#its been getting better at night only to start up again the next day but its different this time

[slaymitchabernathy]

All in the Timing

Coriolanus Snow is many things.

He’s rich.

He’s successful.

He’s important.

He’s being stared down by a small child right now.

The last one concerns him.

It’s not that he despises children, but he’s never been drawn to them. Perhaps he worries about coming off as creepy, nothing screams ‘child predator’ like handing out candy to children at the zoo. It doesn’t help that he’s a rather large man, well, large in his stature with his broad shoulders and long legs.

But this child, this small little girl is staring him down while he waits for his friend Festus to close their tab at the bar. They’re at one of their favorite restaurants, the Grand Oak and he’s standing near the host stand, doing his best to ignore the little girl.

But she’s hard to ignore.

She has these blue eyes, but they’re not just blue, they have hints of gray in them as well, making her quite the startling child. Whoever her mother is certainly passed down her genetics because this little girl has been blessed with long blonde hair and an adorable face.

She's standing near a group of adults all getting their coats from the coat check so he can only assume she belongs to one of them. She must be very well-behaved if she was brought into an establishment such as this one, known for its fine dining experience.

Someone claps his shoulder and pulls him back into reality, “All closed up Snow.” He rolls his eyes at the nickname that Festus gave him all those years ago as if calling him by his first name is so difficult.

“Let’s hope you paid the correct amount this time,” Coriolanus mumbles, giving Festus a knowing glare. The last time he trusted Festus with a responsibility such as closing their tab, he only paid half and Coriolanus had to come back the next day to pay the rest of it.

But Coriolanus can’t help but look back over at the little girl who’s still watching him, Festus now on her radar. Festus who has an infant son waiting for him at home grins and gives her a wave, “Oh, she’s so cute. You know, it’s never too late to settle down and start a family Snow.”

Coriolanus shakes his head, it sounds nice but starting a family means finding someone to love him unconditionally and that seems impossible.

He offers the girl a small smile, hoping he doesn’t frighten the child but she visibly perks up and smiles back.

“Ceraphina darling, let’s put on your coat.”

A gentle, feminine voice from the group of adults draws the little girl's attention away from Coriolanus and Festus and she turns around to face one of the most beautiful women Coriolanus has ever seen.

This woman is undoubtedly her mother. With her long blonde hair that falls down to her waist, her tan complexion, and her rosy pink lips. She’s gorgeous.

And she’s holding a miniature version of the pink coat she’s wearing, so she and her daughter can match.

The little girl's face lights up as her mother crouches down to help her into the coat and she leans in, tapping her mother's shoulder and whispering something that causes her mother to tilt her head to hear her better.

Coriolanus can only imagine what the child says but a moment later, he’s got two pairs of blue-gray eyes looking up at him.

The woman offers him a small, polite smile before rising to her full height once again, wrapping her coat around her frame and taking her daughter’s hand, “Let’s go, darling.”

She offers him a small nod, out of sheer politeness no doubt and her daughter gives him a wave, which makes him chuckle, she is a rather sweet child.

Their entire group slowly makes their way out into the cold winter night and the last man in the group looks somewhat familiar to him. He’s got brown hair and glasses hanging onto the bridge of his nose for dear life as he wraps a winter scarf around his neck.

He says a word of goodbye to the hostess behind Coriolanus and Festus and their eyes meet for a moment, leading Coriolanus to wonder even more where he’s seen this man before.

“He looked familiar,” he says to Festus once the lobby is empty, “have we met him before?”

Festus shrugs, pulling out a cigar, “We’ve met lots of people,” he tells Coriolanus, helping with nothing,” maybe he was in one of our quarterly meetings.”

Coriolanus nods but doesn’t quite believe him, “Maybe.”

꧁ ꧂

“I’m afraid we don’t have this in your size in this department Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus can’t stop the frown from growing across his face when given that disappointing news. He’s shopping for a new pair of leather shoes and apparently, it’s hard to find a size ten these days.

He sighs, shaking his head, “It’s fine. Don’t worry abo—“

“But we do have one pair of shoes in the women’s department according to our system. I guess someone left them down there by mistake,” the associate interjects, giving him that customer service smile that he truly despises.

Coriolanus clears his throat, he hasn’t ever gone up to the women’s section but there’s a first time for everything. “Alright. I’ll head up there.”

It’s a short ride on the escalator and Coriolanus is blown away at how much more there is on this floor compared to the men’s. Racks and racks of clothes, a whole makeup department.

A complete step up from the men’s department.

But he’s not here to linger. He’s here to get his shoes.

He makes his way toward the shoe section of the store, passing by several beautifully wrapped gift boxes since the holiday season is upon them once again.

He’s surprised at how empty it is up here, only a few women can be seen milling around the clothing racks but the shoe section is wide open. Right next to the children’s section.

He approaches the associate who immediately perks up once she lays eyes on him, “Mr. Snow?”

“That’s me,” he nods, “I was told there were some shoes in my size up here.”

“Yes sir. Let me go get them for you.”

Coriolanus thanks the woman before she disappears into the back room and he’s left alone once again, this time feeling a bit out of place right next to all the baby clothes. They’re all so tiny, adorned with ruffles and bows.

He reaches out to touch a small dress made for an infant when a voice startles him, “Hi!”

He looks all around him, unable to find where the voice came from until he hears a giggle. “I’m down here.”

Coriolanus can’t hide his disbelief when he looks down to find the same little girl he saw at the Grand Oak looking up at him, a bright smile on her face, swinging her arms back and forth.

“Hello,” he gets out, taking a cautious step back. Her mother must be around here somewhere, probably shopping. “I remember you,” the little girl continues, taking a step toward him, “you have blue eyes like me.”

Coriolanus wants to point out that she has more gray in her eyes than blue but she’s already talking about something else, “Why are you on this floor? My Mommy says this floor is for girls and you’re not a girl.” She looks him up and down suspiciously as if she’s making sure he’s not a freakishly tall woman in disguise.

Coriolanus scratches the back of his neck, he’s never met such an outgoing child before, “I came up here to get some shoes that should’ve been in the men’s department,” he explains, “I wasn’t aware that I’d be in a ladies presence.”

The little girl lights up at his comment, considering her a lady, “I’m five years old,” she tells him proudly, “and I’m gonna be five and a half in January.”

Coriolanus raises his eyebrows, seemingly impressed, “Well that’s a very smart age to be.”

“Mhm. It is. I get to see my friends tomorrow at scho—“

“Ceraphina!”

Both Coriolanus and Ceraphina jump when her mother appears, flushed in the face, “What did I tell you about talking to strangers?”

Ceraphina clasps her hands behind her back and looks down at the floor, doing her best to look guilty, “You said not to Mommy.”

Her mother nods, placing a hand on top of her head, “That’s right. You can’t run off and go talking to people you don’t know.”

Ceraphina scrunches her face and looks up at her mother, her eyes wide and pleading, “But I do know him, Mommy. He was at the restaurant, remember?” She points right at Coriolanus which means he’s not getting out of this unscathed.

Her mother’s eyes travel up his body, and he must say, she looks even prettier during the daytime. He can see that she has freckles all over her face, making her eyes pop even more.

“I do remember,” she murmurs, brushing her hair behind her ears, “but that doesn’t mean you can just run off without telling me, darling.”

Coriolanus doesn’t want her to get in trouble, even though she did run off. She seems like a sweet child. “I do apologize,” he says, “I remembered both of you from the other night. I assumed you’d be within a safe distance from her but I shouldn’t have engaged in any conversation.”

Ceraphina’s mother looks him up and down, she’s on guard, protecting her baby from this strange man. “No need to apologize,” she finally says, pulling Ceraphina towards her, “I remember you as well. I’m sorry if she was bothering you.”

Coriolanus shakes his head, offering her a kind smile, “She’s not a bother at all.”

Ceraphina looks at her mother triumphantly, “See Mommy? I’m not a bother at all.”

Her mother sighs and shakes her head, “We should get going, we have to stop by your grandfather's office before we go home.”

Coriolanus wants to ask for her name, ask who her father is, and if it’s the gentlemen he saw the other night with her group but they’re all interrupted by the sales associate who chose the worst time to show back up.

“Here are your shoes, Mr. Snow!”

A wave of recognition washes over Ceraphina’s mother’s face but she doesn’t say anything further before they both walk off, Ceraphina looking over her shoulder to wave goodbye.

He waves back because who doesn’t wave back at a five-year-old? But he can’t help but watch them as they go, watch how her mother holds Ceraphina’s hand as they walk onto the escalator, reassuring her that it’s safe.

They’re both wrapped up in their winter coats again, this time both of them are light blue, bringing out their eyes. They’re practically twins which makes him wonder who her husband is. He must know the man from somewhere. He should’ve asked. That would be less creepy than asking who her father is.

“Mr. Snow?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes the shoes. I’ll take them.”

It seems as if fate led him to run into those two again, so he can only hope that the third times the charm.

꧁ ꧂

꧁ Two Weeks Later ꧂

This meeting is taking forever.

Coriolanus drums his fingers against the long mahogany table, somewhat listening to Urban Canville while he drones on and on about meeting quotas and whatnot.

Coriolanus looks over at Festus whose head is tilted back, mouth wide open while he sleeps. Coriolanus wishes he could sleep right now, but with his luck, he'll get caught out. Festus has a knack for getting out of trouble.

"And that," Urban says, slapping the table with his hand, waking up Festus in the process, "is how we're going to be the most successful firm next year." Festus blinks several times, pulling at his necktie, "Yes, yes, good spirits and whatnot for the new year," he mumbles, getting a few nodding heads from their other colleagues.

Ubran smiles, pleased that this meeting has gone so well for him since he was promoted, "Exactly Festus. Now, don't forget about the holiday party, plus ones are allowed but keep the drinking to a limit," he eyes Festus who holds his hands up in surrender, "Someone has to be the life of the party," Festus counters.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, Festus just loves being the center of attention, let alone the party.

Urban doesn't look too convinced, but he dismisses them and Coriolanus is the first one out the door. He's got to finish his yearly report before he can mentally clock out for the rest of the holiday season. He knows Festus will procrastinate and do it at the last second, but Coriolanus prides himself on being timely and dependable.

"Well that took forever," Festus grumbles, meeting him at the end of the hallway, "someone should introduce him to bullet points because that meeting was the entire essay." Coriolanus grins as they round a corner, leading them to the lobby of the fifth floor where the elevators and receptionist desk are located.

The lobby has been decorated for the holidays with garlands and fake pine trees, making the atmosphere more lively. Coriolanus spots the receptionist talking to someone on the phone animatedly, all while glancing over her desk. He frowns, wondering what's gotten her so worked up.

Maybe someone delivered a package to the wrong floor, that's happened before and it's always a mess trying to get it to the right place. But as Coriolanus and Festus round the desk, they come face to face with Ceraphina. Again.

This must be fate.

She brightens up when she sees two familiar faces, Coriolanus more specifically.

"Hello!"

This girl has clearly never met a stranger before.

Coriolanus grins down at her, "Hello, fancy seeing you here."

Ceraphina nods, glancing back at the receptionist who's still rattling off information on the phone, "My grandfather works here," she tells him proudly, putting her hands on her hips. She's wearing a pink dress with long sleeves and little white boots with a pink bow in her hair.

Coriolanus raises his eyebrows and glances at Festus who seems interested as well as to who her grandfather is. "And who might that be?" Festus asks, leaning forward to hear her better. The receptionist sets the phone down loudly, causing all three of them to jump, "She's Glen Nightingale's granddaughter," the woman says with a sigh, "I don't know how she got down here but he's been looking for her everywhere."

Glen Nightingale.

He should've known her grandfather was one of the head owners of the firm. He's practically in the presence of greatness, even if the greatness is only five years old, riding on five and a half.

"How did you get down here?" Coriolanus asks her, knowing that the most important people work on the very top floor. He would know since he works on the floor below them, so close to being at the top.

Ceraphina giggles and bounces on her toes, "I took the elevenator."

Festus chuckles, "You mean the elevator?"

She scrunches her face, shaking her head, "That's what I just said."

"Well, Miss Ceraphina, it seems that I have to take you up to your grandfather's office," the receptionist says with a sigh, acting as if she's so burdened by this responsibility suddenly. Coriolanus chews on his bottom lip a moment before finally making up his mind, "I can take her."

Ceraphina quickly nods and reaches up for his hand, taking it without hesitation, "Yes! He works on the tippy-top floor, it's very high up in the clouds."

Coriolanus nods along while they walk towards the elevator, ignoring the smirk he's getting from Festus. Ceraphina waves goodbye to the receptionist before the doors close, "I can press the button!" She says, swatting away at his hand when he goes to press it.

"You wouldn't happen to be taking her so that you can run into her mother again would you?" Festus whispers, nudging Coriolanus with his elbow, earning him a sharp look from Coriolanus. He made the mistake of telling Festus about his encounter with Glen Nightingale's daughter and granddaughter in the department store the other week and now Festus is convinced that it's a sign.

It would be if Ceraphina's mother wasn't married with a child.

"I'm simply being a good-hearted samaritan, looking to spread some holiday cheer," he replies, looking straight ahead to ignore any teasing looks he might get from Festus.

Festus only scoffs before the doors slide open, letting them out on the top floor. "Can we go again?" Ceraphina asks, tugging on his hand. Coriolanus shakes his head although it's hard to tell her no to anything when she gives him those pleading eyes, batting her eyelashes up at him. How do people ever say no to their children?

"We better find your grandfather's office," he tells her, leading them through the lobby and down the hall. He looks over at the large painting hanging on the left wall, every founder of the company is pictured with a stern-looking face. Glen Nightingale's face looks down on them as they pass by, making Coriolanus feel a little bit nervous about this plan of his now that they're nearing the end.

He hopes that Glen is nice, that he's not some asshole who thinks of himself as being better than everyone else. He at least must love his grandaughter if he brought her with him to work today.

"Ooo, danish delights," Festus says, beelining for the breakroom, "I'll catch up with you later."

Coriolanus needn't be told twice.

Nothing sounds worse than Festus trying to crack a joke with Glen Nightingale, the man who writes their paychecks every two weeks so Coriolanus doesn't fight him on it.

"Do you know my grandfather?" Ceraphina asks him, taking three steps for every step he takes. Coriolanus nods, doing his best to remain calm, cool, and collected, "I do. Well, I know of him," he corrects himself, not needing her to repeat false information, "I work for him."

Ceraphina hums, starting to skip instead of walking down the hall of the most important offices in the entire building, "Lots of people now my grandfather. Mommy says it's because of his job."

Coriolanus wonders if he might run into her mother again, probably not. "Yes, he's a well-known face in the Capitol," he agrees.

They finally reach the end of the hall, coming to a stop in front of the ominous doors that lead to Glen Nightingale's office. Coriolanus braces himself to know, raising up his other hand but Ceraphina beats him to it, shoving the doors open like she owns the place.

"I'm back!"

Coriolanus stays planted in the hallway while Ceraphina prances into the office, her grandfather watching her from behind his large desk. A wall of windows is behind him, giving Coriolanus a gorgeous view of the Capitol skyline. "Where'd you run off to this time sweetheart?" Glen asks, peering over the rim of his glasses at his granddaughter who happily runs around his desk to give him a hug.

It's a sweet sight to witness the important and powerful Glen Nightingale picking his granddaughter up and swooping her into his lap, tickling her and making her laugh. "I went downstairs," she giggles, pushing his glasses further up his nose, "they have a Christmas tree in the lobby downstairs, why don't you have one on your floor?"

Glen smiles, brushing some of her hair out from her face, "I'll have them set a tree up tonight. It'll be here the next time you come and visit, how does that sound?"

"Perfect!"

Glen's attention is finally drawn to Coriolanus who feels so fucking awkward watching this interaction that is a very private one. Many things can be said about Glen Nightingale from a business perspective, but no one really knows anything about his private life.

"And who might you be? Not another grandchild I hope, you're far too old to be running around my building."

Coriolanus grins and Ceraphina gasps, shaking her head and tugging on Glen's shoulder, "He's not your grandchild! I'm your grandchild! He works here," she points at Coriolanus, "we saw him at the restaurant remember?"

Glen seems to remember that short-lived interaction and he nods, "Yes, I do recall seeing your face that night. Snow isn't it?"

Coriolanus can't believe this man knows who he is, even if it's only by his last name. That's a step up in his book. "Yes sir. Coriolanus Snow."

Ceraphina wiggles out of Glen's lap, running over to a small seating area where there are all sorts of dolls and stuffed animals laid out over the rug and furniture, "The receptionist on the fifth floor was going to bring her here but I offered to do it instead. I hope you don't mind."

Glen waves him in, an offer Coriolanus gladly accepts once he closes the doors behind him, "Nonesne," Glen says, shaking his head, "you're a man who takes initiative, a man who remembers faces and looks out for those who are in trouble. Although my little Ceraphina is rarely ever in trouble."

Ceraphina looks over her shoulder at him, her eyes lit up with excitement, "Mhm, I'm very well behaved." Both men chuckle and Glen rises from his chair, "And very modest too."

Coriolanus watches her play with her dolls, in her own little world really. "She's very well-mannered," he tells Glen, "I've never met such a confident child, especially a young lady." Most little girls he's come across have hidden behind their parent's legs, not wanting to talk to him at all and he can't really blame them, he's not the most approachable-looking man with his stern face.

But Ceraphina doesn't seem to think so.

Glen stops next to him, both of them watching his granddaughter play," Yes," he agrees, "she's very extroverted. It's my daughter who's the shy one, makes me wonder where Ceraphina got all her spunk."

Before Coriolanus can ask where exactly Glen's daughter is, the doors fly open, this time it's a taller blonde with blue-gray eyes opening them, "You found her?"

It's Ceraphina's mother, panting which means she probably ran to get here. She looks flustered, and she clearly didn't expect to see Coriolanus standing in her father's office, "Coriolanus here found her," Glen says, patting Coriolanus on the shoulder while he tries to look like he's not kissing up to her father.

"Oh thank goodness," she says, rushing past both of them to get to Ceraphina who smiles up at her, oblivious to how many people have probably been looking for her. "Mommy, can we go get lunch now?"

Her mother nods, looking back over at Coriolanus for a moment before crouching down to be at eye level with her daughter, "You can't run off like that darling," she says softly, holding Ceraphina's face in her hands, "someone else could've found you and taken you. That's why I tell you not to talk to strangers, you're all I have."

Coriolanus frowns, all she has?

"She's perfectly safe here Soarynn," Glen says to his daughter.

Soarynn, what a beautiful name.

Soarynn sighs, shaking her head, "You don't know that," she tells her father, standing back up and walking over to them, "he's not going to be there every time she runs off," she gestures towards Coriolanus, "and your secretary isn't being paid to watch after her either."

Well, this is awkward.

Coriolanus takes this as an opportunity to admire how Soarynn looks today, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her outfit today is a gray dress, fitting her perfectly at the waist and stopping above the ankle.

"I don't think we've formally met," he says, reaching out his hand to her, "I'm Coriolanus Snow."

Soarynn looks at his hand, not immediately taking it which makes him feel so stupid but she finally takes it and he can't help but notice how small her hand is, how soft and dainty it feels in his large hand.

"I'm sorry we have to keep meeting like this," she says, pulling her hand from his, and Coriolanus is quick to shake his head, "Don't be. There's worse people to constantly be running into."

Stupid, stupid, he chides himself, why did he have to word it like that?

But it seems that Glen Nightingale is on his own agenda because he places his hand on Soarynn's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, "Perhaps you two could arrange a meeting, like over dinner, lit by candlelight."

Soarynn scoffs, giving her father a nasty glare, "I don't think Coriolanus is inter-"

"Well you never know until you ask honey," Glen cuts her off, "and I don't see a ring on his finger. You're not married are you Coriolanus?"

He feels...caught for some reason but Coriolanus quickly shakes his head, flashing the father-daughter-duo a smile, "No sir. I'm free as a bird."

Glen hums, "See? It's as easy as that."

Soarynn looks desperate to get out of this conversation, slapping her father's hand away, "It's not as easy at that," she tells him, "and I think we're going to go to lunch. We'll see you at home."

Glen doesn't fight her on it, simply watching Soarynn help Ceraphina gather all her toys into a bag before putting on their coats, "Goodbye!" Ceraphina says, running over to give her grandfather a hug. Glen kneels down, groaning when she throws her arms around her neck, "Goodbye my girl, enjoy lunch and be good for your mother."

Ceraphina smiles, placing a kiss on his cheek, "I will!"

She looks up at Coriolanus a bit unsure of how to say goodbye to him, "Thanks for rescuing me." Coriolanus chuckles, he'd hardly consider that rescuing but he's glad she sees it that way, "It was my pleasure," he tells her.

Ceraphina is out the door before anyone can say another word, that girl is a little busybody if he's ever seen one. Soarynn sighs, offering him a polite smile, "Thank you for bringing her back."

"Of course."

He hoped she might say a little bit more but Soarynn Nightingale is a woman of few words apparently because she turns to her father, giving him a kiss on the cheek before promising to see him at home, and just like that, she's gone.

The office seems much more empty now that it's just the two of them.

"You have a beautiful family," Coriolanus tells Glen, and he means it too. If his family ever ends up being half as lovely as Glens, he'll consider himself a successful man. Glen grins, pushing his glasses back up his nose once again, "Thank you. I'm very lucky to have both girls in my life. I do apologize for trying to set you up on a date with my daughter, she's just so shy and you seem like a good man Coriolanus Snow."

Those words mean more than Glen could ever know, but Coriolanus doesn't let it show, simply nodding, "Thank you, sir, I try to be."

He really does, and he's going to make it his new mission to find out more about Soarynn Nightingale.

꧁ ꧂

"It says here that Glen Nightingale's wife died twenty-four years ago."

Coriolanus frowns when he hears what Festus has found during their "research session." If he can even call it that. They're both sitting in his study at home, nursing glasses of whiskey. Festus needed to get out of the house and away from his crying son, and Coriolanus needed an assistant to help him find out more about the Nightingales.

It worked out for both of them.

"Soarynn looked to be around twenty-four," he mumbles, flipping through old newspapers, "so that could mean that..."

He doesn't want to finish his sentence, doesn't want to suggest that it could mean that Mrs. Nightingale died during childbirth, much like his own mother when trying to give birth to his little sister.

"It says she died giving birth to their only daughter, Soarynn Nightingale. Wow you were right, she is very pretty. Anyways, it says he has one grandchild, Ceraphina Nightingale, but I can't find anything else about Soarynn."

He already knows that. What he wants to know is where is Ceraphina's father? He's clearly not in the picture if Glen is trying to set Soarynn up with dates, but Soarynn seemed so withdrawn from the idea. Repulsed even, and he took that personally.

"It doesn't say anything about a father?"

"Nope. But maybe she never got married since she still has her maiden name."

Or she's divorced, Coriolanus thinks, flipping through more articles.

Festus sighs, stretching in his armchair, "I mean, think about it, if Ceraphina is five, and Soarynn is twenty-four, then that means she had her when she was nineteen. And no one from a prominent family like hers is just having kids on purpose at nineteen. I think it was wedlock."

Coriolanus frowns, that actually might make sense, which is terrible.

"But then she would be married," he counters, "if she did get pregnant by accident, the families would have them get married before announcing the pregnancy to cover it up and there's no way they'd allow for a divorce."

When you're in a prominent family such as the Snows, the Nightingales, or the Creeds, divorce is a recipe for disaster. No one gets divorced unless there's a case of abuse.

If Soarynn did get married out of wedlock, she'd have a ring on her finger.

"She still lives with her father," Festus points out, "so maybe she did get divorced but they just covered it up really well."

Maybe, but that still seems unlikely.

Coriolanus groans and grabs another stack of newspapers, "No, it has to be something else. Glen wouldn't be that...passive and encouraging if that was the case. He was trying to set us up on a date, what type of father does that if his daughter had a baby out of wedlock and then turned around to get divorced?"

Festus shrugs, "A terrible one," he jokes, not getting a single laugh out of Coriolanus who merely rolls his eyes in response. Coriolanus keeps going through newspapers, searching for something, anything.

Then he lands on a tragic page. A page mentioning a terrible car accident, with no survivors.

"What're you looking at? Oh, I remember that, poor Felix," Festus says, shaking his head, "can't believe it's been five years since he passed."

Coriolanus slams his hand on the desk, "THAT'S IT!"

Festus topples out of his chair, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

"Felix Ravenstill was seeing a girl before the accident, remember? And she had just graduated from the Academy, he said she was very pretty but very shy. He also said her dad was as rich as his dad, but that doesn't matter. But right before the accident, he started getting really nervous, remember? He was always on edge, always leaving lectures to go talk to someone on the phone."

Festus groans from his spot on the floor, rubbing his head, "So what? You think he was courting Soarynn and got her pregnant?"

Coriolanus nods, pacing back and forth now that he's putting the pieces back together, "Yes, I remember seeing the Glen at the funeral, but Soarynn wasn't there. I would've remembered seeing her there. Oh it makes perfect sense, he got her pregnant, and before they could do anything about it he cr-"

"He died," Festus says, cutting him off, "leaving her pregnant and alone to raise their baby. At least Ceraphina looks like her mother because Felix wasn't very good-looking if you can remember."

Coriolanus scoffs, barely thinking about Felix any more. He can't believe he put the pieces together. Well, he thinks he put the pieces together, but he's not entirely sure. The Nightingales and the Ravenstills must have agreed to keep it a secret due to how tragic of a loss it already was.

How sad, he can’t imagine being so young and having to raise a child alone. At least she’s rich. And her father seems very supportive, not holding it against her at all.

Festus finally peels himself off the floor, dusting off his pants for good measures, “I say we quit our day jobs and invest in a mystery-solving business,” he proposes, “except we don’t solve any real crimes because people who go poking their noses into things like that always wind up dead. But rich housewife drama? It’s perfect! I can see it now: ‘Creed & Snow Investigations’!”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, “My last name would come first, and we’re not quitting our day jobs.”

He can’t quit for many reasons but the most important reason right now is to learn more about the woman he can't seem to get out of his head. He's just got to play his cards right.

꧁ ꧂

"Have you seen the guest list for the holiday party yet?"

"No, do you have it?"

"Yes! Some of these men aren't even bringing their wives!"

Coriolanus pretends to be very interested in his cup of coffee while eavesdropping on the conversation between two secretaries from two separate floors. If he can sneak a look at the guest list, he can find out if Soarynn is coming to the holiday party.

He just has to get his hands on the list.

Which is why he's planned a distraction. And it should be going off any minute now...

"I'M HURT! OH, I'M HURT! CALL A MEDIC! CALL AN AMBULANCE! OH DON'T TAKE ME YET! I HAVE A WIFE AND CHILD AND GOODNESS KNOWS MY WIFE CAN'T WORK MORE THAN TWO HOURS WITHOUT COMPLAINING ABOUT IT! OH, SOMEONE HELP! SOMEONE LIKE A SECRETARY!"

Coriolanus should've asked someone else to be the distraction.

But both secretaries are running out of the breakroom in seconds to find out who's causing all this racket, and they're going to be pissed when they see that it's Festus.

But Coriolanus doesn't have a moment to waste, he crosses the breakroom in seconds, grabbing the papers that have every guest written down in neat, printed letters. He scans through the papers, his hopes slowly dwindling when he doesn't see Soarynn's name.

He flips to the last page and has to hold in a dramatic gasp. Because there it is.

'Soarynn Nightingale.'

He figured Glen would bring her but one can never be too sure. But now he knows and he's got to show up looking irresistible.

He sets the papers back down where he found them and not a moment too soon because the secretaries are walking back in a second later, grumbling and shaking their heads.

Coriolanus feigns a look of concern, "Is everything alright? Who was injured?"

The secretary who works on his floor, Constance rolls her eyes and grabs the papers, "It was Mr. Creed who was screaming like a small child."

"What happened? Is he alright?"

