded when someone called him by those nicknames.

That changed, however, when you came into his life. There was something in the way you pronounced those words that awakened a primal feeling in him. It was in the way you looked at him, eyes defiant and playful, waiting to spark a reaction from him. It was in the way your lips moved, always ending in a mischievous smile, and in the sound of your voice, sweet and seductive, inducing him to madness, pushing him to his limit. 

Everything about you awakened in him an urge to possess you, to mark you as his so that everyone who saw you would know you belonged to him. He had to make an effort to stop his needy hands to caress your skin, and contain the desperation of his lips to kiss your neck and mark it with his teeth. He didn't care if there were people around him, they all ceased to exist when you called him wolf. 

It didn't help his situation that you always played dumb, pretending not to understand the power you had over him. But Geralt knew it was all an act. He knew that you were well aware of the effect that the utterance of that nickname had on him. And you used it as a weapon, a way to get a response from him when you wanted to play. And today you were in a very playful mood.

"What is it? Is the wolf scared of losing?" you teased him, trying to persuade him to take the bet. It was a simple race through the woods, just get from point A to point B as fast as possible to win. Only you had no intention of winning. All you were looking for was the thrill of the chase.

Geralt gave you an unamused look, taking a deep breath to calm the revolt that your use of that nickname had awakened in him. But then, he sensed your perfume in the air, mixed with the intoxicating scent of your arousal. His look completely transformed, frown relaxing into a firm, intimidating expression. The game was on.

"Oh you don't want to play that game, bunny." He warned you, giving you one last chance to change your mind. Once the race started, he wasn't sure he would be able to stop. He could already feel his insides vibrating with anticipation, the chained wolf fighting to break free. He had been locked up for too long, his needs ignored and repressed, so when he let go there would be no turning back. He was hungry and you were offering yourself to him without hesitation. How could he refuse?

You approached him, taking the sword he was sharpening out of his hand and bending down so you could look him in the eye. Your movements were slow, sensual, captivating your lover's gaze. Geralt's eyes got lost in your cleavage for a moment, admiring the exposed skin of your neck and the valley of your breasts as he suddenly began to salivate with need. His pupils widened, staring at you with yellow eyes turned almost completely black with desire. He could barely contain himself and that only increased your arousal.

"I'm not afraid of you." you said, and Geralt held back the urge to tell you that you should be. "Are you, wolf?"

He stood up and suddenly his imposing figure towered over yours, forcing you to tilt your head up so you could look at him. He was so much bigger than you, so much more agile, that it was ridiculous to even imagine you could beat him in a race. But, again, that's not what the game was about.

Geralt leaned in towards you, his lips brushing your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. "When you lose and you're on the ground begging for mercy, I just want you to remember that you asked for this." he whispered, defiantly, sending a shiver down your spine.

He looked at you and you knew it was time to run. He gave you a head start, knowing he could catch you without even trying —not only because he was faster than you, but also because you had no real intention of winning that bet. He watched you run through the trees, admiring the way your hair moved in the wind. Only when you disappeared over the horizon did he start to move. He walked at a slow pace at first, sharpening his hearing to follow the sound of your footsteps. But when he caught the scent of your arousal, he couldn't help but pick up his pace. It was like a drug to him, an intoxicating scent that messed with the hormones of the big, bad wolf he had set free.

Geralt let the scent of your floral perfume mixed with the sweet nectar hidden between your legs guide him towards you, an invisible force drawing him closer and closer to his prey. When he reached you, he found you hiding behind a tree, taking advantage of the moment to catch your breath. He heard you gasp as soon as you sensed his presence, holding your breath to avoid making your position known. Geralt smiled to himself, finding your small efforts to remain hidden adorable.

"You can't hide from me, bunny." He spoke, approaching you slowly. "I can hear the sound of your quickened breathing from miles away... smell the scent of your arousal... you want this, so why don't you come out and get this over with."

Geralt was offering you a truce, a chance for things not to escalate any further than they already had. Any sane person in your place would have taken it, it was the reasonable thing to do after taunting the wolf like that. But you were not just anyone. You wanted to face the consequences of your actions. You wanted to face the white wolf that Geralt tried so hard to keep in line. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted with you, that was the point of the game in the first place.

