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shellshocklove · 9 days

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does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

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The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

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captainsophiestark · 26 days

Text

Picture Perfect

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

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Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict's childhood best friend, who he's recently started courting, notices he's been a bit off lately and decides to see if there's anything she can do to help.

Word Count: 3,045

Category: Fluff, a little bit of Angst

A/N: It's been a minute since I rewatched season 2, so I may have the timing wrong a bit. For the purposes of this fic, though, Benedict finds out that Anthony paid to make sure he got into art school at the same time that they're all at the Bridgerton's country estate.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Something was wrong with my best friend.

I could tell from the minute I saw him, as his mind was clearly somewhere else. He also gave his brother Anthony a colder shoulder than usual, which I knew Anthony likely deserved, but that Benedict rarely gave him. It must've been something pretty bad.

A few years ago, I wouldn't have hesitated to drag Benedict somewhere and get some answers out of him, followed by doing whatever I could to cheer him up. But unfortunately for the both of us, despite having grown up together, now that we were both adults in society and he had recently started courting me, we were no longer technically allowed to be alone together. Things were usually a bit looser when it was just the Bridgertons and I, but while I'd joined them for a trip to their country estate, another family had joined us as well, tying my hands more than usual.

Still, I managed to corner him slightly away from the rest of the group after dinner that night, when I'd first noticed something off. He'd been on his way upstairs, rather than joining the rest of us in the parlor after dinner, and I managed to get in front of him quickly enough to make him stop in the hallway.

"Benedict," I said, trying to keep my voice low. He let out a long, deep sigh, but didn't move to step past me, instead fixing me with a tired stare. I frowned. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "It's... nothing."

I put my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow.

"Benedict Bridgerton, I have known you since the age of five. There is no chance of that terrible lie convincing me of anything, besides perhaps that I made the right decision about checking on you."

He sighed again, this time even heavier, and when he met my gaze again it was with an empty smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"You remeber I shared my excitement with you about being accepted into art school?"

"Of course! Don't tell me something went wrong..."

He shook his head. "The opposite. Apparently my dear brother took it upon himself to make sure I got in, offering a bribe to secure my acceptance. Yet again, I fail to step out of my family's shadow and generate an accomplishment of my own, without their name and money securing it for me."

I frowned and reached out to touch his arm, but Eloise's voice from the other room promising to find where I'd wandered off to broke the moment. Benedict mustered that hollow smile again, then finally stepped around me.

"I'll be fine, I promise. Don't worry about me. Just go enjoy the rest of your evening."

I frowned after him, but he didn't look back as he climbed the stairs and disappeared onto the second floor. I briefly debated following him, but Eloise's hand on my elbow broke me from that thought.

"Y/N, what on earth are you doing out here? You're missing Kate and Anthony sparring over something trivial again."

I forced a smile onto my face that was hopefully more convincing than Benedict's and turned to face Eloise.

"Well, that's certainly something I don't want to miss. Let's go."

Eloise still looked like she had questions, but I didn't give her room to ask them as I joined the rest of our group in the parlor. Benedict stayed on my mind for the rest of the night, although I tried to hide my worry. Hopefully he'd been right about himself, and would be feeling better in the morning.

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

Benedict clearly wasn't feeling better in the morning. I was witnessing the man I loved having an existential crisis, and by the afternoon, I decided I couldn't sit by an watch anymore, society and the Ton and the gossips be damned.

I spent the next hour gathering and setting up the things I'd need, then went to find Benedict. He wasn't anywhere to be seen in the house, so I asked Eloise, who directed me to his bedroom.

I'd been in his bedroom before, of course, since we'd practically grown up together. But now that we'd started on the path to being something else to each other, with my heart registsering significantly more romantic feelings for the man Benedict had become, I found myself slightly nerovous as I stood outside his door. Still, I forced myself to ignore the nerves as best I could. Benedict was hurting, so everything else had to be put on hold while I helped him.

I knocked on his door, pretending my faster-than-normal heartbeat didn't exist as I waited for a response. That became much harder to accomplish when Benedict opened the door, his shirt far more open than normal and without anything over it, hair looking a rumpled mess. My heart did backflips, despite me mentally telling it to calm down.

"Y/N! I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you. I must look a mess-"

"No, not at all!" I said much too quickly. "You look, uh... very nice."

The familiar lopsided smile I loved so much appeared on Benedict's face as he leaned on the doorframe before me. He raised an eyebrow, the familiar spark of mischief that I loved so dearly igniting in his eyes, and for the first time in more than a day, he looked to be slightly back to himself.

"Well, I'm very glad to hear you think so. What brings you to my door, then?"

"You haven't seemed to be doing very well since you got the news about Anthony. And don't try to deny it, I know you too well. So, I thought I'd come find you and try to help cheer you up."

Benedict's eyebrow rose again as he crossed his arms.

"And what exactly did you have in mind?"

"I'll show you. But we're going to have to be a bit sneaky about leaving."

Benedict's mood lifted the moment he found out we were going to sneak out of the house together. We'd been regular trouble makers as children, sneaking out for adventures at least once a week, but since we'd both grown up that had basically come to a stop. Now, as I took his hand and dragged him along behind me and we ran through the countryside and left Bridgerton House in our wake, I couldn't stop a wild laugh from bubbling out of my chest. I'd missed this much more than I'd wanted to admit.

"Where are we going?" Benedict called, his own voice breathy and laced with laughter as we ran. I just shot him a grin back over my shoulder.

"You'll see!"

He huffed, but didn't protest as he followed after me. Finally, after winding through the woods and climbing a rather steep hill, we reached the spot I'd spent so long making nice this morning.

This hilltop looked out over the countryside stretching beautifully below us, even better now as the sun had started to get a bit lower in the sky. Waiting for us was a picnic blanket spread out in the grass with all of our favorite foods, wine, and an easel with art supplies set up right next to it. I dropped Benedict's hand as we came to a stop, instead turning to face him with a grin.

"Well? What do you think?"

He stared at everything I'd laid out, mouth open slightly in shock. His brow furrowed when he saw the canvas, and he turned back to me.

"What is all this?"

"It's a picnic, for the two of us," I said. "To watch the scenery and the sunset together without the pressures of society or being a Bridgerton to bring us down. The easel is optional–we can pack it away right now if you want to. But you told me you think Anthony's the reason you got into art school, and I don't agree. I've seen your work, and I know just how good it is. You got in on merit, Benedict. But I know I can't just say that and have you believe it, so I brought some supplies here so you can prove it, if you want to. Paint this moment for the two of us, and I'll swear on our relationship and everything I hold dear to be honest about what I think. Completely, totally, brutally honest."

Benedict's eyebrow quirked again.

"Well, I don't know if brutal is completely necessary..."

"I mean it, Ben. I hate to see you like this, doubting yourself. So if there's something I can do to counter Anthony's idiotic meddling, I'd like to."

"And what if..." He cleared his throat, emotion swirling in his gorgeous brown eyes as he met my gaze. "What if the truth would only serve to enforce what I know? That Anthony's meddling and money is the only reason I've gotten where I am."

I shook my head. "That won't happen-"

"Y/N." I stopped, biting my lip and forcing myself to meet Ben's stare again. He took a few steps forward until we were right in front of each other, then took my hands gently in his own. "What if it does?"

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. "Then I will keep my word and tell you so. One way or another, I will tell you the truth, even if it may not be what I want to tell you. I swear it, Ben."

He nodded slowly, eyes scanning my face. We stayed like that for a few long moments, and briefly, I thought Benedict might make a move to do something I never though he'd do with the Ton hovering over both our shoulders whenever we were together. But then he sighed, a smile returning to his face as he stepped away.

"Alright then. I believe you, and I value your opinion. And since you went to all the trouble to drag these supplies up here in the first place... I may as well get started."

I beamed at him. "I'll pour us some wine."

"Please."

When Benedict first sat down at his canvas, he kept fidgeting nervously, his hands hovering and twitching over various paints and brushes as he second-guessed his decisions. But slowly, as I kept up a stream of conversataion, supplying him with food and drink for fuel as he needed it, I noticed him beginning to relax.

"This is nice," I mused, leaning back on the picnic blanket and looking out at the scenery as Benedict worked. The sun had gotten much lower in the sky than when we'd left, which Benedict had grumbled about as it impacted his painting. Still, the golden light, soft breeze, and warm, fresh air felt like heaven to me.

"I agree," he said, not taking his eyes away from his easel. "I missed running off on adventures with you at the drop of a hat."

"So did I. But, hopefully... we may be able to get back to that again sometime soon."

Benedict looked over at me from his easel, a rougish grin on his face.

"If I didn't know better, Lady Y/L/N, I would think you were boardering on making me a marriage proposal."

I faced forward and closed my eyes under the guise of feeling the sun, trying to ignore my heart pumping frantically in my chest.

"Well. Fortunately for us both, you do know better. And it's not as if you're some strange man I met at court. You're... Ben. My best friend."

"I never said I wouldn't like it, did I? It would be an honor to be proposed to by you."

I cracked one eye open, turning my head to face Benedict with a grin. He wasn't looking at me, his stare focused on his canvas, his face completely serious. My heart stopped threatening to explode out of my chest, and instead settled into the unique, glowing warmth of love I felt whenever Benedict and I were together.

"I love you, Ben," I said, my voice soft and quiet. He stopped his work completely to turn and look at me, a soft smile on his face.

"I love you too. Very, very much." We held each others' stares for a moment, soaking in the comfort and joy of being together, and then Benedict's smile turned into a more edged grin. "It's a good thing we feel so strongly, since we may just be forced into an earlier marriage than planned to avoid a scandal after disappearing for an entire afternoon and evening together."

I huffed and waved him off. "Fortunately, I predict your brother will be accidentally helping us and making up for causing this crisis of confidence in the first place. He and Miss Kate Sharma are so ridiculous and dramatic together, I highly doubt anyone will notice we're gone."

Benedict chuckled, turning back to his work to scan it one last time before finally setting down his paintbrush. He took a deep breath, then stood and offered a hand to me.

"I've finished," he announced as I took his hand. He pulled my to my feet, but instead of looking at the painting, my eyes stayed fixed on him. We were almost chest to chest, and I could tell from his furrowed brows and darting eyes just how nervous he was about my verdict. "Remember, you promised me honesty."

"And honesty you will get."

Finally, I turned from Benedict to the canvas he'd been working on all afternoon. I'd resisted peeking before now at his request, so I wouldn't have any bias from watching his process. Fortunately, just as I'd predicted, his work was magnificent.

"Benedict..." I breathed as I took in the soft lines and vibrant colors before me. It perfectly captured how I felt looking out at the valley before us; it captured the gorgeous scenery, yes, but it also infused everything with a bit of magic that I only felt in this space with him. "This is absolutely incredible."

Benedict came around to stand next to me, arms crossed. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him shaking his head.

"Now please don't forget, you promised me honesty."

"I am being honest! Benedict, this is fantastic. The way you capture the myriad of different shades of the light shining across the valley, the seamless lines giving the world a slightly hazy, dreamlike look, and the way you've left the paint a bit messier with the clouds, to make it look like they're moving? It's all perfect, Ben. And masterful. It's a picture of the valley, yes, but it looks like it's alive. And you somehow managed to capture what it feels like to be here in the moment together, the sun on our faces, with each other even when we're not supposed to be, in a truly special way. You're an incredibly talented artist, and I'd be saying that even if you were a complete stranger that I didn't particularly like."

He snorted, then after a second, wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me to his chest. I leaned into him immediately, sighing a bit as he leaned his head against mine.

"I have a hard time believing you'd say all that to a stranger you didn't like."

I rolled my eyes and elbowed him in the stomach, and he laughed without letting me go. A smile spread on my own face despite myself.

"Alright, maybe I wouldn't say all that to a stranger I didn't like. But I'd say it about their work when they couldn't hear me, probably to you. My point stands, Ben. You are a very skilled and talented artist. Anthony isn't the reason you got into that school. You are."

His chest rose and fell with a long, deep breath, and then finally, I felt him nod.

"Thank you. I can't promise it will always be easy for me to always believe it, but... I'll try to remember your words, and not my brother's, from now on."

"Good. And if you feel down again, you can always come to me. I'll always be there for you, Benedict, whenever you need me."

"And I you, my love," he said, moving down to whisper the words in my ear as he wrapped his other arm around my waist, too. He kissed my cheek, and I leaned back into his chest for a moment before turning around in his arms to face him.

The beautiful, kind smile I'd fallen in love with stared back at me, along with his warm brown eyes. I smiled too, then finally stopped ignoring my racing heart and decided to continue the theme of ignoring the Ton and what they might say.

I leaned into Benedict, closing the distance between us with a glance at his lips before meeting his eyes again. Both of his eyebrows shot up, but he didn't pull away.

"Y/N... if anyone found out..."

I smiled. "They won't. Besides, they'd just make us follow through on something we're already planning, anyway."

Benedict huffed a laugh, his eyelids fluttering a bit as he looked at me like he couldn't believe I was real. Then, his arms tightened around my waist, and he leaned in even closer. I closed my eyes, feeling Benedict stop just a hair's breadth away from my lips.

"Are you sure-"

I closed the distance myself before he could continue. Benedict smiled into the kiss a moment later, pulling me closer to him, the two of us locked in each others' embrace as the sun set in the hills behind us. Truly, I didn't think anyone would be able to find out about how we'd spent our afternoon, but I also truly didn't care. I loved Benedict, and even though it was technically early in our courtship, I'd known him for most of my life. I knew we were meant to spend our lives together, and I knew he felt the same way as I did. Sooner or later, we'd make it official with an engagement and marriage, and be able to disappear together whenever we wanted without the Ton batting an eyelash. But, in the meantime, I didn't mind sneaking away for private moments like this one bit. No matter what had led to it in the first place.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

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sixosix · 7 months

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ONE LOOK (MEANT JUST FOR YOU) | WRIOTHESLEY

700 words of wriothesley visiting your home and pure fluff ensuing

Moving swiftly around the kitchen, the clinking of glass plates and glasses left you no room to detect Wriothesley's stealthy entrance. You only noticed him when you moved to wipe the table, only to see a broad figure standing by your doorway, a fond smile on his face.

The moment your gazes lock, Wriothesley takes it as his cue to gently shut the door behind him and make his way inside. He moves with some difficulty—limping, almost, and if you had been anyone else, you might not have noticed.

Your eyes track each movement. “Feeling unwell, Your Grace?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” he grunts out.

Despite that, his tone has this playful chipper to it that brings a smile to your face. You swipe over the table with a wet rag, leaving suds. “Anything that needs immediate medical attention? …Anything that you’ve kept from Sigewinne?”

“Don’t worry,” Wriothesley huffs a laugh, sinking against your couch. He groans out in relief as he melts. You wince upon hearing a crack here and there.

Wriothesley pays visits to your home whenever his schedule permits. While there are days when work keeps him occupied in his office, there are more than enough occasions where you can see that nothing has changed. This is still the same Wriothesley who shared affectionate moments with you in the comfort of your home and who flirted shamelessly and endlessly in his office at the Fortress of Meropide. He was never reticent about expressing his intentions and words. Good times.

You wring the cloth and let clean water run over your hands to wash the remaining suds off. You feel Wriothesley’s piercing gaze follow you around. “Want some tea?” You cast him a glance over your shoulder.

He flashes a wicked grin, able to look all regal even when he has his cheek pressed against your sofa’s headrest. “You know the way to my heart.” He shifts, extending one free arm outward as if preparing for a hug. “Though, I need you more than I need tea at the moment.”

A snort escapes you, diverting his attention from your stunned surprise at his shamelessness. “I’ll make you your favorite.”

Wriothesley says something about you’re his favorite but you tune him out in favor of not slipping and splashing hot water all over the floors you’ve just cleaned. He calls for your name again, dragging it out and wilting in defeat when you shoot him a stern and disapproving glare.

“Don’t distract me, idiot,” you say, watching the water steam and boil. As it does, you rummage through the cabinets for the cubes of sugar you’ve been buying more often because of that guy. “It’s not every day I was bored enough to take it upon myself to clean. I was taken by the burst of motivation.”

Wriothesley chuckles and thankfully lets himself enjoy the silence. The only sounds are the gentle padding of your feet around the kitchen and the clinking of tea cups against the table, all enveloped in a comforting atmosphere. Wriothesley's mere presence has the power to make anyone feel secure and at ease. It might be the broad shoulders or his feared name and title, or it might be the fact that he swore he would protect you as much as you protect him in sweet moments like this.

You place the two cups on the coffee table before him. Wriothesley then pulls you into his chest, causing you to yelp and tumble right into his waiting arms.

“Your tea is getting cold,” you say.

“Your lips look colder,” he says, his breath hot on the shell of your ear.

You narrow your eyes. “Wriothesley…”

He snorts, placing a kiss on your temple. “None of whatever you’re thinking, sweetheart. I just need you close.”

And keep you close he did. He has you trapped in his arms, but you feel far from trapped. You shuffle until your head is resting on his bicep, and you can meet his eyes. He’s silent.

“...Wriothesley.”

He fixes his heavy stare on your face, his own unreadable. “Hm?”

You press your hand against his jaw. “Is there something wrong?”