Constance scoffs and shakes her head, "He had a paper cut. I don't get paid enough to put up with this."

Coriolanus does his best to conceal his smirk, he didn't know what lie Festus would come up with, but a papercut sounds about right. "Oh, I forgot to ask but will you be bringing anyone to the holiday party Mr. Snow?"

Coriolanus shakes his head, acting nonchalant, "Nope. Just me, myself and I."

But he's hoping to change that.

| Part 1. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[risaonda]

neverending battle of experiencing symptoms up to the point ur finally going to see a doctor about them and they suddenly vanish so fast

[almostfoxglove]

BLOCK PARTY

written for @auteurdelabre's TROPE OFF! challenge & a special thank you to @jolapeno for coming up with this idea - ilysm!

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Joel Miller x f!Reader WORD COUNT: 4.6k | TROPE: FAKE RELATIONSHIP CW: Tooth-rotting fluff, so much soft!joel, a tiny bit of protective!joel as a treat.

SUMMARY: After your ex moves into the neighborhood, Joel offers to pose as your boyfriend at the annual block party. It shouldn't be hard to pretend for a night, since he's hopelessly into you.

read on ao3 | almostfoxglove masterlist

Joel remembers the day you moved into the house on the corner perfectly—that orange craftsman with the cute triangle yard and a pergola on which the last owners let their wisteria die, left empty for nearly half a year. He’d just gotten home from a job, sweat-stained and spent, desperate for a shower when he’d heard the hum of an unfamiliar car. He’s not curious by nature, keeps happily to himself, but that day he found himself spying out through the picket of window between his curtains, wondering who it might be.

Thank god he did.

Thank god, too, that no one else bought that house. Has a little wrap around porch, a red door. Whole block wanted it—hell, Joel even heard the couple left of him consider it one evening. We could sell, one had said, hushed and conspiratorial, then buy that one.

But they didn’t, and a few weeks later you and your beat-up hatchback rolled up into the driveway, gifting Joel one measly glimpse of the back of your head as you rushed inside. No sight of you the next day; you kept the curtains drawn. But two evenings later a moving truck squealed up the quiet street and Joel, well. Joel happened to be near the windows when the truck happened to stop outside your orange house and happened to catch a look at you slogging down from the porch to roll up the back of the van with a distant grunt, unveiling your boxes and towered belongings.

He was pretty much a goner right then, right there. 

Because you looked miserable, an Atlas lugging the world on your shoulders. Dark shadows clinging to the hollows of your cheeks. Your hair pulled back and greasy, your t-shirt a size too big, puddled at the hem with a stain. And maybe he’s getting soft or was from the start, because against his better judgment and the complaints of all his tired joints, Joel jogged out of his house and right on up to you. Offered to help you carry it all inside.

Took an hour to trek the boxes in, twenty minutes to tetris the couch, and another thirty for the rest of the furniture. One lampshade broke, for which Joel will never forgive himself but you swore it was fine, insisting it wasn’t one you liked, that it belonged to an ex. 

The whole evening sped by and bruised blue, and Joel’s stomach sank just a little when it was done. Though his body howled and ached, he wouldn’t have minded if it’d taken eight more hours to haul all that shit into your house. Might’ve offered to help you unpack if that wouldn’t have been a creepy thing to do.  But you shook his hand in thanks, gave him your name and a stiff smile, promising him dinner, or muffins, or whatever the fuck neighbors do as you walked him to the door with the urgency of a vampire who has only a few minutes left to black out all the windows and doors before sunrise. Hurrying him out, wanting to be alone.

When his own front door was latched, the house dead in its quiet, Joel swore to himself that once you got settled, he’d find some way to tell you that you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, that the caw of laughter you let out when he’d dropped the foot of your couch on his ankle was the best fucking sound even if it did bruise purple and green, that all the furniture you own is somehow perfect and warm and exactly what he’d never think to buy but would love to come home to, and that just shaking your hand made him feel like a kid again. That he’d pretty much do anything to be the one who puts a smile on your face.

But you’ve lived across the street three years now and he’s never told you. 

Can’t now. It’s too late. You’re friends.

And anyway, these days you smile plenty on your own; you don’t need him. Took the better part of a year, but you perked up. Transformed that triangle yard into an Eden, built trellises for sweet peas and tomato vines. Every year, bushels of strawberry plants bloom in summer and rows of squash unfurl in autumn. Stalks of bulb plants flower every month right on cue. Your birdfeeders never vacant, the little wooden house driven into the yard on a stake dizzy with mason bees in spring.

Three years after you moved in, no one would ever believe Joel if he told them how you’d looked that first day. Her? Can’t picture that girl sad. Her? The one who’s always smiling? You’re messing with me.

Now, both of you swaying on his porch swing—looking out into the rutted wasteland of backyard he swears one day he’ll landscape—Joel watches that old shadow cross your face as you lift your lemonade to your chewed-up lips. He can see it. The light in your eyes swishing dark like you’ve drawn the curtains. For three years he’s watched you build yourself up, coax yourself into the sunshine, only to have it extinguished by your ex—an ex who’s moved in just five houses down.

It might kill him to see you like this again.

Joel might kill the bastard just to prevent you any more harm. Burn that goddamn house to the ground. He’s glad that he broke that lamp when you moved in. Not that he says.

“C’mere,” he says, stretching out one arm, and without hesitating—without even turning your head to look at him—you sink against his side, cheek squished to his chest. A torture and miracle, the gift of your touch. How you have, over the years, decided to trust him. 

“Of all the fucking neighborhoods to—” you start to say, but your voice cracks, betrays you, and there’s a jagged edge to your next breath that makes Joel’s whole body yank with pain. “Of all the fucking neighborhoods for him to choose.”

“I know, darlin’,” Joel mumbles, resting his chin on the crown of your head. Praying he doesn’t imagine the way your body deflates at his touch.

“Block party’s gonna suck,” you sigh, and if he closes his eyes Joel can almost imagine that this is something that it’s not. That if he wanted to, he could kiss you right now, touch you properly. Pet and lick and fuck every thought and worry right out of your head. That your heart’s racing even half the speed his is right now. 

You must hear it, he thinks—with the shell of your ear resting so near that traitorous organ—but if you do you don’t say a word.

Joel squeezes your shoulder. “Don’t gotta go alone,” he says. 

This stiffens your shoulders, holds your breath. You peel yourself from his side and evening sun paints your face orange as a clementine, gilds your eyes with tendrils of gold. Your brows pinch together so sweetly, curving down above your nose as a laugh rises to your lips. “Right,” you chuckle. “Sure.”

“I mean it,” Joel says, and takes his arm off you to sit up straighter, rocking the swing. “Could go together.”

He’s not sure why you look so surprised. You’re friends. You go places together. Lunch, the movies, to the grocery store. Shit, you drove him home loopy from the dentist after they cracked out his wisdom teeth. Took photos of him after you waddled him into his house, drugged up and chipmunk-cheeked. Relished showing him every snapshot for weeks afterward, giggling and pinching his face until he blushed. 

Going to the annual block party together seems a hell of a lot more neighborly than that.

“What,” you say, still smiling at him like he’s crazy. “And you’ll pretend to be my boyfriend?”

It’s possible Joel’s heart stops. All his thoughts certainly do. All sound, reasonable logic floats away until all that matters in the world is your face, your gob-smacked smile. The dissonance of what he was offering and what you heard.

“If you want,” Joel hears himself say.

And that’s that. He digs his own grave.

If anyone was around to see Joel’s face when he first lays eyes on the guy, they’d probably assume you used to date the devil himself. Jaw grinding, arms crossed tightly over his chest, every nerve flayed and hair on end—doesn’t seem to matter how much you assured him that your ex isn’t a bad person, Joel hates the guy. If he were a younger man, as reckless as he’d once been, he’d knock the guy on his ass for daring to step foot in the neighborhood, let alone buy up a place.

You’re with Joel in your front yard showing off the mason bees that dart in and out of their paper tubes when something flickers in the corner of Joel’s eye—a man running on the sidewalk, earbuds in, sweat pooled in a V on the front of his t-shirt. He does a double take at the sight of you. 

Joel squares his shoulders.

The guy comes to a jogging halt, pops an earbud out as he calls your name, and Joel’s heart might rip clean out of his chest when your face falls at the sound of his voice, all the pride in your smile snuffed in the blink of an eye. You turn so slowly. Wave a little sheepishly. “Hi.”

“Do you—” the guy starts to ask, his bright eyes flickering between you and your orange house.

You nod. “Three years now.”

His eyes damn near pop out of his skull—this, at least, is one small comfort. He had no idea you lived here. He’s not following you or nothing. As you rub the back of your neck, suddenly quiet, Joel hears your voice in his head saying, You’ll pretend to be my boyfriend? 

Guess that starts now if you wanna sell it. At least that’s what Joel tells himself as he takes a small step closer and settles his hand on the small of your back over your t-shirt. Swears he can feel your every tiny twitch beneath his palm, every degree of your body heat. There’s just one second of lag before you inch closer, too, making a shrew of his nervous heart. Blood races in his veins; his stomach turns to molten gold.

A twitch snags in your ex’s cheek and Joel’s lips tighten, fighting back the smug urge to smile. Tucked against his side, you look up at Joel and he can’t help feeling like next to you is exactly where he belongs. Perfect, you smile before drawing your eyes away, and slip your arm around his waist. 

“Sorry,” you say, grinning in a way Joel’s not seen you manage since this jackass showed up. “This is Joel. My— uh—boyfriend.”

Maybe heaven is one beautiful lie.

Joel must be a greedy man, because he slips his hand up your spine to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest. It’s either the best or worst feeling in the world, the way you don’t resist for a second. The way you melt against him, your hand gripping at the hem of his t-shirt over his hip. 

“Right,” says your ex, still doe-eyed when he meets Joel’s blackened stare. “Clark. S’nice to meet you, man.”

Joel hmphs , gives him fuck all but a stiff nod, and for just one second you turn your face into his chest like you’re trying to smother a laugh. Pride has never filled him quite as quickly as it does now, knowing he’s the cause. That he’s put that smile on you, making you bite your bottom lip. He’s the one who’s made this gentler on your heart.

When Clark takes off again, you and Joel wait until he disappears around the corner to withdraw your arms, then you break into stomach-y laughter, smothering your face in your hands. “Oh god,” you wheeze, your whole face split by joy. “His face. That was—shit, that was incredible. That felt so good.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Joel looks out into the empty street to hide his blush, focusing on the golden light of August’s showboating. It’s a perfect evening, oak trees gossiping in the balmy breeze. It’s small, sure, but knowing he’s made you feel so good sets him on fire, fries his brain. He wants to make you say so good, so good, so good, in every possible way. 

You snort, you’re laughing so hard. 

“Happy to be of service,” he mumbles.

“Jesus,” you go on, and he turns to find you’re wiping your thumbs under your eyes. “That felt so much better than I thought it would. I think you might be a genius.”

Sure, genius. That’s the word for it.

On the day of the block party, you ask Joel to creep across the street at the break of dawn, insisting that people could be setting up, and, wouldn’t it look weird if we didn’t come out of the same house? We have to look like we’re sleeping together, dumbass. He only managed to restrain himself from suggesting that he just sleepover by the skin of his teeth, so tempted by the thought of being close to you at night—even isolated on your couch, so many doors away from your dreams.

But he’ll take the morning. He does. As early light sets the asphalt ablaze, Joel slinks across the road to your house, finds your front door unlocked, and lets himself in. Inside is cold like winter, the air-con cranked, and you’re on the couch in a sweater that’s cuffed at your wrists, coffee smoking in your hand, your legs folded up beneath you, bare.

“Morning,” you say, when you see him, a kind smile on your lips.

Joel shuts the red door behind him, clears his throat. “Mornin’,” he says.

There are hours until the block party begins, so you and Joel kill the morning on your couch watching shitty TV and drinking enough coffee that Joel’s hands begin to shake—though maybe that’s just the cold, the air frigid in a way that transcends summer. Maybe it’s just you. You, transforming leftovers from your fridge into a breakfast hash, rich with cilantro from the plant on your windowsill. You, knocking your knuckles against his arm whenever you laugh at something stupid he’s managed to say or a joke on screen. You, handing him his refilled mug or breakfast bowl or taking them back to wash up, brushing your fingertips against his hand. Every time.

It’s a jolt to his whole system, this small meeting of your skin.

Soon the television is challenged by the din of your neighbors setting up tables and booths and games for the kids—at which you straighten on the couch, craning to peek through one of your picture-frame windows. A sigh blooms from your lips, then you set down your mug.

“Should put clothes on,” you tell him as you rise, legs unfolding. You look so soft. Joel knows you would be. “Gimme a second.”

Then you’re gone, and his head falls down against the back of your couch, the heels of his hands grinding into his eyes. It feels like you’re only gone for a second before your footsteps pinch down the stairs once more. “Headache?” he hears you ask, catching him with his hands still over his eyes. “Did I give you too much coffee?” 

You’re teasing. Joel can hear your smirk as his hands slip back down to his lap, craning over the back of the couch to look up at you, and the world crumbles below him and falls away. Brows folded low over your eyes, you slide your hands down your front to soothe wrinkles from the skirt of your red sundress that only you can see. Slack-jawed, Joel finally manages to sit up, then twists to look back at you properly—perfect, that’s what you are. Every temptation and every vice and every poison he’d willingly drink.

“The dress is too much, isn’t it?” you say, sounding worried now.

He shakes his head, fights not to reach over this goddamn couch and pull you onto his lap. The thought alone makes his cock twitch traitorously in his jeans. You’re close enough that he could. You’re right there.

“S’perfect,” Joel croaks.

You let out a sigh of relief and nod before moving toward the door for your shoes. With his last remaining sense, Joel turns his head just before you bend down to reach for a pair of sandals. This was a terrible idea. He sees that now. A huge fucking mistake. 

But it’s too late to back out now, because you’re already calling him over, sliding your hand into his as you step out onto the porch like this is normal, like you’ve done this before, like you don’t mind his sweaty palm. Outside the street is a racket, a flurry of children chasing each other between driveways and neighbors cracking the caps off beer bottles, a painted banner strung over the road between two maples: 

B L O C K   P A R T Y ! 

He hears you make a quiet hmph sound of amusement as you draw toward the crowd.

Joel waits, but to his surprise, no one asks why you’re here together, why you’re holding hands. Sorta figured you’d have to do the awkward uh, yes, it’s very… new for everyone, but nobody asks. In fact, when you vanish momentarily from his side to get drinks—the ruffle of your dress flirting with the tops of your thighs—someone tuts sweetly to Joel, “I knew it.”

Then you’re back before he can blush, two bottles sweating in your hands, and the neighbor vanishes the second you pass one to him. Your forehead has pinched up with nerves. Must mean you’ve seen him, Clark or whatever, and Joel’s a man of his word—you’ve asked him to do a job—so he glides one hand around your waist and presses his lips to your temple. Mumbles softly, “I’ve got ya,” against your skin as he breathes you in. There’s something sweet in your perfume, he thinks. Lilac or honey.

As if on cue, a soccer ball zips beneath the banner and a moment later it lifts as someone chases after it. Clark, obviously, looks up, sees you in the nook of Joel’s arm, and tucks the runaway ball under one arm without a word, then takes off in the direction he came from without so much as a nod.

Joel feels your chin jut into his chest as you squeeze him, smiling. “This is gonna be fun,” you grin.

Joel takes a deep breath to keep himself from hoping. That glint in your eye—one part mischief and another affection—ain’t good for him, but he can’t help the twitch at the corner of his mouth, that instinct to return your smile. “Careful, darlin’,” he mumbles, and as he brushes his thumb across your cheek you lean into his hand. “Face might stick like that.”

Rolling your eyes, you say, “What, you don’t like it like this?”

Though he only hmphs, Joel suspects you know that he does, in fact, like you very much like this: smiling up at him like he’s painted the sky with stars just by standing at your side. 

How quickly the day passes with you beside him. For every year he’s lived in the neighborhood Joel has too attended the block party, but like most obligatory functions, he finds himself worn down quickly, always the first to leave, retreating into the quiet of his house when he’s reached the end of his meager tolerance. When he’s had too many conversations and seen too many faces too close together and he’s desperate for quiet, for sleep.

It’s different with you. You buffer so much of the polite conversations he’s never been good at having with grace and ease, always drawing the focus away from him just as he starts to feel it’s too much, like you can tell when Joel’s at the end of his rope. Sure, he’s still gotta stand there while you chat to whoever about mixed up mail or work or garden soil, but so long as they’re looking at you, that swell of too much never comes. He can just stand there, sipping his beer or lemonade, and focus on the swipe of your thumb across his knuckles as you hold his hand. The heat of your body when you lean into him.

By sundown, Joel forgets that it’s all pretend. He forgets this is nothing but a favor between friends.

Now the food has dwindled, that summer smell of hotdogs dissolving from the air, and all the lawn chairs once relegated to each person’s lawn shuffle into the black street as cicadas form their nightly orchestra. You don’t have any lawn chairs, but Joel’s got two. Always has—he doesn’t know why. Only ever just him at these things.

Maybe he was hopeful, back when he bought them.

It’s hard not to feel—as he drags both out to sit at the back of the crowd—like he was waiting for you. He just didn’t know it at the time.

“So prepared,” you tease him, as you settle into your seats. 

“Keep it up,” he replies, his eyebrows warning in their slow rise. “I’ll take that chair you’re sittin’ on.”

You scrunch your nose. “No you won’t,” you say.

Obviously he won’t. But you don’t have to be so cute about it. 

Then a sudden chorus of children shrieks, announcing the first firework. There’s a hissing, then a dart in the darkness, and a small spark of golden light cracks open overhead. A smattering of applause simmers, punctuated by oohs and awws, and all the kids giggle every time a sparkler booms. Beside him, the glitter of each explosion forms a galaxy in your eyes, your lips parted with wonder. The prettiest thing Joel’s ever seen, just like that first day. After a while you notice that Joel’s not watching the show, and turn slowly to look at him, your expression open and tender.

“Missing the show,” you say.

He shrugs. “I’ll see ‘em next year.”

When you smile, he wants to kiss you so badly his heart might actually stop, strangled by its longing.

But your head whips back at the thunder of a vibrant firework—a dandelion of neon blue and searing white—and the moment passes. Then Joel watches your smile falter as your eyes fall into the crowd; Clark, sitting up near the front of the pack, is looking back at you over his shoulder. Trying to be subtle and doing a shitty job; head snapping away the moment he sees Joel’s glare. 

“Ignore him,” Joel says, and reaches down to wrap a hand around one leg of your chair, dragging you closer to him. You let out a giddy yelp of surprise and draw your ex’s attention again. 

This time you don’t flinch or falter. One glance at the guy and you’re reaching for Joel, fist gripping the collar of his t-shirt to tug him toward you. He’s got no chance to think, to panic; it happens too fast. Your sweet mouth closes over his—not for a peck, but a real kiss. Lips parting to taste his bottom lip, a breathy sigh passed from your tongue to his. Joel’s lost all at once, no use resisting. His hand curls gently over your wrist to keep your grip on him as he tilts his head to lick into your mouth. 

The fireworks fall away.

You taste like lemonade and hops and the raspberry cobbler someone cooked up, and there’s not a cell in Joel’s body that doesn’t swoon at the way your lips chase and melt into his, humming softly against his mouth when he cradles the back of your head in the palm of his hand. How you tug gently at his bottom lip before you draw away, forcing his hand to slink from your hair.

Clark’s staring. Your lips proud and grinning. Plush and kiss-bitten. Looking every bit as calm as Joel feels walloped. You hm smugly to yourself and drop your head on his shoulder, attention once more captured by the crackle of fireworks Joel forgot were happening, and even though he’s a fool for agreeing to something he knew would rip him up, he can’t bring himself to regret it. Not when you’ve kissed him like that. Not when you’re lying against him still, even though Clark has turned away.

The whole rest of the show passes in a dizzy haze. A blur of shattering light, and the heady weight of you leaning against him. Near the end you slip one hand over his knee. Your ex isn’t watching, doesn’t see the way your thumb glides slowly across the denim of Joel’s jeans, intoxicating. 

It feels, or else he hopes, that it’s just for him. 

The night is black by the time he walks you home, all your neighbors disappearing into their darkened houses, his lawn chairs stowed safely on his porch, and even though everyone’s gone when you reach your porch you still don’t let go of his hand until you’re at the door and you have to get out your keys. 

Your lock surrenders with a metal crack and you let your red door swing open. Inside your furniture beckons from the shadowed living room, cozy and soft. But you hesitate in the doorway, looking up at him. Joel has to put his hands in the pockets of his jeans to keep himself from pulling you against him properly, and pinning you to the wall. 

You scrunch your nose at him again. “Thank you,” you say, and your bottom lip pinches between your teeth as Joel’s gaze falls to your mouth. “Was actually pretty fun, in the end.”

Joel nods, drops his eyes shyly to his shoes. “I had fun too,” he manages to say. 

Your sandal nudges the toe of his boot as he stares at his shoes. “Y’alright?”

No, he’s not alright. He knows what it’s like to kiss you now—how the hell’s he supposed to go on living with that, and not ever have it again. “Mhm,” Joel lies, head snapping up to meet your gaze. He mistakes the look in your eyes for discomfort, thinks he must be keeping you from your night, from sleep. That after you were so sweet to him all day, he’s got the nerve to bother you. His heart winces as he forces himself to take a small step back. “Sorry. Don’t wanna keep ya.”

“Oh,” you say, face falling a little. “Okay. Goodnight then.”

There’s no way the pathetic flinch of his lips looks anything like a smile as he mumbles a sorry g’night.  

Then your face shrinks slowly in the closing gap of the door, a darkened look haunting your face that Joel swears—in the split second he sees it—almost looks like disappointment. Like you don’t want him to go. 

When he licks his lips, Joel remembers the plush of your lips, the soft hum you’d made when he licked into your mouth, how you’d leaned into his hand when he cradled your head. How your ex could never have seen or heard any of that sitting so far away. 

Maybe you just wanted to. God, he hopes you wanted to.

So before he can talk himself out of it, Joel’s hand jumps out and smacks flat against your door, holding it ajar. Through the slender gap he watches a grin bolt across your face as you sigh thank god and grab hold of his shirt, hauling him through the doorway to crash your lips against his.

dividers by @thecutestgrotto - tag list & some mutuals!

@ak-vintage @thethirstwivesclub @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @hediondoamor-blog @harriedandharassed 

@burntheedges @jolapeno @la-eterna-enamorada29 @iknowisoundcrazy @guiltyasdave

@littlemisspascal @luxurychristmaspudding @tonysopranosrobe @evolnoomym @sweetpascal 

@spacelatinos4life @sweetpascal @biggetywitch @wannab-urs @helenanell

@pedgito @pastelpinkflowerlife @jessthebaker @rav3n-pascal22 @sixhours 

@noisynightmarepoetry @kyberblade @beezusvreeland @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack 

@pedrospatch @yopossum @toomanytookas @sawymredfox @galway-girlatwork

[p4p1l0nn]

stress by day, spidey by night.

aus. spidey!mark, enemies to (?), etc. wc: 2.6k

pairing: mark lee x bartender!reader

content warning: 18+ wall sex, missionary, dom!mark, hookups, cunnilingus, etc, mdni.

notes. this isn’t my usual writing, but — spider!mark just hits a spot in my brain i didn’t know needed scratching.

mark lee pisses you off.

working at a bar that’s constantly packed, especially at night, is tough enough on its own. the music is always pounding, customers are shouting orders, and the place has an electric buzz that never seems to die down. it's the kind of chaos that could make anyone lose their mind. but having an enemy in your workplace? that makes it tough.

“you forgot the lime garnish again,” mark mutters under his breath, voice barely cutting through the noise of the bar. he doesn’t even bother looking at you when he says it, his focus already on the next customer.

you gritted your teeth, biting back the urge to snap at him. “i’ll fix it,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him.

this is how it’s been for months now. ever since you started, it’s been the same routine. being the newbie, you were warned that people would walk all over you at first, and sure enough, they did. it didn’t help that this bar was notorious for its high standards, and the other staff—most of whom had been there for years—weren’t exactly welcoming.

you’d overheard them a few times. “she won’t last long,” someone had said on your first week. “give it a month.”

for the first few months, you were treated like you didn’t belong. every mistake was called out, every misstep made you feel like you were in the way. you knew it was just how things worked—the new kid was always the target.

but you weren’t just anyone. you learned fast. every mistake you made, you used it as a lesson, and you improved. slowly, you earned your place. now, people trusted you to handle the rush, to mix drinks without screwing up, to keep your cool even when the line was three rows deep.

everyone except him.

mark was the only one who never gave you a break. even when you’d earned the respect of the rest of the staff, even when they stopped side-eyeing you and started treating you like one of them, the bartender never let up.

your first day at the bar was the start of this ongoing tension. johnny, the manager, had introduced you with a sense of forced cheerfulness.

“y/n, this is mark. mark, this is y/n. you two will be working the same station, so try to get along.” johnny’s tone was light, but there was an underlying edge that hinted at a deeper layer to the introduction.

he continued, “mark’s been here longer than anyone else. he’s the best when it comes to pouring liquor.” johnny’s gaze briefly shifted to mark, who stood there with a smirk that made it clear he knew exactly how good he was. it was a look that said he enjoyed the attention and the power that came with his experience.

“he’s good and he knows it,” johnny added, with a note of caution in his voice. it was as if he was warning you to brace yourself for the attitude that came with mark’s skills.

johnny didn’t linger. he left you with the bartender, who seemed to take johnny’s departure as an opportunity to assert his dominance.

“so, new kid,” mark had said, “first lesson of the day: start by washing those. we don't like dirty glasses around here.” he gestured dismissively towards the sink.

from that moment, mark made it clear he wasn’t just a colleague—he was your adversary.

and tonight was no different. it was another long and exhausting week at your boring job. you’d spent the last few days running on nothing but caffeine and pure willpower, and tonight wasn’t much better. the rush had been brutal—the kind of night where time dragged on, and you wondered if you’d make it to the end of your shift without collapsing.

luckily for you, it was friday, and there were only a few minutes left before your shift finally ended. you were practically counting down the seconds as you wiped down the last few glasses, your mind already drifting to the thought of getting home, crashing in bed, and forgetting this place for a while.

you packed up your station, double-checked that everything was in place, and exhaled, feeling that brief moment of relief when you know the end is near. your bag was already slung over your shoulder, the night almost behind you.

but as you turned to head out, your stomach dropped. because, of course, the last person you wanted to see swings right past you.

mark lee.

he’s bringing in a dolly stacked with a box of liquor when he walks in, and all you can do is pray that it’s not your responsibility and that he’s here to either wish you a good night or, if nothing else, to bother you in some other way.

but of course, that’s not the case. he parks the dolly next to your station. “it’s your turn to restock these baddies, kitten.” he says, his voice cold and dismissive.

you stared at him in disbelief. “are you serious? my shift ended like minutes ago. maybe you should handle it since you’re going to be here for the next hour.” you try to keep your voice steady, but the exhaustion and irritation make it hard.

mark’s expression doesn’t waver. “apparently, i’m not the one who decides these things. you’re here, so you deal with it.”

there he was again, being a dick just because he could. mark gave you a fake smile, a thin veneer of politeness over his usual smirk. “have a good night, kitten,”

it wasn’t a big deal, really. it wasn’t supposed to be. but mark made it difficult. maybe he was having another one of his mood swings, taking it out on you for reasons you didn’t understand. working meant following orders, and apparently, mark’s seniority card came with extra privileges. bullshit, in your opinion.

and it wasn't meant to be personal. at the end of the day, you’d finish up with your coworkers, share a post-shift drink—what they called a way to unwind—and forget about the crazy day. but the bartender never joined in, and it seemed he wouldn’t be joining tonight’s beer either. he had another hour to break down the bar before his shift was officially over, and you doubted he’d be interested in socializing afterward.

defeated, you grabbed the dolly and started unpacking the bottles.

an hour had passed since you and your coworkers finished your drinks and said your goodbyes. mark had wrapped up his shift earlier than expected, even though you were still busy restocking, and left the bar before you did—so unusual of him.

now back home, you had just finished your shower and were relaxing in your comfortable sleepwear when a sudden noise at the window caught your attention. you turned around, and there, framed against the city lights, was a familiar figure.

it was your friendly neighborhood spiderman.

in any other situation, you might have wondered why your city’s protector was showing up at your apartment window. but tonight, the reason was clear. you got up, opened the window, and let him slip inside.