You came out of hiding with your hands up in a feigned sign of surrender. Geralt walked a few steps towards you, eyeing you with suspicion. You held his gaze, trying to hide your true intentions. But in the end the smile on your lips betrayed you, letting him know that you didn't plan to give up easily before you had a chance to run.

You barely made it a couple of steps before you felt the warmth of his body against yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you to keep you from escaping. You squirmed in his grip, trying to free your arms from his strong hold, but it was pointless. Geralt was much bigger and stronger than you, so you weren't going anywhere if he didn't want you to. He pressed you against him, pinning your back to his chest as his hands intertwined over your stomach, effectively imprisoning you against his body. You felt his nose against your neck, sniffing your scent with animalistic desperation. It made you tremble, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your heart pounded with anticipation. You pressed the curve of your ass against the bulge growing in his pants in response and you felt Geralt’s chest vibrate with a repressed moan.

"I got you." he growled against your skin before sinking his teeth into the sensitive area of your neck. "You're mine, bunny. Mine."

"I'm yours," you moaned, relaxing into his arms, tilting your head more so he could have better access to your neck. You wanted him to mark you. You wanted him to claim you as his own. "Please, take me." you begged. It was an airy whisper, but Geralt heard it with perfect clarity. And your consent was all he needed.

In a matter of seconds, your back was pressed against the grass as Geralt hovered over you. His hands were all over your body, lifting your skirt and unbuttoning the ties of your top to expose your breasts. His lips kissed every inch of exposed skin, but there was nothing romantic or sensual about it. It was rough, desperate, Geralt sucked your skin with the intention of leaving marks, sinking his teeth into your flesh as he growled that you belonged to him. It was too much and yet not enough. The pleasure coursing through your body was almost unbearable, but you needed more, you needed to feel all of him.

"You knew exactly what you were doing... calling me that name, making me chase you around." Geralt inserted a finger inside you without warning, earning a moan from you. You were so aroused, so desperate for his touch, that he had no trouble at all pushing deep into your core, moving his digit with ease and reaching up to brush against that sensitive part inside you that turned you into a moaning mess. "This is what you wanted, didn't you bunny? You wanted your big, bad wolf to chase you around and pin you down right in the middle of the woods, huh?"

"Y-yes, f-fuck." you managed to blurt out between moans and quickened breaths. Geralt inserted a second finger inside you and the air got stuck in your throat as the pleasure overwhelmed you. He increased the pace of his movements, showing you no mercy as his fingers moved in and out of you in desperate, almost aggressive movements. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, ready to snap at any moment.

"You awakened the wolf on purpose. This is exactly what you wanted, didn't you?" he growled in your ear, playfully biting your ear lobe. You could only reply with an incoherent moan, closing your eyes to focus on the pleasure coursing through your body. But that wasn't enough for him, Geralt wanted to hear you say it. "Answer me!" he demanded and you were forced to open your eyes just by the authority in his voice.

"Yes! I-I wanted this, I-I wanted the wolf to fuck me. Please..." Geralt smiled showing his teeth and you couldn't help but think how much he resembled a real wolf when he looked at you like that. His lips were slightly swollen and covered with saliva after working on marking your skin, his pupils blown wide with arousal. He was looking at you like a wolf looked at its prey, desperate to jump at you and devour his meal.

"Beg for it." He said through gritted teeth. He removed his fingers from inside you, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. It took your pleasure-clouded mind a few seconds to process his words, too focused on the high you'd lost to let out anything more than whimpers of frustration. But that was exactly what Geralt wanted. He wanted to see you completely desperate, surrendered under his body, begging for his touch.

"Please, wolf, I need you... I need to feel you inside me, please." You begged him, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He took his fingers covered with your sweet nectar into his mouth, sucking them clean as he moaned around them. It was the hottest image you had ever seen. He was so focused on the taste of your arousal touching his tongue that for a moment you feared he might not be able to hear your pleas for attention.

“I’m yours to take… please, wolf. I need you.”