“God,” he murmurs, cupping your cheeks, “you’re so cute.”

Your heart flutters and threatens to flee from your chest. “I—I know. You should feel fortunate that you’re the only one who gets to hold me like this.” You try to sound haughty. It fails miserably at the warmth quickly spreading all over your face and your heartbeat, making you trip all over your words.

“I’m the only one, huh?” A gleam sparks in his eye, turning somewhat dangerous—fierce. “What I like to hear.”

for @naosaki with the chibi wrio pfp

#genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x reader fluff #wriothesley x gn!reader #genshin fluff #genshin x reader fluff #wriothesley x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you

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yaksha-lover · 3 months

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It Will Come Back

Summary: You take in an injured fox, nursing it back to health. It keeps coming back, some times more human-like than others.

Kitsune!Malleus Draconia x Reader

cw: very minor description of blood/gore, mentioned wild animal death, minor suggestive jokes, starts out a little spooky (or so i tried) but inevitably becomes wholesome-ish, pls ignore typos i’m too tired to proof-read

The fox you find by the riverside isn’t like any you’ve seen before. His fur is so dark that it takes a moment for you to even notice the wet blood matting the left side of his rib cage.

The sight of an injured animal is all too common for you. Living far from any big towns means there’s hardly any available treatment for them. Your neighbour, the only other living person around here, always dismisses your worries about the poor creatures, telling you that it’s only the circle of life.

As much as you know he’s right, your bleeding heart insists on taking the black fox home, if only for him to have some comfort in his last moments. You know he won’t survive the journey to town; he may not have the hours necessary to get there.

He’s large for a fox, too. You consider calling your neighbour to help, but you know he’ll only roll his green eyes at your pleas. Instead, you lift him into a wheelbarrow as gently as you can, and pull him back to your small cottage.

He whimpers a little as you move him, but his eyes remain closed. When you arrive, you transport him carefully to the makeshift bed you’ve put together, piles of blankets you hope will be enough to keep him warm and comfortable.

When you come back with water and some medical supplies, the fox opens one eye. It’s strangely eerie, the way he stares at you as you approach. His lime gaze is intense and focused, almost as though he’s trying to examine you, peeling away your skin with his eyes. You shake off the feeling, knowing you’re probably overthinking things.

He’s only an animal, after all.

The fox remains silent as you clean his wounds. Thankfully, they don’t seem as bad as you initially suspected. It’s strange - there seemed to be so much blood before, the wound was practically gushing. Was it a trick of the light?

You must be tired from your long day of foraging; now you’re seeing things.

You leave him wrapped in bandages and huddled in blankets to rest for the night.

The next morning, you awake to a warmth at your side. It’s been getting a bit colder, but even your blankets don’t tend to run this hot. You pop an eye open and panic for a moment at the fluffy black mass curled up beside you. You giggle to yourself when you realize what’s happened.

“How’d you get up here, little fox? I thought you’d feel too ill to move.”

The fox raises his head at the noise, tilting it as you speak. You offer him your hand, and he sniffs it, before moving his head to be cupped in your extended palm.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. Make yourself at home,” you say, petting him gently between the ears. He closes his eyes and settles into your touch.

As you get up to begin your day, you expect him to stay curled up in your sheets. Instead, he hops off the bed, suddenly wide awake, and prances happily behind you into the kitchen, no sign of the injury he suffered just last night.

Questions run through your mind, unease playing in your stomach. It’s all so bizzare, but you try to settle the anxiety. Why question a good thing, no matter how strange?

“What should I call you, little guy? I don’t want to keep calling you ‘the fox.’”

He stares at you, green eyes narrowed softly as he takes a seat on your couch, making himself at home by cuddling into the cushions. The seating is already worn down, but either way, you wouldn’t care much about where he sat.

“Hmm, how about Tsunotarou? Your ears are so pointy, they almost look like little horns!”

He raises his head to look at you, as though he understands. You smile back at him, mooning over his cuteness and reaching a hand out to pet him. You hover your hands over his head, waiting for his go ahead.

You beam when he pushes his head up into your hand, petting enthusiastically but remaining gentle for his sake.

You’re interrupted by a knock at the door. There’s only one person who ever comes over, so it’s no surprise to hear the voice of your neighbour ring out in the silence.

“Oi, open the door, herbivore. What’s all this blood outside your home?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not mine,” you call from inside. You walk to the door, letting him in. “I…made another rescue attempt.”

He gives you a look that screams ‘seriously’. “Another failure then? I don’t know why you do this to yourself.”

“Actually, Leona, this one was a success. Check my couch before you doubt me so fast.”

Leona pushes you gently away from the doorway so he can come in, and peeks around the corner.

The expression on his face morphs from surprise to confusion to disappointment. Leona sighs. “You didn’t…”

“Didn’t what? Save a life? Clearly, I did. Although, I’ll admit Tsunotarou wasn’t in such bad shape, so maybe I didn’t do too much of the work. But still, you can stop calling me silly for wanting to try-”

“Tsunotarou??” Leona stares at the fox. He stares back and almost seems…amused? Strange, your fox certainly was expressive and clever. “Ugh, this is too much for me to deal with. You’re an adult, you can handle it. I’m just going to leave these here.”

Leona drops a bag of meat on the counter. It was part of your usual trade; he’d give you part of his hunt, and you’d give him part of what you grew in your garden.

“No one asked you to help deal with him? What do you mean…”

Leona ignores your questioning, heading out of your kitchen and stopping as he passes by the couch where Tsunotarou still lays, watching. He turns to face him.

“Don’t hurt them. I’ll be checking in again soon, so no tricks, or else you’ll be dealing with me.”

“Did you just threaten my rescue fox?”

He ignores you once again, only pausing briefly in the doorway to leave you with a final warning.

“Scream if you need help.” With that, Leona is off, probably back to his cottage across the field.

You’re left confused, but Leona rarely cares to let you in on what he’s thinking, so you try your best to just ignore his words. There’s a prick of fear in the back of your mind, though, because Leona is never serious, but his warning certainly seemed to be.

No, he’s just been talking nonsense. How could the sweet angel on your couch be any threat? Tsunotarou had cuddled up to you just this morning.

You finally turn back to him. He’s watching you. Again. With a slight head tilt this time, his dark ears standing straight, as though he’s curious. You approach the fox to sit beside him on the couch. Once you begin your soft pets, he places his head into your lap.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. Big bad Leona won’t hurt you. I don’t know what’s up with him today. He’s probably just spooked from all the dead animals that have been showing up around the area. I mean, what does he expect, we live in the woods.”

Tsunotarou picks himself up from the couch. You expect him to jump off, maybe even try to escape through the door. Instead, he plants himself fully in your lap, curling up into a tight little ball.

Even the overwhelming cuteness of the situation is too much for you to ignore how strange it is. As you stroke your hand across his fur once again, you wonder how this wild fox could be so tame. Was he someone’s pet once? He had no collar, but he could’ve been lost years ago.

With the warmth of the fox in your lap, it’s easy to drift off to sleep for a quick nap.

Tsunotarou’s gone when you wake up. At first you think he’s just gone off to explore the house, but you’ve checked every room and he’s nowhere to be found. Which would normally be fine (he is a wild animal after all, he deserves to be where he belongs) except for the fact that no doors nor windows were open or broken. Tsunotarou had disappeared with no explanation.

You awaken to a familiar warmth, the brush of something soft against your bare legs.

“Were you hiding somewhere Tsunotarou?” You smile, eyes still closed as you snuggle against- skin?

“Not hiding. I had some business to attend to.”

Your eyes pop open as whatever is in your bed circles its arms around you, letting out a scream as two very human eyes stare back at you. You scramble out of its hold.

“What the hell?! Who are you? Get out of my bed!”

He pouts. “You just said yourself, I’m Tsunotarou.”

“No, Tsunotarou is a-” It’s only then you take notice of the dark ears poking out of his head and the three tails swaying behind him. “How did you- never mind, just get out of my bed first! Who told you you could be there?”

He steps out from your sheets, thankfully clothed in a loose black kimono. “My apologies. Children of man have changed much since I last spoke to one. I did not realize I would alarm you with my presence in this form.”

“So what, you’re some kind of monster?”

Malleus frowns. “I prefer the term creature. Monster suggests something…wicked.”

“Alright, creature then.” You narrow your eyes. “What kind?”

He approaches you and ruffles your hair, sharp claws dragging gently against your scalp before you have the chance to pull away. “Surely you can guess by my form. Have you truly never encountered a kitsune before?”

“A kitsune? I thought they were only tales told by bored grandparents.”

“I’m a mori kitsune, so it’s understandable you’ve never seen my kind before. But it’s likely you’ve met a different kind of kitsune who prefers the more…urban spaces that children of man typically occupy.”

“You don’t like being around humans?”

He hums. “I wouldn’t say that’s true. Rather, the opposite seems to be the case. Most children of man find me…unsettling, despite my best efforts.” He makes eye contact, a small smile appearing on his face. “But not you. You took care of me.”

“When…when I thought you were a fox.”

“Technically, I am still a fox,” he says cheekily.

You glare weakly, but your ire doesn’t seem to break his good mood.

You’re out gathering herbs for dinner when you spot it. A trickle of deep red, so dry it almost looks brown, which builds into a streak across the ground, as though whatever left it behind was dragged as it thrashed.

Although you know you live in a forest full of wild animals, the scenes you’ve come across recently have been…odd. Brutal. As though whatever’s been killing and eating the animals has a strangely horrifying way of committing the act, leaving behind carnage, but never a body.

You force yourself to shake off the unsettling feeling and return back home once you’re done.

“Hello, my dear.”

You jump slightly at the voice. Tsunotarou sits on your couch when you return. You’d asked him to leave the previous day, after your long bouts of questioning left you exhausted and unable to deal with all the information. He seems to have returned to reclaim the same place he occupied as a fox. You don’t bother asking how he got in.

“Hello…Tsunotarou? It feels strange to keep calling you that made up name…do you plan to offer your own?” you ask as you put away the things you’d gathered in your cupboards.

He waits for a moment to respond, considering your words. “I suppose I can, although I do not mind your other name for me. You may call me Malleus, if you wish.”

“Malleus, huh. Why do I feel like I’ve heard your name before?”

“Perhaps in another lifetime, you spoke it often,” his smile grows as you turn around and look at him skeptically. “Just jesting, of course.”

You roll your eyes when you turn around. He’s certainly made himself comfortable with you; you can’t really say the same, considering how long you’ve known each other.

Still, you’re so unsettled by what you’ve been seeing for the past few weeks, you risk allowing him to believe you’re closer than you are to have someone to talk to about it.

“You wander out in the woods at night, right? Have you seen the blood and…things, left behind by something?”

His reply is delayed, but you barely take notice. “Yes, I have.”

“Isn’t it disturbing? I just keep thinking, what’s moved into the forest to do something like that, like it’s some kind of performance of torment instead of an animal eating to survive.”

Malleus only hums, offering you no comfort. “I never considered that.”

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence. You start on dinner, and he seems content to watch you from the couch. Since he’s already here, you offer to make a larger portion so he can have some as well.

“Thank you, but I’ve already dined today,” he replies.

It’s only once you’ve finished cooking and have settled into your kitchen table that Malleus makes his way from the couch to occupy the seat across from you.

You’re halfway through your soup when a question forms in your head.

“Malleus, how did you get hurt when I found you?” You look up at him, his green eyes finding yours.

Another pause before he answers. “It was a mere tussle with a…friend.”

“A friend did that to you? I thought you were going to die?!”

“Well, perhaps he would not consider me a friend. And while your concern is certainly endearing, I was in no true danger. Did you happen to notice how fast my wounds healed?”

“I guess I did…” Although it raises the question why he’s so insistent on clinging to you when you barely did anything to care for him, let alone save his life. “Your friend…where is he now?”

“Across the field. What children of man call ‘your neighbour’.”

“Leona? Leona did that to you? How is that even possible, I thought kitsune are infinitely stronger than humans?”

“Is that what he told you?” Malleus drawls.

“No, you’re the one who told me…what do you mean?”

He sighs in understanding. “Never mind, I suppose that is his business to tell you.”

“To tell me what?”

“Why don’t you pay your ‘friend’ a visit? It seems you have some things to discuss.”

Leona answers within a few seconds of your knocking, standing in the doorframe. When you stare at him without saying anything, his tail starts swishing in discomfort. Since when has he had a tail?

“You need something, herbivore? That little fox causing you trouble?”

You ignore his question. “Can I come in?”

He doesn’t reply, swinging the door open and stepping out of the way. You take off your shoes at the door and head into his living room.

“Make yourself at home, I guess,” he grumbles, following you.

You turn around to face him. “Why did you hurt Malleus? How do you even know a kitsune?”

“‘Malleus,’ is he now? What happened to Tsunotarou?”

“I didn’t know he wasn’t just a fox, okay? You didn’t tell me, but apparently you knew this whole time?”

He looks away from you. “I figured the problem would resolve itself. Kitsune aren’t exactly known for sticking around humans. Unfortunately, it seems he’s taken an interest in you.”

“And you fought him? Do you have a death wish? There’s no way a human could take on a kitsune!”

“I’m not- never mind. Let’s just say I was in an…altered state of mind. Wasn’t thinking clearly. Can we leave it at that?”

“That’s all you’re going to give me? No explanation for why you attacked him? Are you responsible for all the brutal animal killings too?”

Leona rolls his eyes. “You’re accusing me? Like you don’t already know how those happened.”

“What?”

“You can’t be serious. Are you really this obtuse?”

“Just spit it out, Leona.

“Malleus is the one who eats them, idiot. He’s a fox who likes to play with his prey”

“But- his fox form is petite? How is that possible?”

Leona rolls his eyes. “He can go from fox to human but that’s your concern? He’s magic and a trickster, so don’t believe everything your senses tell you.”

You think Malleus has left by the time you return from Leona’s, but he’s really made himself at home in your bedroom instead. You don’t bother addressing it yet.

“Why did you lie to me?”

His eyes look up from his book. Your book. “I have never lied to you, child of man.”

“Leona told me the truth! I know you’re the one who’s been killing those poor animals. How can I trust you, no, feel safe around you after you lied, and did…all that.”

“Your ‘neighbour’ is just the same as me. Do you no longer trust him as well?”

You sit down beside him on the bed. “Leona’s a kitsune?”

Malleus chuckles. “No. He has lied to you, though. He is not human but wolf. He hunts, just the same as I do. He just happens to be better at cleaning up his messes, I suppose.”

“I…I guess that makes sense. But that’s different. I know Leona, he’s my friend. And he doesn’t torment his prey.”

Malleus’ ears sag and he pouts. “I believed we were friends as well. We dined together. I slept in your bed.”

“When I thought you were an animal! Now you’re somebody else.”

“I am the same. It wounds me terribly that you’d change your opinion of me based on my appearance.” He sighs. “I suppose it’s only natural. Others often judge me quickly as well.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You know it’s not like that. If I’d met you like this, I wouldn’t have…”

“Wouldn’t have treated me so kindly?”

“No, I just…I don’t know how it is for you kitsune, but for humans, sharing a bed is…”

“Intimate?” he offers. “I am aware. I simply believed you were enamoured with me. ‘Love at first sight,’ isn’t that what children of man like to say?”

“You were a fox,” you deadpan.

“And now, I am human. Primarily.” His ear twitches. “I know now that changes things, but perhaps it is for the better? There’s many things I’ve yet to try in this form, and now I have my own child of man to teach me. Delightful, isn’t it?”

“Hm, I guess so. You can’t sleep with me, though.”

He tilts his head. “In what sense?”

You try to flick him on the forehead but he stops you, linking his hand with your own instead. “Do you even know how- uh-”

He laughs. “Yes, I am aware how children of man mate.”

“Never mind, we’ve gotten off track.” You glare at him. “I’m still angry with you.”

“I am aware. I find your flushed look quite compelling.”

“I wish you hadn’t lied to me.”

“Technically, I hadn’t. You never asked if it was I who killed them.” He shakes his head. “Kitsune must eat, but I would have never done so in that manner, if I had known it would be upsetting to you. I haven’t since our conversation, and I will not going forward, I promise you, dear child of man.”

“You’d do that? For me?”

“Of course. Anything for you, my darling.”

“But why? I’ve barely done anything for you?”

“You offered me kindness, which is in short supply for kitsune. And I find I quite like your abode.” He moves closer, catching your chin in his hand and turning you to face him. “I would enjoy spending more time here, if it would be permissible to you?”

“I guess that would be okay…but no funny business.”

His lips twitches. “None at all.”

Despite his inexperience with humans, Malleus learns how to settle into your life well. Tonight, he’s even insisted on cooking for you. He’s been practicing for a while, so you’re intrigued to finally try what he’s prepared.

As he plates the food in front of you, the smell wafts until you’re practically drooling. You catch him with a self-satisfied smile from the corner of your eye, as he watches you feast on the food he’s made for you.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s very good, thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Once the two of you finish your food, you take a seat beside one another on the couch. Malleus pulls out a small pouch. “I have something for you, my child of man.”

“A gift? You didn’t have to, Malleus.”

“I wished to. Now please, present me your hand.”

He takes your hand gently into his grip and straps on a stunning silver bracelet. It’s slim, but engraved with symbols, each segment a different kind.