“thank god you’re here,” you said, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “i’ve been so stressed by that grumpy old man at work. i’m at my wit's end with him.”

the masked hero chuckled softly, his voice carrying a comforting tone. “looks like i’ve arrived just in time, then.” his deep voice, though muffled by the mask, still managed to soothe you. he reached out, brushing a hand lightly against your cheek in a gesture that was both tender and reassuring.

without a word, he picked you up with surprising ease and gently set you down on your bed.

“did you miss me, spidey?” you watched as he lifted the edge of his mask just enough to show his mouth. noticing your pout, he brushed a soft kiss against your cheek. “i know you want to see my face, but i can't take this off.” his tone was apologetic, though firm.

you nodded, accepting his boundary. when you both began this arrangement, he’d been clear about keeping his mask on. as much as you were curious about the person behind it, you respected his wishes.

he focused on you, sliding off your shorts with a mix of eagerness and tenderness. “i’ve been thinking about this all week,” he said, his voice low and filled with anticipation. “can i?” he glanced up at you, his eyes full of a quiet desperation.

“yes, please. do whatever you want,” you replied softly, your voice barely a whisper but full of trust.

after receiving your soft, eager consent, the masked hero began to explore with his tongue. he traced a slow, deliberate path up your folds, causing you to shiver. with a mix of frustration and desire, he revealed the mess between your legs, his breath warm against your sensitive skin. he pressed a gentle kiss to your clit before diving in, his tongue moving with a hungry urgency, as though he had been deprived for too long.

the sensation of his tongue made you writhe with pleasure on the bed, and soon, he had to hold your legs down to keep you from squirming too much.

“just like that,” you gasped, your voice thick with pleasure. a moan escaped you when he reluctantly pulled away, leaving you even wetter. he leaned in to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “i’m so hard for you, princess,” he murmured, his breath hot against your face.

as you caught your breath, you watched as he pressed a button on his watch. the suit’s complex fabric deactivated with a soft hiss, and he shed it completely. now, he was fully naked except for the mask still covering his face.

you felt the heat of his length pressing against your stomach as he loomed above you.  “it’s almost impossible to focus with you here, looking so perfect,” he murmured, “you’re bad for me, you know that?” he slipped a finger inside you, feeling the warmth and slickness.

the touch made you moan, your breath hitching. he held your face gently but with a commanding grip. “tell me you know you’re trouble,” he said, his gaze fierce and unrelenting.

“i-i’m trouble, spidey. i could get you into so much trouble,” you panted, struggling to keep up with the rhythm of his finger. his touch was almost unbearable, heightening your need for him to be inside you completely.

“is my princess ready to get her brain fucked?” he asked, his voice thick with anticipation. you nodded, eager and ready. he withdrew his fingers from you and reached for the condoms on your nightstand. he rolled one down his throbbing length, which was slick with pre-cum.

before he entered you, he paused and looked at you with a pleading gaze. “let me take you raw, please,” he said, desperation clear in his voice. the request was tempting, but you shook your head.

“no. we’ve discussed this. it’s not worth the risk.” you replied firmly, despite the part of you that wanted to give in. he sighed, clearly disappointed, but complied.

with a grunt of resignation, he aligned himself with your entrance and pushed into you. the initial stretch made you gasp, and he barely gave you a moment to adjust before pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in. the intense feeling left you breathless, your vision blurring with the sudden rush of pleasure.

“fuck princess, try to stop clenching so tight,” spiderman grunted, his hands gripping your waist tightly. he thrust into you with steady, powerful movements, using your body to get himself deeper. his thumb rubbed your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

his words came out in rough, breathless gasps. you could barely understand him over your own moans and the intense feeling of him inside you. everything was a blur of heat and pleasure, making you lose track of time and sense.

the masked man suddenly pulled out of you, lifting you up and pressing your back against the bedroom door. your heart raced at the unexpected shift. fuck, this is hot, you thought. you tried to voice your concern, “what if i—”

he cut you off with a kiss. “you’re not going to fall, trust me.” he said, his voice soothing yet determined. he resumed his movements, his thrusts forceful and deep. “wish i could stay inside you forever, love.”

the change in position allowed him to hit a new spot inside you. his tip brushed against your spot, making you gasp with every thrust. his breaths grew more uneven, and you could tell he was getting close. he pulled you closer, his voice low and strained, “where do you want it?”

even through the waves of pleasure, you managed to reply, your voice barely a whisper, “f-face. want you on my face.”

a shadow of raw intensity crossed his face. spiderman pulled you off the wall and laid you back down on the bed, seamlessly sliding back into you. he resumed his vigorous pace, cursing under his breath as your wetness coated him with each thrust.

“i’m going to paint your face, baby.” he hissed, his movements growing more frantic and unsteady. his hand tightened around your throat, pulling you into a fierce kiss where your teeth clashed.

when he broke the kiss, he looked down at you with a predatory grin. “i can feel you tightening around me. you close?”

you nodded vigorously, breath ragged with pleasure.

he didn't say a word, simply focused on stimulating your clit as he thrust into you, causing your legs to shake from the intense pleasure. as you neared your orgasm, you could barely choke out, “i’m coming, oh f-fuck, so close!”

you clenched around him fiercely as your orgasm hit, your back arching with the force of it. he let you ride out your orgasm, his touch on your clit soothing you through the waves of pleasure. once you’d calmed, he pulled out and began stroking himself, eyes locked on you.

“i could get used to seeing you like this,” he rasped. it didn’t take long before he reached his peak, moaning your name as his release splattered across your face as you requested.

“so sexy. you look beautiful,” he said softly, gently tracing his fingers over your flushed cheeks. he gathered a bit of his cum on his fingertip and offered it to you. “taste good, huh?”

he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, nose, lips, and both cheeks. you barely able to whisper, “it’s fucking perfect. thank y-you.”

“anytime, kitten.”

you lay there for a moment, trying to fend off the pull of sleep after such a powerful climax. despite the exhaustion, you had to get up—especially with the hero's cum still on your face. glancing over at him, now fully dressed in his suit, you gave him a tired smile.

“see you around,” you said softly. he waved and stepped out the window, disappearing into the night.

mark, having returned to his usual persona, removed his mask and wiped the sweat from his brow and raked a hand through his disheveled long brown hair—which was still damp from your time together—as he landed on a rooftop.

“old grumpy man? really?” he muttered to himself, glancing back at your window. “not the smartest move, mark.” despite his self-criticism, he couldn't help but smile. he had genuine feelings for you, even if he couldn't show it at work.

mark chuckled as he slipped his mask back on and prepared to swing away. “guess i’ll keep this my little secret—no telling how you'd feel if you found out i’m the one stressing you out on purpose,” he mused, the thrill of it all still making him grin.

before he webbed off, mark gave one last smirk. “don’t worry, kitten. if i push you too hard at work, i’ll just have to help you ‘release’ that stress afterward.”

masterlist.

© 2024 PAPILLON

[rookiesbookies]

“so what if I sucked his dick. his knuckles were split and bloody from defending my safety and my honor what else was I supposed to do”

With my boys (141+Konig+Keegan)

Price

Price is not a man to bring violence into his domestic life. He just refuses to. He has the gun under the couch and the hand gun in his bedside table, and that’s all the violence at home he needs.

HOWEVER.

The night you both had gone on a nice date and decided to end the night at a pub he was just having a good time. He didn’t want to be bothered. He was having a nice time.

When he watched the guy come up behind the two of you slurring, he was already set on edge. When the man grabbed your ass? There was zero hesitation.

Punch landed square between the poor guys eyes, John took a long sip of his drink and left a $100 on the table to cover any problems and the two drinks you both had, before taking you by the hand and leaving.

The man had a thick skull and Price honestly just ignored the fact that he had clearly probably broken a bone in his hand because the head you were giving him made it all so worth it.

Soap

Surprisingly, it was not a random person he punched.

He and Gaz had gotten into a petty argument. It shouldn’t have started, really.

Apparently Gaz made some snarky comment about Soap’s girl. It was before Gaz and his girlfriend had started dating so he didn’t have a woman to put him in his place over the shitty comment.

Johnny, however, was happy to oblige.

It took both Ghost and Price to pull him off Gaz, who was luck Soap only got a few good hits in. Soap was sent home like a kid from school and John stapled a note to his shirt explaining what had happened.

What Captain John Price didn’t expect, however, was for you to reward this behavior.

Little kitten licks and fluttering kisses up and down his length, tell him how proud you were he defended you before giving him the sloppiest of his life.

He brain melted, Soap had half the mind to punch Gaz for it again next time he saw him just to see if she would reward him again.

Ghost

Oh, he had considered strangling your ex more than once. But he caught him at your doorstep when he had just gotten back from a mission.

He wasn’t Simon yet. He was still Ghost.

So when the fucker was banging on your door, he was happy he had insisted on getting you a better front door lock. He could see you running to your bedroom, probably to get the handgun he kept under the dresser.

He almost wanted to call you and tell you not to bother.

He tore the man away from the door and just went ham. It wasn’t until you returned and looked out the window to see what had happened that Simon held up the man bloody and bruised and passed out.

Simon shoved the dude in whatever car he came in before driving to the middle of nowhere and leaving an only mildly threatening note, before having you pick him up.

When you went from kissing the splits and blood from his knuckles ot undoing his belt, he was so grateful his old square body had a bench seat.

The death grip on the steering wheel was the only thing keeping him sane. Almost pulling over to cum in your mouth but he had pulled into yalls shared driveway before he even realized. He had probably been doing felony speeds.

He took off his mask for the first time since he got home and planted soft kisses on your face. He mumbled something about not needing to reward Ghost for his usual behaviors between pecks.

Konig

Being the big bad colonel’s sweet little wife had its perks. Walking around the base with no problems, getting to spend all day chilling in his lap, never having to be far from him.

The worst time of year was when Konig had to deal with new recruits, who were already older gentlemen but clearly weren’t raised right and who didn’t understand how things worked in his base.

So when one of the recruits was pushing you around, getting too close and touchy, Konig didn’t hesitate.

One big swing, but that wasn’t enough. Konig was going to make an example of him.

Drug him out to the front of the base and gathered all of the recruits and made a scene. He made an example.

Dude got pummeled by Konig.

You honestly didn’t need to give him head, the satisfaction of putting that man in the med bay was enough. But when the idea left your sweet lips he would never refuse.

His bloody knuckles lovingly rubbing your face and massaging your hair as you struggle to fit it in your mouth, giving him big doe eyes? Its his favorite.

Keegan

Also punched a teammate. You had been brought on base for a celebration, everyone was in all their formal uniforms and outfits.

He had stayed sober, unlike most of his teammates.

Most of them didn’t have any women of their own.

Keegan just found out why.

It was a random Sargent from a different group, clearly hadn’t let you get a word out and just kept talking. Too drunk to realize that if you were here you were probably a spouse.

Keegan just gave him a nice smack to the gut, which ended up making the guy projectile vomit in the middle of the festivity room.

Someone definitely over-served by this dude.

But the way you kissed away the littlest bits of blood from Keegan’s had since his dry knuckle had caught on one of the guys pins and tore open. Made his heart melt.

I guess it melted into his dick because he knew EXACTLY what was happening when you pulled him away and down an empty and dark hall.

Oh he loved the way your lips kissed around him, living lipstick in their wake, before leaving a nice colored ring of it around his shaft.

Oh he’d wear it too proudly. Makes jokes about never washing his dick again.

Gaz

You and Gaz were in a booth on a double date with Soap and his girl. Simple date, just chilling. Soap was making jokes about how Kyle totally had a glow up now that he’s met his girl and about how Kyle probably understands why Johnny punched him for the comment a couple months back. (See Soap’s for an explanation)

However, that story just reminded Gaz, and gave him a good idea.

He mumbled something about still needing to get back at Soap for it. Also mumbling about how his nose still isn't right and his jaw still pops

One swift punch, Kyle was back how he was sitting before like it never even happened.

However the head he got in the family bathroom for that punch being hot while Soap and his girl thought Kyle had an emergency bathroom trip while his girl was changing her pad was crazy.

He almost broke the changing table off the wall with how he was gripping it.

Truly life changing.

Almost hit Soap again when they got back to the table.

Masterlist is pinned on my account as always and requests are open.

[lcriedlastnight]

Y/n is feeling sick and Oscar is worried so they go to the doctor and find out that y/n is pregnant

thanks for your request babes!

tw: fem!reader, pregnancy (yes that is it's own warning), sick and being sick, swears maybe, lmk if you want me to add anything else.

w/c: 1.6k

you were sick constantly, whether it be a headache, or stomachache, feeling like you just had a general cold or literally vomiting it felt like you were feeling one of them all of the time, in a cruel rotation.

the only times you were actually sick and not just feeling nauseous was when you had drank a little too much (and were maybe on the verge of alcohol poisoning) or if your period cramps were so bad, it made you sick.

you were surmising that it was the latter as you sat on the cold flooring of the bathroom. one hand was clutching the toilet seat and the other was holding your hair back to prevent it from hanging in your face. you had never really been sick before your period had actually started before but you had felt a mild discomfort in your abdomen and had chalked it up to that, even though the pain was nothing like what you usually experienced during that time of the month.

being sick in the hotel bathroom as oscar slept in the next room, resting for the race later on in the day was not how you had planned on spending the morning but it seemed like that was what was going to happen. you were not alone for long though as the australian padded through once his body registered the warmth missing from the bed. he calls your name and you try to reply but you feel surge of sickness wash through you as you hunch over the seat. the bathroom door is closed but oscar knows that if he asks if he can come inside, you would just tell him no. he comes in anyways.

you hear a consoling hum as you retch again, oscar's hand replacing the one holding your hair back, his spare hand coming to rub big, comforting circles on your back, encouraging you to bring it all up.

you whimper through your spells of sickness as you finally feel the urge to be sick ebb away. you rest your weak body against oscar's as his hand continues its soft movements. oscar's mouth presses many light kisses into your hair as he lets you rest on the floor to recover.

"y'alright, love?" oscar asks after a few beats of still silence. he feels a nod against his chest.

"think it's just my time of the month coming." you inform him. you feel oscar's hum of disagreement before you hear it. it confuses you.

"you're not due your period for another week and a bit yet, honey." oscar tells you. you feel too sick to even acknowledge that he knows your cycle off by heart. this would be something you would review when you felt a little better.

"must've come earlier. 've got the cramps and the sickness, just waiting for the blood. you know what it's like anyways, it only really lasts a day then i'm alright again." you mumble as you pick yourself up and grab your toothbrush, desperate to get the vomit taste out of your mouth. oscar stands behind you, supporting you the entire time. he nods at your words and does not tell you that he thinks it is a little weird that you were getting your usual period symptoms but not the actual period. he just prays you are better once you have had a nap. you both head back to the bed and oscar pulls you to his own body so tightly you would think you had a habit of running off and leaving him in the middle of the night.

it turns out that you are not better once you guys wake back up and you do not even feel well enough to make it to the paddock to watch your boyfriend race. although oscar has his reservations about you leaving you alone in the hotel room when you were not feeling the best, there was not much he could really do. it was not like he could just take the day off to nurse you back to health with his comforting and warm touch. you watch the race from the hotel room, cheering him on and home when he gets p4, narrowly missing out on a podium.

"you'll get them next time." is your first words to him when he returns to the hotel room, later on that afternoon. oscar just grunts and questions you about your wellbeing. after you tell him you do not feel any better and that you maybe even feel a little more sick than what you did this morning, he knows this is nothing to do with your monthly cycle. he is not exactly sure what it could be but he knows he has to get you to a doctor as soon as you were both back home.

the flight home was probably one of the worst travelling experiences you have ever had in your entire life. oscar held your hand the whole way home but it did nothing to ease the cramps in your stomach and the sicky feeling resting in your throat. as soon as the plane was touching your home soil and oscar had internet again he booked an emergency appoinement at the doctors for you, not wanting you to have to go a second longer without relief than what you need to.

oscar just takes you both straight to the doctor's office, bags full of your clothes from the weekend flung in the backseat and boot of the car as he parks up in the car park opposite the office. with the way oscar was acting and treating you, some would think you were on deaths door.

oscar urges you to sit as he explains your problems to the receptionist. after a few moments the boy joins you, leg jumping in nerves.

"'y'seem more nervous than me, osc. i'll be fine." you tell him, hand coming to stop his restless leg. oscar smiles at you, kind but his eyes are full of nerves.

"i know. just want you better now instead of later, honey." oscar's hand coming to rest atop yours.

it is not too log after that the doctor comes out and asks you to follow her into the own office at the end of a very long and very white corridor.

the doctor tells you both to make yourself comfortable in the seats in front of you as oscar immediately jumps into rhyming off all of your symptoms and what you had both thought it was previously.

"so you had thought it was just period pains but your period hasn't come yet?" she checks, earning a nod from you and oscar in unison. she frowns in thought before her next words come and take you and oscar, both by surprise.

"and have you taken a pregnancy test?" she asks. you look at her shocked at the words, never even taking the premise of being pregnant into consideration. now that she had mentioned it all these symptoms did all point towards being pregnant. oscar turns his head to face you, hand still gripping yours from when he had helped you along the corridor but now his hold felt like it was ten times tighter.

you clear your throat before you reply, "uh, no i didn't even think about that being a possibility." you tell her honestly. she grins back and walks over to a drawer attached to some cabinet neat the door. she pulls out a more medical looking pregnancy test.

"it's alright, this happens more often than you would think. why don't you go and pee on this and we can tell you for sure if it is that or if we should start looking into something else entirely." the doctor hands you the test and leads you into a toilet just across the hallway. oscar waits nervously in the office with the doctor.

you return a few minutes later, hands shaking as you hand the test to the doctor. you sit back down on the chair as your hand slinks towards oscar's again, longing to feel that familiar touch, sending waves of solace through your nervous body.

the words echo around your brain as the doctor confirms that you are in fact pregnant. it feels like every single emotions runs through you at the news and you really do not know what to think right now. you think you hear the doctor say that she would give you both a minute and then the close of the door, meaning you and oscar were alone. you try and blink yourself back down to earth.

"i'm pregnant." you say, still not believing it. oscar has tears in his eyes as he nods and brings you into a crushing hug, before he loosens it, not wanting to crush his baby even though you were no where near close to showing yet.

"aren't we too young, oscar? are you sure you want this with me?" you worry, hands wringing at the back of his neck.

"i've never doubted that you were the person that i wanted to do this with. it might be a little earlier than i planned but i swear this is all i've ever wanted since i asked you out." oscar admits with a heavy voice and teary eyes. you canot even help but grin at his words.

you were still petrified but at least you had oscar in this and you knew he was here every single step of the way. there was no one else better to do any of this with than him, that you were one hundred percent sure of.

[zephyrchama]

🌞

It was morning at Serenity Manor, the temporary human world home of the Seven Rulers of Hell. Despite having your own abode close by, it was nice to stay in the manor with them for a while. The building was far fancier and well-equipped than anything you could afford on your own, and it was reassuring to have your loved ones so close before the summer ended and they went back to the Devildom.

Birdsong outside the window woke you up unusually early. The sun was rising over the horizon, heralding the start of a beautiful new day. Despite the early hour, you didn’t feel tired at all. Rather, you felt content and at peace, ready to get up and see what the day had in store for you.

The house was silent as you plodded towards the kitchen in your pajamas. All of the hallway's identical doors were shut but you had already familiarized yourself with the manor’s layout, now only getting lost occasionally instead of constantly. You came upon the living room, where massive glass window panes gave you a nice view of the backyard and bathed the walls in the soft orange light of the rising sun.

You paused to admire it. Your admiration did not last long. It was interrupted by a strained “gyaaaaah!”

“Levi?” You peered over the couch expecting to see purple locks, only to be greeted by a shirtless Mammon staring vacantly up at the ceiling. “Oh. Morning, Mammon.”

His half-closed eyes flitted towards you as he lightly groaned. Beyond the couch, Leviathan and Belphegor were sprawled out on the floor. The third-born had an arm over his eyes and sounded like he was dying. The youngest was still fast asleep.

You walked around the couches and tables to get a better look at the scene. Empty chip bags, demonus bottles, and crumbs littered the floor. Cushions had been tossed to the ground, the tables slightly askew. There were three handheld game consoles flashing low battery warnings. An impromptu game night must have gone on for too long, causing its participants to fall asleep where they sat.

“Ahh, what is that?” Leviathan shuddered.

Literally nothing was happening. You observed in silence for a few seconds while Leviathan raised a shaky finger and pointed at nothing in particular. “Make it stooop. It burns.”

"You mean the sun?” you asked.

Still covering his eyes, Leviathan nodded.

”I can’t stop the sun.”

He let out a soft, garbled “aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh” and curled up into a ball, brushing his long bangs over his face.

Mammon moved his hand back and forth in the air next to the couch, as if beckoning you over. As you moved closer, he grabbed your wrist. The grip was loose, and slowly slid down your hand. He shut his eyes without saying anything, and you realized your shadow protected his face from the horrible light, providing slight relief from the sun’s rays.

You squatted down next to the couch, curious what would happen. Mammon’s grip tightened and he let out a tortured whine as the light hit his face again.

“Will you two shut up?” Belphegor groaned, stirred awake at last by the loud complaints.

“Morning, Belphie.”

“Oh, morning…” When speaking to you, his voice was much softer. Almost like speaking a lullaby. He smiled and turned his head to the side, pointing his shoulders away from the windows. ”Good night…”

"It's morning, though..."

At least one of them didn’t seem bothered by the sun. If he was, he hid his feelings and didn’t vocalize it. You sat and leaned your back against the sofa, resting your elbow on your thigh, and slowly swung your forearm in circles while a half-asleep Mammon held on and moaned about the sunlight.

Leviathan crawled like a zombie, grunting with his nose to the ground, over to your knee. He was too tired to even support his own weight. He grabbed your pajama bottoms and dug his face into your leg.

“Isn’t the human world gorgeous?” you asked, basking in the sunny rays. You felt so awake and refreshed. This was your element.

“No,” responded three fatigued demons with hardly enough energy to spit the word out.

[echoofadream]

Your favorite patient...

Part 1

Summary: You are a hardworking doctor and you save a man's life. Wait, why is he coming back with all sorts of conditions? What do you mean he followed you home? He's begging to be your...what?

Contains: Obsessive behavior(yandere), stalking, mentions of masturbation, slight smut, dom!reader(gender is not specified), sub!male!yandere.

Imagine you work in a hospital. You're a workaholic doctor who simply loves treating people and helping them get healthier and better. You greet everyone with a smile and try to cheer up every person who comes in, despite their state. 

One day a young man is brought into the ER and you find out he had been in a horrible car accident. You don't waste any more time and treat his wounds and the next day he's already conscious and aware of everything happening around him. Yours is the first face he sees once awake.

The following days you visit him in his hospital room and ask him how he's feeling, the same honest and benevolent smile on your face. You can tell that he's exaggerating most of the time and that the pain he tells you he's experiencing is not as severe as he claims. So you do the only rational thing and discharge him.

Next week, he's back with another issue and he requests you specifically. An ear infection. It wasn't your area of expertise but you took a look and recommended him a qualified doctor. He left displeased.

One week later you saw him again. A stomach ache. It wasn't bad but he wouldn't have it. "You don't get it, doctor! It hurts!" he'd say and grab your wrist, putting it on his lower stomach. He wanted a set of tests. He was even willing to pay any sum of money! You actually ran the tests and he spent one night in the hospital. You should've paid more attention to the smile he had on his face when you came with his results. He wasn't pleased seeing a green line next to every word on the file, yet he understood the situation and left. "Thank you so much, doctor!" he said with a huge smile on his face. "I was so scared! What would I do without you?"

The following week he was in the ER again. Ibuprofen overdose. "I had a headache and didn't know what to do! Help me, doctor!" A part of you was starting to see a pattern, yet your overworked mind couldn't quite put the finger on the issue at hand. You treated him like any other patient. The same friendly smile on your face, the same soft tone of voice, the same tired eyes. You were busy saving lives everyday. This was your duty and you had to do it right. "Such a big heart you have, doctor!" the same adoration in his eyes when he says this as always. "You're amazing!" and you could've sworn you saw tiny hearts forming inside his dark pupils. You should drink less caffeine, really.

After a couple of days the man doesn't come into the ER. Yet you don't even notice his absence. You were so overworked, so tired! Poor you!

One random Thursday(a thoroughly planned day) you freeze when you step into your living room. A familiar person was sitting on your couch. You knew him from somewhere, but why was it so hard for you to remember?

"Hello, doctor!" he greets. The same smile, the same excited voice. And you recognized him. "Don't tell me you don't know who I am..." he started, a bit of disappointment making its way into his facial expression.

You were standing there, unable to move. What was your patient doing inside your house? How did he know where you lived? How did he get inside? Why did he get inside? Was he dange-

"You don't look too pleased to see me, doctor..." he says, a small frown on his face. He approaches you and you instinctively take a step back. "Don't be afraid. I'd never hurt you." his words were either as honest as they could be or he was one hell of a liar. The former sounded better. "You're good and kind and gentle. I'd never hurt you" he chuckled. That makes you make another step back.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, breathlessly.

"I'm here for you, isn't that obvious?"

It was very obvious but you were hoping he'd elaborate.

"You work so hard, doctor" he starts talking in a pitiful, saddened voice. "You work overtime almost everyday. You always come back home late. You don't even have time to cook and you always order takeaway. Then you sit in front of the TV with a glass of wine in your hand, drifting off with god knows what series in the background." He chuckles. "Well, I know actually.".

He takes another step towards you and you flinch. "I wanna make you feel good, doctor" he tells you, almost whimpering. "You work so hard...it's a pity you don't have a slave at home to take care of each and every one of your needs"

Did he just say slave?

"I've been following you ever since you saved my life, doctor. I owe you!". He puts a hand over his heart, trying to show you just how much he loves you. "I know everything you do. I know you barely have a social life, or a sleep schedule or time for yourself except for the moments when you lay on your back on the bed, your glass on the bedside table and you...touch yourself." He blushed at his own words. Meanwhile, you were going through the five stages of fear. If they didn't exist until now, well now they did.

"You don't have any time to clean this place either. I know, since I try not to cough when I lay under your bed and listen to your moans every night." A huge smile spreads across his face. "God, you're amazing..." .

Your hand goes to the pocket of your coat and, as soon as he sees you, his face darkens.

"Doctor...I told you I'm not here to hurt you" His tone held some sort of threat and that made you the more afraid. Your fingers wrap around your phone and you pull it out. He grabs your wrist, stopping you. "You're not gonna do that!" he screams. "You're gonna make me yours! You're gonna do it!".

The sound of your palm making contact with his cheek echoed in the room. He bends forward a little, covering his red cheek and whining softly. He looks at you with fear in his eyes, but you needed to be blind not to see the arousal that fear created. He drops to his knees, hands on his thighs, head lowered.

"I'm sorry, doctor!" he whines. "I shouldn't have yelled at you! Please forgive me! Please! Forgive me for being such a bad boy..." .

You look at him with a shocked expression. It was crystal clear that he was living inside his own world of make-believe in which you were the master and he was the slave. It was obvious he'd wanted it ever since he first saw you. And that he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

You smirk, all the previously felt fear having already vanished. After all, everything he said was right. You were exhausted and you needed someone to serve you. You deserved it, didn't you? Weren't you that god sent person who saved this poor boy's life? Why not give him what he wants? Why not...give yourself what you want?