The pathetic desperation in your voice was enough for Geralt. He wasted no time, freeing his cock from its confinement and thrusting it into you in one swift movement that left you breathless. He was big and even though your arousal was seeping down your thighs, it always took you a moment to get used to the way he stretched you. He showed you some mercy, giving you a few seconds to adjust while he enjoyed the way your walls closed around his cock. Nothing compared to the warm feeling of your walls wrapped around his cock, pulling him inside you, inviting him to stay. It was the closest he had ever been to heaven, if there was such a thing.

Geralt let out a grunt as you began to move your hips against him, urging him to move. He placed his hands on either side of your head, effectively imprisoning you under his large, imposing figure. Then he gave you a sloppy, wet kiss, biting your lower lip before moving closer to your ear. "Just remember you asked for this." He whispered, sealing your fate.

The rhythm he set was fast and rough, his hips moving against yours desperately. The sheer force of his thrusts was such that you had to cling to his body to keep from sliding upward each time he entered you. It hurt a little, but in the most delicious way. He hit that special place inside you with every thrust of his hips, turning you into an incoherent moaning mess that could do nothing but dig your nails into his back in a desperate attempt to keep you grounded. Pure pleasure coursed through your veins as you felt Geralt pressing deep inside you, filling you and claiming you as his. Your sweat covered skin was on fire, only finding relief when the witcher's cold medallion that dangled over your face made contact with your body.

"Scream! I want to hear you, bunny. I want to know how good I'm making you feel." Geralt demanded and your body instantly obeyed, as if he was the true owner of your mind. "That's it, don't hold back. No one is going to find us here, you can scream all you want. It's just me and you."

The forest filled with your moans and Geralt's animalistic grunts. He couldn't contain himself, seeing you underneath him with your tangled hair full of dry leaves and your watery eyes full of pleasure was too much for him. He couldn't stop the fast rhythm of his hips even if he wanted to. The wolf inside him wanted to ruin you completely, to mark you as his and make sure you were never satisfied with any other man but him. You belonged to him, now and forever. 

"You wanted this, you craved it... my little bunny, desperate to get fucked like a bitch in heat." He growled against the skin of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive area below your ear.

"Yes! F-fuck, please... I'm so close." You begged him, feeling the familiar tingle spreading in your stomach as your toes curled. His fingers traveled to the little bundle of nerves pulsing between your legs, stroking it with rapid circular motions that increased your level of desperation. You were so close to your relief it was almost painful, but you wanted to wait, to hold back your pleasure so you could explode alongside Geralt.

"You want me to fill you up, mark you as mine, huh? Breed you with my pups so everyone knows you're mine?" It was an empty promise and you both knew it. Geralt was sterile and no matter how much he wanted to, he could not father a child. But that didn't make his words any less arousing. The idea of being his and having his child growing in your belly to prove it was so enticing that you couldn't help but entwine your legs around his waist as a way to make sure he didn't slip out from inside you.

"Yes, please! I'm yours, I always will be and I want everyone to know!"

"That's right, you are. And I'm yours." Geralt grunted, leaning his forehead against yours to look you in the eye as he quickened his movements, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased the sweet relief. "Can you feel how deep inside you I am?" He took your hand and pressed it against your lower belly, where you could feel the bulge of his cock moving inside you. "I'm going to shoot my seed so deep into you, you'll carry it inside you until your belly starts to swell up with my pups inside it. Is that what you want?"

"Yes! Please, give it to me, wolf! I need to feel you, please." You begged with your last breath, almost bursting into tears from the intensity of the pleasure you felt.

Two more thrusts were all it took for Geralt to push you over the edge. You came with a cry of his name, nails digging into the sweaty skin of his back as your warm walls tightened around his cock, forcing him to stay inside you. That was enough to trigger his own relief, his cock twitching inside you as he shot his load deep inside your cunt, painting your walls with pearly white ropes of cum. And yet, he continued to thrust inside you, making your body shake from the overstimulation. He wanted to make sure his seed stayed inside you. He wanted to be able to smell the mix of his relief and yours on you for the rest of the day.

When he finally pulled away you groaned, feeling empty. Geralt let out an airy chuckle as he dropped down next to you, struggling to catch his breath. He pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you and resting your head on his chest. Even after all that, he still needed to hold you close, to feel the warmth of your body against his. 