“Thank you, Mal. I love it. Where did you get it, all the way out here?”

“I have had it in my possession for a very long time. Centuries, perhaps. It holds a protection spell from a strong mage. It will protect you, as you once protected me.”

You don’t know what to say, so you turn to hug him instead. You throw your arms around Malleus, squeezing him. It takes no longer than a moment for him to squeeze back.

It’s an hour later, once you’re in the middle of a game of chess, that Malleus speaks while moving his pawn.

“Do children of man desire life mates? I’ve observed, you live all by your lonesome.”

“A partner? Yeah, but not many options living out here.” You move your knight.

“Surely, there are some you might consider.” He moves another pawn.

“Nah, I’m not interested in Leona like that.”

“I did not mean the wolf. Someone a bit closer to yourself. Perhaps in this very room.”

“If you want to say something, you should say it. Humans prefer that.”

“Duly noted. Child of man, I desire to be your mate.”

The next time Leona comes to drop off your exchange of goods, he enters without announcing himself and accidentally gets an eyeful of you and Malleus making out on your couch.

“Leona! Knock much?!”

“Hello, Kingscholar.”

“Draconia.”

You shift your eyes between the two of them. It’s not exactly tense, but there seems to be no love lost between them.

Leona turns back to you. “So, you’re shacking up with him now?” His face scrunches up. “Do I need to prepare myself for little hybrid brats running around here sometime soon?”

“Says you, Mister I-forgot-to-mention-I’m-a-werewolf.”

Leona snickers. “I didn’t forget, I just didn’t feel like telling you. Humans can be annoying about those kinds of things.” He glances back to Malleus at your side. “Guess I didn’t have to worry about that, huh?”

“They are more kind than most humans, to be sure.”

“Right, and you’re not just saying that because you’ve been scr-”

“Leona!” you cut him off. “Thank you for bringing the meat. Your veggies and herbs are on the counter in the brown bag.”

He grabs his things and heads out the door, pausing to drop one last cheeky comment: “I guess if I hear you screaming, I shouldn’t worry this time. Maybe just for your legs.”

Malleus chuckles. “I will be gentle.”

“Hey, don’t enable him!”

A/N: Inspired by Hozier’s “It Will Come Back” !!!

don’t let me in with no intention to keep me / jesus christ, don’t be kind to me / honey, don’t feed me, it will come back ~

#wrote this for halloween but alas…#finished it six months later ahaha #every post i make is just ‘listen to hozier’ propaganda #twst x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland

969 notes · View notes

kirans-wonderland · 2 months

Text

What a Cuddly Croc pt.2 (nsfw)

pt. 1 here

mdni. (au where night raven is actually college aged)

wc: 1,926 - cw: gender neutral reader, biting, cuddlefucking, cockwarming?, dry humping, mating behaviors? (not proofread yet)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Night Raven College was still enveloped by the cold weather of the winter. Sebek had only grown clingier as the days grew colder. It was as if the first night you cuddled him had shattered his barriers like they were delicate glass. He subtly invited you over to Diasomnia almost every night saying that you were the only thing that kept him warm enough. Despite being borderline desperate, he had never ventured to Ramshakle during the cold nights. He couldn't leave Malleus in possible danger. That outweighed his desire for warmth.

That was until one night, you didn't show up. He had invited you. You said you would come. So where were you? He gave you 15 minutes before he was on his way to Ramshakle. Something was different tonight. Malleus be damned. His steps were quick and heavy. He feared the worst. But what he found was simple and relived his tension. You had simply fallen asleep at your desk, your cheek pressed against the text of the book. His heartrate slowly lowered as he took in the sight. "How foolish.. if you are tired, go to your bed" He muttered. Why had he gotten so worried? You weren't his lord. He shook off those thoughts with great haste. He was going to just move you to your bed, but his eyes caught the stack of extra blankets that lay at the foot of her bed. He was drawn to them and before he knew it, he was placing them all on your bed.

The blankets were all different styles and patterns. One he recognized as the Diasomnia dorm blanket. Had someone from every dorm given you an extra blanket? Why did that make his heart tighten? He had arranged all of the blankets very carefully... almost like a nest. He thought he was done and that it was perfect. Then his gaze landed on a pile of your shirts and sweaters near your wardrobe. He remembered you telling him about how the bar in your wardrobe broke and you couldn't hang anything up anymore. He needed them. He had never spent so much time just preparing to cuddle. Something was different tonight.

Finally he had completed his nest. Blankets, clothes, your scent, Grim.... Grim. He was in the way. Sebek scooped him up to move him to a nearby chair. Though Sebek wasn't gentle, Grim remained asleep. Only the smell of a tuna can could wake him. Sebek then moved over to your desk chair and picked you up with the highest gentility. He looked down at your peaceful sleeping face that had fallen against his chest. Another pang of tightness struck his heart. First he laid you gently in the mass of blankets, on your side. He laid down behind you and pulled your warm body to his. His form curling around yours was what started to bring you back to conciousness.

He heard your soft murmmers and knew he had woken you. "It's just me" He whispered so you wouldn't panic. He heard the small smile in your voice as you responded to him. "mmm... Seb.. m'sorry.. I must have fallen-" "Shh, it's alright. I.. I was not worried" He lied. He was a bit embarassed at how worried he had been.. About a mere human. "It's.. warmer than normal" Your mumbles got more coherent as you woke up. You saw the blankets and the clothes surrounding the two of you. It reminded you of.. "You made a nest?" Sebek's grip tightened a little at your words. "It is colder tonight". You hummed in response as it seemed logical, so you went on cuddling in a comfortable silence.

Normally he would remain completely still with a firm grip when you cuddled, but that wasn't the case tonight. It started with his hand rubbing your side and back slowly. Then it progressed into his nose rubbing against the nape of your neck. His breathing was heavy and you could swear he was letting out soft growls with every exhale. "Sebek?' That was all you needed to say before he pulled you tighter to his body. "I do not know.. I do not know what is happening.. I need you closer. Closer than this" Even though you were already flush to him, he still needed you closer. “Why do I need you… I need you” You turned your head to look at him as he lay behind you. His breathing was labored, his lips were slightly parted and his eyes seemed to glow in the pale moonlight. You’d never seen him like this. You were worried. “Sebek-“ You tried to sit up but his grip tightened like he was holding you down. “No. Do not leave me. Do not move.” His fingers lightly dug into your body and his face buried firmly in the crook of your neck. You could only lay there, trapped and thinking about what was happening. What was wrong? Then something struck you. Something Jack had explained to you a while ago after he had been absent. It lined up.. “Sebek? … do faes go into heats like beastmen do?” You asked tentatively.

His nuzzling stopped and he stilled again. It was a long silence. "Yes.. most do.. but, I am.. because I am.." He thought that this shouldn't be a thing for him due to his partial fae heritage. "I should not be.." He went quiet in his thoughts. "Seb, all these blankets.. you're basically nesting" He grunted. "No. No it is just for warmth" He was trying to convince himself. He was conflicted. If he had all these behaviors, why were they only surfacing now? Was it because he had been to busy before? Now, he had let himself get distracted and allowed someone into his life with a sliver of intimacy. That had awakened his need. His now overwhelming need for carnal closeness. "It may be, that you are.. correct" He said slowly. "I need... I need you" You could hear the desperate rasp in his tone.

You pressed yourself further back against his body, giving him permission. Almost instantly his hips began into you again and again from behind slowly. He groans and grunts into the back of your neck with every movement. His arms were tight around your torso. It was oddly comforting, being surrounded by soft blankets and the warmth of his firm body. You heard his breathing grow heavier and sharper as his humping grew quicker. "Not enough.. not enough.. I need more... more" You felt him shifting behind you and heard the clinking of his belt. His hands went to your hips and squeezed then firmly before slipping down your bottoms. His fingers and nails ran along the skin of your thighs and ass. He pulled your hips flush with his. You could feel his already hard cock slip between the plush of your buttcheeks. He groaned in bliss at the sensation of your soft, warm skin around his aching length. It was all he could think and care about.

He had accepted it now. He was in a heat and it was your fault. You were the reason he felt so.. weak. "Your fault.. you have to.. fix it" Sebek grumbled out through grunts. His teeth grazed along the skin of your shoulders and neck. The slight sharpness of his canines caused you to shiver. At the same time his teeth finally clamped down on the crook of your neck, he pushed into your hole. His first thrusts were deep and slow. His body was practically trembling as he held you desperately tight. His hand left your waist and his arm hooked under your thigh. Lifting it, he placed it over his own legs. That shift in position caused him to slip in deeper. His hips stuttered as your own shifted against his. "Sebek.. oh gods.. Sebek.." He growled in response to your moan. "Just, stay.. please.. I need it.."

He began to thrust again. Though his thrusts weren't fast, they were hard and deep. But he also couldn't keep a steady rythm. It was his desperation mixed with his inexpierence. Your hand reached back and found his hair. One of his arms was around your chest while the other couldn't stay still. He gripped your thigh, hip, waist, arms, everywhere. He was lost in you, lost completely in the feeling and warmth. Right now, there was no way he would have known it was winter. For the first time in the season he was hot. He was quickly getting addicted to this and to you.

He let out a deeper growl and you found yourself suddenly lifted on top of him. Your back was laid against his chest, your legs spread over his with his dick still inside you. Your head laid by his and you looked into his green eyes. His pupils looked more reptilian than they ever had. Both of you were breathing heavily. Your hand touched his cheek and it seemed to uncloud his lustful mind. "I.. I do not know. why I am feeling this way.." His eyes were locked onto yours, his hands on your stomach but he didn't move. It became comfortable to just lay like that with him inside you. "Like what Seb?' "Like I do not want to let you go.. I feel about you the same way i feel about Malleus but... ill. I wish to protect you but I feel I cannot breathe and my heart races. I feel weak, but I cannot be weak and protect you. I-" You finally quieted him from his rant. "Sebek, it sounds to me that you have feelings for me.. the romantic kind"

This made him freeze. He was always so dedicated to his duties, could he have really let himself fall in love? "I mean, you at least like me enough to try and.. mate with me." You continued. "What?" You chuckled at his confusion despite the intimate position he had you in. "Isn't heat like a mating season? You having the desire to be intimate with me should be an indication of your feelings." He thought about what you said for a moment before his mind clouded with desire again. His hands once again gripped your hips tightly. You knew there would most likely be bruises there the next morning in the shape of his finger pads.

You couldn't find space in your mind to care as he lifted your hips and slammed them down on his cock repeatedly. You didn't think that anything could feels this deep. The sound was stolen from your throat as he bit your neck again while continuing to bounce you on his length. Your orgasm washed over you with a searing heat. The feeling of your warmth pulsing around him and your hand gripping his arm caused him to spiral. With a growl, he lifted you off of him before cumming on his lower stomach. It was surprising that in his desperation he had enough of a mind to pull out. You look out the panting and stunned man with a soft smile. He opened his eyes and his eyes locked with yours. He could read the look in your eyes like a book. "I may be carnal, but I am not stupid" A chuckle was pulled from your lips at his words. You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "you dork~"

After a bit of cleanup, the two of you fell asleep, basking in the warmth of your intimate connection.

#kirs spicy writing desk #twst #twisted wonderland #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek #sebek x reader #twst fics #twst x reader #twst smut #sebek zigvolt smut #twisted wonderland smut #sebek smut

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omenics · 9 months

Note

Hello! I think your Carmilla writing was really nice and was wondering if you could do a request for Alucard, where the reader was also there to help beat his father but stayed behind with him for support etc., a soft romantic relationship would be lovely.

Thank you and don't feel pressured to write this.

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄.

› ..tender moments with your beloved. — sorry this took so long! but here it is. written with fem reader in mind, but written as gn. lmk if i missed anything/used gendered terms for reader!

“It’s late.”

“Vampires don’t need to sleep.” His voice was quiet. Soft. The fire roared beside him, but your night clothes were thin, and even with the flames you shivered.

“You are not a full vampire,” you stated. “You can enjoy the simple luxuries that sleep offers. Come to bed.”

Your final words came close to a plea, a beg, to which he sighed at. He could not refuse such a simple offer, especially not from you as you stood in the doorway, arms crossed as you watched him carefully. He would not hurt you, you knew this, but you watched him. You watched his slight movements and twitches, watched his chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. God, he was perfect. Even in the tranquil time of twelve o’clock with dishevelled hair and tired eyes, he was perfect.

He was silent for a while, wood crackling to fill the void.

“Okay,” he said, and he stood. The book in his pale hands shut, and his gaze lingered on the fireplace before he turned to you. His frame was illuminated in an orange light, twinkled with gold that pronounced his blond hair, and his features.

A smile played at your lips, corners twitching up as you moved towards him, taking his pale hands in yours. They were cold, or colder than most. But they were still steady, and you held them with a familiar touch. Your thumbs swiped across the back of his hands, caressing the pale skin as your eyes darted up to his. “Good.” You said, smiling. “Come, the bed had gotten cold. I will need someone to warm me,” you joked, and he let out a breath. A soft smile, different to your coy grin made its way to his face before he shook his head at you.

“Ah, I see.” Adrian mused. “You only wish for me to be a bedwarmer. How hurt am I.” You chuckled at his words, laugh quiet. Your shoulders shook slightly, and your grin grew.

“Precisely. Now come, my love. Join me.” And he did, leaving the hearth of the fire and into a cold, cold bed waiting minute by minute to be warmed by two lovesick idiots.

#› ..signature spells !#guys i posted smth finally #alucard x reader #adrian tepes x reader #adrian x reader #castlevania x reader #alucard castlevania x reader #alucard tepes x reader #alucard tepes #alucard castlevania #adrian tepes #castlevania imagine #alucard imagine #castlevania #idk what else to tag for real #idk if i like the ending but i wrote this in a span of an hour 💔💔

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violetrainbow412-blog · 6 months

Text

Roses are red... [W. W]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

[Timothée masterlist]

If you want to request something, leave it in my inbox!

A noise in the distance was responsible for waking you up from your not-so-pleasant sleep in the hard, cold bed that you had been using for almost a year. Could it be Scrubbit? It was too late for her to be doing anything, you thought, much less in the bedroom section. With some curiosity you slipped your cold feet into the even colder shoes to turn on the lamp on your table and left the room with the intention of discovering what that was.

Hallways always made you nervous and the thought of encountering something unpleasant made you even more uneasy, but you tried to keep your mind occupied with something else as you moved forward step by step. Seeing nothing outside the rooms, you continued down the spiral stairs and that was where you finally observed the cause of the commotion: a crouching body that made you jump in surprise.

“Mr. Wonka?” you whispered when you noticed the burgundy coat and this time it was your turn to startle.

“Oh, it's just you,” he laughed, a little more relieved “What are you doing here?”

“The noise woke me up. What are you doing here?” you asked back, seeing him fully dressed and with his shoes on.

“Trying to get out. I need to get an ingredient to finish tomorrow's chocolates” he explained to you.

True, tomorrow would be the big day where you guys would do your best to present your friend's chocolates to the world. You had to admit that at first you hadn't been fascinated by the idea, but after seeing all the good things that this had brought for the entire group you were more than willing to continue supporting in whatever way you could. That was why the next day you would sneak into the gourmet galleries during the day to help operate the shop that Abacus and Noodle had managed to rent. And you could tell that Wonka could barely contain his excitement.

“How do you plan to go out at this time?” you asked, as it was obvious that your usual exit through the laundry tube wasn’t an option.

“There's a space big enough for someone to get out in that part, see?” he murmured, pointing with his cane at a gap above the front door “I just need to get a good grip on this rope and I can climb up there. I will pull it to the other side and before dawn I will climb again.”

“And what if Scrubbit sees you?”

“She won't,” Wonka whispered, completely sure of himself. There was a brief silence between you, where you just looked at him with a certain claim and he returned that look with an amused "Do you want to come with me?"

"What? No!"

"Come on! It will be fun"

“I'm in my pajamas,” you said through clenched teeth.

“Then put on different clothes,” he quickly resolved, with a smile that was too enthusiastic for your liking. Looking at your doubtful expression he added: “It will only be a few hours, don't you want to get out of here?”

Although you were a little hesitant, after thinking about it a little and with the help of the man's hopeful expression you ended up being convinced. Making as little noise as possible you went up to your room to dress properly and when you returned he was already sitting on a step, waiting for you.

“I hope you know what you're doing,” you whispered close to him, half excited and half scared to death by what you were about to do.

You had gone out before, of course, but you knew that doing it at night was even riskier for many reasons you didn't want to think about right now.

He went first, just to check that everything was safe, and then you followed him, albeit with a little less grace. When you were above the door he reminded you to pull the rope for the time to return and when you looked at the height at which you were the idea of going down became less promising than at the beginning.

“Jump and I'll catch you” he exclaimed, noticing your frightened expression and you took a moment to try to calm down by breathing deeply.

You analyzed your options and thought that in that position you would have to go down anyway, and it was preferable to do it outwards, so without thinking too much about it you made a sign to the boy and then threw yourself forward with your eyes closed. You heard him exhale in surprise and the next thing you felt were his arms holding you, perhaps too tightly, as he feared you were going to fall suddenly.