"You followed me home" you start, your tone as assertive as you could make it. You could see his body shiver and that only made you keep going. "You broke into my house multiple times. You stalked me!"

A soft whimper escapes the man in front of you. He tries to lift his head, to look at you with those big pleading puppy eyes of his, to show you how very sorry he felt(not in the slightest) for doing all that. But when you snap at him he lowers his head again.

"You gave yourself medical conditions so that I could treat you! What kind of sick fuck does that?"

He moaned when he heard your degrading words, lifting his head and looking you straight in the eyes, a big smile on his face.

"I'm sick, doctor. I'm very sick..."

You laughed at his wordplay. "I think you've been a bad boy. A bad sick naughty boy. You know what bad boys get?" You smirk, waiting for his answer.

"Punishment!" he yells, his eagerness immeasurable. "They get punishment. Please, doctor..."

"Please, what?"

"Please....punish me"

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

If this goes well I'll write the second part(smut ofc).

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You felt exhausted and unappealing at the start of your third trimester, but according to your husband, you were still perfect. Just as you solve one problem for your friend, you inadvertently cause another one for yourself.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, Bradley eating pussy, swearing, angst, pregnancy

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

As nice as your second trimester had been, as soon as it ended, you were exhausted all the time. And you were once again starting to feel nauseous every morning. Maybe your mom was right and you needed to eat more than random foods dipped in hot sauce sporadically all day long. Your belly was also starting to change from a cute bump to a tender, oversized monster. When you mentioned it to Bradley, he scoffed. 

"Don't call my Nugget a monster."

"I'm not talking about the baby!" you said as you started to get dressed for work in your maternity tent, gesturing at your body. "But there's a lot going on here."

"Yeah," Bradley grunted as he pulled a clean flight suit from the closet, eyeing you up and down. "There sure is. You look fantastic."

"I feel tired. And gross," you told him as you got dressed.

"That's just the hideous uniform talking. You didn't feel gross last night when we were snuggling. And you certainly didn't look gross."

You wanted to agree with him, but you were in a bad mood. The attic still wasn't finished even though your contractor, Bradley Ross, was at your house so frequently, it felt like he had moved in. And your parents would be here in four days. And your house still wasn't decorated for the holiday. And the only gifts you managed to buy were matching pink tropical shirts for Bradley and the baby to wear next summer. 

Your husband zipped up his flight suit and made his way around the bed to where you were standing. "Would you feel better if I picked up dinner on my way home so you don't have to cook?"

"Probably," you muttered, trying not to smile.

He kissed your forehead and gave you his most innocent looking gaze as his fingers grazed your belly. "And after that, I'll eat your pussy until my jaw locks up and you're in tears from too many orgasms?"

You had to press your lips together for a few seconds before you could say, "Please."

"Then it's a date, Baby Girl," he said before kissing you on the lips, leaving you to chase him for another feel of his rough mustache before you let him leave for his early flight time. "I love you and the Nugget!" he called from the hallway.

"We love you, too!"

Five minutes after he left, you were still getting ready for work. In fact, when your doorbell rang and Tramp went running through the living room, you were still buttoning your tent shirt. "I'm coming," you called out, already knowing it was your contractor. When you pulled the door open, your shirt was buttoned mostly correctly, and you told him, "I'm just about to head out."

"Okay," he replied, taking you in before you stepped aside for him. It didn't matter what your husband said, you were a bit of a hot mess right now. And that reminded you that you needed a little bit of hot sauce before you left for work.

"Do you need anything from me?" you asked Bradley Ross, and his gaze dipped down to your horrible uniform.

"Not at all," he replied, turning toward the stairs. "Enjoy your day."

You parted ways and headed for the kitchen, and you realized your shirt was even worse than you anticipated. You had to unbutton and rebutton the whole thing while your bread was in the toaster. When it came out nice and crunchy, you dipped it into a dish of hot sauce and ate it in four bites.

"It's so fucking good," you moaned at Tramp before scooping him some breakfast. "No hot sauce for you. Just for the human baby," you told him, holding your hand near your belly button as Rose started doing her somersaults. "You're up late this morning," you told her, deciding you better stop in the bathroom one more time before you even attempted the short drive to work with her bouncing on your bladder.

As soon as you were done and walked back through your bedroom, you eyed your bed longingly. "No," you told it, turning away from temptation and walking out to your red Bronco in the driveway. You backed out past the other Bradley's truck and drove to base.

You were already hungry again by the time you got there. When you turned the corner to your office, you found Maria standing next to your door. "Are you waiting for me?" you asked, and her gaze snapped up to yours. "I'm surprised you're here this early with Bob blowing your back out twenty-four hours a day." Tears filled her eyes instantly, and you rushed toward her. "Oh my god, Maria, what's wrong?"

She let you pull her into an awkward hug with your belly in the way, and she sobbed instead of responding with words, so you let her cry. She had been preoccupied at brunch with you and Cam, but she definitely hadn't been like this at all. If anything, she'd seemed like she was lost in a dream world with her French toast the other day.

She sniffed and managed to whisper, "Bob's being deployed for some special mission. He just texted me. He's leaving the day after Christmas."

"Oh," you gasped, rubbing her back as she cried. This would be the first time her boyfriend was deployed since they started hooking up a few months ago. They would be fine. You knew they would. But you recalled all too easily what it was like when Bradley was gone when you and he were first dating. It made you feel sick to recall the feelings of self doubt and uncertainty, especially now that your daughter would be arriving in three months.

You were about to tell Maria that Bob's deployment would feel terrible but wouldn't last forever when she said, "I have to break up with him."

"Pardon?" you asked, completely thrown by what she said. "I thought you were in love with him."

"I am," she cried as you finally unlocked your door with her clinging to you and managed to get her inside. "But I can't tell him that now. We've been taking things a little slower after taking things really fast right after he moved in."

You were trying your best to piece everything together, but it just wasn't all fitting in your mind. "That's good," you said gently. "So why would you have to dump him? You love him, and he'd be coming back to you and the apartment when he gets home?"

She looked at you and shook her head. "I can't expect him to go months and months without having sex. We do it like at least once a day," she whispered as tears flowed down her cheeks. "Maybe he'd agree to take a break? I don't know. But I can't get upset when he wants to hook up with someone else on the aircraft carrier."

You felt like your eyes were going to bug out. "Maria, I really don't think you should be hasty here."

She just shrugged in your arms before pulling away from you and wiping at her tears. "You're so lucky you have Bradley." She left you standing there, unsure what to say.

---------------------------

All of the holiday decorations had Bradley a little stressed out. Some of his neighbors had lights on the palm trees in their yards, and there was even a tree inside the guard house. He could remember very little about his dad, but Bradley could remember everything his mom did until he died. For the life of him, the one thing that escaped him was how she made even the most basic things feel magical.

She must have done it effortlessly, because he never took the time to look behind the proverbial curtain to see how it was done. There were always presents under their little Christmas tree even though he realized after she was gone that it must have been a struggle. And now Bradley wasn't sure how he was going to do the same when it all just seemed so stressful.

He snorted as he made his way across the tarmac to the tower. All you said you wanted for Christmas was a babymoon trip and a million orgasms. But you could have asked him for either of those on any day, and he would have given them to you. He needed to find something else for you, too.

"Are you having a baby shower?"

Bradley looked up to find his best friend was looking at him as soon as he walked into the rec room to get a drink. "Good morning to you, too," he said, reaching past her into the refrigerator. 

"You need to have one, okay?" she said. "Your wife will like it."

Bradley felt a little more anxious, because he was going to have to admit he was clueless when it came to this topic as well. "Isn't that something her mom should do?"

Nat rolled her eyes. "That's a lot for her mom to handle when she lives on the other side of the country."

He cleared his throat. "Well, what do you even know about baby showers?"

"More than you," she said easily. "Which is why I'll take care of it."

Bradley sighed in relief. "You're not going to give me a hard time about this?"

"Of course not. When have I ever done that sort of thing?"

"Literally since the first time I met you," he muttered as she walked away. But he knew he had nothing to worry about; Nat would make sure you had exactly what you wanted or needed in any scenario.

A minute later, when he got called out to the tarmac, he found his best friend wrapping Bob up in a hug. While he wasn't invited into the conversation, he could hear the dreaded word 'deployment' as he walked past on his way to his jet, leaving him to assume Bob got a notification this morning. Poor Bob, but at least it wasn't him for once.

When he took to the air, Bradley immediately felt a bit calmer. He would figure out how to take care of everything with you by his side. He would make things special for Rosie in his own way. He could share all the things with her that he loved about his mom.

But the thing that calmed Bradley down most of all was arriving in the cafeteria for lunch in time to see you. "Sweetheart!" he called out, cutting in front of Jake and Javy to get to you faster. You had a burrito bowl in one hand and a bunch of little packets of hot sauce in the other, and you still looked cute in your tent uniform. Your face lit up when you saw him, and even though he reeked of jet fuel, you let him give you a hug.

"Do you know where Bob is?" you asked after you kissed him on the cheek. "He and I need to have a conversation."

Bradley ran his hand along your belly, hoping to feel a little thump from the Nugget. "I think he's been notified about a deployment," Bradley muttered.

"I know he has," you replied with strong annoyance in your tone. "Oh, there he is," you said, looking past Bradley. "Excuse me, Roo." You kissed him and added, "I love you, but I need to take care of this. I'll see you at home later when you're going down on me?"

Bradley nearly choked as he muttered, "Okay," while Jake and Javy clearly tried to hide their surprised and amused laughter.

You hurried off in Bob's direction as Javy said, "Nobody better try to call Rooster tonight."

"Silence your cell phone," Jake said, clapping Bradley on the back while he blushed. "Eat your lunch but save room for dinner."

"Fuck," Bradley grumbled, walking away from them as they laughed. Just for that, he'd make sure he was on his A game at home. He'd also have to remind you that your voice tends to carry when you're annoyed.

-----------------------------

You set your lunch down across from Bob at one of the small tables with only two seats. He smiled as you slid into the chair opposite him, and he greeted you by name. Then he cleared his throat and asked, "You're not sitting with Bradley today?"

You followed his gaze to where your husband was sitting with Nat and Mickey. "Nope. I wanted to sit with you."

"Okay," he replied, still smiling. "But I'm actually waiting for Maria?"

"She's not coming."

His smile started to fade. "She's not?"

"She's not," you confirmed. "She told me you're getting deployed soon." When he nodded, you asked, "Do you like having a girlfriend?"

His smile was back. "I like having Maria as my girlfriend."

You were shaking your head as you started emptying packet after packet of green hot sauce onto your lunch. "And are you planning on sleeping around while you're gone?"

"No." His voice sounded hoarse, and his face went pale.

"Glad to hear that," you told him as you rammed your fork into your burrito bowl.

"Why would you think I'd want to do that?" he asked, leaning a little closer to you, his brow creased in concern.

"I'm not the one thinking it. You better ask yourself why Maria might think you'd want to do that."

Bob's eyes went wide even as he blushed bright pink. "I don't know... I thought she knew how happy I am. I told her she makes me crazy... I said... I s-said I want to go at it all the time now. I've never been with someone like her." You shoved a bite of food into your mouth and chewed it up while he processed his words. "Wait... does she think I'm like obsessed with getting laid? Because I'm certain I'm just obsessed with her."

You nodded as you swallowed, proud of him for piecing it together so quickly. "Seems that way. You have about a week to put in some legwork if you don't want her to break up with you." In an instant, you were left with Bob's abandoned tray as your only lunch companion, and when he didn't return, you ate his breadsticks and baked pasta.

This was turning out to be the longest day imaginable, and when you finally climbed into your Bronco to head home, you were yawning. Then when you pulled into the driveway, not only was your Bradley not home yet, the other Bradley was still working. You grumbled as you made your way inside, where he was hammering something upstairs; you couldn't even start taking your horrible uniform off in the living room after you opted to wear it home today to get here faster.

When you let Tramp out of the laundry room and sent him to the backyard, you were fighting the urge to take your shirt off and walk through the house topless with every fiber of your being. You made it to your bedroom before tearing it from your body along with your uniform pants. You eyed the bed. You were tired enough to get in and stay there, but you wanted your reward for making it through the day.

"Takeout and head," you whispered, nodding in the mirror with a grin. You turned from side to side, examining your belly and your breasts. Rose was moving a lot today, so much so that you almost noticed it more when she took a break. And your boobs did look pretty nice. You took your bra off and added it to the laundry pile, and that's when your husband walked in.

"I brought pizza, Sweetheart," he said before his lips parted in soft surprise. "You trying to get started without me?" he groaned, reaching for his belt.

You bit your lip, and shook your head. "Do you think we should wait until the other Bradley leaves?" you asked, earning a devilish smirk from your husband.

"Didn't stop us last week when we had sex in the laundry room while he was working. And it didn't stop you from sucking my cock while he was here the week before." You squeaked as he smacked you on the butt and whispered, "You promised me I could have your pussy the second I got home."

"Did I?" you asked, climbing onto the bed, and he was right there with you, hovering over your body as you stretched out. When he nodded, you said, "Then I guess it's all yours, Roo."

But that wasn't even where he stopped first, and you shouldn't have been surprised. His lips met the valley between your very perky breasts while he unzipped his pants. Then you watched him rut gently into the bed as he licked and sucked on you. He had some particular fascination with your chest right now, and he was almost reverent in the way he touched you. 

The sounds of hammering and soft music playing from upstairs were really doing it for you. Getting nasty while you weren't quite alone was always enough to get you going, but on top of that, your husband was so turned on by your weird pregnant body. You felt like a queen as he plucked at one nipple and then the other with his lips, leaving your skin damp to the cool air. Your nipples were furled into tight peaks as he whimpered your name. 

"I can't get enough," he murmured, letting his mustache scrape along your sensitive skin. Your hips bucked from the bed as he let his teeth graze your nipple. "Where do you want my mouth?" he asked, meeting your eyes even as his tongue darted out to trace the undersides of your breasts.

"On my pussy," you gasped.

"I can't hear you."

"On my pussy!" you cried out, and he smiled that wicked smile again.

"Now everyone knows," he growled, leaning on his forearms and treating you to the flex of his biceps as he pushed your thighs apart and settled in.

---------------------------

Bradley had one perfect tit in each hand and his face buried in your soaking pussy. Each time he thought you were getting close, he lazily kissed along your dainty rooster tattoo and up to your belly. Once he even paused to say hello to his daughter while you dug your heel into his back and begged him incoherently to put his mouth back on your clit. And he did so with a smile. 

Was he rock hard? Yes. Would he love to cum right now? Absolutely. Was he enjoying every second of the way your body felt and tasted? Definitely. Could he wait until he got you off to let himself unload? For sure.

Your tits were getting bigger and more enticing by the day. And your swollen belly was clearly all his doing. He was grinding his cock into the bed as he slid his hands down to your thighs, spreading you a little wider as he licked all around both of your holes until you were whining his name.

"Fuck," he grunted. Bradley Ross had just turned off his radio. That meant he was getting ready to head out for the day, which also meant the hammering had stopped. You were getting loud as hell as Bradley pressed his nose to your clit and lapped up your wetness. He was only concerned for a split second about your volume before he decided to just carry on. It wasn't like the contractor hadn't seen how hot you were with his own two eyes. Nobody could blame a man for getting at his own wife as much as possible, especially one with massive, pregnant tits and the prettiest face imaginable.

"Roo!" you moaned when he wrapped his lips around your clit. "Let me come, Daddy."

You were tired. He could hear it in your voice. The bedding was a little damp from the mess you and he were making, and his jaw truly was starting to ache. When you released the bedding with your left hand, Bradley could see the sparkle of your engagement ring before you dragged your fingers through his hair. 

Okay, now he needed to get off pretty badly, so he slipped two fingers inside you, and as soon as he did, you came. "Damn," he grunted against your clit before circling you with his flat tongue as you rode his hand and yanked his hair. You were riding him as he pushed on the back of your thigh until he couldn't take it any longer.

He barked out your name as he got to his knees and thrust his cock inside your overstimulated pussy as you were coming down from your orgasm, and that just made you come for him a little more as you shook your head back and forth on the pillow. One more deep thrust, and he came too, with his hands on your tits and sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

When you opened your eyes, you had the most serene look on your face. Bradley kissed the tip of your nose as he pulled his cock free and grunted. "You know, the guys heard your little pussy eating comment at lunch today."

"Oops," you giggled, running your fingers softly over your tits as he stood up and started fixing his clothing. 

"I got roasted for it all afternoon." But he was all smiles, because he really wouldn't have it any other way. "Come out and get some cold pizza when you're ready. I'm going to see how it's coming along upstairs."

You just nodded, and Bradley took one more look at the messy creampie he gave you before vanishing out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. The Craftsman smelled like sawdust and fresh paint, and he was really hoping the project would be completed in the next few days so your parents could sleep up there during their stay. Otherwise he might have to gag you during sexual activities, and he was only half joking in his mind.

Bradley Ross was carrying a paint can and some rollers down the stairs, heading right for the front door. "Have a good night," he called out, barely pausing to get through the door. Perhaps he'd heard your beautiful chorus of moaning. Didn't matter, but Bradley had hoped to ask him how much longer he thought the project would be. Instead he climbed the stairs to investigate for himself.

It looked incredible, and it seemed like a lot had been accomplished today. Two bedrooms of identical size were both primed and ready for paint. The hardwood flooring looked perfect, and the new windows were letting so much natural light in. The bathroom wasn't large, but it did have a tub and a single sink vanity, and the tiles you picked out looked pretty.

He shut all the lights off and headed back down to the kitchen where you were wearing a pair of his underwear with a maternity tank top, dunking a slice of pizza in some hot sauce. "How's it looking?" you asked. He knew you were talking about the attic, but he couldn't help himself as he grabbed a slice from the box.

"It's looking sexy and pregnant and like it just had an orgasm." You burst into laughter as he added, "The project upstairs looks good, too."

--------------------------------

Later that week, you got a vague text from Bradley letting you know that he'd be late getting home from work. You were expecting maybe he'd be home around six or seven, just in time to help you wrap the presents you ordered for your parents, but he didn't get home until almost eight, long after Bradley Ross left for the day. 

He was quiet and looked contemplative when he walked in. "Hi," you called out from where you were sitting on the couch, and he finally met your gaze. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He made his way over to you. "Mav just wanted to chat. Is there any pizza left?"

He kissed you before heading to the kitchen, and you stared after him. "Of course there's no pizza left. I'm pregnant. And are you being weird on purpose? Why are you three hours late getting home?"

You watched as he started to pour a bowl of cereal in silence, and you weren't sure if he was even listening to you. When you made your way into the kitchen, he finally said, "There's a potential job opportunity. Remember when I filled in for a few days here and there as an instructor?" When you nodded he took a bite of cereal before continuing. "Mav seems to think I could do more of that type of shit."

Your eyes went wide at the prospect of fewer deployments for him. "That might be a good opportunity," you told him, still unsure exactly where he stood on the topic.

He just shrugged and said, "It's certainly something to think about, Sweetheart. Wouldn't really be happening until a few months from now, but I'm going to keep the conversation going with Mav."

It was then that you realized he looked exhausted. "Want to take a shower with me? I could wash your hair."

Your husband moaned softly and set his empty bowl in the sink. "Hell yes. Absolutely."

Within three minutes, you had your hands coated in shampoo, and you were working them through his thick hair while he felt around your belly, hoping to feel the baby kick. "I feel like I barely got to spend any time with her this week," he whispered with a pout. "Where's my Nugget?"

You felt her give a little thump, as if she knew he was right there waiting for her. You quickly placed his hand a little higher, and he sighed in contentment. "Hey, Rose. Daddy's tired. Can we all snuggle in bed soon?" She seemed to squirm in response. "Your grandparents are coming to visit tomorrow."

"And the attic conversion should be done tomorrow, too," you told him. "That's what the other Bradley said when he was leaving today."

"Amazing. Merry Christmas to us."

You practically tucked him into bed as soon as he was dried off, but he kept reaching for you to join him. "I need to let Tramp out. I'll be right back." You walked through the kitchen and past the refrigerator which was covered in ultrasound photos. Then you straightened up a little bit while Tramp ran around the yard. By the time you got back to the bedroom, Bradley had fallen asleep with the Nugget Notebook open on his chest and a pen in his hand. You took a peek to see what he had written.

Hey, Rosie. It's almost Christmas. I'm not really good at celebrating holidays, but your mom is. Her parents are, too. I'm hoping I'll kind of figure this whole thing out once you get here. I'm thinking you'll make everything more fresh and fun for your old man. We can get better at things together.

--------------------------------

You were more than ready for a few days off. When you left work on December twenty-first, you reminded Cat that you planned on dropping off some gifts for Jeremiah over the weekend. When you got to the parking garage, you saw Maria and Bob making out next to his truck. He had her hands pinned above her head, and she was all smiles. You felt immediately better.

You knew the plan for the evening, and so did Bradley. Your parents were landing in San Diego at 6:15, and you assured them that you'd be there to pick them up. When you got home from work, Bradley Ross was finishing some details upstairs, and you were delighted by what you saw when you went to have a look.

"It's perfect," you gushed, looking around the space. The one bedroom was almost ready for your mom and dad. Someone would just need to make the bed later. The bathroom was shiny and bright and lovely, ready to be used. The second bedroom still had some wet paint, but you planned on just closing that door for a few days. "Let me write you a check for the balance," you told your contractor when he was about ready to leave. "I'll meet you in the kitchen."

After you wrote out the check, you waited for both Bradleys while you dipped some grapes in hot sauce. It was almost time to leave for the airport, and you still needed to change out of your uniform tent. You undid the top few buttons and played with your necklace charms, and as soon as Bradley Ross walked downstairs with the rest of his supplies, you rushed his way.

"Here's what we owe you. Thanks again for squeezing us into your schedule so close to the holidays."

"I hope you are happy with the outcome for many years to come," he told you with a smile.

"It looks so good, I'll definitely refer my friends to you for any projects in the future."

"Thank you, Mrs. Bradshaw."

You didn't bother correcting him when he didn't use your hyphenated last name, because as soon as he walked outside, you had your shirt off and you were rushing toward your bedroom. But as soon as you passed your mirror on your bra on the way to the closet, you paused and smiled. Your husband would love a little treat in his text messages; it had been ages since you sent him something dirty.

You snapped a photo of your boobs as they were hugged by the black lace. Then you took your bra off, covering your nipples with your hand and forearm before snapping another. Then you removed your arm and took one last picture of your breasts complete with tightly furled nipples. You expected that your husband would run into the house begging for a quickie before heading to the airport. The thought of his flushed cheeks and raspy voice made you giggle as you attached the photos and texted them away.

His hyperfixation was so fun for you right now, and you started to wonder if he was going to be as excited by your boobs after the baby was born. Would he be interested in the breastfeeding process?

"Hey, Baby Girl."

You turned toward the doorway as you straightened your sports bra and pulled an oversized shirt on. "Hi," you said, trying to play coy, but just grinning wildly instead.

"You ready to go get your mom and dad?"

"Yeah... almost. You looked down at his gym shorts where you could see the outline of his phone in his pocket. You pouted a bit when you had to ask, "Did you like the photos I texted to you?"

His brow furrowed as he patted his pocket. "What photos?"

You sighed. "The ones I sent like five minutes ago."

You watched as he unlocked his phone and started to shake his head. "I don't have any messages from you since lunchtime. What was it?"

"Thee pictures of my massive tits," you told him as you reached for his phone. But when you checked, they definitely weren't there. "Maybe I didn't tap send?" you murmured picking your phone up from the bed.

Bradley's arms wrapped around you from behind, and you could hear the smile in his voice when he whispered, "Can't wait to see them for myself." But you froze and tried to shake him off as your stomach lurched.

"Oh no. No no no no no!"

"What's wrong, Sweetheart?"

You handed him your phone and covered your eyes as you started to panic. Apparently you hadn't tapped on Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3 in your contacts. After you started typing his name, you must have accidentally selected Bradley Ross as the recipient. "Bradley! I sent them to the other Bradley!"

His eyes bugged out as he saw the photos in the message for himself. "You sent our contractor pictures of your tits!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" you shrieked. "They were for you! What are we supposed to do now?!"

He pocketed both phones, heaved a deep, exhausted sigh and muttered, "I'm going to have nothing but fucking gray hair after this, I swear to god." Then he rushed from the room and you followed him long enough to watch him grab his keys and run out to his Bronco.

-----------------------------

Checking in with Maria and Bob was dramatic. Like damn. At least BG got to eat his lunch. And now we have the great Bradley mix-up to contend with. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

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@bcon24

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@local-spidey

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[spotsspeciall]

Factory meetings vol.2 - LN4

Lando Norris x fem!reader

summary: second part to: Factory meetings

notes: Better late than never lol. Sorry for the long wait! But I write everything on PC, and of course something happened to it so I had to get it fixed. And not only that, but when I sat down to finally write, I had major writer's block! But here it is!! FINALLY!!

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. smut (double smut bby), unprotected (wrap it before you tap it!) p in v, language, jealous!Lando, rough, fingering, soft!Lando (shit got real at the end lol)

word count: 10k

masterlist

It had been a week since it happened. And next week you were supposed to see him again, the Chinese grand prix coming up. You were freaking out to put it mildly. 

You had spent your off time at home, and you had shared what happened with Sophie. And as you suspected, she was shocked and a little grossed out. But you knew she would come around. And she did, so she asked you about all the details, when you told her, the two of you screamed and laughed together. Now the whole thing had turned into a sort of inside joke between you and Sophie. 

But as the race week was coming up, you got more and more nervous. What was he going to act like now? You really didn’t want to face him, knowing what the two of you had done together. But you couldn’t stop thinking about it, day and night, it was seared into your brain. (But you didn’t want to stop thinking about it either.)

Walking into the paddock on Friday, you did your usual routine, unbothered by anyone. You made your way into the garage, and walked over to the workbench against the wall, and started looking through your tools. 

You sorted through a few of them, getting them ready, knowing which ones you would need the most today. 

You enjoyed getting into the garage a little earlier than the others, having some quiet, alone time. And getting in the zone. Focusing on your job so much that you didn’t notice someone walked in.

Lando walked into the garage, knowing you would be here. He only came here for you. He walked up behind you and looked over your shoulder, watching you picking up the different small tools. 

You were so focused, but a familiar scent flooded your nose. He smelled so intoxicating, it literally made your knees weak. And the second it hit you, and you felt his hot breath at the back of your neck. You froze, and dropped the tool in your hand, making a clattering sound as it hit the table. 

“Sorry, did I scare you baby?” 

He was so close to your ear, and you could feel the smirk on his face.

You could not move, or utter a word. So Lando stepped to the side, and leaned his hip against the counter. 

“I’m sorry, I was just curious to see what you were doing” He smiled sweetly at you, making your eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

“I- uh, I was just sorting through my tools, getting the ones I need the most” You answered without thinking, still somewhat confused why he was being nice.

“Oh, ok” he nodded, looking towards the tools like he was thinking about something. 

You felt your jaw clench, and your eyes stared daggers at him. Your brain was connecting the dots. Of course he wasn’t being nice to you, he was looking for ways to annoy you, and tease you.

He reached his hand out to grab a small screwdriver to look closely at it. 

“What is this one for?” He looked up from the screwdriver to meet your eyes with a soft look.

He was not fooling you. Lando could see your whole demeanor had changed. And you could see the look in his eyes changed, for some reason he looked kind of worried? It knocked you off balance, and the look in your eyes softened. 

“Sorry if I'm bothering you, I was just curious” He looked dejected as he went to put the screwdriver back in its place.

Before you had any time to think, your hands flew out to grab onto his hand before he dropped the tool. 

“No, I’m sorry” “You’re not bothering me” Your anxious eyes met his, but he looked back down to where you were both holding the screwdriver, your eyes following after. 