You stayed like that until your breathing returned to normal, reveling in each other's closeness. You were so relaxed in his arms that you might well have fallen asleep if not for Geralt breaking the peaceful silence by clearing his throat.

"We should head back." he murmured, his fingers tracing imaginary lines on the exposed skin of your arm.

"I would if I could move." You joked as you began to feel the pain in your tired muscles. You didn't regret anything, though.

"I'm sorry."

You lifted your head from his chest to look at him, giving him a smile to ease the guilt he might be feeling for hurting you. "Don't be, you did exactly what I wanted you to do." You reached up to kiss him and he gladly reciprocated, cupping your cheek with his free hand so he could deepen the kiss.

However, he pulled away faster than you expected. You whined again, but he ignored you, getting up from the floor and shaking the dirt off his clothes. "It's getting late, we need to go." He said and you huffed. You weren't ready to move yet.

"Geraaalt" you complained, pouting. He looked down at you, ready to scold you, but was distracted by the sight of his artwork in all its glory. Your sweat-covered skin glowed under the afternoon light, highlighting your beauty. Your body was covered in his teeth marks and a trail of reddened hickeys trailed from your neck to your breasts and disappeared under the fabric of your dress. You carried his scent on your body, his seed inside you and his teeth marks on your skin. That alone was enough to awaken the wolf inside him once again, though he held back.

"You look beautiful." He said, kneeling beside you to help you knot the ties in the front of your dress, hiding your breasts and the marks he had made behind the fabric.

The softness in Geralt's eyes was such that you felt the need to hide your face, feeling embarrassed and somehow more exposed than when you were having sex. However, he didn't give you time to react as he quickly pulled you into his arms and made his way back to the hut. You relaxed in his arms, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and snuggling against his shoulder. 

"I love you." you said in an almost inaudible whisper. It was as if you were speaking more to yourself than for Geralt to hear you. As if the words had escaped your lips as you were lost in thought.

But Geralt's hearing was exceptionally good. And he couldn't help but smile to himself as he heard those words.

[espinosaurusrexex]

If Only You Would Know

HenryCavill!Sherlock x Female!Reader

summary: You and Sherlock are in love, Enola is sure of it. But she is forced to watch you tiptoe around the topic for an eternity. So when the opportunity arises, and Sherlock is forced to confront his feelings towards you, she does not hesitate.

a/n: we're diggin' out old old drafts for this one, but I needed a little Sherlock again :)

word count: 4k

warnings: a little arguing, pining, someone gets injured, idiots in love™️ (it's a new genre of mine)

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

You sighed as Sherlock moved about his office with hasty determination. He was a strange man. Oblivious, too, time and time again. But that did not matter for you loved him. You loved him and every strange habit he harbored. Whether it was the way in which he arranged his coats on the brass hanger by the door or that godawful pipe he seemed to always have hanging from his lips. He did not even like it - he had told you one time. “’tis just a habit, dear,” it would muffle past the brown bit in his mouth before he would clip it back between his teeth. 

But you did not care. And that must have been the very fact telling you just how deeply your heart had already fallen for the famous detective. Not a care in the world, especially not for what other people thought to say the least. Because all you ever thought about upon seeing him was love, warmth, and endearment. Nothing less. Not even a wretched criminal could ever shoot these feelings out of your heart. 

Oh well, it did not matter, anyhow. For there was one issue keeping this fairytale from becoming reality. And this issue was that Sherlock Holmes, the brightest man you knew, was blatantly oblivious to the feelings you had harbored in your chest. To be fair, you had never mentioned it to him before. For you were simply terrified of the consequences such a confession would hold. It was one thing to pine over a man who you were lucky enough to be in the same room with, but it would be undeniably humiliating to be rejected by said man as well. So you had chosen not to act on the fiery desire burning within your veins whenever your eyes hushed a glance at him. 

As much as that decision was made to protect your heart, it had turned out the circumstances provided the opposite of the desired effect. You were hurting more and more with every day you had to live with the realization that Sherlock Holmes did not love you back. In fact, he loved other women - many of them. And every single one more beautiful than the other. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if they were human at all. Never before had you seen such luscious hair as that of Sibyl or such a beautiful smile as that of Amelia. It was difficult to settle with these gorgeous women having a place in his bed and possibly his heart, but soon, you realized the importance of seeing him happy trumped your own desires. If he was happy, so were you. And if you weren’t the one making him happy, so be it. 