"Are you okay?" he laughed softly, quite close to your ear. Upon hearing that you opened your eyes only to meet his, as green and beautiful as a pair of emeralds.

“Yes, everything is perfect” you sighed, and then he gently placed you on the floor. Without even expecting it you had already giggled too.

“Okay, go ahead.”

Without questioning him, you began to walk behind him and when you were a couple of streets away you were able to breathe more calmly, as if the weight of your captors had been reduced on your shoulders. Due to the schedule of your visits abroad, you hadn’t had the opportunity to appreciate the beautiful lights around you and you were sure that at that moment you looked like a child fascinated by them.

“They're pretty, right?” Wonka asked, confirming your hypothesis completely. Seemingly he had been watching you look at the decorations.

“They are,” you answered timidly. “What precisely are we looking for?” you asked next, still a little distracted by the environment, but trying to get his attention away from you.

“Some young rose leaves to make an infusion for the chocolate roses. I saw a full garden near the park the other time, when we were returning to the laundry. I think they can be useful”

“Are you feeling nervous?” you murmured gently, giving him your full attention now as you crossed your arms to keep some warmth. “About tomorrow.”

“A little… well, a lot actually. But in a good way,” he smiled “The truth is that I have never felt so nervous and excited in my life. All this is like a dream come true”

“I hope it’s perfect,” you murmured and you said it with sincere faith.

You had tried so hard to achieve all this that you were not only looking to do it to pay off your debt with Scrubbit, but also to see your new friend happy. And how would you not want that? Seeing him happy was a wonderful sight.

"Are you cold?" he asked, noticing that your figure was slightly curled in on itself. Apparently he was noticing a lot more than you would like.

"Only a little"

You were going to add that you were fine with it, but suddenly he stopped you by jumping in front of you and when you were about to ask what was happening, he undid the scarf around his neck to wrap it around yours. His movements were careful and the closeness forced you to hold your breath, only for your nostrils to then be flooded with the boy's aroma combined with the cheap detergent with which he had surely washed the garment.

"Better now?" the man smiled and since you didn't have time to assimilate the situation you just nodded, without stopping looking at him just because he kept looking at you.

You thought maybe this was what it would feel like to hug the boy, even though you had never done it, and then you hid your nose in the soft fabric. It had purple and green patterns on a gray background, quite pretty actually.

“The… the park. It’s there,” you stammered, pointing to a point behind your friend.

When he turned around he could see the rose bushes in the distance and let out an exclamation of joy, while his warm hand sought your wrist to guide you in their direction, causing a shiver to run through your entire body.

When you walked through the place and reached the plants he knelt next to the bushes, starting to rant about how functional these flowers would be, whether it was their leaves, the color, the shape... he listed more and more qualities, but you just could focus on the feeling on your neck and the warm ghost of his fingers on your skin.

And in that moment it was as if you had suddenly noticed something about him that you hadn't noticed at first; that there was some tenderness in his features that made you feel nervous or maybe it was his thin, skillful hands walking through the branches or even, daring to sound exaggerated, you would say that you suddenly noticed how handsome he really was. How did you notice it until now?

He said something and then you asked him to repeat it, since you had been too busy watching him to pay attention to his words.

“I asked you if you think any would be useful,” he said again. You took a look at the bush in front of you and pointed towards the first specimen you found, hoping that the talk would take away the thoughts that had invaded your mind.

To your surprise it turned out that the rose you had pointed out was quite pretty and, according to the requirements you remembered, it was perfect for the man's purposes. After congratulating your choice, he took out some scissors from his hat and carefully cut out the flower, to keep it in the same piece of fabric as the others that he had already selected.

“These roses will make the best chocolates, I can already imagine it,” he said with some pride, looking at the pile of plants you had. You hadn't even looked when he cut so many.

"They are beautiful"

"Yes, they are. And this one is for you."

If you had managed to get rid, even for a moment, of romantic thoughts towards him, right now he wasn't being very cooperative. Not when he was offering you the prettiest rose with such a sweet smile.

Why was he doing that? You did not know. Maybe he was just being kind and grateful, like he was most of the time.

“Huh, thank you, Mr. Wonka…”

“Be careful, he still has some thorns,” he warned you, “And stop calling me Mr. Wonka. “We are friends and my friends call me Willy.”

A small smile invaded your face and it was lucky that you were able to hide the blush on your cheeks with the excuse of inhaling the scent of the rose. It was exquisite, by the way.

“Then thank you, Willy,” you corrected yourself, to which he showed a satisfied expression.

And then a pleasant tickling invaded your stomach because, whether they were real flowers or chocolate flowers, it would always be a pleasure to receive such a cute detail from such a cute boy.

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka movie #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #willy wonka #roald dahl #wonka fanfic #willy wonka 2023 #wonka fanfiction #wonka x fem reader

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yanderenightmare · 3 months

Text

L "Lawliet"

rewatched Death Note and just couldn't resist...

TW: strict schooling ig, orphan reader, creepy behavior

gn reader

You were placed in Wammy’s House at an age you don’t remember. To you and most of the orphans here, it’s been your entire lives. Birthdays aren’t celebrated. The days are cold, the residents even colder. There was a time when you’d consider them brothers and sisters, but that’s also long ago now. No one is close to each other in this house.

It’s a rather stale existence with boring conditions unfit for normal children – the solitude, the competition, the games, always a ploy to make each other feel worthless. And for what… more riddles to solve?

You’d long lost interest in proving yourself among the prodigies. When you were given puzzles, you always played with them differently than the rest. They’d tell you to fill out the sheets, and you ended up making origami swans instead.

Looking around at the others, you knew you would never understand them – all blank faces staring into space. They all make you uneasy. You don’t know if it’s you or them that’s missing something, but you recognize it’s a rather pointless question to be begged.

So you leave your paper flock on the floor and walk away.

You’d started putting the chisel of a black marker to the library books in your spare time – trying to make something else out of the boring pages. Something more palatable than the droning of law and policy you’d already read ten times over.

You had blacked out the word doppelganger when there came a disturbance.

“You had 84% of them right.”

You peeked up from the book, lowering your knees from where you had them tucked close for privacy – sitting on the floor between two bookshelves – a little nook you’d discovered to hide yourself from the rest of the busy readers in the usually crowded library.

It was empty now. Everyone was otherwise busy with the test still.

And yet, a mess of black hair was crouched down in front of you, shadowing his equally dark eyes. He held your swans unfolded in his hands. It was a disturbing sight for some reason – as though he’d dissected their guts.

“You left 16% unanswered. Most people would test their luck and guess.”

L must have been the least creative alias born in the dull walls of Wammy’s House, and yet, he’s supposed to be the brightest of all those living there. He always finishes your tests early and leaves in favor of his own devices. Much like you, you suppose. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak before.

Suppose it’s only courtesy you pay him the same effort even when what you really want is to tell him to leave you alone…

You narrowed your eyes a bit, looking at him.

You sensed foul play in a game you had no wish to partake in but moved across the board like a sacrificial pawn anyway. That’s how you play these things, after all – never show your cards.

“There’s nothing to guess.” You sigh – despite knowing he already knows all this. “The blanks are trick questions.”

“So you noticed, too?” His eyes are like inkblots – much like those spills you’ve made in your book when you let the marker rest too long. He dropped your papers between you in favor of gripping his knees, leaning forward. “We’re the only ones.”

You purse your lips at his eagerness. You should have played dumb from the start – should have said you swiped the answer sheet from the headmaster’s office. He’d only spoken all but four sentences, and you were already exhausted. Any conversation with any one of your peers was like an interrogation.

“You started folding paper cranes when I was 94% done. Easy logistics would put you 6% ahead of me. But, unlike me, it didn’t seem you were filling out the answer sheets in any hurry. In fact… you seemed bored. And in that case, I’d put you around 16%, no... 18% ahead of me.”

You allowed the following silence to inform him that his ramblings were boring you. But it didn't seem he took the hint – showing no signs he planned on leaving.

Your eyes grew more jaded.

“Paper swans.” You corrected blandly. “You know my alias is Swan.”

You clapped your book together and sighed again.

“And we both know you were finished long before I started folding them.”

He had a small smile on his face. It looked as if you’d drawn it on with your marker.

“You can state all the percentages in the world to try and confuse me, but your mind games won’t get under my skin for one single simple reason, L…” You got up and brushed off the dust, then walked away while saying, “I’m not interested in playing – not with you or anyone else in this miserable place. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

L watches you leave and taps his lips with his pointer.

Puzzles and answer sheets have bored him for a while. Maybe he ought to play with you instead…

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yancore #yandere L #yandere death note #yandere dn #yandere l lawliet #l lawliet #death note

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zombiefiilm · 5 months

Text

It’s Cold Out Here

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer reid has just the plan to keep you warm in the car while you wait for a suspect

warnings: some mentioned with the unsub, classic cm type violence mentioned, no use of y/n, nsfw - 18+ only, making out, car sex(ish?), fingering, handjob, male oral, getting interrupted

word count: 2.1k

When you agreed to wait outside the suspected unsub's house with Spencer Reid, you did not expect it to turn into a several-hour stakeout.

You had pulled up just around the corner from the old house that looked like it was rotting from the inside out, with a perfect view of the front porch from where your black car sat, expecting the man who lived inside to leave the house to find his next victim and allow you to follow him.

His victims were all over the place, young and old, men and women, various financial status'. It just hadn't made any sense from the start and there was barely any bones to the profile at all, the only thing you all knew was that he was a man, likely between the ages of 30 and 45, who had a comprehensive knowledge of the human body and that he was somehow able to take his victims from public places in broad daylight. There didn't seem to be any sexual behaviour in these killings, the unsub killing each victim with a single gunshot to the head and cleanly taking out a different organ from each victim.

The only reason you even had a suspect in the first place was two witnesses stating that they had seen a blue Volvo Sedan that seemed to have driven off in a hurry from the locations the victims were being taken from at a similar time. Thankfully, one of the witness statements had included a partial plate, which Garcia was easily able to track down.

Prentiss and Reid had knocked on the front door earlier in the day, hoping to talk to the unsub with the premiss of him being a witness, but to no avail, the door never opened and with every curtain drawn, they had no visual of inside the home either.

Eventually, the plan had become to wait out the unsub, to follow him and pounce once there was any sign of suspicious behaviour, but it was taking significantly longer than expected.

Since the BAU had landed in Missouri, the unsub hadn't made a single move. While it was fortunate that there had been no more victims, it made it quite hard for you to get closer to finding out who he was. Through his patterns though, you were hoping that tonight would be the time for him to find his next victim.

You had gotten to your spot at around 4pm, Spencer driving and you in the passenger seat, and the blue car was still parked in the driveway. You set yourself up, expecting to be waiting for 4 or 5 hours maximum, but as the clock hit 11pm, alongside the command of staying at your 'stakeout' spot until someone walked out of that front door, you knew you were going to be in for the long haul.

Armed with a box of ritz crackers and beef jerky, you both indulged in the most depressing meal you had in a while.

"One of us should try get some sleep and the other can stay awake and watch, just so we're not both out of our minds tired tomorrow" you told Spencer, wrapping your jacket tightly around yourself, attempting to battle the cold air in the car.

"You can sleep first, I want to read through the files again, see if we've missed anything" he brushed a stray hair out of his face as he reached around to the back seat and grabbed one of the thick folders.

"Alright" you replied, tilting your seat back as far as it could go and wrapping your arms around yourself. "Wake me up in an hour".

"Got it"

"Night Reid" you closed your eyes, desperate to get some rest.

"Night".

You weren't sure how long you had been asleep, but you woke yourself up with your own shivering. The car had somehow gotten even colder in the time you were out. You groggily rubbed your eyes, turning around to see Reid engrossed by what he was reading.

"How long was I asleep?" you sat up, still shivering.

Spencer looked over at you, and then down at his watch. "About two hours".

"I told you to wake me up" you hit his shoulder, "you need to sleep too".

"I'm fine, plus you've been complaining about not sleeping well since we got here, you needed it"

You smiled at him, a little giddy over the fact that he was showing how much he cared about you.

You sat up fully now, taking another folder from the back of the car and opening it up. You knew you wouldn't be able to get back to sleep and there was no point in trying.

As time passed, you hadn't even noticed that your teeth had started clattering with the cold.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, putting down the papers in front of him. "You've been shivering for a while".

"Yeah, just really cold" you answered simply, glancing up at the house again to see nothing had changed.

"You can have my jacket" he quickly shrugged it off "I run hot".

"Are you sure? I don't want you to be cold either"

Without answering, he just leant over the centre console, and wrapped his jacket around your shoulders but stopped when his face was right in front of yours.

It felt like an eternity where you both looked into each other's eyes without a single word. Right as he went to sit back in his seat though, you grabbed his arm to stop him. You weren't even sure what your plan was but you just knew you wanted him to stay that close.

Neither of you were unfamiliar with looking at each other like that. with longing looks across the office and always sitting across from each other on the jet, it was quite clear to everyone on the team that you both felt like more that coworkers.

"I do know another way to warm you up" he gave you a bashful smile, looking anywhere but your face.

"And what's that?" you whispered, the words almost getting stuck in your throat.

He briefly looked into your eyes, and then down to your lips. You took that as your sign to lean in, gently pressing your lips to his. He almost seemed taken aback, but he quickly kissed you back, opening his mouth and slipping his tongue into your mouth.

The kiss was gentle, warming, as his hand slowly trailed from your knee up to your inner thigh. You wouldn't have expected him to be this forward, but before you knew it, his large hand was resting right over your heat, through your jeans.

He broke away from the kiss, both of you panting lightly "Is this okay?" his question was genuine as he waited for your okay before doing anything.

"Yes Spencer, please, please touch me" you hadn't expected yourself to be so desperate but the thought of his slender hands down your pants had you squirming in your seat.

The smirk that planted on his face at your desperation would be stuck in your head forever. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans and helped you tug them down to your mid thigh, quickly followed by your underwear.

The moment he saw your cunt, he practically moaned to himself, making quick moves to touch you. His fingers slowly gathered up the slick from your slit before his finger gently caught on your clit, making you jolt.

"God, you're so wet already" he whispered to himself, lifting his finger up to the light to get a good look at your juice on him. He moved his hand back down again, this time gently circling your clit.

His movements had you falling into him already, long forgetting about the freezing temperature of the car, your head resting on his shoulder as his finger travelled down to your hole.

He slowly slid his finger inside and you gasped quietly, the way you were already clenching around the single digit had Spencer rutting into the console he was leaning over.

Pumping in and out of you, he quickly added a second finger. You couldn't help but moan in his ear, your attempts to keep quiet waning as he began to curl his fingers, hitting your g-spot right on.

"H- holy shit Spence" you whined, as his fingers perfectly moved against your spongey walls. With your verbal reassurance spurring him on to please you more, he began to circle your clit with his thumb, in time with his quickening thrusts of his fingers.

All of his moves seemed thought out and calculated, like he was studying every single one of your reactions. He pressed his lips against yours once again, his tongue licking into your slack mouth in time with the movements of his hands.

It only took a few minutes before you were a mess, gentle whimpers slipping from your lips, your hips desperately jerking against his hand, desperate for your release, your hands gripping onto his forearms for stability.

As soon as he added a third finger, you knew you were done for. You squirmed in his hold as his fingers sped up, the slick sounds of your cunt filling the humid car as the coil in your stomach tightened.

"God- Fuck Spence, please, I'm gonna"

"Go on, cum for me, please" he groaned, his thumb circled faster around your clit as he pressed his own hips harder against the car, desperate for some form of release.

It was as if your body obeyed his words, seeing white as the pressure in your stomach released.

Your hips jerked into his hand as you came down from the high, Spencer's fingers still pumping in and out of you to help you ride out your orgasm.

Once you finally came down, you feverishly kissed Spencer, desperate to taste him again. You whined into his mouth as he pulled his fingers out of you, quickly missing the feeling of being so full.

As you separated again, Spencer placed his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself on his fingers. Once you licked his fingers clean, he pulled his hand back and kissed you again.

"God, you taste so good" he muttered, sloppily kissing you. It was then you noticed his shifting, desperate for stimulation on his cock.

"Let me help you now" you pushed him back into his seat, palming the crotch of his trousers.

He looked up at the door of your potential unsub, ensuring that he was still inside the house before giving you a nod. You desperately unzipped his trousers, pulling them down just far enough for you to pull out his cock.

You quickly pulled his erection out of his boxers, practically drooling at the sight. God.

The tip was red, precum smeared all over his tip, and it was big in every way.

You eagerly wrapped your hand around him, allowing a glob of your saliva to fall onto his tip before you pumped your hand up and down in small movements. You periodically swiped your thumb over his tip, spreading the pearly white liquid around.

Spencer was gripping onto the car door at your movements, his knuckles white as he desperately attempted to stop himself from bucking his hips into your hands.

Then, you decided you desperately needed to taste him. You leaned down, gently taking his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it.

Spencer, in that moment, thought he had died and gone to heaven. He couldn't stop the moans from spilling out from his mouth.

Then, you took pushed your head down as far as you could, tickling the back of your throat as the hair at the base of his cock just-about brushed against your nose. Spencer was on the verge of biting through the skin of his lips to stop himself from fucking your face.