You let his hand go and let out an awkward chuckle. Your eyes looking everywhere but him. But he stretched his hand out to give you the screwdriver. 

“So you want to tell me what it’s for?” His sweet smile had returned, as you were forced to meet his eyes again. 

“Uhm- yeah sure!” You grabbed the tool from his hand and turned on your heel to walk over to the front left tyre suspension. 

You crouched down so your face was closer to the suspension. You turned your head to look for Lando, not feeling him behind you. He was still standing at the counter, so you waved him over. A giggle escaping you when he finally got the hint and walked over. 

Soon enough he was beside you, crouched down just like you. So you pointed a finger to where the suspension was connected to the car. 

“You see those small screws there?”

He looked a bit closer before turning to you. “yeah”

“Yup” “that’s what this is for” you held the screwdriver up as you nodded. 

He let out a small chuckle. “You could’ve just told me that over there” He pointed towards where the both of you had been standing earlier. 

“Yeah, but I wanted to show you.” “It’s good to know your car” You smiled brightly at him.

“Yeah, I guess” he smiled back.

You were just looking into eachothers eyes, completely lost in eachother. Until someone spoke up.

“What are you guys doing?” You looked up to meet the eyes of Jonas, one of your fellow mechanics. 

“Oh- um, I was just showing him what this screwdriver is for” You held the tool up to show Jonas, trying to act as normal as possible, not like you had just been drowning in those gorgeous eyes. 

“Okayyy..” Jonas narrowed his eyes at the pair of you before walking further into the garage. 

You turned your head when you felt Lando stand up. Meeting his eyes when he towered over you, he stretched his hand out for you. It took you a moment to register before you put your hand in his, and he pulled you to your feet. 

Now standing in front of him, you saw his mouth open and close, like he was going to say something. Lando was at a loss for words staring at you. The soft look you had in your eyes as you just looked at him, he felt like no one had ever looked at him that way. But he finally managed to get some words out.

“I- I have to go” “see you later” He nodded, and left before you could even say anything.

When he came back to the garage, to get ready for FP1, you talked with him when he got into the car.

“Everything’s good?” you asked, making sure the car seemed good.

“Yeah” “perfect like always Y/N” He smiled up at you.

“good”... “great”... “alright” You said as you tried to find something else to focus on, walking away to try and pretend to do your job. 

You watched him put on his helmet, and when he finished adjusting it, he looked over at you and gave you a wink before he closed the visor, and drove out of the garage. 

End of the day you walked towards the exit, ready to head back to the hotel. You had walked out with Jonas, getting a ride with him to the hotel. 

Walking to his car, he nudged your side with his elbow. 

“Hey” “What’s going on with Lando?” “I have never seen him like that” He had a sly smirk on his face.

“I really don’t know” “He just asked questions about the car, and I answered” You tried to laugh it off, he could not know what happened between the two of you. 

“Weird” He laughed back.

Lando was standing by his car door, just about to get in before he heard your sweet laugh. He turned his head and watched you and Jonas talking and laughing together. You were standing so close. Lando felt his jaw clench, and his knuckles turned white when he squeezed his fists. 

He watched the two of you get into the car and drive off, smile still present on your beautiful face. A smile he felt should only be for him. An unfamiliar feeling tugged at his heart, a feeling he didn’t like. And he knew the only person who could fix that, would be you. So he sped off after you, towards the hotel .   

You and Jonas arrived at the hotel before Lando, and you didn’t waste any time making your way to your hotel room, saying goodbye to Jonas when you walked out of the elevator. 

Entering your room, You headed straight to the pile of clothes on your bed, your comfy clothes, that you had left there when you had to change out of them this morning. After taking off your bra and putting the comfy clothes on, you collapsed on your bed, exhausted from the long day. You reached for your phone, and opened tiktok. But not even halfway through the first tiktok, there was a knock at your door.

It was quite aggressive, and it didn’t stop knocking. You figured maybe Sophie had just gotten back, and had some gossip to share with you. So you hurried over to open the door. 

You tore the door open to stop the harsh knocking, and expected to be faced with Sophie, but instead you saw an angry looking Lando standing in front of you. You jerked your head back in confusion, and went to ask what he was doing here. But he was quicker.

He took a step forward, making you step backwards so he didn’t collide with you. He shut the door behind him, now in your room. 

“Is he here?” He asked, frantically looking around the room. 

“What?” 

“Is Jonas here?” He was now staring at you, a fire in his eyes. 

“What the fuck are you talking about Norris?” “And what the fuck are you even doing here?” You felt your eyes narrow at him, anger bubbling up inside you. 

“I saw the two of you getting in his car, laughing and shit” “So you two are a thing now or what?” He took a step towards you, now so close that you could feel his breath on your face. 

“Oh my god Lando!” You threw your hands up in frustration and opened your mouth to say more. 

“Is. He. Here?” His voice was so low, and his eyes were so dark when he looked down at you. 

“NO!” You yelled back. 

And before you could tell him to get the fuck out, he grabbed the sides of your face and smashed your lips against his. 

You melted at the kiss, and you snaked your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to you. You couldn’t control yourself around him. 

Lando was so tense, and so aggressive. But the second you kissed him back, and held onto him. You felt him relax against you. The kiss immediately turning passionate and sweet. 

But Lando was still jealous, and his hunger for you only grew as you kept kissing him back. He took slow steps forward, making you follow him towards the bed. 

Before your legs hit the bed, you felt Lando grab onto the hem of your sweater and swiftly pulled it over your head, your tits bouncing from the sheer force he used. 

His eyes immediately found your chest and he made the softest moan. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you” He muttered.

He tore his own clothes off, and yours. Until you both were completely naked. He wasted no time in capturing your lips again, his hands roaming all over your body, before they found their way to the back of your thighs, squeezing them to signal you to jump. And you did, no hesitation.

A moan escaped your throat when you felt his dick against your inner thigh. But you didn’t even have time to think about it before you back hit the soft mattress, as he threw you onto the bed. 

Opening your eyes, you looked up to see Lando still standing there, looking at you with a hungry look in his eyes before he climbed onto the bed, and made his way between you legs. 

Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist, but he kept enough space between you, so his dick wasn’t near you, making you whine. You just wanted him already. His eyes immediately found yours when you made that sound, catching him off guard. 

“I didn’t know you needed me that bad babe” “Patience darling” He grabbed onto your jaw as he brought your face closer to his and whispered “Patience”. 

You crashed your lips against his, tightening your hold around his waist, trying to pull him closer. When he felt what you were doing, he pulled back and looked down at you with dark eyes. 

“So needy” 

You felt his fingers softly grazing the inside of your thigh, so close to where you needed him. Your hips moved, trying to find his fingers. And he gave in, tracing a finger through your folds.

He pushed a finger slowly inside, making you throw your head back and moan. He saw the effect it had on you, and soon added a second finger. Slowly pushing them in and out. And when he started tracing circles on your clit with his thumb, you were a moaning mess. 

You grabbed a hold of his forearm that was resting on your thigh, and you opened your eyes and met his. He had that same dark look that you were getting used to seeing, and his mouth was slightly open. It was like he was studying your every facial expression, seeing how much effect he had on you. 

You went to close your eyes again, you climax getting close. But he quickly pulled his fingers all the way out, the loss of his fingers making you gasp.

And when you opened your eyes to look at him, you saw him slowly bring his fingers to his mouth, he sucked his fingers clean and let out a groan at the taste. 

“Fuck, you taste so sweet” 

Without warning his fingers entered you again, forcefully sliding in and out. It made you arch your back from the sudden pleasure. You squeezed your eyes shut and grabbed a hold of the sheets beneath you. 

It didn’t take long until he was satisfied and pulled them back out. And before you could complain again, he was above you. 

You opened your eyes to see his face hovering above yours, you looked deep into his eyes, completely mesmerized. Until you felt something wet on your lips. You looked down to see the fingers he just had inside you.

“Now be a good girl and open up”

And you did. Slowly opening your mouth and welcoming his fingers. 

You could taste yourself, and it made you moan. Sucking his fingers completely clean, swirling your tongue around the two digits. You could see it in his eyes, just how weak you made him. 

He went to pull his fingers out of your mouth, but before they completely left your mouth, his grip tightened around your jaw. 

As he was holding on to your jaw, he looked deep into your eyes as he entered you, hard, until he bottomed out inside you. It caught you off guard and you let out a loud moan. 

“Fuck” “I missed you so much sweetheart” His voice was low and rough.

He slowly pulled out of you, until his tip was the only thing inside you, before he slammed back into you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

He kept thrusting at a relentless pace, making your breathing uneven as he was slamming into you. His hold on your jaw softened, as he soon let his hand wander down to softly rest against the side of your throat. 

He buried his head in your neck, making you hear every small sound he made. His breathing heavy, and small groans he let out. You wanted- no. You needed to hear more. 

You wrapped your legs tighter around him, and your fingers raked up his biceps and shoulders, until they found the back of his neck. 

You were clawing and grabbing at anything you could. And you arched your back as much as you could, the pleasure immense. 

You whined in his ear. “Lando”

It made him lift his head out of your neck, his face red and sweaty. Some of his curls stuck to his forehead. He looked heavenly. 

It made you grab the sides of his face, dragging him down so his lips landed on yours. It was sloppy and wet, but god, the way his mouth felt on yours was breathtaking. 

Lando was the one to break the kiss, lifting his head to catch his breath. As he looked down at you, your mouth slightly open, your lips wet and pink, your pupils dilated as you looked deep into his eyes. It made him mutter out a string of curse words as he picked up his pace, chasing his orgasm. 

He found that spot inside you that made you see stars, your own orgasm getting close. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, as you kept looking up at Lando, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. 

Lando’s hand, which had been resting on the side of your throat, moved to wrap itself around your throat, and he tightened his grip. He didn’t make it difficult for you to breathe, but he was putting pressure that made everything feel so much better. 

Your hands wrapped themselves around his forearm, nails digging into his skin. Your mouth opened as you let high pitched moans slip out. 

“You like that huh?” He was almost grinning at you.

You couldn’t get words out, but a drawn out “mhm” came out of you.

Your orgasm was so close, as Lando’s pace had only picked up, and he was still slamming into you with so much force. 

Lando felt it, your pussy clenching just a little bit more around him.

“You close? hm?” 

“Yes” Was all you managed to get out, your eyes closing as you focused.

It took all the strength Lando had to slow his pace and soften his movement just enough to not make you cum yet.

Your hips moved to try and chase your orgasm, but when Lando felt that, his hold on your throat squeezed to get your attention. 

Opening your eyes, you were met with Lando’s dark eyes. You couldn’t help but beg.

“Please let me cum” “Please Lando” You sound as whiny as you could, hoping he would give in.

“I will” “When you tell me who you belong to” His voice was deep and he sounded almost angry. But a smirk grew on his face when he felt your pussy clench again, just from what he said. 

“You Lando” “I belong to you” You were giving him your all, desperate for him to let you cum. 

“And who’s the one making you feel this good?”

“You Lando” “It’s all you” you moaned. “Please”

“Fuck sweetheart” “I can’t resist you when you beg like that”

His hand left your throat and circled around your waist, his palm spread on your back. He lifted you with him as he sat further up on his knees. The only thing holding you in this position was his hand, his other hand on the bed, holding the both of you up. 

Your own hands grabbed onto his shoulder to hold yourself against him. 

He started moving his hips again, still inside you. This new position made him go just a bit deeper, making you feel fuller than before. Your climax nearing quickly. 

His head once again found the crook in your neck, and buried itself there making small sloppy kisses along your neck and shoulder. 

Your hand flew up to grab onto his curls as he fucked up into you, until your climax finally hit. A drawn out moan escaping you as every muscle in your body tensed before they relaxed, finally getting that release. 

You felt Lando’s teeth sink into your shoulder as he filled you up. A low groan coming from him. 

He slowly let you sink back on the bed, collapsing on top of you, breathing ragged as one of your hands caressed the back of his neck.

You hadn’t felt this relaxed in months, his now soft breathing almost lulling you to sleep, until you hear him softly mutter against your skin.

“I can’t get enough of you"

You stirred awake as the brightness of the sun hit your face. Slowly opening your eyes, you looked out of the window to see the sun rising, it was gorgeous. 

You felt so cozy as you laid tangled in your sheets. You closed your eyes again to just enjoy the quiet morning. But right as you did, you hear someone breath out a quiet sigh against your shoulder. Opening your eyes and turning your head, you were met with a still sleeping Lando. 

His face was turned towards you and both of his arms were wrapped tightly around you. His curls were messy, and cute. He looked so peaceful.

You had never seen him like this, because usually he was being a cheeky bastard. But now, you couldn’t help but marvel at his features as the sun illuminated his face. 

He distracted you, so it took you a moment before you realized he was in your bed, in your hotel room, cuddling with you. You must’ve fallen asleep last night, and he must’ve not left. Why did he not leave? 

You kind of freaked out a little, and you needed to pee. So when Lando turned onto his back, one arm slipping away from you, you took your opportunity and slipped out of bed. 

You grabbed a tshirt and underwear on your way to the bathroom. After you peed, you stood in front of the mirror as you washed your hands. Looking at yourself, you slipped the shirt over your head, and pulled your underwear on.

You decided to do your usual morning routine while you were in here. So you did your skin care, and brushed your teeth before you stopped to look at yourself again. 

What were you going to do about Lando? This time, to stop your mind from overthinking it, you decided to just open the bathroom door and walk out. 

Opening the door, Lando was facing away from you, still sleeping. So you turned around to close the door carefully. 

When you turned back around, a sleepy Lando was looking back at you. You froze in your place, unsure of what to do. He slowly lifted the covers to where you had been previously laying.

“Come back in here” His voice was so gravelly and low, just incredibly sexy.

“Uh- I- um-” 

“Come on” 

Your body acted for you as you stepped towards the bed, before you slid under the covers. His arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into his chest. His head was resting on your shoulder, and he was actually snuggling into you. You didn’t realize how tense you were until he mumbled.

“Relax baby”

So you did. He was so warm and soft, it made you feel so safe and comforted as he was holding you. So you turned over to face him, sliding down so you could bury your face in his chest. You felt a small chuckle escape him, and one of his hands started tracing figures on your back. 

You hadn’t noticed you fell asleep again until he softly asked.

“Do you have to be at the track any sooner than two?” 

You left your place in his chest and looked up at him, you didn’t really understand what he said as you were still half asleep.

You saw a warm smile spread on Lando’s face. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

You lifted a hand to rub your eyes, “Yeah, but it’s fine” 

He stayed quiet, just studying your face.

“But what did you say?” You dropped your hand and stared up at him.

“I just asked if you had to be at the track any sooner than two” You couldn’t place the look he had on his face.

“Oh” “Uh, no” “You?”

“No”

You didn’t really know what to say now. He had such an intense look on his face and you didn’t know what to do.

He leaned his head down to capture your lips in the softest kiss yet. It was a loving kiss, so foreign to come from Lando.

You melted against the kiss, humming against him as you let him lay you down on your back as he hovered above you, lips still attached. He was the one to break the kiss, lifting his head to look down at you. 

“You want breakfast?”

“um- yeah” You smiled up at him, and nodded wildly. 

He smiled back and lifted himself off to get out of bed. 

You were sitting at a table outside of a cafe. The chair opposite you empty. You sat there staring off into space as you chewed on your bottom lip. Thinking about Lando’s sudden change in personality. 

You didn’t have time to dwell on it too hard before a coffee was placed in front of you. You looked up to meet Lando’s eyes as he sat down across from you. 

“Everything okay?” His eyebrows furrowed, he almost looked concerned. 

“Uh- yeah!” “But how did you know this is my favorite coffee?” You pointed down to the cup in front of you. 

A smile grew on his face. You could never get sick of seeing that kind smile. 

“I pick up on things you know” He seemed so satisfied with himself as he took a sip of his own coffee, leaning back in his chair.

After a good Friday on track in Miami, you walked towards the garage on Saturday, sporting an unusually bright smile. Maybe the reason for it was the work environment? 

Everyone in the garage had been in such a better mood this race weekend, you couldn’t put your finger on why. But, even Lando had a smile on his face most of the time. He was so much easier to work with, and started being really kind to the mechanics and engineers, and everyone basically. 

The good mood was probably just because the team had been doing so good lately, and Miami was a great track for Red Bull. Yeah, of course it was just that. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when you saw Sophie walking towards you. She looked confused and something akin to anger. It made you slow your speed as your smile dropped, worry setting in.

When she finally caught up with you she whisper-yelled at you. “Have you slept with Lando again?!”

She immediately figured out the answered when you looked down at the ground and mumbled a quiet “oh fuck”.

“Jesus Y/N” she sighed.

“I- uh- shit.” “It just happened one time ok!” Your eyes met her in a pleading look.

She didn’t answer, but relief washed over you when she cracked a smile and chuckled. 

“Shit, this bad isn’t it?” She smiled even more at your question.

“No, actually not” 

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at her answer.

“I just asked because I had to do some media work with Lando and Oscar, and Lando has never been that easy to work with. And he was smiling and laughing more than I have ever seen.” “And I know why” She nodded, seeming so secure in her reason. 

“Oh that's good!” “But yeah, that's because he’s been getting good results lately and Miami’s going to be great for him no?”

“No” You looked at her even more confused.

“He’s more happy now, than when he got his first win. And the only thing that has changed around him since then, is that you have been sleeping with him.” She looked so smug, and so confident.

You let out a short laugh. “You’re insane Sophie” “You’re suggesting he’s happier because we have been sleeping together?” 

“I’m not suggesting. I know”

“Bullshit” You scoffed. “I don’t have time for this Sophie, I have to get to the garage”

“I’ll join you!”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes.

You walked into the garage with Sophie beside you as she talked about what media work she had for the rest of the day. 

The second you walked towards where Lando’s car was parked, Sophie was interrupted.

“Y/N! there you are!” Lando was almost jogging over towards you, a warm smile on his face.

As he stopped in front of you, and looked down at you with such a soft look, making your breath hitch in your throat. 

“We need to do the seat check, and you’re the only one who can get it right” He chuckled.

Your eyes flickered over to Sophie and you saw her smirking back at the two of you. Looking back at Lando, he just looked at you, like he was waiting for an answer. 

“Oh- uh- Yeah” “Of course” You tried your best to not seem flustered. 

Lando’s smile grew just a bit more and he nodded, making his way to get into his car. You looked back at Sophie and she whispered “I am so right” before she winked at you and turned to talk to some of the mechanics. . 

Coming back to it, you walked over to the car and leaned over the halo, closer to where Lando was sitting. 

“So, you think something needs adjusting?” You turned your head to look him in the eyes.

Your faces so close to each other as he looked back at you. And yeah, you had slept with him two times now, but the atmosphere was so different in a situation like this. 

He quickly turned his head to look straight ahead before speaking.

“Yeah, just this bit here” He pointed at what he was talking about, and you nodded before standing up to go retrieve the tool you needed. 

Coming back, you leaned back over the halo, and luckily it was in a place that was fairly easy to access while he was still in the car. So when you finished, you turned back to Lando.

“Like that?”

Lando didn’t answer, but as he looked at you, he slowly lifted his hand and tucked some hair behind your ear. 

“Perfect” he whispered.

You could feel his breath on your face as you just stared back at him, stunned. And he just kept looking at you with those soft eyes that you were completely lost in. 

Your ”staring contest” was interrupted when someone shouted for Lando. Finally being able to move, you stepped back and turned over to your workbench, and tried to shake it off. Your cheeks warm, you probably resembled a tomato.

You tried reminding yourself that he was still a dick he was probably just faking being nice so you would keep sleeping with him or something. Yes. That was definitely it.

After Lando left the garage with the person who was calling him, Jonas walked up to you. 

“Is it just me or has Lando been weirdly nice lately?” He leaned towards you as he spoke quietly so no one would hear. 

You turned to look at him, eyes wide, your facial expression betraying you. He leaned back and his eyebrows furrowed, clearly confused about your reaction. 

You tried your best to brush it off like it was nothing. “Yeah, I just thought it was because he finally got his win, and is getting consistently good results” You forced a smile to try and seem normal, but your mind was running wild about what Sophie had said. 

“Yeah sure” “That has to be it” He started smirking before he slowly walked away, still smirking at you. Your mind was panicking. 

You walked into the Red Bull factory, bright and early in the morning, the warm spring sun making you mood ten times better. 

As you walked past the trophy wall, you saw some people putting in two new trophies. One for first place, and one for second. Lando won in Miami, and Max came second. 

You thought back to the podium where you stood underneath it all as you watched Lando get drowned in champagne, huge smile on his face. He looked irresistible up there. Good thing you didn’t get a moment alone with him after the podium. You probably would’ve folded like a lawn chair if you did. 

All you had today was a bunch of boring meetings, and office work.

The day went by slowly, and when it was finally time to go home. You packed up everything into your bag. And while you stood there, you felt a presence beside you.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here today sweetheart” You could hear that familiar smirk in his voice. It made you roll your eyes.

You turned around and looked at him. He was standing so close, no doubt on purpose. 

“Yes, you did” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Now, how would I know that?” His smirk somehow grew.

“Why else did you come all the way over here to my desk?” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Hope” He said softly, and the look in his eyes changed.

It took you aback. How he was able to change so quickly from his usual cheeky self, to sweet and kind. You didn’t get to reply before he spoke again.

“You wanna walk out together?”

“Um- Yeah sure” You grabbed your bag and walked beside him through the building. 

Walking out of the doors, The two of you walked towards the car park, and stopped in front of Lando’s car. He looked over at you.

“Did you drive here?”

“Yeah” You smiled at him.

“Oh, okay” He sounded almost disappointed, but quickly brushed it away. “See you soon then!” He smiled big at you before getting into his car. 

You just managed to blurt out “See you!” before he closed his car door, and drove off.

You stood there confused for a second, before you decided not to think too much about it and just get in your own car and drive home. 

You had made yourself a nice dinner, and plopped down in front of the tv to watch your favorite comfort show. 

After finishing, you put the dishes in the dishwasher, and your phone vibrated from your pocket. You pulled it out, and when the screen lit up, you saw the name “Lando Norris”.

“hey are you home?”

You felt your eyebrows furrow in confusion. But you still typed out a reply.

“yeah why?”

He responded right away.

“sorry, I’m just really bored and I want to see you” 

“Lando…”

“do you just want sex?”

“no!” “I know it sounds like that haha but I just want company”

Your heart made the decision for you. Fuck it.

“here’s my address;”

It didn’t take long before you heard a knock on your door, and you opened it for him to come in. 

After he stepped inside, you closed the door behind him. And while your back was still turned to him, you felt his hands wrap themselves around your torso, holding you tight against him. And his forehead rested on your shoulder. It made you stop in your tracks, confused.

“A-Are you okay?” you asked softly.

“Yeah” “I am now” His voice muffled because of your sweater.

You didn’t really know what to do, so you stayed still.

Eventually he said something.

“You smell good” He mumbled as he buried his head further into your shoulder.

“Oh- um- thanks” You felt your face heat up. Strange how a compliment like that had such an effect on you. 

He just kept holding you, and you had been standing like this for a good few minutes now. 

“You wanna go sit down on the couch?”

“Fine” He hesitated, but slowly pulled back until you could step aside and make a move towards the couch.

Sitting down, you reached forward to pick the remote off the table while you felt Lando sit down beside you. You pressed play on what you had been watching earlier, and turned over to look at Lando with a questioning look. 

He looked back at you with an innocent look, like he was kind of intimidated by your stare.

"So.. Why did you really want to come?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I honestly just wanted to spend time with you” He breathed out. 

“Weirdo” You whispered while you leant back into the couch. You heard Lando let out a chuckle.

You shifted your eyes to the tv, and tried to pay attention to it. But from the corner of your eye, you could see Lando shuffling closer to you, until your shoulders, and thighs were touching. 

You turned your head to look up at him. He was already looking down at you with a look in his eyes that made you feel warm and fuzzy. That man could make you feel so many emotions just from his eyes alone. 

Despite wanting to drown in his eyes, you turned your head away, and looked back at the tv. 

Lando was sitting there, still looking at your face studying the tv. He feared he might have pushed it too far, coming here, sitting so close. But the feeling of you leaning into his body silenced his mind quickly, and he made himself a little more comfortable as he relaxed against you. 

You had been sitting in silence for what felt like 15 minutes, until you decided to say something. 

“Sorry if this is really boring” “You want to do something else?” You looked over at him through the corner of your eye.

“No I’m not bored” “But is there something you had in mind?” He looked back at you.

You had just the thing. You stood up and walked over to where your Nintendo switch was, in the stand by the tv. You hooked everything up and grabbed the controls, walked back over and handed one to Lando.

“Mario Kart” 

Lando’s smirk grew, “Oh baby, you know I’m going to win.” His eyes giving you a sympathetic look. 

“Oh Lando..” “You just wait and see pretty boy” You gave him that same sympathetic look, and your hand reached up to softly hold the side of his face.

Lando could feel his heart beat faster. The way you looked at him and held his face. And when you called him “pretty boy” he was done for. He really considered letting you win just by the sheer confidence radiating from you. But when you booted up the game and started choosing the character, his usual competitive personality came back, and he would do everything he could to beat you. 

You were on the last track, and the two of you had been so even, so whoever won this track, won the game. Lando was sweating, he would say he was surprised that you were this good, but he honestly wasn’t.

You were in first place, Lando hot on your tail. And you had just entered the last round, and Lando could see his victory slipping away. He looked over at you and saw how focused you were, your tongue sticking out of your mouth in concentration. 

He saw his perfect opportunity to strike. So he bumped his knee against yours. 

“Hey!” “No fair!” You kept your eyes on the screen as you tried to keep your focus. 

Lando then decided to do the worst, and threw away everything he worked so hard for when one of his hands left the controller and stretched out to grab onto your waist. Making your whole body jolt with the contact. 

And soon after, he started tickling you. You tried your best to make it to the finish line, you really did. But you had no control over how your body reacted to the insistent tickling. 

So the controller flew from your hands, as you tried to stop his arms from moving, to no use. He kept going, now, somehow hovering above you. 

Finally, he gave you a moment to breathe, his hands still holding on to your sides, as he just looked down at you trying to catch your breath. 

You closed your eyes, focusing on your breath. You felt Lando bury his head in the crook of your neck, and his arms circled your waist so he was holding around you, making you arch your body up against him. He put his whole body weight on yours as he laid down on top of you. And you felt him slowly breathing in and out against your neck.

You didn’t know what to say or do, so you just let him be. You just closed your eyes and figured you might as well enjoy the comfort, because it was really really comfortable. You lifted your arms and carefully wrapped them around him, so they were resting on his strong back. 

When Lando felt your arms wrap around him and rest on his back, he automatically buried his head just a bit more, and tightened his grip around you, so you were even closer than before, if that was even possible. 

You could hear the quiet background music still coming from the unfinished game. And you could both hear and feel that Lando’s breath was slowing down, and his body relaxing against you. 

Lando was almost falling asleep. He tried to fight it, but you were just so comfortable. And he didn’t want to admit it, but just the fact that he was holding around you, and you him, was making him feel safe and sound. Lando was on the verge of snoring, and you were noticing.

“Lando” “Are you falling asleep?” You softly whispered, a question you already knew the answer to.

“No” you felt him mumble against your skin. The sound in his voice making it clear that he was lying. 

Lando felt your body shake as you let out a short giggle.

“Was it that obvious?” You felt him smile against your skin. 

“You were almost snoring” “So, yes.” You kept giggling.

Lando let out a short chuckle before he lifted his head so he looked down at you. 

“Well, It’s your fault that you’re so comfortable” He smiled. Such a sweet smile you loved that you were seeing more of. 

Your smile mimicked his as you looked up at him. Lando’s eyes quickly darted across your face, looking at all of your features, committing them to his memory. You looked angelic. Your smile warming up his heart that had grown a bit too cold in recent years. He was already feeling the effects of your warmth. His smile being more common than it used to be. And portraying a kindness to try and match yours. If anyone knew how he felt, they would say he was falling in Love.