You had just come here to see Enola from her home to the city. Stopping by her brother’s apartment had not been on the agenda, at least not yours. But Enola was adamant to have you come when she raced up the stairs to his door. You had gasped when Sherlock had opened, his hair slightly disheveled and the shirt loosely tugged in his trousers. Your heart was pounding - it always happened when you saw him, and you swiftly averted your eyes to hide the flustered look on your face from him. 

Now you were standing in his messy home as you listened to Enola convince him to let her help him on a particular case of his - one she had a personal attachment to. Mixed emotions crawled up your spine at the sight of this professional yet intimate space. Not only one room over, Sherlock's bed was mockingly standing beyond the door, messy sheets indicating his prior endeavors, but there was no Sibyl or Amelia in sight. Still, your hands clamped around the silky material of your skirt, wrinkling the fabric harsher with every minute you spend in the deep-colored room. It smelled of musk and tobacco. Two things you had grown to miss whenever they were not surrounding you, but now, it was a shiver too much. 

Sherlock stood before you and Enola with his hands on his hips, a look of annoyance and disapproval etched on his features, but nonetheless, a sense of amusement in the edges of his frown. You knew him too well not to notice the slight pride swelling from his chest at his little sister’s determination. 

“I believe it is too dangerous for a girl like you to wander the streets, chasing criminals through London, Enola.”

“And I believe that you are an idiot, brother.”

“Perhaps,” your finger lifted in suggestion, stopping Sherlock’s head from tilting in disapproval at his sister’s array just in time. “She can be accompanied in her wandering?”

“And who would this accompany be?”

You knew it was not your place to negotiate, but you cared for Enola too much not to. And even though Sherlock’s stern eyes bore into your frame, you began to talk again: “I could-“

“Oh, dear lord. That is out of question.”

“Why brother? Do you not think Ms. Y/N and I can defend ourselves?”

A short silence lay upon the siblings as you watched the man’s shoulders draw up with a tense jaw. “I said no.”

“You are being irrational.” Enola cried. She was not one to accept defiance easily, you were well aware of it.

“No, you are being irrational. I will not vouch for having two women hurt on a mission to gather intel for my cases.”

“You cannot stop me.”

There was something itching in the glimmer of his eyes when the words left his lips, though you weren’t quite sure what to make of it.

“Enola!” Almost fearfully, Sherlock turned to you, his eyes wandering and desperation conveyed in his stare when you heard the young girl open the door.

“I am sure we can negotiate a way to have both parties satisfied.” Enola halted as you spoke. “I am certain your bother has other tasks that need fulfilling and are less prone to danger. Isn’t that right, Mr. Holmes?”

Sherlock was not entirely satisfied with this turn of events, but his sagging shoulders told you that he accepted the compromise. A sigh eluded from his lungs and Enola turned to the dark-haired man with excited eyes. “I presume, there would be things you could do.”

“Thank you–“

“But,” his eyes turned stern again, “In the office only. No more wandering, is that clear?”

Enola beamed. “Yes.”

❁ ❁ ❁

It was not long after the discussion when you and Enola went about home from the city. Still, however, despite the seemingly fair compromise negotiated just minutes prior, the younger woman sloppily trudged next to you.

“He is an idiot, that is what he is.” Enola stomped past you with a pouty face. It was not ladylike, but luckily, she knew that you were not one to care about that. 

You understood Enola’s frustrations, but simultaneously, your heart were to break if anything ever happened to her. So you understood the settled worry in her brother’s words as well. He was a good man. “He is just worried. It means he cares.”

“Well, he could care a little less and let me do my job.” You hid a smirk. Only Enola would be as adamant about saving a boy she had only met days ago. She was just as goodhearted and justice-seeking as Sherlock, and your heart warmed at the similarities the siblings shared.

“It is not your job, Enola.” Sometimes you genuinely admired her fixation, though it mostly converted into trouble, still. Enola had a lot more freedom than you did when you were her age, and you too would have sprung at any chance to go and wander about, seeking adventures and perhaps a little more than that. Which was in turn, why your heart felt torn between the fulfillment of having her seek childhood dreams, and the subtle but strong tug Sherlock Holmes held you with. 