You moved your head back up before taking him entirely in your mouth again, but then Spencer tapped your shoulder and began to lift you off of him.

"The door, the door" his words stopped you in your tracks as he rubbed some of the condensation off of the windscreen in front of him. You got off of him, straightening yourself up in your own seat and pulling up your pants as he tucked himself back into his own trousers.

"I'll get you back" you half whispered as he started the car "later".

You could see him blush lightly as he started to follow behind the unsub. Maybe getting stuck in a car with Reid for 10 hours wasn't such a bad thing.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x you smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x y/n smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencerreid #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid fluff

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fallingstqrss · 6 months

Text

kiss it better

request: can you do a one-shot just like the scene where coryo goes insane because he thinks that the reader left him in the cabin but she didn't and they just go to spend some quality time.

a/n: thank you so much for the request i love this idea!

summary: following the death of Mayflower and Billy Taupe you and coriolanus decide to flee the districts, hoping to avoid the persecution of the peacekeepers. however, when you seem to get lost in the woods coriolanus panics.

warnings: there is a brief description of mayfair's death but it's not detailed. coriolanus might be slightly ooc cause this is my first time writing him but i swear im trying my best.

Coriolanus had made a huge mistake. he hadn't meant to kill Mayfair, he just panicked. He was just going to let her leave but then you walked in, making you a part of Sejanus' horrible plan.

"What's going on?" You spoke, eyes moving from Coriolanus to the weapons that lay on the table. Coriolanus saw as your eyes widened and he hurried to comfort you. "Corio, what's going on?" You questioned again, clutching onto his bicep, hoping for reassurance.

"Y/n, it's gonna be fine-" Coriolanus started, attempting to soothe you as he ran a hand across your cheek.

"Oh, none of you are going to be fine. I'm gonna tell my Daddy what all of you did and he's gonna string you up!" Mayfair spoke in an almost taunting tone. Her threat casts a chilling shadow over the room. As Mayfair turned to leave Spruce, fueled by tension and adrenaline, raised the gun to her back.

"I can't let you leave," Spruce spoke. Y/n took an unconscious step back, recoiling from the potential for violence. Coriolanus could tell you were scared and he felt horrible for being the reason you were involved in this. His mind was racing, he knew he had to get you out of there.

"She's bluffing, she won't actually do anything." Billy Taupe defended, eager to avoid any harm that might come to his girlfriend and to deescalate the growing tension in the room.

"Really? Was I bluffing at the reaping? Tell me Lucy Gray, how did you like your time in the Capitol?" Mayfair spoke, eyes staring at Lucy Gray, who gasped. Mayfair smiled as she turned to leave. Coriolanus jumped at the opportunity, lunging for the weapon on the ground. In a single second Mayfair had fallen to the ground. You gasped, your eyes fixated on Mayfair's fallen figure. Coriolanus was quick to shield you from the unsettling sight, positioning himself in front of you.

"I need you to go home y/n. I'm going to get this figured out. But you need to go home right now and you can't look like anything is wrong," He spoke, his tone firm and filled with urgency. "y/n, please." Coriolanus spoke again when you didn't move. You had stood still, trying to process the events that had just unfolded in front of you. Finally, you looked up at Coriolanus, a nod of reluctant understanding breaking through your shock. You trusted Coriolanus, he would get you guys out of this.

Coriolanus watched you leave, a mixture of relief and worry painted on his face. Once you were out of sight, he turned back to the remaining people in the room. He was determined, now that your safety was at risk nothing else mattered.

That's how the two of you ended up here, walking through the woods, in search of life beyond the districts. Despite some attempts at small talk, the weight of the recent events hung heavily in the air. Coriolanus could sense you were struggling to come to terms with the deaths of Mayfair and, more importantly, your shared friend Sejanus.

"I just don't understand what happened. Sejanus' plan was horrible but he seemed like he was being careful," You rambled on, your voice heavy with confusion and grief. You were unaware of Coriolanus' involvement in the death of your friend. You also didn't notice the tension of the captured Coriolanus at the mention of Sejanus.

"He apparently wasn't careful enough," Coriolanus responded, his tone colder than usual, a deliberate attempt to steer away from the conversation surrounding Sejanus. He longed to focus on the two the two of you would spend together, the new life you could start. Coriolanus was taken aback when you came to an abrupt stop, forcing him to backtrack to stand in front of you. You stared up at him, your eyebrows furrowed.

"Do you not mourn for Sejanus at all, Corio?" You spoke, your eyes reflecting the sadness and confusion that weighed you down. Coriolanus felt a pang of guilt for being distant. However, the truth of Sejanus' death was a burden that he couldn't bear to share with you. He knew you would've never forgiven him.

"Of course, I do," Coriolanus spoke, his tone softer now in an attempt to console you. Coriolanus brought a hand to cup your cheek. "But, it was his actions that killed him." You still seemed unsure, offering a careful nod before turning your gaze to the ground. Coriolanus dropped his hand, moving to walk next to you again.

Eventually, the two of you arrived at the cabin shown to you by Lucy Gray and the Covey. Coriolanus couldn't shake the feeling of your silence, finding it unsettling. The two of you walked into the cabin, setting your things down. "We should fish for a while, we're going to need some food for the rest of the trip," Coriolanus suggested.

"Lucy Gray said there should be some poles under the floorboards," You spoke, avoiding eye contact with Coriolanus as you hung your belongings on the hooks by the door.

Coriolanus nodded, moving towards the boards he found to be loose. He lifted the boards, his eyes widening as he lifted the sheet to reveal the guns that had been used to kill Mayfair. You observed from across the room, a twinge of concern gracing your features. "What is it, Corio?" You questioned, his familiar nickname being a small sense of comfort in the moment of the unsettling discovery. He remained silent, picking up the gun as he turned to face you. Your breath caught in your chest as you saw the weapon, your mind flashing back to the violent events.

"It's the guns," Coriolanus stated, his eyes moving between the weapon in his arms and you. "This means we can go home," You hummed, nodding in agreement. The revelations held the promise of an escape. The promise of a way home. But, they also unearthed memories Coriolanus knew you could never fully forget.

"I'm going to see if I can find anything to eat around the lake, maybe that one root Lucy Gray mentioned," You spoke quickly, shaking your head as she grabbed one of the small shovels left near the door.

"Y/n, wait," Coriolanus spoke, sensing the uneasy energy that surrounded you. "It could be dangerous," Coriolanus spoke, his protective nature kicking in. You smiled as you recognized his instinct to protect you.

"Well, it's a good thing I've got this," You spoke, attempting a teasing tone as you held up the shovel. You could tell Coriolanus didn't quite believe you and you hurried out of the door. Coriolanus was worried for you but brushed off the interaction, trusting that you could take care of yourself. He rewrapped the guns, hoping to drop them into the lake, burying the echoes of the past.

Coriolanus stepped outside heading towards the boat. His eyes circled his surroundings, hoping to find you. However, he didn't see you. He looked around again, his breathing becoming more ragged as he called out for you. He was met with the horrifying echo of his own voice, no response from you.

You had ventured into the forest after finding that Katniss was not ready to be eaten. You had hoped to find some berries, remembering the ones Maude Ivory had collected for you to eat. You attempted to ignore the way the trees seemed to close in on you, the path you thought you knew being erased. You ignored those thought, you had been going in a straight line, there were no place to get lost along the way.

"They should be up here," You whispered to yourself, letting out a sigh as you hoped to break the silence that lay within the forest. The rustling leaves and distant calls of birds engulfed you as you moved throughout the forest.

You had been walking for a while, looking around you realized you have never been in this part of the forest, a sign that you had gone way too far. You turned in various directions, spinning around as you searched for the way you came. Panic began to set in as you quickened your pace, unfortunately leading you to venture deeper and deeper into the forest.

In her disoriented state, you failed to see the root sticking out of the ground. Her foot caught on the root, causing you to stumble forward. Desperation clawed at you as you tried to regain your balance. However, the forest had other plans.

A divot in the ground forced you to the ground as your hands reached out to break your fall. The forest floor met you with a sickening thud, your head colliding with a moss-covered rock. The world around you spun, the pain in your head intensifying with every breath you took. As your consciousness slipped away, the forest seemed to blur into a blend of green and brown, the shadows seeming to dance together in a mesmerizing rhythm.

Back at the cabin Coriolanus grew restless as he awaited your return. The seconds felt like hours as he stared at the tree line, willing you to appear. Finally, Coriolanus was sick of waiting and decided that he would find you himself.

As he ventured into the forest the trees seemed to swallow him. His breaths came out fast, each step propelling him further into the silent forest. Anxiety was clawing at his chest, hundreds of what-ifs raced in his mind.

"Y/n? Did something happen? If something happens we can talk about it!" Coriolanus shouted, pausing as he awaited a response. But he didn't receive one, he only had the rustling leaves to greet him. The silence that surrounded him was deafening.

"Y/n, please say something. I need to know you're okay," He pleaded again. The forest remained silent, offering no hope to comfort his growing concern. Fear painted vivid scenarios in his head, each one darker than the last.

"Please, y/n, if I did something I'm so sorry. We don't even have to talk about it, please just come back with me." Coriolanus pleaded. His pleas became more urgent. His mood shifted from worry to complete despare quickly.

"Please, I can't lose you too." He spoke, this plea much quieter than the previous ones. His voice broke as he spoke, his eyes searching for any clue of you. His steps quickened as he moved around the forest, his handles trembling as he pushed branches out of his way.

"Please, y/n," He called one more time, assuming the worst. He'd come to the conclusion that you left him. It was either that or you were dead, but he couldn't bring himself to grasp the idea that you were dead.

Unbeknownst to Coriolanus, you began to stir on the forest floor. The pain in your head still lingered but the sound of someone's voice distracted you from the pain. You listened more closely as you tried to sit up. Your senses were snapped back into reality when you realized that it was Coriolanus' voice you were hearing. The closer you listened you realized how distressed he sounded and it practically broke your heart. You listened again to his ever-present calls, trying to hear which direction they were coming from, his voice acting as a life-line.

"Corio," you called out weakly, standing as you braced yourself on one of the trees. Coriolanus' head snapped in the direction of your voice. He hurried in that direction, his eyes wide with fear and relief. "Coriolanus," You called out again, wondering if you had imagined him calling for you.

"Hang on y/n! I'm coming," He spoke. Relief washed over him when he finally saw you leaning up against one of the trees, Coriolanus rushed towards you. In your disoriented state you barely even realized he had found you until he engulfed you in his arms. Your senses finally started to come back to you as you reciprocated the embrace, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Coriolanus pulled away for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, he could hardly believe he'd actually found you. He'd thought you were gone for good. Your eyes met his, being met with a vulnerability from Coriolanus you'd never seen before. Coriolanus hated the way you made him felt. He hated how worried he always was for you. But, he also couldn't deny how much he loved you.

"What happened?" Coriolanus finally spoke, brushing your hair out of your face to examine the cut on your forehead.

"I was looking for those berries, the ones Maude Ivory showed us and I got lost, and then I think I tripped," you began to ramble, stopping yourself to take a breath before speaking again, "It's all kind of a blur." Coriolanus nodded as he processed what you said, unraveling his arms from you as he wrapped an arm around your waist to help guide you back to the cabin.

"Well, I think we should get you back to the cabin," Coriolanus spoke and you laughed as you nodded. You'd had enough of the woods.

Back at the cabin Coriolanus used one of the med-kits you'd brought to clean you up. Your heart swelled at how gentle he was, his hands moving cautiously over your face.

"So, will I survive?" You questioned, a smile gracing your features.

"I think you'll be okay," Coriolanus responded, a smile of his own coming across his face. But, you could tell the smile didn't meet his eyes. You could tell something was still bothering him. The sunlight pouring in from the windows illuminated the worry that was still present in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the fear he'd felt when he thought you'd abandoned him in the forest.

When Coriolanus finished cleaning the wound he set the supplies to the side and leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on the spot he'd just tended to. The warmth of his lips lingered on your forehead, a comforting gesture that transcended the physical healing.

"There, kissed it better." Coriolanus whispered as he moved away from you, cleaning up the remaining supplies of the med-kit.

Despite his comforting gesture, you couldn't ignore the concern that was still etched on his face. As he finished putting the med-kit away he turned to look at you, being met with your questioning gaze. "Corio, you've been on edge since we got back. What's wrong?" You questioned him, taking a couple steps closer to him so you could wrap your arms around his waist.

Coriolanus hesitated, his eyes betraying his turmoil of emotions. He opened his mouth to respond but the words got caught in his throat. Tension lingered in the air as you searched his face for clues on what he was feeling.

"It's nothing, y/n. Just a scare, that's all. Everything is fine." Coriolanus spoke. However, despite his attempts to comfort you, you could still sense his unease. You reached upwards, cupping his face to draw his attention.

"Come on, Corio. Talk to me," You spoke. Coriolanus sighed, he was torn between his desire to shield you from his concerns and the intimacy the two of you had always shared. Eventually, he gave in.

"I just... I can't stand the thought of anything happening to you. losing you in the woods, even if it was just for a moment, it terrified me." Coriolanus confessed softly. Your eyes softened at his confession.

"I'm right here, Corio. I'm not going anywhere." You assured, he nodded. "I love you, Coriolanus. Wherever you go, I'm gonna be there." You spoke, his words caught him off guard. The two of you had never used the word love.

"Y/n..." Coriolanus started, his eyes moving away from you. However, your hold on his face forced his attention back onto you. "I've never been good at this, relationships. I'm afraid of losing you, of not being enough." You nodded, you understood Coriolanus' insecurities as he'd previously voiced some of his concerns to you.

"Corio," You took a step closer, "I love you for who you are. I don't need you to be perfect." You assured him. Your words hung in the air, in that moment, leaning into Coriolanus, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss. Coriolanus, having been initially surprised by the kiss, eventually surrenders to the kiss. When the two of you pulled away you spoke again. "I want to go back to the Capitol, Corio."

Coriolanus looked surprised but that was overtaken by a look of happiness. He wanted nothing more than to return to his home and family, and now that you did too there was nothing stopping the two of you. "Wherever you wanna go, I'll follow you." Coriolanus spoke, repeating the words you'd said earlier, you smiled at him.

The decision being made, the two of you faced what leaving the woods meant. Coriolanus worked to dispose of the guns while you packed the remaining items you had at the cabin. As you walked out of the door you saw him pushing the boat back to shore. Coriolanus jumped out of the boat, outstretching his hand for you. You smiled at the gesture, moving to meet him, enclosing his hand with your own.

#coriolanus #coriolanussnow #snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #president snow x reader #president snow #ballad #balladofsongbirdsandsnakes #thehungergames #hungergames #lucygraybaird #sejanus #sejanusplinth #corio x reader

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freedomfireflies · 10 months

Text

Five to Go Live*

Summary: The fifth and final part to One for the Money*

Mr. Styles, your boss (and the CEO of the company you work for), offers to help you expand your OnlyFans business.

But maybe you want more.

And maybe he does, too.

Word Count: 11.5k (I have no idea what happened tbh)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Good morning, Mr. Styles.”

The tense frame of the man pacing in front of the window stills when he hears your greeting.

You’re five minutes early, coffee in hand, ready to begin your workday.

However, he doesn’t turn around as you enter his office. But the slight glimpse of his profile lets you know he’s acutely aware of your presence.

He stays by his desk, offering nothing more than his silence as you set down his drink and move for the couch.

“Good morning,” is his brisk greeting. It’s not any warmer or colder than usual. It’s just him. “Do you have the reports I asked for?”

“Right here.” You drop them onto the coffee table. “Ready for your meeting this afternoon.”

“Good.” He stares out at the city, unwilling to look you in the eye. “And you’ve confirmed with Nadia?”

“Yes. She’s calling for a driver as we speak.”

He nods once, fingers flexing beside his thighs before he finally ventures a glance over his shoulder. “And I suppose you’d like to talk to me about the other day.”

You flip open the laptop and pull up your email, eyebrow raised. “The other day?”

He turns to you, and you feel his heated stare. “I believe I owe you an explanation.”

“Not really,” you respond, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “You agreed to help me with the video, and you did. I didn’t expect you to stay, Sir.”

Your peripheral catches his slight frown. “You didn’t?”

“No.” You open his schedule and begin jotting down a few notes from Nadia’s email. “You’re not exactly the cuddling type. Probably would have been weirder if you had stayed.”

His hands disappear into his pockets as he regards you. “I never meant to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” Another shrug. “I knew what I agreed to, and now we’re done. No harm, no foul.”

The frown deepens. “Still, I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that—”

“Mr. Styles,” you interrupt, turning to face him, “I wasn’t under the illusion that things would change just because we fucked. I didn’t need aftercare, I didn’t need your words of affirmation, and I didn’t need you to stay.”

Something unrecognizable passes over his features.

You lean forward. “We’re good, Sir.”

The office goes quiet. You know him well enough by now to know what it looks like when he’s biting back a response.

And you imagine there are quite a few things he’d like to berate you for, but instead, he merely clamps his jaw shut and nods.

“All right.” He returns to his desk and takes a seat. “Let’s begin.”

The rest of the workweek carries on like usual. Things return to normal. Or at least to the way they were before he admitted to knowing about your outside activities.