Your smile faded, but a soft look still remained on your face. The way that Lando was looking at you, it was like you were completely naked and vulnerable in front of him. But the emotion behind his eyes showed only comfort and admiration. So it wasn’t uncomfortable, quite the opposite.

In that moment, you hoped he would never stop looking at you like that. And to Lando, he would never even want to stop looking at you at all.

Without either of you noticing, your faces had gotten so close, to the point where your lips were just barely touching. Your hands came up to cradle both sides of his face, and the comfort of the feeling, made Lando capture your lips in a soft kiss.

He was in control, and he was kissing you oh so slowly and carefully. Lando had turned so soft and kind, like he cared for you, deeply. He kissed you like you were fragile, Which you both knew from experience that you weren’t. You couldn’t take it anymore.

One of your hands traveled up to tug at his hair, and the other wrapped around his bicep that was beside your head, nails digging into the skin, hoping it could signal him into doing more. 

Either Lando didn’t pick up on your signs, or he did it on purpose. But that man did nothing to heat up the kiss. If anything, he almost kissed you slower.

So you decided to wrap your legs around his waist, your core meeting the bulge in his pants. Unfortunately, he was only half hard, but that was something you intended on changing in a matter of seconds. 

You started moving your hips slowly, up and down against his length, it solicited a small hum from his throat. But that was all it did. Somehow Lando kept his composure. 

But you could feel his dick twitching in his pants. The friction you received from it was making you quietly moan into his mouth. You were going to break him. Make him snap.

You disconnected your legs from him, and you almost heard him whine at the loss of contact. Both of your hands landed on his chest, and you gave a little push, signaling him. He sat up on his knees, and looked down at you, his eyes hooded. 

You sat up on your knees in front of him and gave him another small shove in the chest. “Lay down.” You breathed out.

He did what you said, and layed down on his back, looking up at you with anticipation. You lifted yourself so you could sit back down over his thighs, straddling him. 

You sat far enough back that his now very obvious bulge was right in front of your core. 

You looked back up to find Lando’s eyes and the darkened, familiar look you saw in them, made a shiver run down your spine. 

As you kept eye contact, you brushed your fingertips over his clothed dick. It made his eyes flutter close, and he tilted his head all the way back, his neck more exposed. 

You flattened your palm over the bulge, and moved your hands up and down along the length, in a slow and soft pace. You could see the veins on Lando’s neck getting more visible, as he was straining himself, trying to chase the movement of your hand with his hips. 

His breathing was ragged, and his eyes squeezed shut. And small, choked whimpers came from him. He looked so pretty. 

You decided to give him what he wanted. And when Lando felt your hand disappear, his eyes shot open to beg you for more. But when his eyes landed on you, you had already opened the button on his pants, and dragged the zipper down. 

Lando didn’t have a moment to register it, before your hand was wrapped around his length. A guttural moan came out of him, eyes squeezing shut again.

While your hand was starting to slowly move up and down, with the other, you wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock. Moving further and further down to hold on to his balls. 

You could tell you were doing a good job, just by the amount of sounds coming from Lando. Both his hands had formed fists, his knuckles white as he was doing everything in his power to not snap. 

You swiped your thumb across the tip, collecting the precum that had seeped out. His breath shuddered, and he opened his eyes to look at you with a pleading look. 

It almost made you do exactly what he wanted, almost. But instead, you stopped your movements, and decided to torture him a little. 

So you made your way to stand up and walk off. But the second your feet were on the ground, and your back turned to him. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he pulled you back down. 

You were both sitting on your knees, your back against his chest, and you could feel him poking against your backside. You felt heat flow to your core just at the thought of what he was going to do now. 

Lando grabbed on to the hem of your shirt, and tore it off. His hands immediately finding your bra, unclasping it, and throwing it towards where your shirt went. 

His hands forcefully grabbed your breasts and he ground his hips into your ass, moaning into your ear. 

You could do nothing but wait for his next move. One of his hands slowly traced along your stomach, making its way down to the hem of your pants, while his other hand was wrapped around your torso, holding you tight against him. 

His hand found the button on your pants, and unbuttoned it with one hand, and slowly slid down the zipper. 

His chin was resting on your shoulder, as he looked down to see his hand sliding into your panties. 

You threw your head back at the feeling, resting it on his shoulder. One of his fingers found your hole, and collected the wetness there. 

“Oh, so wet” He cooed in your ear. 

His finger found your clit as he started circling it slowly. Your mouth had opened, as you let all of your sounds spill out. 

Soon he added more pressure, and his touch was more focused. If he kept it up, it wouldn’t be long before you came. 

You tilted your head so your mouth was close to his ear, and you whimpered. “fuck Lando” “Please keep going” You begged.

Quickly, without warning, he pulled his hand out. You whined in complaint.

“Not so fun now, is it?” He spoke directly in your ear. 

You didn’t even have time to reply before he was pulling your pants down to your knees, and instructing you to lift them, so he could take them all the way off. 

You did what he said, leaning your upper body forward on the couch, ass up towards him. 

After he tore yours off, you turned your head over your shoulder, to see him hurrying to take his own off.

His hand landed on your back, pushing your upper body further into the couch, your face squished in the cushions. 

Both of his hands slid down to your ass, and grabbed it firmly, enjoying the sight. And shoved you even more, so he could see more of you. 

You couldn’t see what he was doing, but you felt one of his hands slide further towards your core. And then you felt how close he was when he spoke.

“God, you’re beautiful” He was in awe, just looking at you. 

But soon, his finger found your wet hole, and slowly slid inside. You sighed into the couch cushion, and moved your hips back onto his finger, taking in as much as you could.  

He couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to be inside you. He quickly removed his finger, and you were about to complain. But before you could get a word out, his hands grabbed onto your hips and pulled you back towards him. His dick slid inside so well, filling you up just like you wanted. The feeling almost making you scream.

He let out a loud groan, finally getting the feeling of you being wrapped around him again. He had a tight grip on your hips as he pulled you back to meet his hips everytime he shoved himself inside you. 

His thrusts were getting rough and hard, and you were loving every second of it. Him in complete control, and you babbling incoherent sounds into the cushions. 

You felt the heat build up inside you, and you were getting close. Lando kept his pace up and you could feel his balls slapping against you, the sound of your skin slapping together and both of you moaning was unholy.

You felt Lando lean forward, arm wrapping around your waist, and the other around your chest, so his palm was flattened right against your beating heart. You didn’t even have time to think about what he was doing, the new angle making you see stars. 

Lando pulled your body up as he sat back on his knees. your back against his chest. Just like you were earlier. 

He held you tight against him, as he now fucked up into you. You didn’t think the angle of him inside you could get any better, but oh, how wrong you were. 

You heard Lando swearing under his breath, and you leaned your head back against his shoulder, a moaning mess, and so close. “Lando..” “I’m clo-”

You didn’t get to finish your words before you felt the hand that was wrapped around your waist, slide down to circle his middle finger around your clit. You almost screamed out, the pleasure almost being too much. 

And when you felt his other hand wrap around your throat and squeeze, you were done for. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head as it all came crashing down.

Your thighs were shaking, and your walls were constricting around him, milking him for all he was worth, which sent him over the edge.

He let out a soft whimper as he came, the sound alone almost making you cum for a second time. 

His arms wrapped tightly around your middle, almost hugging you as his forehead rested against your shoulder. 

He took some deep breaths, breathing in your scent, and hummed against you. You felt him growing soft inside you, and some of your fluids started running down your thighs. 

You felt Lando softly lift your hips so he could slide out of you, the emptiness making you whine. He chuckled before he kissed your shoulder and stood up. You collapsed forward on the couch, too tired so stay sitting on your knees. 

You heard Lando walk away towards the bathroom, and soon after, you heard the shower start. You furrowed your brows, a bit confused. Kind of a dick move to just hop in the shower and leave you collapsed on the couch. 

You didn’t even hear Lando walk back out until you felt his fingers softly gracing your arm as he asked you; “You think you can stand up?”

You turned your head and looked up at him, you saw a glint in his eyes when he looked at you, no doubt caused by how absolutely fucked out of your mind you looked. 

You softly nodded against the soft pillows and muttered out a “Maybe” as you lifted yourself up and tried to stand up. Lando’s hand held onto your bicep just in case you needed any help. And he looked like he was ready to catch you if your knees even buckled.

Which they did, and Lando immediately wrapped his free arm around your waist, holding you up with such a force that your toes were the only thing touching the ground. 

After he just fucked you like that, he was so soft and caring. You really liked this side of him, and silently wished you could see more of it. 

Lando’s eyes searched yours with a hint of worry. But they softened when you reassured him you were fine. But he kept an arm wrapped around you as he walked the two of you towards your bathroom, where the shower had been heating up. 

He helped you step inside, and followed after you. And the two of you enjoyed a nice warm shower together, him holding around you almost the entire time, constantly worried your legs would give out.

You were softly awakening, feeling your hair being brushed behind your ear, and soft fingers tracing your face. You slowly opened your eyes to find his eyes looking back at you. 

Lando had a lovesick smile on his face. “You look so beautiful in the morning” His voice was deep and raspy.

You felt yourself blush and you lifted the covers to hide your face. 

Lando sat upright and lifted one of his hands to try and tug the cover away, “No, don’t hide” “I want to see you”

You peeked your eyes over the covers, seeing nothing but truth behind Lando’s eyes. You lowered the covers.

“Thank you baby” His smile grew, and you saw his eyes searching your face, like he was trying to count the freckles on your skin. It gave you a moment to do the same, now really noticing the moles beside his nose, and the ones scattered across his cheeks. 

You noticed his face coming closer to yours, and when you met his eyes you saw how he was looking at your lips. You sat up and met him halfway, reaching up to hold his face, dragging him back down. He threw out an arm to hold himself above you, leaning more into the kiss. 

Lando was the one to pull back, and looked at you with a glint in his eye, like he knew something you didn’t.

Before you had time to think about your words, your mouth opened. 

“Why are you so nice now?” You saw his mouth frown slightly, the sight making you wince. You wanted to take it back. 

You opened your mouth again to try and fix your mistake, but Lando was quicker. 

“I know..” “I have been thinking about it myself” He sighed and laid down beside you, and quickly glanced at you before he looked anywhere but you. 

You saw that he was struggling, regret seeping into your veins. “I’m sorry Lando, I didn’t mean it” “You don’t have to say anything” “I’m so sorry” You carefully looked at him, wanting nothing more than to smack yourself for talking before thinking. 

“No, no” “I’m just trying to collect my thoughts. I’m not that great with words” He let out an awkward chuckle. 

His eyes finally met yours again, and you could see the vulnerability behind Lando’s eyes. He smiled softly before speaking again.

“My last few seasons at McLaren were not good. The car was not working for me, and I wasn’t doing good mentally, so I really started to spiral. I made the mistake of not talking about it, and that only made it worse.” “It made me angry and resentful. Which made me lose the people close to me.” “I got so used to being like that, thinking it was the best solution. And then I made the move to Red Bull, it made it better in the sense that the car was better, I was less miserable. But It still didn’t change my attitude and anger. Thinking that if I went back to being the old me, it would hurt me.” 

“So when we slept together the first time, it made me feel so confident.” He smiled sheepishly at you.

He continued. “And when we slept together that second time, it made me feel unstoppable. And that morning, I was so comfortable around you that I didn’t even think about how I was acting. It was such a nice morning. The nicest one I’ve ever had.” You felt yourself blush.

“And after that day, it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and I found happiness in everything, something I haven’t felt in a long time. It never even crossed my mind about my change in attitude, until people asked me about it.” “And when I thought about it, I just thought about you.” His eyes no longer met yours, a shyness about Lando that you had never seen.

“When I’m with you, I feel like myself again”

Lando couldn’t bear to look at you. A realization hit him about what he just told you. He just started talking about his feelings, and he had told you everything, something he didn’t think he would ever do. 

Lando felt your soft hand on the side of his face, and he felt you now laying on top of him, hugging him. You buried your face in his neck. You were speechless. Lando had said he wasn’t good with words, but that was a complete lie. 

He had confessed something to you that no one ever had. No one had ever told you that you were the reason they could feel like themselves. You didn’t really know how to feel about that. 

Lando started to feel something wet hit the sides of his neck. His eyes shot open in realization. “Are you crying?” He asked you with so much concern in his voice.

Oh shit, you got caught. You tried to carefully keep your breathing steady as you slowly shook your head. 

“Y/N, look at me please” He almost whispered.

You slowly lifted your head to look at him, and when your eyes met his, you could see the worry in them. 

His hands cradled the sides of your face, and a thumb flew out to swipe away a falling tear. 

“Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong” More worry found its way in Lando’s eyes. 

“No” You softly shook your head as you whispered. 

You lifted a hand to hold on to one of his. “No one has ever said something like that to me before” You let out a small breath before you continued.

“Thank you Lando” You sighed, a soft smile on your face.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you thanking me?”

Your smile grew. “You just bared your soul to me, Lando.” “And you told me that I make you feel like yourself again.” 

“Yeah, so if anything, I should thank you, for listening to me” His thumb swiped across your cheek again. 

“Lando. You shouldn’t have to thank me for listening to you.” “I would never want to stop listening to you” 

“Please never leave me” He said it like he was actually begging you. His eyebrows furrowed.

“I wouldn’t even dream about it” You leaned in to give him a soft kiss.

And when you pulled back to look at him. You started to recognize the look in his eyes, it was like he was looking at the world. The universe. And he found that in your eyes.

Who's crying? not me! (yes I am.)

Taglist;

@laneyspaulding19 @formula1mount @chonkybonky

[imfinereallyy]

Bedside Manner

for @acasualcrossfade request for "the infection has spread"

"Some birdie told me that you have been causing a fuss, Wayne, is that true?"

Wayne huffs from his hospital bed, glasses sliding down his nose. He places the newspaper he was reading on the table beside him. "You tell that Robbie of yours to stop exaggerating. It was only a small request."

Steve raises his eyebrows at his favorite patient (Dustin tells him he isn't supposed to have favorites, but he also used to cry anytime he picked up Max before him when they were younger, so what does he know) and gives him a knowing look. "Robin listens to no man, Wayne, you know this. You're better off sending that message through her wife. Besides, small? She was telling me you refused to have any other nurse help you because I wasn't here last night. Which surprised me since you are always pushing me on about taking a vacation. "

Wayne opens his mouth, but Steve presses on. "And the fact Robin was even in the room means they called a psych consult, so I can only imagine how bad it was."

Wayne grumbles like a little kid being scolded for getting his hands caught in the cookie jar. "Yea, well, it was a bad night, kid."

Steve feels his shoulders sag, he takes off his glasses and rubs a hand down his face before placing them back on. "Sorry, Wayne, I had a bad migraine last night. Nance and Robs wouldn't even let me pass the entrance. Bad news?"

"Kid, don't stress yourself out over me. I'm just your patient, and more so, I am just a cranky old man." Wayne patted Steve's knee as he sat down next to him.

"C'mon, Wayne. You're more than that. I'd like to think seeing you in and out of here the last year has made us friends. Although I gotta say, you're the only friend I have that I'll be glad if I don't get to see again, given the circumstances. So, what's the news?"

"The infection has spread."

Steve takes in a deep breath, he tries not to panic, but any infection in a hospital can be deadly, especially for a cancer patient like Wayne. "Incision site?"

Steve must not be as good at hiding his emotions as he used to be because Wayne jumps to ease his worry. "No, kid, don't worry. The surgery was a success. Just got that hospital fever, the good old bronchitis. But it just means I'm here longer than I have to. It also means my nephew is on edge, and I don't know if I can take a second longer of his hovering."

Steve laughed wetly, thankful for the topic change. "Ah yes, the mysterious nephew of yours that I've never met. The way you talk about him almost tempts me into switching to the day shift, sounds like he might be entertaining. But only almost."

"Always wondered why you were always working the nights, most of the others seem to switch. Not a big fan of the day?"

Steve shakes his head gently, "No, I like the quiet here at night. Like getting to know the patients without having to worry about fixing ten million things. Don't get me wrong, it has its downfalls. Like the doctors can be horrible at night, never tell Dr. Wheeler that or Robbie will kill me, and the food is awful. But there is something special about it here at night. So sorry, your ridiculous nephew isn't enough to tempt me."

Wayne smirked, "What if I told you he was a looker and single?"

Steve blushes slightly. He is used to patients trying to pawn him off to their relatives, it came with being a young male nurse, but typically it didn't phase him. But Steve has become close with Wayne, so hearing him suggest he get together with his nephew has him flustered. "I'm good, Wayne, thanks. Gave up on the dating scene a while ago. Not many people can keep up with a guy who works nights and suffers from severe head trauma."

"Shame, Eddie likes the nights too. I'd reckon yal would get along."

"I'm pretty sure we would need more than that, Wayne."

Wayne smiles fondly at Steve. "You don't need a whole lot to build a connection, son. Me and Linda, god rest her soul, only started dating for our mutual love of mugs. And we may not have had long together, but our love was strong. Besides, there is more yal would have in common than just the night shift."

Steve huffs a laugh, "Oh yea, like what?" The least he can do is humor the man.

"Well, you both care about me deeply."

Steve blushes again, "C'mon, Wayne. I'm your nurse. I'm kinda paid to care."

Wayne won't hear any of it, "No, son, it's more than that. You take your break in here every night. You make sure to record the game at home for me because they only have the news here. And last night, you tried to come in with a migraine, even though we both know I am the only patient you can stand right now."

Steve doesn't know what to say back. Wayne is right, of course. Steve has been spending all of his time with the man, giving him extra care. Steve isn't bad with his other patients, he goes above and beyond most of his coworkers, but there is something special about Wayne.

"You got nothing, kid, you know I'm right. Remind me a lot of my nephew. Before visiting hours ended is when I got the news of having to stay longer. Kid almost threw a fit when they kicked him out. Swore he was gonna break in to stay the night with me. I told him not to worry since you would be there, I brag about you too, ya know. When he found out today you weren't here, that boy threw a fit again. Swear he gets his tantrums from his father. Said he was gonna sneak back in tonight. Make sure I had company. That 'the man' couldn't stop him. That if he ran into you, he was gonna have a word with you."

Steve can't help the snort that shakes his body, "I'd like to see him get passed Hop first."

Wayne starts to chuckle, too, "Eds may have had his fair share of escaping the law, but no man moves as fast as Jim in a security uniform."

Steve is fully laughing now, "I know, right? It's like those pants make him aerodynamic or something. No way your nephew is getting by."

It is almost as if Steve's words summon what happens next. There in the doorway is the most gorgeous man he's ever seen, even though he is bent over and out of breath.

"Eds?" Wayne questions, clearly surprised. Steve has to mask his face and quickly before Wayne catches him ogling his nephew. Steve is finding it difficult, though. The man, Eddie, despite his out-of-breath appearance, is stunning. His long curly hair is thrown up in a bun, showing off the piercings up his ears. His clothes are simple but suiting, ripped jeans and a black band tee. Tattoos cover his entire body, and Steve wants to ask about every single one of them.

The most surprising thing about him isn't that he got by Hop (although he has questions for that later), no the most surprising thing to Steve is that Wayne somehow knew his exact type, which most people assume wrong in that department.

Eddie awakens an old craving inside Steve that he thought he had buried long ago.

"Wayne, you would not believe what I just went to get up here. The story I have for you, oh boy. You're gonna love it. Who knew security guards could move that fast. Anyway, I hope that nurse boy of yours is here tonight because I am ready to—" Eddie stops mid-rant when his eyes land on Steve, a lovely blush blossoming across his pale cheeks.

"I believe what you are trying to say is, what was it, Wayne? Oh yea, 'have a word with me,'" Steve laughs softly.

Eddie sputters, "Wayne!?!" His blushing becomes deeper as the seconds pass by.

Wayne just chuckles as Steve stands. "Don't be mad at your Uncle, I think he was just trying to make me feel better. I am sorry I wasn't here last night for the news. Got my head knocked around too much as a kid—" Steve taps his head with his knuckles, "—so I suffer from migraines sometimes. I really did try to come in, but well—you met Jim. He's pretty fast." Steve worries his lip. Eddie's eyes follow.

"Well, I can't be too mad now, can I?" Eddie swallows nervously before a smirk spreads across his face, switching from shy to confident in two seconds flat. Steve shouldn't be turned on by that. "The pretty face helps too. I'm pretty sure you could convince me to give you my kidney right about now. I'm Eddie, which I know you know by now, and you are...?"

Steve puts his hand out for a shake, "Nurse Harrington. But most people call me Steve."

Eddie grabs his hand gently and brings the back of it to his lips. "Stevie, a pleasure, really." A light kiss is placed on Steve's knuckles. Stevie, he thinks. That's a new one. And he isn't mad about it, at all. In fact, the butterflies in his stomach want him to get Eddie to say it again.

Steve catches Wayne's smug face in the corner of his eye as Steve begins to blush again.

"I'm just gonna—I'll be right back." Steve stutters.

"Leaving so soon?" Eddie says disappointed.

Steve has the sudden urge to fix the frown on his face. "No, no! Just, uh, gonna call Jim and tell him not to send out a search party. That it's okay if you stay. I'll keep an eye on you."

Eddie's face breaks out into a brilliant smile, "Really, Stevie? You gonna keep me around?"

Steve's heart skips a beat, "If I can help it."

***

[dvrktvnnel]

I don't want your sorrys, I want you safe

Genre: Angst/Mafia AU

Pairing: Mafia! Wooyoung x reader

Word Count: 900

Warnings: I'm sorry in advance <3

Summary: Wooyoung acts careless about his life in the mafia, and the way it affects your lives finally breaks you. All you want is for him to be safe.

12am. He was late again. No text. No calls. No details where he was going. Just you sitting in the couch waiting for him to come home. It drove you crazy, it's been over a year now and you had hoped it would get better. Either he wouldn’t be gone for so long, or maybe you’d get used to him being away.

But it never got easier. And you knew deep down it never would. When you finally heard the doorknob click you grabbed the gun, just like he taught you. Checking the cameras he had hooked up to the monitor, you saw his silhouette, his eyes you loved so much looking right into the camera.

You knocked on the door back, in the same beat he taught you to make sure he wasn’t being held at gun point on the other side. His safe knock returned, and releasing the breath you held you dropped the gun and opened the door.

He smiled upon seeing you, but it was hard for you to smile back when you saw his busted lip. It wasn’t bad, but it was enough to remind you of how much blood he’s already lost in this lifestyle. How blood he’s taken from others too.

“You okay baby?” he asked.

You folded your arms over your chest and shrugged.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly, avoiding his eyes and question . You didn’t want to cry, not again.

He nodded, tilting his head to meet your gaze.

“Baby whats wrong,” he asked gently, then his demeanor changed. “Did something happen? Did someone come here?” he asked quickly, looking around the apartment and pulling out his own gun.

“Nothing happened, nothing happened,” you assured him, putting your hands on his chest.

“Its just,” you started, before shaking your head. “I don’t want to get into right now. Im tired, you’re hurt. Let's just wash up and go to bed.”

Wooyoung grabbed your hand before you could walk away.

“Baby, please don’t do this,” he pleaded. “Tell me whats wrong.”

You turned around and sighed. You really didn’t want to do this right now.

“I’m fine, I’m just tired,” you said flatly.

“Y/N come on,” he started, but you put your hand up to stop him.

“I’m not doing this tonight I just want to go to bed.”

You started walking away again and he threw his bag off his shoulder.

“Y/N what the hell, I just got back, and you’re already pissed?”

You shook your head and put your hand up again. You really did not want to do this right now.

But he was insistent. He took his jacket off and made his way to you, following you to the room.

“Are you seriously not going to talk to me? You’re just going to stay mad at me for no apparent reason?”

“Im not mad at you, Im mad at the situation.”

“What situation?” he asked, his irritation only fueling the fire within you.

“Every fucking night you’re gone for hours, hell sometimes you don’t come back until the next day!”

Wooyoung froze, clearly not expecting an outburst. You felt bad, but he pushed you into it. He dragged you into this lifestyle.

“I sit here, and i wait for you, never able to tell if you’re coming home okay or even alive. Do you know how fucking terrifying it is when Jongho comes here while you’re gone? Every-time Im expecting him to tell me you died.”

“Y/N, I told you i had a dangerous life before we got together, you said you were fine with it!”

“No, I said I loved you! I said I wanted to be with you anyways, Ive never been “fine” without you here, worrying about you. Fuck even when you’re here I’m worried! At any second some piece of shit you’ve fucked with could show up and kill us both!”

Wooyoung took your hands in his.

“Listen to me, none of that is going to happen. Im careful, and Im really fucking good at what i do. Mingi’s been shot more times than anyone, and he’s fine!”

You push him away

“You don’t get it, it’s the fact i know one day one of those shots could he your last. You don’t have to do this; I work and if you got a normal job we’d be fine!”

“You know damn well i can't do that,” he said sternly. “I’ve busted my ass off to make you feel safe, what more do you want from me?”

“I want you safe! I want you to be safe with me and away from all of this!”

“You know I can't just stay with you all the time! I have shit I need to do!”

“No, what this all comes down to is that you have a big ego.”

His phone rang. You both paused and waited.

“Answer it.” you said harshly. “Answer and prove me right, that you only give a shit about your reputation with your gang.”

Wooyoung said nothing. He took his phone out and answered it, turning his back to you.

“What is it-“

Sans voice cut him off.

“Woo get the fuck out of there right now they tracked you and-“

Before either of you had a chance to react, an explosion erupted through the apartment. You were thrown away from Wooyoung, hitting the wall as debris fell on top of you.

You saw a group of men run through the door before you blacked out, calling Wooyoung’s name weakly.

@vampzity @h4untedgrl @scarfac3 @rvereri @losrpark @dollywoo

[hereforhalstead]

home.

Spencer Reid x reader fluff!

thank you SO much for the love on my first post, I’m so glad you liked it! Ill be honest, I started this with a completely different plot in mind but, here we are! Enjoy!

*****

5 days. That’s all it had been, but to him it felt like a lifetime. 

The more he thought about it, he realised, it was the longest you’d ever been apart.

You’d been asked to stay for a week in London with Garcia and Morgan to assist on a case that Emily so lovingly emailed over late last week. 

One minute it simply words on a screen in your inbox, the next you knew you were on a plane over the Atlantic.

Every night you and Spencer had spent as much time as possible on the phone, some evenings only getting 5 minutes but others being hours. But it still wasn’t enough.

You missed him. More than ever.

The case was tough and starting to take its toll on you, it felt never ending and you started to wonder when you’d actually be able to return to the place you called home.

The truth is, London was your actual home. Being born and raised there until your early 20s when you transferred over to the BAU unit and the rest was history.

Yes, it was nice to be back in familiar territories. Moaning about tourists blocking the pavements, stopping every 2 minutes to take photos of a bird sitting on a fence..

 The god awful weather still going strong as you were now on your 5th day of rain, wondering if you would actually see a glimpse of sun before you left.

But home wasn’t London anymore, it was wherever Spencer was. 

And he wasn’t here. 

****

You’d taken the papers back to your hotel room, the sheets all spread across the floor in a disorganised manner yet you still knew where everything was and that worked for you.

You were still in the same clothes that you had put on about 26 hours ago, cold coffee in hand, staring at the black text on the papers as if the answer would just jump out at you if you continued to do so.

Your phone ringing is what brought you out of your trance, letting out a loud yawn before answering it.

“How’s my favourite girl?”

Was all he said and it had you melting, bringing your knees to your chest as you leant back onto the bed.

“Hey Spence” you mumbled back, you could practically hear his smile on the other end of the line forming, just at the sound of your voice. 

“What time is it there?” You added 

“about 2 ish” 

Shit. That meant it was 6am for you, and you didn’t even realise. 

High praise for the blackout curtains in the room I suppose.

“And you’re still awake?” Your voice was sturn

“So are you?” He hit back. Fair play.