“Did you forget what we just found out yesterday? It seems no one cares about him. And if nobody else will do it, I consider it my duty to help.”

“Enola, dear.” You held her shoulders gently. “I understand your worries, but I understand your brother’s as well. I would be just as worried about you if something were to happen, and I do not want to see you hurt, either.”

“But we have to do something!” This was true. It would not be right to leave the boy framed with false accusations when you had the power to change his fate. There was something you could gather - information that may help him be acquitted.

“How about I go?” You silently cursed your good intentions as Enola’s eyes lit up. It was a blessing and a curse. But other than Enola, there would be nobody worrying for you, and in turn a lot less hearts broken if something were to happen - which it surely would not. “You can stay in the study and I will see to it that we may gather more information.”

“Alright, but be careful. And make sure to come back by five. Otherwise, someone will get suspicious.” The girl smiled, but her shoulders shook with excitement.

“What? Do you think I’m stupid?” You teased, awaiting a sassy ‘of course not’ which you returned with a wink.

❁ ❁ ❁

Enola watched the clock next to the window. Seconds, ticking by too fast for her liking. She needed more time - you needed more time. Her brother had given her files to sort and he would be coming back soon. Upon your agreement yesterday, you had gone out to gather information on the woman who accused the boy. But you would be back soon, she told herself.

“Is Ms. Y/N not here with you?” Sherlock’s voice called through the room and his steps approached her steadily. 

Enola was stiff. “She is out,” she told him while her fingers counted the pile of files on the desk.

“Out? With who?” He stepped around the polished mahogany, settling in front of her with his hands behind his back. “I didn’t realize she was being courted.” 

Oh. Enola’s eyes sparkled with amusement when she obtained a glimmer of jealousy in her brother’s. She had always had her suspicions. And she knew of your being madly in love with her brother, but Sherlock had always been secretive regarding the topic of love.

“She went to shop,” she smiled, averting her eyes. Waiting - no, anticipating a response from him.

“So she is not with anyone.” Sherlock leaned forward with squinted eyes. For a man as good at solving puzzles as he was, he did need an awful lot of confirmation.

Enola finally looked up. “Ugh, you really are an idiot.” 

“Would you quit calling me an idiot?” Disapproval swept his features and made a frown settle instead. 

“I would, but you won’t quit being an idiot.”

“Whatever do you mean?” It was quite amusing to see him clueless for once. And even though you tried to hide your feelings or the way you responded whenever he was as much as in the same room as you, it did not go past Enola how long your eyes lingered on his frame or the way the sadness overtook your features at the mention of another woman.

“Ms. Y/N is head over heels in love with you. And I do not understand why you refuse to see it, she is not hiding it very well, you see?”

Sherlock stumbled back, his hands seemingly finding their pace over his heart when he repeated her words. “Ms. Y/N? In love with me?”

“And you really call yourself the greatest detective of our time.” Enola shook her head. Still, the thought of the two of you together was one she liked to entertain. And she asked herself just how much you could talk Sherlock into once you were together. He was already caving when you suggested things - the possibilities of Enola getting her way when the both of you finally gave into the pining were endless!

“Oh, hush. I just never thought she would...” Sherlock trailed off, and if Enola was not mistaken, she caught a whisper of pink settle over his cheeks. Could it really be? The great Sherlock Holmes in love? Even better with a woman Enola adored as well?

“This is exactly the problem, brother. You don’t think when it comes to women.” Her mind wandered back to the women you had seen leave his chambers by the break of dawn. And just like then, Enola noticed a familiar sense of sadness wash over her brother’s eyes - the same one you hid from her in these moments.

“Enola...” But his words died on his tongue and Enola thought it wiser to resume her task. Sherlock was aware of his idiocy. For Enola knew just how insignificant all the other women were to him. And she hoped he had realized this fact.

A moment or two passed in which Sherlock paced the room mindlessly. His hands disappeared behind curtains and in bookshelves, until they reached for the pocket watch in his coat and a subtle grumbling eluded his lungs. “She should be back soon, anyhow. Should she not?”