And you find that you’re grateful for that. It’s much easier to only imagine him as your boss instead of your…business partner.

What happened that afternoon in the hotel room was great. Fantastic, even. But it was only ever an act of generosity. A favor, more like. He helped you exactly the way he said he would and now it’s over.

You won’t ever have to think about him like that again.

So…you don’t.

At least, you try not to. But it proves quite difficult.

After deciding against posting the whole video for your channel, and instead only uploading the part where he comes on your tits, it becomes harder to ignore what you two have done.

After all, the response is overwhelming. Positive, excited, and extremely lucrative. Most of the requests are for more of the mysterious man they’ve come to know, and you try not to feel disappointed when you realize there won’t be any more guest appearances.

You wonder if he’s watched it. Wonder if he remembers that day the way you do.

Sometimes you slip up, and you watch the beginning just to hear him talk to you. You watch the way you undress him. Watch the way he kisses you. Watch the way he drives himself inside of you and begs you to come for him.

But then it hits you. Like a fucking freight train. It won’t ever happen again, and lingering on the one time it did isn’t healthy.

So, you turn it off, and attempt to resume life as normal.

You reach out to Max to apologize yet again for what happened, and he’s incredibly understanding. He asks if you’d like to meet for drinks and go over another scene for the future.

And you agree because you will do anything to put Mr. Styles in your rearview mirror.

You don’t mention the meeting to your boss. You figure it won’t do any good, and even if he disapproved, it’s not like he would tell you.

This is your game now. Not his.

So, with a new lease on life, you head for the bar to meet with Max, eager to find out what he has in store.

He’s happy to see you. Pulling out your chair and refusing any attempts at apologies that you offer.

Which you’re more than appreciative of, although you can’t help feeling a bit guilty that he didn’t get the content he’d been wanting.

“Seriously, don’t even worry about it,” he repeats for the third time since you sat down. “Honestly. I get it, once other people get involved, it gets complicated.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, sheepishly glancing down at your lap. “But still. He shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have let him run you out like that.”

He smiles. “It’s fine. Listen, your boyfriend has nothing to worry about. Really. And we can proceed however you feel is best—”

“Oh, no, he’s…he��s not my boyfriend,” you interject, head shaking quickly. “No, he was just…nobody. He’s nobody. Anymore.”

Max studies you for a moment, seemingly curious at your insistence. “Oh? Does…he know that?”

You swallow thickly and take hold of your glass. “Yeah. He does.”

A beat before he nods.

“All right.” Max takes a swig himself. “As long as you’re sure this is something you want.”

You nod but can’t help finding yourself hesitating. “Yeah, it’s…yeah. Of course.”

His expression softens. “Boyfriend or not, he still has a hold over you, doesn’t he?”

And you grimace because you hate the way it sounds. Hate how obvious it must be to everyone else. Hate that it’s even a thing at all.

“No, he just…he’s infuriating,” you argue. “I mean, you were there. You saw what he’s like.”

“I was and I did,” he agrees with a smirk. “Infuriating is the nicer way to put it.”

“He’s a dick,” you correct, making you both smile. “But I trusted him. And I trusted his judgment. And him being so…blunt is sometimes a good thing. Because there’s no room for overthinking or questioning what he really wants. He tells you. Exactly how he feels, exactly how he feels it.”

Max nods thoughtfully, urging you to continue.

“And yet there are so many things I feel like he’s keeping from me,” you murmur. “And maybe he doesn’t owe me answers. Maybe it doesn’t even matter, but I just…there was this moment when we were on the same page. When it felt so seamless, and easy, and good. And now…”

Max sighs. “Now he’s nobody.”

You both grow quiet as you let this settle.

“Yeah,” you whisper, taking a sip of your drink. “He’s nobody. And it’s nothing. And it’s over anyway, so…I’m free to do whatever I’d like.”

He laughs. “That’s a great attitude.”

“Why thank you very much.”

“Of course.” He rubs his hands together. “Well, I guess in that case…maybe we should go over—”

“Peach Valentine.”

And almost as if you spoke him into existence, that familiar voice finds you. Cutting right through your conversation as chills fly up the back of your neck.

You almost don’t want to look. Want to pretend that this is merely a subconscious projection of the very last man you want to see.

But you can feel his presence behind you. Can smell his cologne and can see the surprised look on Max’s face.

Of course he’s here.

Slowly, you turn around, letting your eyes find the tall figure looming only a foot or two away.

He’s wearing an expression you know all too well. The one that tells you exactly what he’s thinking without him having to say a single word.

And your stomach sinks.

“Sir,” you whisper, voice oddly timid before you clear your throat and straighten up. “Hello.”

For a moment, he’s quiet. Offering nothing more than a blank stare. Then, he looks at Max. He looks at you. And nobody speaks.

Finally, his jaw sets, and his hands bury themselves deep within his expensive pockets. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m…I’m meeting with Max,” you reply, shooting a smile toward your new friend.

Mr. Styles frowns. “You didn’t tell me you were meeting him.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” you retort, lowering your voice as you send him a pointed look. “Seeing as we’re not partners anymore.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re still my assistant. And your well-being is my concern.”

“Oh? I thought what I did with my personal life didn’t concern you.”

“It does when it has to do with him.”

Your glare begins to mirror his. “Well, since I am in need of a new business partner, I figured Max would be the perfect one to ask.”

Mr. Styles rolls his shoulders back, regarding you carefully. “And since when are you in need of a new business partner?”

“Since my old one walked out on me.”

This does it. His features twist into an unforgiving and rather harsh look of disdain as he steps closer and drops his tone. “I told you, I needed to explain—”

“No, you don’t need to explain,” you correct. “I’m not upset. I’m not bitter. I’m not angry. But that doesn’t change the fact that our agreement is over.”

His teeth grit. “Just because I left doesn’t mean I was ending our deal—”

“It does in my book. I don’t have time to wait for you, Sir.” You sit up, leveling the playing field. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

His fingers suddenly wrap around your upper arm, tugging on you until your feet hit the floor, forcing you to stand. “I need to talk to you.”

A bit surprised, you blink rapidly and attempt to pull yourself free. “Mr. Styles—”

“Now, Peach.”

You want to argue. Want to fight him on this. Want to stay strong, stay with Max. Send the mean man away.

But you know him, no matter how belligerent he’s being. And there’s something in those eyes that you’ve found yourself lost in that persuades you to nod and follow him to the hallway.

The moment you’re alone and the loud music has been dulled to a quiet hum, you step away from him. Put the necessary distance between your bodies as he watches you go.

“You shouldn’t be talking to him,” he says simply, almost as if it were obvious. “In fact, you shouldn’t be here at all.”

You scoff, rearing back to stare at him incredulously. “I’m sorry…you’re joking, right?”

“It’s a work night,” he replies, still infuriatingly cool. “And we agreed you wouldn’t do business with him—”

“We agreed?” Your eyebrow raises. “No, we didn’t agree on anything. You ran him out of the room without so much as checking with me first. And since when are we a we at all?”

He’s far too calm for your liking. “I told you, I’m still your boss. And partner. I want what’s best for you—”

“Really? Is that why you left?”

Once again, he scowls. “I told you, I had things to do—”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you snort. “Look, I don’t care why you left. I don’t even care that you left. But you did leave. So if I want to film with Max, I have every right to do so—”

“You do,” he agrees. “But you’re much smarter than that, Peach. And you know it.”

“Yeah? And what makes me so smart, hm? Sleeping with you?”

His expression twists into something you don’t recognize. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Sleep with you? Or point out that we did?”

“Peach—”

“No, you know what?” You take a brave step forward. “You have no right to come in here and demand that I leave him. Max is a good guy. In fact, of all the people that I’ve messaged on OnlyFans, he’s the only one that hasn’t said something skeevy or inappropriate.”

His expression falls. “Are you being harassed?”

“Not if I don’t respond. The block button exists for a reason. And that’s not even the point. The point is that you told me to do this. You told me it would be good for my channel to collaborate—”

“But not with him.”

“Then who? You?”

The hallway stills as Mr. Styles leans back. “This was never about me.”

“No. It wasn’t. It was about me,” you agree. “That’s what you promised. That this would be about what I wanted to do. And I want to meet with Max.”

The glare returns. “If you’re trying to punish me—”

“Punish you?” You laugh but it’s void of all humor. “Punish you for what? For being exactly who I thought you were?”

“You shouldn’t be here with him,” he says again, and your eyes roll.

“Then where should I be, huh, Sir? Should I be at home? Like a good little girl?” You take another step forward. “Should I be on my knees, waiting for you? Should I be fucking myself with that toy you bought? Pretending it’s you?”

You notice the muscles in his jaw constrict as he steels himself and throws you a look of warning. “Peach—”

“Because if I can’t fuck Max, and I can’t fuck you, then what do you want from me?” Another step. “You’re never happy. I can never make you happy—”

“Peach—”

“I get that this meant nothing to you. I get that.” You’re only inches away now. “But…you’re so confusing. You’re so goddamn confusing, and I never know what you really want. Sometimes I think I do, and other times…”

His lips purse shut but his eyes are soft.

“I feel like we used to want the same thing,” you admit quietly, heart in your throat as you stare up at the beautiful man before you. Your rage dwindles down to a contemplative annoyance. “And now we don’t. So…excuse me for trying to find somebody who does want me.”

Suddenly, he surges forward. Stepping up to you so quickly, and with so much power that it forces you to stumble back into the wall.

He cages you there, his broad chest brushing against yours as he peers down, features hard and unmoving.

“And you think that somebody is Max?” he sneers, almost as if mocking you. “You think that he wants anything more from you than the money you’ll make him?”

“Who cares?” you argue, but it’s weaker than you’d like. “It’s an investment, you said so yourself—”

“I am your investor. Not him,” Mr. Styles nearly barks, practically chastising you. “How could it ever be him—”

“Because he’s everything you aren’t.”

He doesn’t even flinch, instead cocking his head to the side as he smirks. “So that’s what this is? You’re trying to replace me? Trying to find somebody better?”

“Well it’s not hard.”

The Cheshire-like grin grows. “Fine, Peach. Let me ask you this…do you like who you are with him? Do you like the role he puts you in?”

Your lashes flutter. “I don’t…I don’t know what you mean—”

“Yes, you do.” His head dips until he’s fully in your space, making it impossible to know anything else but him. “Do you like how he treats you as though you’re nothing more than a means to his end?”

A breath catches in your throat.

“Do you like how it’s never about you? Only him?”

You squirm back into the wall, once again attempting to create a bit of distance, but failing miserably as he places a hand next to your head.

“Do you like how insignificant he is?” His voice has dropped to a dangerous purr, like silk that slips across your cheek. “Or did you like it better with me?”

A question meant to trap you and you can do nothing more than stare at the buttons on his shirt as you will yourself not to gasp.

“Because I think you like yourself better in my reflection,” he murmurs, his other palm now smoothing across your hip, subtly tugging you into his body. “The way I make you beg for me. The way I touch you. Kiss you. Fuck you.”

The words weigh heavy on your chest, making it hard to breathe as his nose softly ghosts against yours.

“Everything is better with me. And you know it. So why are you wasting your time with him? Hm, Peach? Who are you really trying to punish? Me…or you?”

And you could just slap him. You really could. Could fucking slap the dimples right off his face for being so smug.

“I’m not punishing anybody,” you whisper, nails curling into your palms to brace yourself. “I’m just doing what you told me to.”

“Well now I’m telling you to leave him.”

“Why?”

His eyes flick between yours. “Why do you think?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I want to hear you say it.”

The frown returns. “Peach—”

“Say it, Mr. Styles,” you repeat. “And maybe I will leave him. Maybe I’ll walk out of this bar, and never look back. I’ll delete his number, I’ll block him, I’ll never think of reaching out to him again. I’ll leave. With you.”

You can see the way he internalizes this. Can feel his grip tighten, can see the muscles in the arm beside your head flex.

“Just say it,” you mumble again, reaching out to brush your fingers down his chest. “Tell me what you really want. Because maybe I want it, too.”

Everything moves around you. The world, time, this moment.

But neither of you move.

And as the seconds pass, you can’t help but silently will him to finally be honest with you. To finally succumb to what he really needs. To make everything that’s happened mean something.

Then, his eyebrows weave together, and his lips turn down. “I want you to go home,” he finally says, and your heart drops so fast, it makes your head spin. “You’re drunk, and you shouldn’t be alone with him.”

“I’m not drunk,” you retort, now shoving on his sternum to create that space you so desperately need. “I’ve had one drink. And I’m not alone. You’re here.”

And maybe it’s too dark in this hallway to be sure, but you’re almost positive you see something painful flash behind his eyes.

“I won’t be for long,” he replies as he pushes off the wall and steps back. “I have other things to do besides babysit you.”

And that is your slap to the face.

Your hands ball into fists by your side. “You are such a fucking asshole. I never asked you to babysit me. I didn’t even want you here—”

“Clearly you need it,” he argues. “Since you aren’t capable of making decisions on your own. Even when you’re sober.”

You scoff so loud, it makes your throat sore. “I was doing just fine without you—”

“You were scraping by,” he corrects. “And you could do so much better if you realized that he’s nothing but a waste of time and sperm.”

Your nose crinkles as you make your way to the end of the hall, ready to rid yourself of him. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t…I can’t argue with you over the same goddamn thing. Okay, Max is nice to me. He tells me what he actually feels, and that’s something you could never understand.”

You think you see the briefest hint of disappointment, but it’s replaced just as quickly by a look of unamused indignation. “Fine. If you’d like your sex life and your career to be as mediocre as his cock…by all means. The choice is yours.”

“It is,” you agree coldly, ready to turn on your heel and run. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Styles.”

With that, you exit the hallway, leaving him behind.

And he lets you.

The following day, things aren’t as awkward as you expected. Mr. Styles doesn’t mention your run-in at the bar, nor does he attempt to restart the conversation about Max.

He treats you the way he did when he first hired you. With nothing but professionalism and distance.

At first, you’re thankful. There are no more sly comments or lingering stares at your chest. He follows your terms to let you make your own decisions. He lets your business be yours.

And he’s nothing more than your boss.

But as the days progress, you can’t shake the nagging thought that something bigger is afoot. Almost as though something is wrong. Off.

Maybe it’s just in your head. Maybe you want to believe he’s more affected by this little falling out than he pretends to be.

But you’ve known him for over a year. You know what it looks like when he’s upset, and this…this is not it.

However, you decide to push away the inclination altogether, and carry on with your work as usual. Because even if something is wrong, it’s none of your concern anymore.

That is until Nadia mentions it over lunch.

“Listen, he’s a very complicated man,” she says when you comment on his odd behavior, waving her salad fork through the air. “He tries so hard to appear uninterested, but I know it’s just an act. Nobody is that heartless.”

You swirl your French fry around in your ketchup, mulling this over. “I don’t know. He doesn’t…I don’t think he’s heartless. I think that’s just…who he is. He has a one-track mind.”

Nadia snorts. “Please. You should have seen him before…”

Your little lunch corner goes oddly silent as she suddenly presses her lips together and winces.

“Before…?” you repeat curiously, head tilting.

“Nothing,” she’s quick to reply, dismissing the comment with a flutter of her hand. “No, nothing. He just…he was more open when he first started the company, that’s all.”

You know there’s more to that story than she’s letting on, but you don’t push. Instead nodding your head as you return to your burger, letting the inquiry rest.

However, the subject is changed for all of three minutes before she sighs, and finally says, “Okay, look, it’s none of my business. And I don’t even know all of details, but maybe this will help make your job…easier?”

Once again struck with curiosity, you motion for her to continue.

“He had an assistant before you,” she begins. “His first assistant actually. I don’t know too much because I was working the mail room. But I do know that they were really close. Maybe friends, maybe more. I don’t know. But they were close.”

You lean back in your seat, endlessly intrigued as you wait for the rest.

“And everybody loved them together. She made him so happy. He was always smiling, always laughing, always walking around the office talking to everybody. Engaging in chit chat and catching up on everyone’s lives.”

It’s odd to picture your boss so open. So…infatuated. In fact, this fantasy she’s painting doesn’t sound like the man you know at all.

You have to wonder how different things would have been if he were still the same.

“Anyway, I don’t know what happened exactly, but something bad,” Nadia sighs. “The rumor was that she was seeing somebody he didn’t like. He got crazy possessive over her, and it drove them apart. She quit, and he became this sullen, hollow version of himself. And now that’s just who he is, I guess.”

“That’s…so sad,” is about all you can offer, frowning some as she nods.

“Yeah. It was,” she agrees. “After her, he didn’t hire another personal assistant for quite some time. Until you, actually. Which was kind of surprising, and I think we were all a little worried for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, you seem to be handling him just fine, which is great. But…I don’t know. He just became very…cold. Distant, I guess. Doesn’t really create personal relationships anymore.”

You have to admit that this makes sense, although it doesn’t exactly help make things any clearer for you. “That must have been hard for him.”

“Yeah. And maybe he taught himself not to care, but…I think he hides who he really is because of her,” she admits with a shrug. “Which sucks. ’Cause he’s such a good guy, deep down. He just…he’s afraid, I guess.”

You hate the way your heart breaks for him. Hate the way this humanizes him. Hate the way it makes you second guess every interaction the two of you have ever had.