“I could’ve just woken up, you don’t know”

But he did. He knew you, sometimes better than you knew yourself.

“This is me you’re talking to baby, do you want me to hang up and ring back so you can see my name on the screen again?” 

Again, you could practically see how he would be sitting. Arm folded across his chest, either book still open in one hand or a hot cup of tea hooked onto his thumb. Smile as big as could be.

“Point taken” you mumbled 

“Tell me about your day” he was quick to respond, you hated yourself for how there was a quick second of the feeling that you couldn’t be bothered. 

You were exhausted and missing him.

You didn’t want to be talking to him over the phone about the same thing you’d been discussing with endless people all day. 

You wanted to be back at home, enveloped in his arms as he pulls you back into him as you try to leave the bed.

Or running your fingers absentmindedly through his hair as he tells you yet another fact about how despite its significance, London was actually the smallest city in the UK.

You missed the little things, you missed him.

“Y/N?” His voice broke the silence as you sighed, words leaving your lips before you had a chance to even process them 

“I miss you, Spencer” 

There was yet another pause, almost a huff coming from his end of the line as he replied

“I miss you too, sweetheart” 

“Spence, honestly I’m drained” you began to ramble 

“I’ve been staring at these same pieces of paper for days, I’m starting to think I’m just wasting their time being here”

He could hear you throw some of the documents onto the floor, bringing your hand to your forehead to relieve some of the tension.

“He’s killed 5 women since I’ve been here Spencer, 5. How useless am I that these women are literally depending on me and here i am, failing them” 

He was hurting, he was hurting because you were hurting. 

“Baby, don’t talk about yourself like that” he assured, you could feel tour bottom lip quiver as the tears formed in your eyes 

“You know they asked you to be over there for a reason, you’re good at your job. You deserve to be there with the best of them and don’t forget that” 

“But I do-“ you tried to cut him off but he was quick to interject “uh uh”

“I will stay on this phone with you until you can tell me you’re good at your job, I don’t care how long it takes, Y/N. I want to hear you say it”

“What about if I don’t say if, just to get you to stay on the phone with me?” You lightly chuckled, heart fluttering as you hear his huff of laughter you so dearly missed.

“I mean, I have to be on the jet in 6 hours so if you’re happy for the whole team to hear our conversation then that works for me”

“Spence, I just feel as though I’m losing my mind. Tell me what I’m missing” you almost pleaded, knowing that if he was here he probably would have this case solved by now and back on the plane home. 

“You know the most important thing? Honestly, it’s what I do all the time and it truly does work”

You sat up in hope, waiting to hear his groundbreaking methods of solution.

“Sleep, Y/N”

You huffed, returning to your hunched back, cross legged position of defeat.

“That’s not fair” you scorned, his light laugh flooding through your ears “I thought you were actually about to help” 

“I mean it sweetheart, you can’t give your best to something on no sleep. I’m worried about you and if I can’t be there to look after you, I need to know that you’re looking after you” 

His words hurt, you knew he was worried but never thought he would just come right out and tell you.

“Fine” you huffed, crooking your neck to keep the phone in place at your ear as you start to get undressed.

“I’ll have a quick shower and then I’ll get into  bed” you assured “then I’ll text you in the morning with how many hours sleep I had”

You waited to hear his laugh but there was nothing.

“Can I ju-“ his tone was filled with doubt, like he was second guessing what he was about to say 

You let the line go quiet, waiting for him to finish his thoughts 

“Can I just stay on the phone with you?” 

You felt as though your legs could give way at the pain in his voice, the desperation to just have more time with you had you filling with guilt.

“Of course, Spence”

There was a hum of happiness and content, practically seeing how he slumped back into the headboard of the bed in the comfort of your words

“Why don’t you tell me about your day?” You questioned, giving up on the idea of the shower as you climbed into bed

“Oh! Funny story actually. Hotch had….”

There it was, the voice of such piece and familiarity that you so badly missed. 

He was your home.

[pedrospatch]

to hell and back l two

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l main masterlist l next chapter

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

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. canon violence, canon language, reader has a flashback, mentions of slavers, implied threat of assault, guns, reader gets groped, reader has a panic attack, a lot of angst, trauma. soft Joel, protective Joel, and i even threw in some domestic Joel because just imagine that old man making you a nice lil late night snack. 🥹 i think i got most of the major warnings out of the way, i’m sorry if i missed anything!

Word Count: 8.7k

Smoke was coming off my jacket

and you didn’t seem to mind

I left a long trail of ashes and

you said, I like your style

California l Spring, 2023

Your hand trembled slightly as you gripped your pistol and aimed it at his chest.

You’d never pointed your gun at another human being before. At least not one that was still alive.

“Hey now, it’s alright. You can trust us.”

Anxiously, you glimpsed from the man who had just spoken to the woman who stood beside him.

Surely the two had to be related. Both possessed the same fiery red hair, a face full of freckles, and vivid green eyes. They stood before you with their weapons lowered in an attempt to show you that they weren’t a threat to your safety. 

The man, who had to be in his mid to late thirties, moved to step forward, but halted in his tracks when he caught sight of the way your finger had twitched over the trigger. “My name is Mark,” he said, carefully gesturing to himself with his free hand. In his opposite hand, he clutched his rifle, an assault style weapon that made your gun look like a fucking toy in comparison. Still, it was you who had the upper hand, at least for now. “This here is my sister. Her name is Jessa.” He paused and when you said nothing, he asked, “Can you tell us your name?”

Chewing your bottom lip, you shook your head at him in response. 

You didn’t trust them.

Not quite yet.

Jessa, who was younger and looked to be closer to your own age, offered you a kind smile. “That’s alright. You don’t have to tell us your name until you feel comfortable.” She took a look around at the small, makeshift camp that you had made for yourself. “Are you all by yourself, sweets?”

You quickly wracked your brain. 

“No,” You fibbed. “I’m with my father. He should be back any minute now. He’s armed and he does not take all too kindly to strangers, so you’d best be on your way before he sees you.” You added in a steadier tone, “He won’t even think twice. He’ll just kill you on the spot, so you better leave right now. Or else.”

Amused, Mark let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, come on now, dollface. You don’t have to lie to us,” he stated, shaking his head. “Let’s try this again and let’s be honest this time, alright? How long have you been alone?”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed harshly. 

Fuck.

He had seen right through the bullshit threat. 

“For about three or four days now,” You admitted, your shoulders sagging in defeat. “I was with my father and my sister. The three of us were on our way up north. We were trying to get to Seattle to the quarantine zone, but then they were—”

You suddenly stopped.

It felt like someone had driven their fist right into your gut, knocking all the wind out of your lungs and hindering your ability to speak.

You couldn’t even say it out loud.

Gruesome images of them being torn apart limb from limb flashed through your mind. Bile slowly started climbing its way up your throat and your stomach churned violently.

You were going to be sick.

“Are they both dead?” Mark questioned you.

You nodded, whispering shakily, “Yes.”

Jessa frowned. “I’m so sorry for your loss, honey. If it’s any consolation, me and Mark know exactly how it feels. We lost our entire family about three years ago. It’s the hardest thing we’ve ever been through.” Swinging back her own rifle behind her, she approached you and reached out, placing her hand over yours—the one that was still clutching your weapon. She didn’t even so much as flinch at the way the barrel was now pointed at her, how it was just an inch or two away from her chest. It didn’t seem to faze her that all it would take was you bringing your index finger down a bit harder on the trigger and she would be dead. “We know you must be fucking terrified, but it’s okay. You can trust us. We’re good, honest people and we just want to help you. But we can’t do that if you try and kill us, now can we?”

Slowly, Jessa guided you to lower your gun. She then looked over her shoulder, exchanging a look with her brother, as if asking him to back her up.

“Yeah. She’s right. We just want to help you,” he repeated after her. “We aren’t going to hurt you. If we wanted to, we probably would have by now, don’t you think so?”

You let out a tiny breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding and loosened your iron grip on your pistol.

He did make a fair point.

Now that your gun was pointed at the ground, he could have easily killed you. And yet, he’d made no move to blow your fucking head off. 

Maybe they really were good people.

But what if they weren’t?

What if it was just a trap?

You didn’t know what to fucking think.

All you knew was that you were so helplessly lost now that your family was gone.

You were afraid.

Alone.

Jessa turned back to you. “Listen, we’re part of a settlement,” she informed you. “It’s not all too far from here, maybe six or seven miles tops. We’ve got a really big group of people and we’re always looking to bring in anyone in need. Come with us, sweets. There’s plenty of food, water, and we can you into some fresh, clean clothes too. How does that sound?” 

You momentarily hesitated, still unsure whether or not you could trust the two strangers. 

How did it sound?

It sounded too fucking good to be true.

“It’s a safe place,” Mark assured you from behind her. He could see the reluctance written all over your face. 

“It’s as safe as safe can be,” Jessa promised. She touched your arm and flashed you another smile, one that was more kind than the first—one that was so comforting it made you feel like you could actually trust her. “So? What do you say? Will you come back with us? Will you let us help you?”

You nervously bit the inside of your cheek.

Scared, starving, and exhausted, their offer for a safe haven was much too tempting to decline.

Besides, how long could you possibly survive out here all on your own?

“Alright,” You finally agreed after a moment. “I’ll come with you.”

“There’s just one condition,” Mark stated, falling into step beside his sister in front of you. “We’re going to need you to hand over your weapon.”

“What?” You stared at him. “Why?”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s protocol,” he said, waving a hand dismissively at you. “It’s purely for safety reasons. Anyone who comes into our group must surrender their weapons. We want to be sure that we’re bringing in someone who isn’t going to be a threat to our people. We have children, so we just want to be cautious, you know?”

“I guess that does makes sense,” You admitted. 

“You’ll get it back,” Jessa reassured you. “Once you speak to the council and they determine you aren’t a threat, you’ll get your gun back. Okay?”

Left with very little choice, you agreed. “Okay.”

Mark held out his hand for the weapon.

Slowly, you placed your pistol in his open palm.

“Perfect.” Jessa chirped. “Now grab your things and let’s get going. If we hurry up, we can make it back before nightfall.”

Nodding, you turned around to grab your pack. 

The second you turned your back, the barrel of the same gun you’d just handed to Mark poked you between your shoulder blades and you froze, your blood running cold in your veins.

“Hands up, bitch,” Jessa commanded. Her warm and friendly tone had vanished. “And turn around towards me slowly. Now.”

Terrified, you did as you were told and you lifted both of your hands, turning around on the heel of your sneaker to face her.

Her expression, much like her tone, was frigid.

Hostile.

“You’re going to do exactly as I say when I say it.” She held up her rifle, aiming it at you. “And if you don’t, you fucking die. Do you understand?”

“Please,” You choked out. “Don’t—”

“Do you fucking understand?” Jessa repeated in a hiss, her finger hovering over the trigger. When she was met with a small, meek nod, she turned to look at her brother. “Cuff her.”

Mark smirked. He tucked your gun away into the waistband of his jeans and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pair of rusted handcuffs. He walked around and stood behind you, instructing, “Hands behind your back.” Once he had both of your wrists in one hand, he used the other to slip on the cuffs, tightening them so hard that the old oxidized steel dug painfully into your skin. “She’s a pretty one,” he murmured. As soon as he made certain the cuffs were securely fastened, he put a hand on your ass, groping it roughly. “Oh, you’re going to be popular with the guys, dollface. Kind of makes me want to break you in, right here and right now—give me a few minutes with her, Jess.”

Completely paralyzed with fear, all you could do was stand there in silence as his hands continued to roam your lower body, feeling you up through your jeans. He squeezed at your inner thigh, then brushed up over your zipper.

“Mark! That’s not what she’s for, you idiot,” Jessa reminded him, rolling her eyes. “Now quit fucking around and let’s start heading back to camp.”

She whirled around and started leading the way.

Mark grinned and pressed his mouth to your ear as he whispered in cruel reassurance, “Don’t you worry, now. I’ll get my chance with you—we’re all going to our chance with you.”

He grabbed you by your upper arm and roughly shoved you forward, leading you to what would inevitably be hell on earth.

Joel leans against the tree with his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes are fixed intently on you, carefully observing you from where he stands, more so out of concern rather than curiosity. Something isn’t right.

It’s late in the afternoon and the two of you had been about halfway into the six hour trek down south to Jackson when Joel offered to stop for a while, just long enough for the both of you to rest and take a quick breather, find a second wind before finishing the journey—but as he continues watching you, Joel starts to realize that perhaps stopping had done you much more harm than it’s done you good. 

Just a few feet away from where he’s standing and keeping a watchful eye on you, you sit perched on top of a small, flat boulder hugging your knees up to your chest with both hands wrapped tightly around the grip of your pistol. 

You’re in a trance like state, staring straight off into the distance at nothing in particular. Your face is completely blank. Emotionless. It appears that while all the lights are on, nobody is fucking home. 

Squinting against the sunlight, Joel takes a closer look at you. He sees it so clearly, the faraway look in your eyes. 

You are gone. You’ve checked out and completely disconnected from reality. 

He would go as far as saying you’ve disconnected from this fucking planet.

You’re sinking, slowly drowning in some kind of thought or perhaps it was a memory—whatever it is that’s currently preoccupying your mind, it sure as hell isn’t anything good. He has no fucking clue how he’d managed to clock it so easily, so quickly, but Joel had sensed something was wrong the instant you’d drifted off. 

The deeper you go and the further you lose yourself, the harder your hands clutch at your grin, the thin delicate skin on your knuckles stretching taught over the bones. It’s not until Joel notices the way your chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as your breaths quicken, the way you start struggling for air, that he knows it’s time for him to intervene before you worsen and suffocate under the weight of whatever it is that’s sitting so heavily on you. 

Pushing himself away from the tree, Joel begins to approach you, taking extra care so as not to spook you into turning your pistol on him and pulling the trigger in a moment of panic. He lifts both of his hands and holds them out in front of him. Cautiously, Joel makes his way over towards where you’re sitting on the boulder, his footsteps slow and careful. 

“Hey,” he calls out to you, keeping his tone firm, but somehow still gentle as he tries to garner your attention. When you don’t even acknowledge him or his presence, he tries again, speaking a little bit louder. “Hey. S’okay. S’alright. Everythin’ is alright—come on back now.” Joel draws closer and closer to you, taking tiny step after tiny step on the steel toes of his worn, black leather boots. “S’alright, darlin’. I need you to come back to me now, okay? You ain’t where you think you are. You’re alright—”

The sound of a twig snapping underneath his boot startles you. Jumping to your feet, you aim your gun at him with shaking hands and wild, terrified eyes. 

Even as your finger trembles over the trigger, Joel remains calm. “Hey, c’mon. Take it easy. S’okay. You’re alright. Look, it’s me. It’s just me and I ain’t gonna do anythin’ to hurt you,” he swears. He shows you his empty hands, hoping that you would be able to snap out of it and realize that he isn’t a threat. That you aren’t in any kind of danger. But as you hold your weapon, chest heaving as you panic, Joel knows it doesn’t matter that his hands are empty. It doesn’t make a fucking difference. He knows it isn’t him who is standing in front of you.

It’s someone else. Whoever you were seeing standing there in his place, it’s someone who had done god knows what to you. Joel has a gut wrenching hunch it had something to do with the marks he’d seen around your wrists back at the cabin. The mere thought of it is enough to send an unpleasant chill up and down the length of his spine. 

Joel speaks again. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He feels the sudden urge to reach out for you, but knowing it would be unwelcome, he resists it. All he can do is try and use his words to bring you back to the present. Back to him. “Breathe. You’re safe. I need you to breathe, can you do that for me? Do you think you can breathe for me, darlin’?”

Somehow, his voice penetrates its way in through the thickness of the white fog that you’d been lost in. You had been stumbling around helplessly in it, desperately searching for a way through. Joel’s heavy, deep Southern drawl permeates the memory, causing the haunting images from that fateful day when your life had taken a sharp turn for the worst to dissolve into nothing. 

“Just breathe. Nice and slow. Inhale through your nose, then out through your mouth. Easy does it.” Joel controls his own breathing, slowing it down to demonstrate. He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales slowly through his mouth. 

You stare at him with wide eyes as you fight to get the rise and fall of your chest to match his. How the hell do you know what to do? 

Joel can practically hear your question ringing in your mind amidst the chaos. “My kid, she gets these awful nightmares sometimes. Wakes up in a panic thinkin’ she’s somewhere else, somewhere she ain’t safe. So my brother’s wife, Maria, well she was kind enough to show me what to do whenever it happens. She taught me a couple different breathin’ techniques that help soothe Ellie and calm her down. Told me it helps if I do them with her,” he explains to you. He can tell that you’re now coming out of the worst of it and that you’re finally starting to get some oxygen back into your lungs. He lowers his hands. Your pistol is still aimed at him, but Joel trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t pull the trigger and blow his fucking head off. “C’mon, breathe. There we go. That’s it. Easy does it, now. In through your nose and out through your mouth, that’s it. That’s a good girl.” 

It takes you a good minute or two, but your breaths fall into sync with his own and before you know it, the two of you are breathing together in harmony. 

Oh. You’re not in California.

The man standing before you doesn’t have red hair and green eyes. He doesn’t have that twisted smirk on his face. He isn’t putting his hands on you. He’s not hurting you. He’s helping you. 

Swallowing dryly, you lower your weapon. Your gaze meets Joel’s and somehow you find the courage to look him in his eyes for the very first time. Even though you had turned your gun on him, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it all. He isn’t upset or angry. The look of worry on his face has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you could have easily killed him just now. It’s as if he’d known for certain that you wouldn’t pull the trigger.

“There we go,” Joel says after another minute passes by. “You see? You’re alright. You’re safe.”

There’s comfort in his words, in his deep brown eyes.

Fuck, there’s comfort in him. 

Still. Your mind refuses to allow you to accept it.

At least, not completely. 

Averting your gaze, you shuffle your weight from one foot to the other and then back again. 

Joel clears his throat lightly. “It’s gettin’ real late,” he murmurs. “We should get a move on. We’ve still got a bit of a way to go and we really don’t wanna get ourselves caught out in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere after dark for too long, y’know?”

You give him a small nod and start to gather up your belongings. You pick up your canteen, which is now almost completely empty after you’d shared your water with him during the first leg of the hike, and shove it into one of the side pockets of your back.

“S’kinda cold,” Joel states. “And it’ll only get colder as nightfall approaches. You, uh—you warm enough in that little denim jacket?”

You shrugged a shoulder at him, not thinking anything much of the question. I’m fine. 

However, as if on cue, a chilly breeze blows its way through Wyoming’s plains, causing you to shiver.

Joel quickly shrugs out of his brown jacket. “You mind if I—?”

You toss him a confused glance. 

Do I mind if you what? 

Joel steps towards you and lifts his arms as if he’s going to put them around you. Flinching, every muscle in your entire body goes rigid and he halts. “S’alright. I’m just gonna give you my jacket, that’s all,” he assures you, his arms frozen midair. He patiently waits for a small nod of approval. Once he has it, he drapes his jacket over your shoulders and then takes several steps back, giving you your space. “Should keep you from freezin’ your ass off out here.”

As he turns around and walks over to where he had set his rifle down, you stand there somewhat stupefied over what he’d just done. Something so simple, and yet you can’t seem to wrap your fucking brain around it. 

Willing yourself to move, you carefully slide both of your arms into the sleeves of his jacket, wrapping it around your body. The scent of him, a mixture of earthy sandalwood and whatever soap he uses to wash his clothes, fills your senses and a strange, but pleasant warmth radiates throughout your chest, gradually spreading itself to the rest of your body from head to toe. 

Ignoring the feeling, you pick up your backpack along with your bow and quiver of arrows, slinging everything over your shoulders. 

Joel slings the strap of his rifle over his shoulder and turns back to you. “Ready to get goin’?”

Pistol in hand, you gesture for him to go ahead and walk in front of you, much like he’d done for the first half of the trip.

He lets out a small sigh. “Alright, I get it. Still don’t fully trust me. Well, we’ll keep workin’ on that, then.”

A couple of hours had gone by. The slanting rays of the setting sun give a warm orange tinge to the skies as late evening begins settling itself in. 

“Y’wanna know somethin’?” Joel asks, breaking the silence between you.

You look up at the back of his head, your eyes fixing themselves on his mop of thick, unkempt salt and pepper waves. Occasionally, as you’d been slowly trudging along behind Joel, you stole glimpses of the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck and brushed against the collar of his henley.

Despite the lack of a response, Joel continues to talk. “Earlier at the cabin, just when I was startin’ to come back around, I heard a woman singin’ to me. At least, it sure seemed like she was singin’ to me. It was a real pretty song too.” He glances over his shoulder at you with curiosity. “Was that you?”

You blink at him, keeping a straight face. 

“Hm, no I s’ppose it wasn’t you,” he answers his own question. He turns his attention back to the path ahead of him. “I reckon that it must have just been some sorta dream I had while I was out cold. But it sounded so vivid, y’ know? It sounded so fuckin’ real. And the strangest part of it all is that I don’t know how it’s even possible for me to dream of a voice like that,” he muses aloud. 

Oh? Unable to help yourself, you move yourself from behind Joel and fall into step beside him. Now it’s you that’s riddled with curiosity. What do you mean by that? 

Joel glances down at you. He grips the leather strap of his rifle and shrugs his shoulders. “Well, to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a voice quite like that in my whole entire life,” he tells you. He shrugs once more, his arm brushing against yours by accident. Joel half expected you to deck him for it, but much to his surprise, it doesn’t seem like his touch had bothered you. “It was too fuckin’ gorgeous. So beautiful that part of me wonders if it was someone or somethin’ out of this world.” He pauses and peered at you, detecting a slight glimmer of light in your eyes. “Felt like I had a real life angel singin’ to me.”

You feel the corners of your lips threatening to turn upwards into a smile. Turning your face away from him, it takes everything you had in you to force them back down. 

“Well look at that. You’re walkin’ right next to me,” Joel observes after a minute, raising an eyebrow. 

Your head whips back around.

“Must mean that I’m doin’ somethin’ right, huh darlin’?”

You snort and roll your eyes.

I think I liked it better when you weren’t talking.

Still, you remain at his side. 

The rest of the trek is silent.

Night had just fallen by the time that you and Joel finally made it to Jackson. The moment that you set your sights on the massive wooden gate out in the distance, your heart begins to pound, slamming against your ribcage.

The closer the both of you draw to the barrier, the easier it is for you to see the men and women who are standing on a platform on top of the gate, heavily armed as they keep watch—their lights illuminate the perimeter of the settlement and light up the velvet purple sky. 

You stop dead in your tracks. Oh fuck that.

Joel shakes his head. “S’alright. Don’t be scared.”

There’s six people standing on top of that gate armed with fucking assault rifles. And you don’t expect me to be scared? Are you for real?

“Look, things might be a little tense at first when the patrolmen see us,” he admits, raking a hand through his hair. “None of them have any idea that I’m still alive, but as soon as they see that it’s me, they’re gonna stand down. All I need is for you to stay calm and follow my lead, alright?” He nods at the pistol in your hand. “M’also gonna need for you to put your gun away and out of sight.”

You glare at him, your eyes flashing angrily in the darkness.

You said I could have my weapons on me. 

Joel holds up his hand. “I promise that I ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you, alright? I swear it on my fuckin’ life,” he vows. “You have my word. No one’s gonna hurt you. I won’t let them. Just stay calm and do as I say. Please,” he adds, a hint of desperation lacing his tone. “Y’think you can do that for me?”

Your mind is screaming, begging you to run and run fast. Instead, you find yourself reluctantly tucking your gun into the waistband of your jeans, concealing it just like Joel had asked you to do. 

“Stay behind me,” he instructs, shoving his own rifle behind him. He begins leading the way towards the gate and beckons for you to follow close. 

The second the two of you step out from the darkness and into the light, the sound of firearms cocking breaks through the silence of the night. 

“Stop right there!” A woman’s voice shouts. “Freeze! Or we’ll fucking shoot!”

“Melissa, it’s me!” Joel calls out, holding up his hands. “It’s Joel!”

“What?”

He huffs and yells again, “It’s Joel!”

“Wait a goddamn minute, everyone fucking stand down!” Melissa loudly barks the order at the five other patrol men and women who are standing on either side of her with their firearms aimed and at the ready. “Joel? Joel Miller, is that really you?” She leans her body forward over the gate and squints at him, letting out an incredulous laugh. “Well butter my fucking ass and call me a goddamn biscuit, the man is fucking alive! Quick, open up the gates! Somebody go and get Tommy! Let’s go, fucking move it people!”

Joel drops his hands, sighing in relief.

You, on the other hand, are scared shitless and wonder if it’s too late to make a run for it. 

“Remember,” he says, looking back at you. “Calm. Okay?”

You force a small, tight nod of your head. 

Okay. 

The gate’s doors pull apart and he leads you up to them and through to the other side where you and Joel are met with a frantic crowd of at least two dozen people—the obnoxious, overlapping chatter coupled with the blatant stares you’re receiving cause an overwhelming feeling of anxiousness to wash over you in a massive wave that, if you allow it, is going to drown you right there on the spot. Refusing to make eye contact with anybody, you fix your gaze on Joel, keeping it focused on the broadness of his back as more and more people circle around the both of you, caging you in with nowhere to run. 

“Joel!” Melissa elbows her way through the large crowd, rushing up to him. She grabs him by the arms, giving him a quick once over. “Holy shit! We thought you were fucking dead! I can’t fucking believe it!”

“Where’s Tommy?” Joel asks her.

“At home with Maria. Lisa went to pull him out of bed—where the hell have you been, Joel? It’s been three fucking days!”

Joel purses his lips together tightly. He can feel you inching yourself forward, trying to stand as close to him as possible as more people join the scene. The toes of your boots touch the heels of his, your chest lightly brushing against his back. While Joel doesn’t blame the people of the town for being curious, he isn’t all too fond of the way they’re staring at you—the gestures and the finger pointing, the mutters and the whispers. He doesn’t have to see you to know it’s making you uncomfortable, and his priority is to get you out of there and somewhere where you would feel safe. “Listen, it’s a real long story that I ain’t got time for right this minute. I need Tommy—”

“Miller!”

A loud, booming voice comes from behind Melissa.

It belongs to a tall, bulky blond haired man—his mere presence is intimidating, proven by how it had taken absolutely nothing for the crowd to part and make room for him to pass through. Smirking, he saunters up to Joel and remarks, “I thought you were a fucking goner.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, but he says nothing. 

The tension between the two men could be sliced with a fucking machete.

His blue eyes flit over Joel’s shoulder to you. “Well, well, well. Who is this sweet little lady?”

You step even closer to Joel, pressing yourself against his backside and taking a fistful of his shirt.

“None of your fuckin’ business, that’s who.”

Keith’s smirk widens. “Actually, as head of safety and security for this community, it fucking is my business,” he reminds him. “She infected?”

Joel raises his eyebrows. “Does she look fuckin’ infected to you?”

“You know the commune’s rules, Miller.” Without tearing his eyes away from you, Keith calls over his shoulder, “Bring out one of the hounds! Now!”

Behind him, Joel hears a small gasp.

Hounds?

Joel whirls around. “Hey, s’alright,” he says quickly before you can start to panic. “We have dogs that have been trained to sniff out the cordyceps infection. S’just gonna smell you, that’s all.”

The crowd backs away as a woman with cropped hair brings out a large black dog on a chain leash attached to a brown leather harness. Once it catches sight of you, the unfamiliar newcomer, the animal begins to bark and growl, thrashing around as it tries to lunge towards you. The dog tugs and pulls at his leash so violently that he nearly knocks his handler over. The woman unclips the leash and sets the dog free—it approaches you, snarling and baring its teeth. 

You start to back away, but Joel stops you.

“Relax,” he mutters to you under his breath. He moves to stand beside you and holds out his hand, offering it in an attempt to comfort you and ease the fear. He hadn’t expected you to accept it, so when you place your hand in his and lace your fingers with his own, he’s taken by complete surprise. 