“I suppose, yes.” 

“Well, it is quarter past five already. The shop is closed well over an hour now.” Sherlock did not hide the impatience in his tone, now. And Enola felt a wave of success wash over her.

It was difficult to hide her nervousness, though, for she now worried about you as well. But you were fine - she consoled herself. You were tough and intelligent, simply a little late - that was surely it. “She will come soon.”

An unusual tension fell over the room and Enola was certain, her brother had already dismissed her little story. But she would not falter. Her fingers kept cramming through the papers, counting pages she had analyzed and sorted two times by now. Her movements, however, became more frantic, and soon, her heart was pounding in her wrists.

“Enola, what in heavens did you do?” Sherlock urged impatiently, a look cold as a stone set on his face. 

“Nothing.” She did not look at him, then he would know instantly - the little lie she told.

“You sent her out to spy didn’t you?”

Why did he keep asking if he already knew the answer? Enola did not speak. She was fairly ashamed, though. She wanted to show her brother just how capable she and you both were. But having you not come back made for a serious difficulty to her plan.

She looked up at him now, just in time to see his shoulders sag and his head tilted up in frustration. “After I told you not to?”

“You only ever forbid me from going!” She cried, suddenly feeling attacked by his irrational outburst.

“I did not want Ms. Y/N out in the streets alone, either.” Sherlock was pacing again, his shoes clicked on the polished wooden floor until the reached the coat hanger by the door, only to gruffly rip the dark cloak from its place.

An accusing finger reached in his direction and a small smirk appeared on his sister’s lips. “So you are in love with her.”

The man frowned and his chestnut locks shook with annoyance. “That is not important right now. We need to find her.”

He did not deny it and Enola Holmes viewed it as a success.

❁ ❁ ❁

Sherlock swept through the streets as fast as his feet could carry him. Never had he thought that he would need to worry about your well-being. Enola’s? Yes, constantly. She did dangerous things all the time. But you were the one with the rational mind, the trait he adored most above all, for it eased his own every so often. It was enough to look out for Enola as much. He loved her and that was what love did: It made for weaknesses. Though Sherlock never wished to not adore you as much as he did, at this moment, it would have spared him trouble. 

He passed another alley filled with dubious fellows and willed his thoughts not to stray to dark paces. Normally, he could stay focused. Normally, he was able to separate his feelings from his tasks very well. Normally, he needn’t worry about you, however. 

Enola was many steps behind, he could hear her heels clicking in haste in her catching up, but Sherlock would not budge. He would keep on searching, keep on going straight until his sister gave him another direction to follow. She knew where you were after all, and he could not even begin to indulge in the worry-consumed anger this fact fueled him with. 

It did not take long for the detective to reach the house of the last suspect he had abandoned in his search for answers. You must have gone there. Enola had been especially furious about his dropping the woman upon questioning, urging her brother to stay on the lead. But Sherlock had already gotten enough information to place her in the entire scheme. Enola did not know this of course - he had never told her. So it was only plausible to send you to spy on said woman. What you had not known, however, was the dangerous affiliates this woman had, and the little to no hesitance of hers to pursue them.

The house lay empty on the street once the siblings reached its steps, no light shining through the glass windows, not the smell of dinner lingering in the air. It was odd, though nothing to be upset over. You had been here, Sherlock knew it. He was disappointed to find out, however, that you were not anymore. Of course, you had realized the danger of the situation and left, but where to? 

His head jerked to the left once Enola caught up to him, following the rattling of bins coming from the alley close by, where a faint trail of blood droplets mixed with the rain. 

“Bloody hell,” the detective mumbled with every inch it lead him further to your location. And sure enough, beyond the shielding confines of a wooden palette, he spotted your coat pressed into the wall. 

A small hiss, and then: nothing when he called your name.

“Ms. Y/N, heavens!” He rushed over once his eyes caught your distraught face behind the wood, your entire hand covered in blood, pressed to your head, where more seemed to have already dried on your scalp. 

“Mr. Holmes?” Your voice was weak, your eyes hazy - growing in the confusion the head injury most likely brought to you. 