“Does he ever talk about her?” you ask next.

“No, never. I don’t even remember her name, to be honest. It was forever ago. Five or six years, at least.”

“Wow.”

“Mhm. As far as I know, he doesn’t date, either. I think he fucks around a bit. I mean, he’s a guy, after all,” she teases. “But he doesn’t really do anything…meaningful. Maybe he doesn’t know how anymore.”

Your stomach twists around an invisible knife. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” she hums, digging back into her salad. “I don’t know. If he’s being rude, just tell him to fuck off. That always works for me.”

You laugh as the subject is dropped and the two of you carry on with your lunch.

But you think about it for the rest of the day, the information following you back to his office where you’re quick to find that he’s left for the afternoon.

So, you sit with this discovery as you go through your tasks. Unable to stray from the thought for very long before your throat constricts, and you feel a wave of disappointment.

You text him as you’re leaving for the evening. A simple, “Finished prepping the presentation. Hope you’re okay,” before you tuck your phone away and head home.

Hours go by without a response. Not that you really expected one, but you can’t help feeling slightly guilty for the role you played in pushing him to open up.

And no matter how out of line he was, or how justified you were in asking for his honesty, you know how hard it must be for him to be honest with you.

Especially if what Nadia said is true.

After messaging Max for a bit about your upcoming video, you decide to run yourself a bath, letting the bubbles fill the tub as you watch the water rise.

You’ve barely slipped out of your socks when your phone vibrates on the porcelain sink, making you jump some at the sudden noise.

The familiar name flashes across the screen, making your heart skip as you hesitantly hit the green button and bring the phone to your ear. “…hello?”

“You did it, didn’t you?” Mr. Styles says, but even through the static, you can hear that there’s something off.

“Did…what?” you ask hesitantly.

“You fucked him,” comes the reply. Blunt and void of any civility. “Max. You fucked him, didn’t you?”

With narrowed eyes, you turn the water off and step out of the bathroom. “I don’t believe that’s any of your concern—”

“So, yes,” he answers for you. Then, you hear him chuckle to himself. However, there’s something chilling about the way he laughs. Bitter, almost. “You’re very easy to read, Peach.”

You can feel your expression fall into one of annoyance as you lean against the wall in the hallway. “Mr. Styles—”

“Was he good?”

You glower. “Mr. Styles—”

“I already know the answer is no,” he continues. “Even your own fingers would be better, but…maybe I just wanted to hear you say he wasn’t.”

You contemplate this for only a moment before you cautiously ask, “Are you drunk?”

You can hear the subtle slur slip through the speaker, and your eyebrows raise as he snorts.

“No, I’m curious,” he retorts, but it makes your heart pound. “And I’m still a subscriber. So I want to know what to expect.”

Your stomach wrenches. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Why are you avoiding my question?”

“Mr. Styles—”

“You like to torture me, don’t you?” he interrupts, and there’s a hitch in your breath. “You always have. From the first day I met you. You were wearing that really nice dress. And your hair was up in that pretty ponytail. And you walked in like you were trying to walk into my life and ruin me.”

Your head falls back into the wall, eyes fluttering shut. “Sir—”

“And I let you,” he carries on. “I let you ruin me. I let you do the one thing I promised I’d never do, and now what? Now you’ve gone and strutted your way into somebody else’s life.”

And maybe he doesn’t know what he’s saying, but you feel this overwhelming rush of emotion, anyhow. “Mr. Styles, where are you?”

“Where would you like me to be?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Says you.”

You huff. “Mr. Styles—”

“Tell Max I said hello,” he says instead. “And then tell him I don’t mean it.”

“Mr. Styles—”

There’s some sort of loud noise on his end before the line suddenly beeps three times and the call goes dead.

And you can only stand there, flabbergasted, as you stare at your phone. Wondering what the hell just happened.

You’re frozen for a good minute or two, running through your options. He normally doesn’t reach out when he’s drinking, at least not to you, and definitely not this late.

Maybe it’s a silent cry for help or maybe he just wanted to bother you one last time.

Either way, it breeds something unnerving in your gut as you groan to yourself and head back to your room to retrieve your shoes.

You don’t imagine he’s out. He has to be at his apartment, so at least you know he’s probably safe. But you don’t know what he might do. You don’t know what that sound was, and if he’s managed to hurt himself, but you don’t think anyone will be there to help for quite a while.

You grab the key he’d given you a few months ago. It was meant only for emergencies, although you’ve never needed to use it.

Tonight, however, you decide that this is as good an excuse as any.

You call an Uber to take you to his place, the lavish apartment building smack in the middle of downtown, quite a bit away from you.

Thankfully, the traffic isn’t too bad this late at night, and you’re grateful for the quick trip as you’re brought to a stop just outside the sidewalk in under thirty minutes.

You jump out, greet the doorman, and book it for the elevator before hitting the button for his apartment at the top of the building.

It’s a good three-minute ride before you finally reach his floor, and once those doors open, your heart leaps into your throat.

Even the hallway is exquisite, and your dirty Vans squeak along the newly waxed floors as you approach his apartment, and fumble with the key.

You unlock it as slowly and quietly as you can, hoping not to startle him if he is in fact inside, and the moment the door is cracked, you call, “Mr. Styles? Are you here?”

Everything is dark as you enter. Not a single lamp to be seen, only the soft glow of the city lights outside of his many large windows, and the pale shadow of the moon cascading across the floors.

You see silhouettes of furniture, walls, and a few appliances. Enough that you manage not to trip over anything as you make your way into his living room.

And then, you see him.

The shape of his body is outlined by the window to your left. He’s sitting on the floor, back against the wall as he stares out at the tall skyscrapers before him.

Your heart sinks as you pocket the keys and approach slowly. “Mr. Styles?”

He’s still. Deathly still, in fact. As if he hasn’t even heard you. He doesn’t even bother to look over or investigate your presence.

And then, he murmurs, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Your breath hitches. “Maybe not,” you reply quietly, taking another cautious step. “But I was worried about you.”

He snorts, arms slung over his knees, a crystal glass in one hand that’s only got a few drops left. “How nice.”

“Mr. Styles,” you try again, “are you all right?”

Now close enough to catch a glimpse of his profile, you see the sweaty hair matted to his forehead. The strain in his jaw and the red rim around his eyes.

“M’fine. You can go,” he calls.

You take another step. “You didn’t sound fine—”

“Well I am, all right?” he suddenly sneers, turning to face you as you lean back. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”

“It’s not pity. It’s concern,” you correct briskly. “You’re drunk, and upset—”

“Yeah? What was your first fucking clue?”

You shoot him a look of warning as you bridge the gap and hesitantly crouch down to his level. “Why are you drinking?”

“Because I fucking can,” is his reply, his normally soft green eyes now as sharp as the edge of a sword. “Is that a problem?”

“Maybe. Do you remember calling me?”

“Of course I fucking do. But I don’t remember asking you to come here.”

“You didn’t,” you agree. “But I wanted to. Because I was worried.”

“Why? Don’t you have better things to worry about now?”

You’ve never heard him sound so insecure, and you’re reminded again of Nadia’s story as you glance over his expression. “I haven’t slept with Max.”

This is the only thing that seems to reach him, his lashes fluttering as he leans back, although his scowl remains put. “Why not?”

“We just haven’t yet. We’re still planning the video.”

“So you’re going to?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“You think so.”

“I plan to.”

He scoffs beneath a quiet breath and looks back out the window. “And you needed to come here to tell me that?”

“I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you tell him again. “And to set the record straight.”

“Why? You were right, it’s none of my fucking business.”

“It’s not, but you still seem to care.”

He snorts. “I don’t fucking care who you sleep with, Peach.”

“Sure, okay. Is that why you tried to keep me from doing it?”

“I was trying to help.”

“You’d help me a lot more if you were honest.”

“I am honest. I’m always fucking honest.”

“Not about this.”

His eyes return to yours. “I told you, you can do better. That’s my honest opinion.”

“Fine.” You take a moment to study him. “Then why did you offer to help me?”

His head drops back against the wall as he mulls this over, but his gaze never leaves you. “Because you needed the help. I knew you could make more money if you just did things a little differently, and I was right.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“What else would it be?”

Your head tilts. “Why did you agree to be in the video with me?”

“You said you didn’t have anyone else.”

“Why did you get me custom jewelry with your initials?”

His teeth begin to grit, the grasp on his glass tightening some. “What?”

“The peaches would have been fine. My initials would have been fine. But you wanted me to wear your name,” you remind him. “Why?”

“I already told you, I wanted him to know who your real partner was—”

“Yeah? Then why did you leave?”

His lips press together. “I thought you didn’t care—”

“I do now. Why?”

“I had somewhere to be—”

“Where?”

“Yes, where? Where did you have to be?”

He seems to fight himself on the answer before finally admitting, “The gym.”

You lean back, blinking quickly. “I’m sorry, you rushed out of there to go to the gym?”

“Yes.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff as you shake your head. “Wow. No, I should have assumed as much. Makes perfect sense. Clearly that was so much more important than just telling me I made you uncomfortable—”

“You didn’t,” he suddenly interjects, shooting you this look like he’s disappointed in your response. “I left because I knew I couldn’t stay.”

“You couldn’t stay? And why the fuck not?”

“Because—” He stops himself, once again clamping his jaw shut as if wrestling with the truth. Then, he drops his head, eyes finding the floor as he glares at the marble beneath. “Because I couldn’t.”

And you want to scream because you don’t know if he’ll ever be honest with you. Don’t know what to do to reach him.

“You know what I think?” you finally huff, and he looks up. “I think this is about her.”

Confused, he glances over your expression. “Her who?”

“The girl who used to work for you. Your first assistant. The one who left.”

Instantly, the atmosphere changes, his entire demeanor shifting on a dime as he presses his back into the wall and shoots you a venomous look of intimidation. “Oh you do, do you?”

“Yeah.” You hold your ground, keep your shoulders stiff. “I think you loved her. I think you were honest with her. I think you let yourself trust her, and I think…she broke that trust.”

You can tell he’s not quite sure what to do with this, furrowed brows still knitted together. “And where the fuck did you get that?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s true, isn’t it?”

His finger taps the edge of the crystal in thought, but his contemplative expression remains. “Even if it were, what does this have to do with us?”

“Everything,” you say simply. “She broke your trust, and you chose not to get close to anyone again. But then you started helping me. And we got closer. And created a bond—created trust. And the second you realized, you ran for the hills.”

He snorts again, but he doesn’t rush to deny it.

So, you carry on. “Max coming along only made things worse for your fragile little ego. And maybe you were trying to keep it from happening again, but you did a really shitty job of it. And now here we are, sitting on your floor, saying everything but what we really mean.”

He’s angry. He’s so very angry, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, fighting himself on what he really wants to say.

You scoot closer, gently reaching out to take the crystal glass from his hand so you can place it on the floor. Then, you rest your palm atop his arm, and meet his eye.

“Harry,” you whisper, and he sucks in a sharp breath, tensing beneath your touch. “I’m not her. And maybe that’s a good thing, maybe it’s not. But I have only ever wanted it to be you.”

He’s quiet but you have his full attention. And the intrigue in his features urges you to continue.

“Even before you told me that you watched, I imagined you,” you admit quietly. “I’ve always imagined you. Your voice, and your hands, and your face. And yeah, I didn’t mind keeping things…professional. Strictly about the content and nothing more. But…you have to know I wanted more.”

Once again, the back of his head meets the wall, as if bracing himself from your honesty.

“I wanted more,” you repeat. “And I thought you did, too. Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard, and maybe that’s why I tried to use Max to move on. But I never wanted Max. I only wanted you. I just…I wasn’t sure I could have you.”

He looks down at your hand, gaze softening when he sees the way it looks on his arm. Like he’s mesmerized by your touch.

“And I need you to tell me right now what you want,” you say softly. “I need the truth. I have to know if we’re running around in circles for no reason, or if…maybe we can get off this ride together.”

He’s silent for quite a long stretch, letting himself ponder a response as the apartment fills with a solemn quiet.

You study his face in the soft glow of the moonlight, wonderstruck by the sharp curve of his jaw in contrast to the soft curls near his cheeks.

Even now, he’s breathtaking.

Finally, he clears his throat. “Ellie.”

“What?”

“Her name,” he says, “was Ellie. And you’re right, I did trust her. But I ruined it. Not her.”

Now it’s your turn to listen as he recalls this memory to you, nodding gently for him to continue.

“She didn’t…she loved somebody that wasn’t me. That was her only fault,” he murmurs, once again staring at your hand as your thumb strokes his tan skin. “And it wasn’t even a fault. But I hated it. Because I wanted it to be me. And it was never going to be me. We both knew that.”

Slowly, his arm turns over, allowing your gentle touches to dance along the more sensitive skin.

You smile.

“I crossed so many fucking lines,” he admits quietly. “As her boss, as her friend. I pushed her away only to drag her back and try to keep her close. I suffocated her. I let myself need her in ways I shouldn’t have. She had every right to leave. In fact, she should have left sooner.”

You feel the tips of his fingers brush against you as he subtly grabs on.

“And then you,” he whispers, eyes still locked on where you’re connected. “I’d been doing so good. Didn’t let myself slip again, and then you came along, and everything was fucked. Because I knew I couldn’t do to you what I’d done to her. But I let myself think about you anyway. Even when I shouldn’t have.”

You can feel tears crawling up the back of your throat, and the wounded look on his face is like a fist to the heart.

“And for some fucking reason, I thought offering my advice would allow me to know you without ruining anything,” he sighs, tugging you a bit closer until your knees collide with his. “Which obviously didn’t work. And then I was looking for excuses to be with you. To have you. To touch you. Even though I knew better. Even though I had to know better.”

He takes a deep breath. Holds it.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he eventually exhales. “And I got scared that the only reason you felt like you wanted more was because I somehow tricked you into it. I confused you, I manipulated the situation. It wasn’t real. And I wanted it to be real. But then Max, and I got so fucking angry, and I knew I was doing it again. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to you.”

He won’t look up. He won’t meet your eye, and the hard set of his jaw makes you take hold of his other arm and squeeze it tight.

“Harry,” you whisper, but his head shakes quickly.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he barrels on, fingers wrapping around your elbow, keeping you close. “Because I can’t have it. I can’t have you. And you were right, I can’t be your partner anymore. I can only be your boss.”

You frown but it’s sad. “Harry—”

“Mr. Styles,” he corrects, finally shooting you a look of warning that breaks your heart.

But you aren’t deterred. Instead, you release him so you can wedge yourself between his legs and take hold of his face. “Harry,” you repeat, urgent but gentle. “This? It’s not the same.”

He struggles a bit in your grasp, tensing up as he tries to pull away. But it only lasts a second before he’s settling into your embrace, allowing you to guide his attention to you.

“It’s real,” you whisper. “It’s so fucking real. It was real even before you called me poor and badly dressed.”

This earns you your first smirk of the evening, and the butterflies that explode in your gut nearly make you dizzy.

“You’ve tried to push me away over and over. But I’m still sitting here, on your floor, begging you to talk to me.” Your thumbs delicately brush across the bags under his eyes, and he seems to nuzzle into your palms. “It’s not the same. You’re not just my boss or my investor. You’re my partner, Harry. And I can’t do this without you.”

His arms slowly slip around your middle, encouraging you onto his lap as his legs drop.

And you eagerly oblige, straddling his hips with ease as you look down at him.

“I don’t want to do this without you,” you murmur. “So don’t make me. Please.”

For a moment, you aren’t sure what he’ll do. What he’ll say or feel. He’s still somewhat tense, and far too quiet.

Then, he tugs, crashing your lips into his.

And it’s the most honest thing he’s ever done.

“Turn around.”

The strong command leaves no room for argument as you quickly spin on your heel, eager to obey.

Your ass is revealed to the camera. Bright red from the many spanks Mr. Styles has landed to it. It complements the dark black lingerie set he recently purchased for you, something you’re both rather proud of, and perhaps the main feature of this video.

You hear him hum his approval as he approaches, large hands slipping over the curves of your hips. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs before shoving you onto the bed. “Think it’s time we show them what a wet little whore you are, hm?”

You feel his finger hook into the crotch of the panties before he’s ripping them aside, allowing your swollen cunt to glisten for the lens.

You gasp as the cool air hits you, but it quickly melts into a desolate whine when you feel his touch ghost up the back of your thigh.

“Look at you,” he muses, palms pulling on your cheeks to spread you open, giving your audience a firsthand glimpse of your mess. “So fucking pathetic, aren’t you, Peach? And all I’ve done is spank you.”

“Can’t…can’t help it, Sir,” you pant, steadying yourself on your hands and knees as your eyes flutter shut. “Just want you.”

“Oh you do, do you?” He kneads your bruised flesh with admiration. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You squirm a bit as you whimper, desperate to lean back into his touch before he lands another smack to your thigh, reminding you to stay still.

“Yes,” you finally answer, chin meeting your chest. “Wanna deserve it for you.”

You hear him chuckle under his breath as he allows his touch to travel toward your dripping pussy, large digit pushing through your folds just to make you mewl.

“I bet you do,” he replies, running up and down your cunt to collect you. Tease you. “But we have a deal, don’t we, honey?”