Sherlock's arms reached out to engulf you, a handkerchief quick to be pressed on your head as he knelt beside you and let your body rest against his torso. “Enola, go and get help, immediately!” He commanded with urgency, having the young girl run off with a shocked nod.

His attention traced back to your body, where his eyes focused on your heavy lids and his heart clenched at the sight. You were hurt - seriously hurt - and Sherlock could not shake the feeling of it being his fault. Had he only consulted you in his case, had he talked to Enola, had he been less cowardly and finally admitted to his feelings. This all might have never happened.

“You should not have gone out alone!” He cried as he rocked you back and forth, his arms held you a little tighter, and he was certain that his heart beat through the several layers of clothing separating you.

“You have no right to rule over me.” Your hands pressed against his chest, forcing him to let you pull away from his embrace, and Sherlock instantly missed the warmth holding you had given him. He needed it back - confirming you were fine.

“But I told you not to go!” Big eyes stared up at him, but there was disappointment simmering beneath the sheer gleam of anger.

“Why are you upset? I can do whatever I desire!” It was meant to come out strong, but not even a woman as tough as you were able to hide the weakness taking over your body.

“But you got hurt!” Sherlock was juggling with empty arguments, he knew this much. But there was no right way to express what he wished to pursue with his words. It was all too much and not enough, all the same.

“Mr. Holmes, I can take good care of myself. I have done it my whole life.”

“And you shouldn’t have.” This seemed to have caught you by surprise. For you stopped in your shuffling away and held his gaze equal in confusion and intrigue. 

“Whatever do you mean?” You shrieked softly, your breath staggering when he came closer to you.

Sherlock found it incredibly difficult to talk, suddenly. His hands were clammy and that stupid tie around his neck seemed just a tad too tight. Christ, he could not even look at you. He was left staring towards the wet grounds with his hands wringing beneath him.“I- it has come to my attention that I lack perception in some categories.” He hushed a look at you and was not surprised to see utter confusion seeping through your stare. 

Sherlock sighed and his shoulders jumped heavily once he mustered up the courage to explain: “I do not wish to see you hurt.”

“Why?” Your eyes were big and wondrous, much like a curious child prying up in awe over what it was to become privy of.

Sherlock tried, he really did, to be steady and informative, but there was no use, for his heart had decided otherwise. “Because... because, I- my heart hurts when I imagine something happening to you.”

“But what about Sybil or Amelia… or Babette?” Every name stung another hole in his heart as your eyes saddened naming the woman he had spent previous nights with in order to get over you. He never loved them, never adored them the way he did you. They were simply a distraction. A petty compromise for the actual being he was sure would never return his affection. Now that he found out the opposite, Sherlock was uncertain about how to act. 

“These women... they were just compensation for the one I couldn’t have.” He confessed slowly, his hand reaching for you and finally getting ahold of your chin. “I did not think you would be interested in me.”

“Oh but I am, Sherlock.” Your fingers came to cover his. “I am.” And an unbelievable force of warmth and calmness washed over him. Despite the blood, despite the worry. Despite everything being wrong at this very moment, he was calm. You had this effect on him.

“I know that now. My sister told me.” Sherlock sent a silent prayer to the stars. Had his sister not been as persistent he would have never gotten the opportunity to hold you close - feel you the way he desired. 

“She is quite a smart lady isn’t she?” A low chuckle echoed through the darkening alley, though a shy blush crept upon the detective’s cheeks. 

“As much as I hate to admit it, she is a good detective.” His thumbs stroked gentle swipes over your skin, a sliver of warmth tasting your body with every movement, and it felt good to have you indulge in his touch. He would have never dreamt of having you this close, having you feel the same feelings he did. And to be perfectly honest, experiencing it, in reality, was a hundred times better than anything he had ever imagined. “God, Y/N. If only I had known earlier.”

“Let us not grieve what is already done. Embrace the possibilities of the future with me.” Your eyes locked with his once again and your aura seemed to pull him even deeper into a trance. Sherlock could not look away. He was captured by every loving emotion radiating off of you. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. But he would keep it guarded in his chest for eternity, even if nobody were to ever ask him about it. It was precious - this moment was worth hundred terrible ones. 

“You are right,” he agreed, and then, beyond his control almost, Sherlock pulled you into a warm kiss. 

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