You want to kill him and kiss him all at the same time.

“Yes, Sir.”

“We do.” He pats you again, this time gently. “Go on and grab it, all right?”

With a nod, you outstretch your shaky hand for the object sitting on the bed only a few inches in front of you.

Already tender and slightly swollen from the way he played with you earlier (casually and much too cruel), you feel a rush of excitement as you hand him the chain.

After taking hold of it, he moves to sit in front of you, allowing him better access to the front of your body as he motions for you to sit back on your ankles.

“You ready?” he asks quietly, eyes flicking between yours as he looks for your consent.

You nod. “Always.”

With that, he reaches for your exposed tits and begins preparing your nipples for the clamps.

You swallow a dozen whines and whimpers as he works them shut, the subtle ache quickly dissolving into an immeasurable type of pleasure.

And he’s smiling so big, like he’s so proud of you. Proud of the way you look, proud of the way you feel, proud of the way you obey.

It makes the yearning in-between your thighs that much worse as he travels the other end of the chain down to your clit.

Once again, he plays with you. Drags his fingers up, down, and through to make you writhe, and make sure you’re ready.

Then, with great care but devious intent, he slips the clamp along the base of the sensitive nerves and secures it.

You choke on a gasp, body stilling as the sensation becomes a bit more familiar. It’s quite thrilling. Not painful, but prominent. Taunting you with its power as you glance down at the way it holds you.

Harry leans back to study you, carefully observing every pull of your brows or hitch in your breath. “You okay, Peach?”

You nod, lip sliding between your teeth.

He frowns. “Color.”

“Green,” you say quickly, nails digging into your thighs as you release a heavy exhale. “It’s just…new.”

His expression softens as he reaches out to grasp onto your chin and squeeze once. “I know, my love. But you’ll take it for me, won’t you?”

And you say, “Yes,” with so much adoration and excitement that it returns those dimples to you.

His eyes drift toward the computer, checking the status of the livestream you assume before he leans forward and presses his lips to yours.

You know your faces aren’t in the frame, but it makes your heart pound nonetheless as he offers you a moment of his affection.

“How’s your ass?” he mumbles between kisses to your bottom lip.

You nod gently and sigh into his mouth. “Good. Sore.”

And he chuckles as he sends you a devious wink. “Good.”

With that, he stands, and begins to undo his belt as he returns to his spot behind you. He doesn’t plan to be gentle today. Not for your first live appearance, and you’re grateful for his punishing hand as it ghosts down your spine, guiding you.

It travels between your thighs, tapping them briskly as a reminder to keep them spread as you bend back over.

And once you’ve braced yourself against the mattress, you feel those long, skilled fingers nudging at you again.

“Sir,” you whisper, desperate for the friction as he keeps his touch light, merely tracing patterns along your folds while humming to himself.

“Yes, Peach?”

You swallow thickly. “Please?”

“Please?” His thumb moves up to brush over your tighter hole, and you gasp again as you await any sort of contact. “Please what?”

“Please…please touch me?”

“Touch you,” he repeats thoughtfully, as if considering it. “I don’t know. Have you disobeyed any of my rules?”

With a quick shake of your head, you glance down at the duvet beneath you, the expensive fabric soft beneath your clenched fists.

“Have you used any naughty language?” he asks, the tip of his middle finger lowering to circle through your arousal.

“No,” you breathe.

He begins to push in, leaving your other opening alone. At least for today. “Have you called me by the wrong name?”

Not aloud, you think, biting back a smirk as you murmur, “No, Sir.”

The digit travels a bit further, the feeling of him pushing past your tight walls like heroin as you reel.

“Have you taken your punishment like a good girl?” he inquires next, and you chew on the inside of your lip as you nod.

“Yes.”

And you can’t exactly see him, but you can practically hear his smirk as he suddenly adds a second finger in beside the first, just to surprise you.

“Yes,” he agrees. “You have. Been my perfect peach, haven’t you? Guess you’re showing off for them, hm? Letting them think you’re actually an obedient little cock-whore?”

And maybe you are showing off, at least a little, but it’s hard not to obey this man. He just makes it so…worth it.

“Yes,” you call again, desperate to please him. “Only for you, Sir.”

Suddenly, you feel his fist against your scalp, scraping through your roots as he furiously yanks, forcing your head up.

“Only for me,” he nearly seethes, dipping down to press his lips against your ear. “Want you to fucking say it. Every time I touch you. Every time I make you come. Want you to say it. Remind them who you really belong to.”

Apparently, having his initials glimmer from your nipples isn’t enough, but that’s more than all right with you.

You’ll happily vow your life to him as many times as he needs. Because there’s something empowering about having a man beg you to be his.

And for the first time since you’ve met him, you realize…you’re on the same ground. Equal partners. Equal power.

You and him.

One.

With that instruction, he curls, now stroking and thrusting into you with a fervent need to force you up the mountain.

“Only you,” you whisper between salacious moans for relief. “Only, Sir.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, smacking his other palm against your ass before groping at the tender skin. Soothing it and stimulating it at the same time.

The pace increases, faster and faster until you feel as though you can’t breathe. Until you’re trying to meet his rhythm by rocking back into his touch, but the hand on your hip holds you steady. Makes you patient.

“Only you.” It’s almost inaudible, released through quivering lips as you begin to slip into your first. “Only you. Only…”

He plunges in to the knuckle, beckoning you toward your release as it hits you hard. Fireworks go off behind your eyes as you keen, sweat beading around your hairline, and chest heaving.

“God, only you,” you barely manage as you fight for air. “Just you, Sir. Always.”

He takes his fingers out, allowing the world to see your come drip along the insides of your thighs. And the loss of contact makes your chest ache as you whimper and peek over your shoulder for a glimpse of his face.

He’s smug. Because of course he is, endlessly pleased with the way you’ve come undone so quickly.

Wet digits quickly outstretch for your cheeks, pushing on your lips to accentuate your already obvious pout.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warns darkly. “You know better.”

You glance up at him with remorse and desperation, hoping your tiny hum will be enough to sway him. “M’sorry, Daddy.”

It’s the first time today you’ve used the nickname, and you watch the effect it has on him as he tightens his grip and scrapes his teeth together.

“Peach,” he grumbles, “don’t fucking test me. Not today.”

“I’m not. Promise. Just wanna feel you.”

And that’s the truth. It’s all you ever want. Want his cock, his time, his attention. Anything he’ll give you, and he knows this.

Because he wants you just as bad.

And maybe, if he had the strength, he’d punish you for this little game. He’d waste hours just making you wait for him. Tying you up, leaving you to beg, taunting you with something you can’t have.

But today, that would punish him, too. And you can see that he doesn’t have the capacity to go without you, not even for show.

So, he releases his hold on you only to land a very firm and sharp smack to your cheek. And it stings but it feels so good, forcing another groan as you lean back.

“And you will,” he finally decides, settling behind you again as he begins to tug his pants down. “Gonna feel me for days, honey. Make sure you can’t fucking sit without thinking of me.”

Just the image of you in one of those boardroom meetings, legs still bruised and clenched tightly together as you sit for hours on end makes you gasp.

He’s gotten braver recently. Normally, he’s tame. Making you rest on his lap in the privacy of his office while he absentmindedly runs circles over your clit. Answering emails as he plays with you. Like it’s just an average workday.

But now he tries to tease you in public. In meetings, at lunch, when you’re apart. Making you sit with a remote-controlled toy deep inside your cunt during a meeting with the board of directors. Changing the tempo over and over again while forcing your silence. Leaving you to squirm in your seat as you silently beg him for mercy.

Sometimes he gives it to you. Most times…he does not.

You imagine this week will be no different. Especially after today. He always gets a bit more insatiable after the two of you have posted a video together.

He’ll make you watch it in his office. His now favorite tradition. And the comments and response will encourage something in him that makes you giddy. Possessive yet proud. Like he wants to outdo himself next time. Make you come harder, longer, faster. Make everyone watching eat their fucking hearts out.

You feel the tip of his swollen cock brush down your folds, lazily rubbing against you as he alerts you of his presence.

Just the feel of him makes you breathless, back arching as you silently plead with him for more.

He won’t give it to you, at least not yet. Not until he’s had a chance to watch you soak him.

He presses his hand against it, trapping it to your cunt while gliding it through your arousal. Gentle thrusts that have you clenching around nothing until you hear him curse to himself.

“Beg me,” he calls, grasping onto your ass cheek to pull it apart, allowing him a better view. “Beg me to fuck you, Peach. Beg Daddy to make it better.”

“Please,” you comply instantly, a subtle quiver in your voice. “Please, Daddy. Need you. Need to feel you. Hurts.”

“Oh, honey,” he coos, finally circling the rim of your aching hole and pushing in only an inch just to pull back. “Bet it does. Know I’ve been teasing you all day, haven’t I?”

You whine again. “I deserved it. Always love it when you tease me.”

He chuckles under his breath, and you know you’ve made him proud. “That’s right. Know you do, my love. Because you know I just wanna make it better for you, hm?”

“I know.” You attempt to wiggle back into him, but his unrelenting grip keeps you frozen to your spot. “Always do, Sir. Always make it better.”

He slides in again, further this time, allowing your body to stretch for him. Then, he slides out, leaving you to wilt as you swallow a groan.

“And I always will,” he answers, knee knocking into your inner thigh as an instruction to spread your legs a bit further. “Just have to behave for me. Think you can do that, Peach? Think you can be good for me?”

And you’ve never wanted anything more, head nodding quickly before he finally thrusts into you with such power and dominance that it knocks the wind from your lungs.

Truth be told, you never know what you’re going to get with him. What rhythm will drive him. But you’ll take anything he offers. Because hard and slow or fast and eager…it’s perfect. Sets your nerves on fire and leaves you desperate and depraved.

The sounds of him pushing through and pulling out are sure to be captured by the microphone. You can’t see the computer, but you imagine the audience is loving it. They always seem to enjoy sounds as much as you do. And Harry’s sounds are the best.

Your quick breaths intertwine seamlessly with his unforgiving grunts. Like a melody for the soul, and you slowly slide down until your chest meets the mattress, although your ass stays up.

He seems to like this angle, nails scraping down your spine before he lands another smack to your cheek. “There she is.”

Both sets of clamps are stimulated as you’re pushed against the bed, making your eyes roll back every time he drives himself to the hilt.

The pain is delicious. Exactly what you’d needed, and just when you think it can’t get any better…he slips an arm around your stomach and forces you back up.

Instantly, his hand is on your throat, tugging your back into his chest as he settles you down on his cock.

Dominant fingertips press into the sides of your neck, playing with your airways as you gasp. And for a moment, you are nothing more than his toy. Just a body for him to use, and the idea makes you clamp down on him until he groans and nuzzles his nose into your shoulder.

But you know it’s more to him than that. Know that you’re not just this thing for him to abuse and ruin. He wants to worship you. Treat your body like the divine gift it is, and even though this display of aggression is uncouth…it’s meant for you. To make you feel good. Everything he does is always for you.

“So good, baby,” he whispers, just quiet enough that only you can hear. “Fucking love the way you feel, Peach. Always so warm for me. So wet. My perfect hole.”

You shudder, nails reaching for his arm to scratch down his skin. Desperate to be even closer to him.

His hand then drops to your chest, finding your breast and groping at it mercilessly as you cry out. The clamps are tugged, stimulating the rings, and forcing your back to arch. So many sensations are being exploited that it’s nearly impossible to think straight. Your mind is mush, focused only on one thing to keep from drowning:

Him.

“Wanna come, don’t you?” he taunts, now louder so the audience can hear. “Wanna come on my cock, so they see what I do to you?”

You nod quickly, unable to vocalize your agreement. But he doesn’t need it. He knows. Can read your body like a book, and it makes him smile into your heated skin.

“Good,” he whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck before reaching down to undo the clamp around your clit. “Go.”

The moment the pressure is released, it hits you. Your toes curl, your eyes roll back, and you make so many noises, you wouldn’t be surprised if the people below Harry’s apartment can hear you.

He works you through each ripple and aftershock, perhaps hoping to send you into a third, but your body needs a moment to recharge.

And this is more than fine with him because it gives him a bit more time to watch himself disappear into you. His favorite part.

You collapse in his hold, held up only by his strong arm that’s thankfully bare, allowing you to glance down at his tattoos.

He takes his shirt off for almost every video now. He knows that nobody will be able to recognize his tattoos, but he especially knows how much you love them. Love to lick them, trace them, stare at them.

Your perfect pastime, and you think this now as you grip onto his wrist and squeeze.

He exhales into your shoulder before he’s suddenly cursing and pulling out, the sound of his slick cock slipping from your cunt making you whimper.

With a single pat to your hip, he growls, “On your back.”

You nearly throw yourself down onto the bed, finally able to face him fully as you’re met with the sight of his flushed cheeks.

He’s so beautiful when he’s turned on, and you feel nothing but grateful to be able to witness this sight firsthand. Even your audience is denied such a pleasure, and it makes it feel that much more special to you.

He pushes your legs apart and settles between your thighs, grasping onto his cock before guiding it toward your chest.

He never comes inside you on film. He claimed it was because they don’t deserve to see it, and you didn’t argue. You like the idea. Occasionally he’ll capture a short clip of the way he leaks out of your pussy, but it’s never posted. Instead saved just for the two of you to watch whenever you need.

So while you’ll miss feeling him inside of you today, you know that it’s worth it. You like that you get to keep something for just the two of you. You like this possessive side of him.

Love it, in fact.

Nodding at your breasts, he silently instructs you to grab them, to which you do, pushing them together as he brings his swollen and soaked cock closer.

Slowly, he slides between your tits, disappearing beneath the supple flesh as you both groan your approval.

He’s already seconds away from his own release, but he edges himself by fucking your tits for as long as he can. Staring wordlessly at the way he looks beside his initials on your nipples.

“Fuck, Peach,” he breathes, brows knitted together as his jaw clenches. “Like it like this, don’t you? Like it when I come like this?”

And you do, a soft sough of agreement all you can offer as you look down at the way his tip pokes through the valley you’ve created. The contrast of his pink flesh against your skin is beautiful. Artful, even. And it makes you smile, wider than you have all day.

His pace is slow, allowing you to feel the slickness paint your chest before he’s suddenly tensing, the muscles in his stomach contracting quickly.

You await his offering eagerly, practically panting as you watch him run his palm along his cock before he’s releasing all over your torso and chest.

He falls forward, bracing himself with a hand beside your head while you throw your arms around his neck to keep him close.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whisper as he milks the last few drops. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You feel a shiver roll across his body at your comment before he’s smashing his lips into yours, dancing his relieved sighs across your tongue.

It takes a good minute or two for you both to find your bearings, but once you have, he reaches toward the nightstand where the remote lies.

Aiming it at the camera, he clicks a couple of buttons, and the red light turns off, signaling that the livestream has ended.

Now alone in his massive bedroom, he grins down at you. “My sweet fucking girl. Did so well for me, honey.”

You bask in his praise, nuzzling your nose against his before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “That was fun. Like it when you fuck my tits.”

“Yeah?” He’s smirking again, palm now smacking against your breast just to watch it jiggle. “Good. ’Cause I don’t plan to stop.”

Your arms snake tighter around his neck until he’s forced to lay his chest against yours. “Think they liked it?”

“I know they did,” he murmurs, face disappearing into your neck as he breathes you in, sweaty or not. “They love you, Peach. You’re so good to them.”

You press your lips into his hair.

“You’re good to me, too,” he adds quietly, sliding his hand across your body until he can hold onto you. “Always so fucking good. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

A sort of flutter happens in your stomach as you squeeze him tighter. “Ditto.”

You stay there for a few minutes at least, teetering on the verge of sleep before Harry declares you need to get clean.

He scoops you up and carries you to his large bathtub, dipping you into the warm water once it’s ready and settling himself on the other side to face you.

You talk for what feels like hours, until you’re pruned, and the bubbles have disappeared. You go over the scene, go over what you think the comments will be, and even go over his schedule for the upcoming work week.

It’s weird the way you’ve managed to balance the relationship of boss and lover. You’re able to distinguish the two and create the appropriate boundaries. Making it easier to work together without driving each other nuts.

Something else you’re grateful for.

You stare at his wet abs as he talks, smiling to yourself as you admire every curve of his stomach, and every nipple he has to offer.

He splashes some water at you when he realizes before grabbing hold of your ankles and sliding your closer.

You kiss until you can’t breathe, and life feels really good.

Really fucking good.

Once you’re out and dried, you make your way back to his bedroom to make sure everything from the livestream is in order.

You scroll through a few of the responses together, making mental notes of what to do next time. And once you’re both in agreement that everything looks good, he adds it to your shared profile.

Appropriately titled,

Peaches and Cream.

I have no excuse for this or explanation, I'm just gonna blame it on the sick meds I took 🙃

I already miss them but I'm absolutely going to be doing some extras and maybe that'll make it not hurt so much 😭💞

Thank you to everyone who's read and been so kind and supportive!!! You have my entire heart forever and ever, I cannot tell you how appreciative I am 🥹♥️ This has been so fun!!

Peaches and Cream forever!!

Previous Part:

~ Four to Go*

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @narry-heart @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @likeapplejuicenpeach @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz @finelinesss

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