You squeeze his rough, calloused fingers as the dog comes closer towards you. Nervously, you hold your other hand out to it, prompting it to snap at you, its teeth snapping together. Somehow, you muster enough courage to hold your hand steady and the animal growls, but then gives it a sniff. When it doesn’t detect what it’s searching for, the dog happily wags his tail and gives your hand a friendly lick before running back over to its handler who puts the animal back on the leash. 

You breathe out in relief. 

“There,” Joel snaps at Keith. “You satisfied?”

Keith clicks his tongue. “Almost,” he drawls. He walks over to you, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “What’s your name, dollface?”

Your stomach drops at the nickname. Looking down at the dirt, you don’t reply.

“Aw, she’s shy! Well isn’t that just adorable.” Keith lets out a raspy laugh, causing a couple of the onlookers to laugh along with him. “What’s the matter, sweetie pie? Hm? Cat got your tongue?”

Joel drops your hand, his nostrils flaring. “Back off asshole or else—”

Ignoring him, the blond patrolman eyes the weapon hanging on your shoulder. “That’s a really nice bow you’ve got there,” Keith states, cutting off Joel’s threat. “But we do have rules here. Newcomers have to surrender their weapons so they can be stored away securely. We don’t know you and until we can know for sure you won’t be a threat to the people of this town, you’re going to have to surrender that bow along with all other weapons you’re carrying.” Keith lowers his voice as he adds, “And I would advise you not to try and hide anything because I’m going to be the one to pat you down—and I’ll be thorough. I don’t take all too kindly to liars, so keep that in mind.”

“You just threaten her in front of me?” Trying his hardest not to cause a scene with so many people watching the three of you, Joel keeps his voice low and quiet—but the sharp, dangerous edge to his tone can’t be missed. 

“Of course I didn’t,” Keith responds, innocently. “All I was doing was letting her know how we work around here in Jackson. We’ve been operating the town the same way for years now for a good reason. The rules we set in place apply to any and all newcomers, regardless of who they came here with.” He holds out his hands to you. “Surrender all of your weapons to me. Now.”

Shaking your head, you take a step back. This was not what you’d agreed to. This wasn’t the promise that Joel had made you back at the cabin. 

Joel glares at him. “She ain’t surrenderin’ a goddamn thing—”

It’s too late.

Keith steps towards you and goes for the bow. As his hand shoots out to take it from your shoulder, you quickly turn your body and swiftly dodge it. He feels his face burn with red hot anger as several onlookers gasp at your act of rebelliousness. Furious, Keith reaches for you again and grabs you, taking the upper part of your arm in a harsh grip that makes you squeak out in pain. 

You lift your opposite arm and swing a curled fist up towards his face, but he catches your wrist in his other hand before it can connect with his jawline. 

Joel!

You try to say his name, but you fucking can’t. 

Your mouth opens and nothing comes out. For as hard you push and try to force it, you can’t find your voice. Instead, all that falls from your lips is a pathetic, strangled little cry. You yank and pull, struggling as you try to tear yourself out of Keith’s grasp. 

Livid, Joel nearly goes fucking blind with rage. He snatches Keith by the collar of his leather jacket, ripping him away from you. Though he’s still sore as from the fall off of his horse three days ago, he uses every ounce of strength he has left in him to throw him down into the dirt at the feet of a fellow patrolman named Wyatt. “Don’t. Fuckin’. Touch. Her.” He barely manages to bite out the words through gritted teeth. “Ever.”

Wyatt helps him up to his feet. “You alright, man?”

“Get the fuck off me!” Keith snarls, pushing him away. His chest is heaving and his face turns a deep shade of red. Whether it’s because he’s embarrassed or if it’s because he’s angry, no one can quite tell the difference. One thing is for damn sure, he isn’t used to someone going against his authority and everyone watching holds their breath, waiting to see what he’s going to do next. After all, the man going against him happened to be their leader’s brother in law. “What the fuck is your goddamn problem, Miller? It’s protocol—”

“Not today it ain’t.”

Keith approaches him, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He stands so close that the two of them are chest to chest, ready to tear each other to shreds. “Do you think just because your fucking brother is second in command, you can just do as you please? Is that it?” He questions, bitterly. “It doesn’t fucking work like that. We have rules set in place for a reason, Joel. We are going to do this by the fucking book whether your little girlfriend here likes it or not, got it?”

Stepping around him, he starts towards you but Joel is quick to block his path. He stands in front of you and squares his shoulders.

He speaks, his voice dangerously low. “You listen and you listen good. If you even so much as think about layin’ another fuckin’ finger on her, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of tonight pickin’ up your teeth off the ground. You understand me?”

“That a threat?”

“It ain’t a threat. It’s a fuckin’ promise.”

Keith pulls his arm back and he’s about ready to take a swing when he’s stopped by the sound of Tommy Miller’s frantic voice. 

“Joel! Where is he—where the fuck is Joel?”

The much younger, raven haired man approaches the scene, shrugging a blue denim jacket over his cotton white t-shirt. The instant that he spots Joel, he runs up to him and throws his arms around his shoulders. “Fuckin’ Christ, I thought I fuckin’ lost you out there! What the hell happened?”

“Where’s Ellie?” Joel demands. “She okay?”

“She’s fast asleep at my place with Maria and the baby. She’s been with us this entire time.”

Joel’s shoulders sag in relief.

Tommy looks around, frowning. “What’s going on? What’s everyone doin’ out here?” He then sees you and raises his eyebrows at his older brother. “Joel? Who’s that?”

“Look, I’ll explain everything, can we just—can we talk in private?”

Although he’s confused, Tommy nods. 

“Of course. C’mon, let’s go back to my place.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Tommy states as soon as Joel had finished recounting the story—well, what he could remember, anyway. It wasn’t much.

You’re sitting beside Joel across the table from Tommy and Maria in the kitchen of their home. All three of them speak in quiet, hushed voices so as not to wake Ellie and Samuel, Tommy and Maria’s infant son. Maria had offered to go upstairs to pull Ellie out of bed so that she and Joel could reunite, but when Tommy mentioned tonight had been the first night since Joel had gone missing three days ago that she had finally managed to fall asleep, everyone agreed it would be best to wait until the morning. 

“So, she saved your life,” Tommy concludes. His brown eyes, even darker than those of his older brother, flicker over to you once again. You sit there in complete silence, staring at the top of the wooden table, refusing to meet his gaze—or that of his wife. 

Joel nods. “She did, Tommy. I don’t fuckin’ know how, but what I do know is that if it wasn’t for her, then I wouldn’t be sittin’ here at this table right now.”

You shuffle uncomfortably in your chair. Though the couple had been kind to you, it didn’t make it any easier when they stared at you like you had a second head. 

“She saved your life and you don’t even know her name?” Tommy’s in complete disbelief.

“No. She doesn’t talk.”

Maria hums. “I have an idea. Let me find her a notepad or something to write on,” she suggests after a minute. She stands up, wrapping her cotton blue robe around herself, concealing her pajamas as she walks over to the kitchen counter. It takes her a bit of digging around, but in one of her junk drawers, she finds a pen and a small notepad. She makes her way back over to the table and sets the items down in front of you. “Can you write down your name for us?”

You don’t move a single muscle.

“It’s okay, honey. Just write down your name—”

“Best we don’t push her too much,” Joel warns her, holding out his hand to stop her from coming too close into your space.

You glance up at him, your lips parting slightly.

“Don’t worry,” he tells you. “You ain’t gotta tell us anythin’ until you’re good and ready. Alright?”

Tommy clears his throat. “Joel? Can me and you have a quick word in private please?”

Your heart skips an anxious beat.

No, wait! Please don’t leave me.

Less than eight hours ago, you’d been wary of this man, unable to fully trust him. Now, just the mere thought of him leaving your side puts you on edge.

“S’fine, we’re just gonna be out in the hallway,” he assures you. “It’ll only be for a minute or two.”

Realizing you didn’t want to be left alone with her, Maria jabs a thumb over her shoulder towards the gas powered stove. “I’m going to make myself a hot cup of chamomile tea. I can boil water for an extra mug if you’d like some?” she offers, warmly.

You’d turned down food and water already, much too afraid to accept anything from her. However, a warm drink did sound tempting and truth be told, Maria did seem like a nice woman. She’s Joel’s family—maybe it wouldn’t hurt to at the very least try and trust her too. 

Finally, you nod your head.

“Great,” Maria smiles, looking pleased. “I think it’ll do you some good. Chamomile is very soothing. It helps me relax—something that’s hard to do when you have a fussy six month old,” she kids as she whirls around and goes about preparing the tea. 

After making certain that you’ll be fine without him, Joel follows Tommy out into the hallway. 

“Joel, what were you thinkin’ bringing her here?”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

Tommy sighs. “We need to be careful about who we bring into Jackson—”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now? You worried about this girl bein’ a threat?” Joel stares at him in complete shock. “You serious, Tommy?”

“For all we know, she could be a threat. She didn’t want to give up her weapons, Joel! She even took a swing at Keith!” He hisses. “And she did it in front of a fuckin’ crowd!”

“He put his fuckin’ hands on her—”

“She didn’t cooperate, Joel. You know damn good and well what happens when someone isn’t willin’ to cooperate with the rules. It leads to nothin’ but trouble and you know it as well as I do,” Tommy says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Her first impression here wasn’t a good one. And to make matters a whole lot worse, we don’t know anythin’ about her. It’s a risk takin’ her into the community.”

Joel can’t even believe what he’s hearing. 

“So you’d rather I just left her out there alone?”

“Look Joel, we don’t know what she’s capable of,” Tommy reminds him, quietly. “If she’s managed to survive out there all on her own for this fuckin’ long, then who the hell knows what she’s done or what kind of blood is on her hands—you might be thinkin’ that she’s some helpless little victim, but maybe she’s not. Hell, we’ll never know because the girl can’t fuckin’ talk. Or maybe she just won’t talk. Either way, we’re runnin’ a huge risk by takin’ her in without knowin’ who the hell she is or where she came from.”

Joel glares at him. “Listen here, whether she can’t talk or just won’t talk, that doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” he says. He pauses briefly, long enough to take a peek back into the kitchen where you’re still sitting at the table. After she’d finished making the tea, Maria took the two steaming mugs and sat down in the chair beside you. She’s now trying almost desperately to get you to write down your name on the notepad. He immediately notices the way that you’d started wringing your hands together anxiously in your lap and he knows you’re debating in your mind whether or not you should reveal your identity to the stranger. He turns back to his brother with a frown. “She ain’t a helpless victim. She’s a survivor. She saved my fuckin’ life out there, Tommy. If it weren’t for her, I would be dead right now.”

“And where is she gonna stay?”

“With me and Ellie, of course.”

Tommy almost laughs. “Wait. You’re gonna be in charge of her? Someone who won’t fuckin’ talk to you? Whose name you don’t even know? Are you serious?”

Joel doesn’t even think twice about it. “Yeah.”

“Look Joel, I know you can be kind of a fuckin’ dumbass, but you can’t possibly be this goddamn dumb, big brother. Think ‘bout it—”

“I already have thought about it. She’s stayin’ with me.” Joel shrugs. “I know it ain’t gonna be easy, but maybe I can get her to trust me enough to talk to me.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “You really think she can talk and she’s just choosin’ not to?”

“I think she wants to talk, but she can’t. She’s too scared right now. But if I can get her to really trust me—”

“That girl ain’t gonna fuckin’ trust you, Joel.”

“She trusted me enough to come to Jackson,” he says, fiercely. “That has to mean somethin’, I just know it does.”

Tommy exhales a long and heavy sigh. He already knew just how fucking stubborn his brother could be. There’s no changing Joel’s mind once it was made up. 

Maria steps out into the hallway. “No luck,” she tells them, shaking her head lightly. “I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s been through. If she’s too terrified to even give us her name—”

“It must’ve been somethin’ real bad,” Joel finishes for her. He places his hands on his hips. “I think I might have some idea of what happened to her.”

“What do you mean?” she asks. 

Joel lowers his voice as he briefly tells Tommy and Maria about the scars he’d seen around your wrist. “Like she’s been in handcuffs or somethin’,” he murmurs. “Think it could’ve been FEDRA?”

“Possibly.” Maria thinks it over for a moment. “There’s also a good possibility that she’s been a prisoner in a slave camp.”

Slavers.

Joel’s stomach churns at the thought of it. He’d heard about those kinds of groups, about the cruel and inhumane things they did to their prisoners. 

He fucking hoped that wasn’t it. But something in his gut told him not to be so goddamn naive. 

“Listen, we feel for the girl, Joel. We do,” Tommy admits. “And we’re willin’ to give her some time to adjust, same as we did with you and with Ellie—same as we do with all newcomers. But regardless of what she’s been through, she’s still gonna need to pull her weight around here, just like the rest of us. She’s expected to take on work duty just like everybody else. It’ll be hard findin’ the right job for her if she’s not gonna talk to anyone so the sooner you can get her to break her silence, the better it’ll be,” he advises. He points a finger at his brother. “From this point on, she’s your responsibility.”

“I can handle it, Tommy.”

“For your sake, I really hope you can.”

“Good to know you’ve got faith in me,” Joel makes the sarcastic comment under his breath, but he’s certain Tommy had heard it. “It’s gettin’ pretty late now. She’s exhausted and so am I. M’gonna take her back to my place and get her settled in for the night.”

“What ‘bout Ellie?”

“Best she just stays here with you two tonight. As soon as she’s up in the mornin’, you can bring her on over to mine if that’s alright with you and Maria?”

Tommy nods. “You got it, brother.”

“Besides, I figure it’ll give me a bit of extra time to think of how I’m gonna explain everythin’ to her.” Joel suddenly realizes that he hadn’t given much thought about how he was going to tell Ellie about you—how he was going to explain your condition to her and how you’d be sharing a roof with them from this point on. 

Tommy chuckles. “Yeah, good luck with that one.”

Rolling his eyes, Joel roughly shoves past him and back into the kitchen. 

You hadn’t drank the tea Maria had made you, but you’d wrapped your hands around the ceramic red mug to warm them up. 

“C’mon,” he beckons to you with his hand. “Let’s go. M’gonna take you home now.”

Home. 

The word rinds oddly in your ears.

You stand up from the table.

“Wait.” Maria picks up the notepad and pen, handing them over to you. “Here. Take these with you. Just in case you decide you want to use them.”

Joel pushes through the front door, switching on the lights in the foyer of his home before stepping aside to let you in. He watches as you stand there at the door looking rather apprehensive. “It’s okay, darlin’. S’just me and you here tonight.”

Carefully, you step over the threshold. When was the last time you’d even set foot in an actual house? One with running water and electricity?

You couldn’t remember.

Joel shuts the front door behind you and locks it. “Let’s go upstairs.” He gestures for you to follow him up the cherrywood staircase. “It’s pretty late, so I’ll show you the rest of the house tomorrow in the mornin’,” he promises you over his shoulder. At the top of the staircase, Joel switches on more lights that illuminate a short hallway. He points to a door at the end of it, stating, “That one there at the end, that’s mine. This one here is Ellie’s. We also have a third spare, it’s right across from her.” He nods with his head towards the door of the bedroom he’d been referring to. “Go on. Open it up and check it out for yourself.”

You want me to open the door?

Seeing your expression, Joel chuckles. “Go on. It’s alright. There’s nothin’ bad in there. I promise.”

You momentarily hesitate. Fingers trembling, you reach out and grasp the brass door knob, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. You peek inside and flip the light switch next to the door frame.

You gasp. Holy shit, is this fucking real?

The spare bedroom is fully furnished with light oakwood furniture—a dresser up against one wall, a desk nestled in the corner, and two nightstands on either side of the most comfortable, full sized bed that you’d ever seen. The décor is minimal, but whoever had occupied the space before had a clear adoration for simple, warm, earthy tones. You nearly smile at the shades of mud brown, forest green, and autumn orange. Setting your things down on the hardwood floor, you make your way over to the bed and sit down, planting your hands firmly on either side of you. You relish in the softness of the cream colored duvet comforter. 

“I’m guessin’ you like it.” Joel can’t help but grin a little. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go see if I can get you one of my shirts or somethin’ that you can sleep in. Make yourself comfortable.” He spins around on the heel of his boot, disappearing into the hallway. 

Unable to resist, you lay back onto the bed. Your body sinks into it, melting right into the mattress. It feels like a fucking cloud. 

Joel reappears in the room just seconds later. “I can see you took what I said about makin’ yourself comfortable quite literally.” His voice causes you to shoot back up into a sitting position. Joel stands there at the door holding a long sleeved, navy and white flannel shirt in one hand—in the other, he’d been holding a gray hooded sweatshirt and from his arm swings a brown canvas tote bag. “Not too sure what you would prefer to sleep in. I figured you might want somethin’ on the warmer side. Here’s a couple options to choose from. I’ve also got t-shirts if you’d rather sleep in one of those.”

Standing up from the bed, you walk over to him and he holds out the articles of clothing for you to see better. It’s his flannel you gravitate to the most. Taking it from him, you run your fingers over the fabric.

“I can throw your clothes in the washing machine for you first thing tomorrow so they’ll be clean by the time you wake up,” he adds.

You breath out shakily.

A fucking washing machine.

“Overwhelming, ain’t it?”Joel drapes the hooded sweatshirt over a nearby chair, deciding to leave it for you as well. “Trust me, I get it. I felt the same when I first got here with Ellie. It took a lot of time for the both of us to adjust to this new way of life after being out there for so long,” he confesses to you. “The important thing is to take it one step at a time, darlin’. And somethin’ is tellin’ me the next step for you is probably takin’ a nice hot shower?”

Your mouth falls open. A hot shower? Hot?

“You’ll have to share a bathroom with Ellie.” Joel leads you out of the bedroom and to another door adjacent to yours. He shows you the bathroom, telling you which knob in the shower was for hot water and which one was for cold water. “You can use Ellie’s shampoo, m’sure she won’t mind. I’d offer you some of my own, but I don’t think you’ll wanna walk around smellin’ like sandalwood and spice.” Joel hands you the canvas bag he’d had draped over his arm. “Here. Should be pretty much everythin’ you’re gonna need. There’s a bar of soap, a couple clean washcloths, a toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste. There’s also a razor.” He pauses. “It’s a men’s razor, one of mine I’ve never used, but I reckon it does the job just the same as a woman’s razor.”

Amused, you quirk an eyebrow at him. What the hell are you trying to say? That I need to shave?

“Not that you have to use it,” he adds quickly, his cheeks burning bright red at what you thought he had been insinuating. He shifts awkwardly from boot to boot. “I tossed it in there just in case you’d want to, but you ain’t gotta use it, that’s not what I meant at all—”

Deciding you don’t want to see him squirm, you lift a hand up to stop him and shake your head.

Truth be told, you actually couldn’t fucking wait to shave your legs.

Calm down, cowboy. It’s all good.

Realizing he hadn’t offended you, Joel relaxes. “I’ll let you get to your shower. You take as long as you want, but just try and leave some hot water for me since I’m next,” he chuckles. “As soon as we both get all cleaned up, we can meet downstairs in the kitchen for a quick bite to eat before bed. Deal?”

Deal.

He’s about to leave you to it when you stop him, grabbing his arm. Wait a second, Joel.

Joel’s eyes meet yours. “Yeah?”

Thank you.

Your gratitude might have been silent, but it was there and he knew it. 

Feeling brave, Joel reaches up and places his hand over yours for a moment, his thumb brushing against the softness of your skin. “No need to thank me, sweetheart.” 

Letting his hand drop away from yours, Joel then turns and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him to give you your privacy. 

Once you have the hot water running, you kick off your boots and start to peel off your clothes, tossing them into a pile on the floor near the door. Completely naked, you turn your back towards the oval shaped mirror hanging over the bathroom sink, unwilling to take a look at the scars on your body—painful reminders of the cruel punishments you’d endured during your time in captivity. 

You grab the toiletries from the tote bag Joel had given you and set them on the side of the tub. Pulling the yellow floral curtain aside, you step into the shower and position yourself directly underneath the scalding hot water, letting it burn your skin to give you an entirely different kind of pain to think about, even if it was just for a minute until your body adjusted to the temperature of the water and it no longer hurt. 

You begin washing yourself, trying your hardest to keep from crumbling. But you couldn’t. Lump in your throat and a tightness in your chest, tears brim your eyes, ready to fall. 

You’re willing to let them. 

Two years. For almost two fucking years, you had been suppressing your emotions. You’d been in a constant survival mode, there had been no time to feel anything. And now here you were, standing in a fucking shower with all the freedom in the world to just let it all out. 

Silent sobs wrack your body, bringing you down onto your knees. 

Joel’s shower had been a quick one.

You hadn’t left him very much hot water—but he couldn’t even be mad about it.

He pulls on a pair of light gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He haphazardly dries off his hair and makes his way downstairs, knowing you would be heading down there any minute now to meet him like you’d agreed. Without much time to make a proper meal for you to eat, Joel goes about the dimly lit kitchen and prepares a couple of cold turkey sandwiches. He’d just plated them and set them on the table when the soft padding of bare feet on the hardwood floor prompts him to look up. 

His breath catches in his throat. You stand there in the doorway wearing nothing but his flannel shirt. The hem of it falls to the middle of your thighs, and it takes everything in him not to think about the fact that you weren’t wearing anything under his shirt. His fucking shirt.

Clearing his throat lightly, he makes sure not to let his gaze wander where it’s not supposed to. “I bet you feel a lot better, don’t you?”

You sigh softly. Oh, you have no fucking idea.

Noticing you’re holding your hands behind your back, Joel shoots you a puzzled look. “What’cha got there?”

You bring your arms forward. Clutched in your hands is the notepad and pen that Maria had given you.

Although he takes it as a sign that you are willing to communicate with him, Joel knows better than to get too far ahead of himself. He’d wait until you were ready to make the first move and he’d follow your lead. “I made you a sandwich to eat,” he tells you, pulling out a chair at the table. “C’mon, come have a seat.”

After you sit down, Joel goes over to the sink and fills two glasses of water, one for you and one for himself. Setting them down on the table, he finally takes a seat across from you—that’s when he notices the redness in your eyes. You’d been crying. Even though he wants to ask you if you’re alright, Joel decides against it for the time being and the two of you eat in comfortable, tranquil silence.

“I can make you another one if you’re still hungry,” Joel offers when you polish off the last couple bites of your sandwich. 

Shaking your head, you place your hands on your belly signaling that you’re full. You’re not, though. You’d eagerly scarf another three of them down if you could, but you were a lot more exhausted than you were hungry and you couldn’t wait to crawl into that bed upstairs and get some sleep.. 

Joel studies you. “You okay, darlin’?”

You shrug. This has just been a lot to process.

“I know it’s gonna be tough for you. It’s like I told you earlier, it’s gonna take some time to adjust to your new life here in Jackson. But I need you to know you ain’t alone anymore. I’m gonna be here to look out for you. And trust me, I know you don’t really need me to.” Joel pauses and shoots you a crooked little grin. “Hell, you took a swing at Keith. You’ve got bigger fuckin’ balls than half of the men in this town. Includin’ myself.”

You let out a huff of amusement from your nose and the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile—you don’t try to force it down. 

Joel blurts the words before he can even think to stop himself. “You’ve got a real nice smile, y’know.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you move your empty plate off to the side and grab your pen and notepad. You swiftly scribble something onto the blank page, then slide it across the table to Joel. 

He picks it up, an odd sensation fluttering inside his chest when he realizes what you had done.

You’d written down your name for him.

He says it out loud, and then looks up at you.

“That’s a real beautiful name.” Sincerity drips from his tone, going hand in hand with his compliment.

Cheeks burning, you glance down at your hands, which you’d begun wringing together on top of the table. It was out of nervousness, but this kind was different. You couldn’t quite explain it. 

“I know it’s gonna take a whole lot more than a hot shower and a sandwich to get you to trust me. But I swear that I’m gonna do whatever I can to show you that you ain’t got anythin’ to be afraid of. Not with me around. Okay?”

Okay. 

You open your mouth, trying to repeat the word back to him. 

Joel’s eyes widen slightly. You wanted to talk to him—you were actually trying to talk to him. But it was a clear struggle. Something wasn’t letting you find your voice. 

Clamping your mouth shut, you sigh and sink back into your chair. I’m sorry. I can’t.

“It’s okay,” he says, softly. “We’re gonna take this one step at a time. Together.”

[uvobreakmylegs]

Dark Light Within

part two of Lamp of the Body

Chrollo x female!reader

Part 1

Warnings: trauma, mentions of death, mentions of murder, manipulation. unhealthy relationships, smut, oral (male receiving), choking

Word Count: 12.1k

In the days that followed the compromise you and Chrollo had come to, you found that you were doing well. Over that period, the nightmares stopped and you actually got a few full nights of sleep for the first time in a long while. Finally you had mornings where you woke up feeling completely refreshed and ready for the day, and you had the energy to do more around the apartment as well, happy to no longer be stuck doing one or two tasks you'd set for yourself before you inevitably needed to take a break and recharge.

Admittedly, it was a bit performative as you were trying your hardest to prove that you were okay. That the days of you feeling exhausted from a restless night were over with and had only ever been a temporary problem, one that had solved itself. That Chrollo didn't need to move away from the city for your sake and that the both of you could continue to live here as you had been.

Soon enough, you'd be able to go out again, you were sure of it.

Chrollo obviously noticed your change in mood as he commented on it one evening while you were rinsing off the plate you had used for dinner.

“You seem a bit better recently,” he said.

“I've been feeling better,” you answered.

“That's a relief,” he replied, smiling as he added “maybe I was a bit hasty in my suggestion to move.”

“Maybe,” you repeated, “it's a good thing we held off on that. We saved ourselves from a lot of hassle.”

“So it seems,” he agreed.

You went to bed that night feeling good about yourself.

The fact that the nightmares started up again that very night was ironic. Or it would've been, were it not for the fact that they now felt worse than ever. The new constant was the figure being on top of you, their hands around your throat, squeezing and letting go only to repeat the process over and over again. You always woke up in the middle of the night now, feeling worn out and terrified.

During the times that Chrollo would wake up after you and asked what was wrong, you came up with excuses, mostly claiming that you were feeling restless and joking about how your internal clock was wired wrong since you could no longer get any sleep at night. The look in his eyes told you that he didn't believe you, but he would accept your explanation regardless, even if it seemed to be reluctant.

You just wanted to be okay again.

You were in a good place now; there was no reason for these attacks from your subconscious to continue as they did. They needed to stop so you'd be better, so you could go back to the way things had been before.

Get over it already

But as much as you tried to will yourself into better health, it just wasn't happening. Not on its own. And it was clear that Chrollo could see that. Even without his ability to be as insanely perceptive as he was, no doubt anyone could see that you were tired.

He'd held off on any major discussion of it, but there were comments made here and there that let you know what he thought: that you should stop being so stubborn and putting yourself through unnecessary stress, though you doubted he would ever use such wording. The next time the two of you sat down to actually talk about the issue, you knew you would lose. He had a million reasons as to why his decision was correct and there wouldn't be anything you could do to prove otherwise.

That was what drove you to an impulsive decision.

It came on a day where Chrollo was away running errands; nothing that would last too long, so he had no need to call in any more favors from his friends. And no one else being around you meant that there was no one that would keep you from going out.

It wouldn't be anything major. You were just stepping outside of the building. In your mind, being able to do that without any negative affects would prove that things were okay.

Nothing bad would happen, you told yourself. It was killing two birds with one stone, actually. You would prove that you were doing okay by leaving the apartment while also getting a much needed breath of fresh air. Of course, Chrollo would have argued on the second point that you could've gotten that by going out onto the deck outside your apartment. But that wasn't the same as walking around freely. That was probably part of your problem; that he'd essentially kept you under house arrest out of concern for your safety. Although his concern was appreciated, it felt like that was probably part of why you weren't doing well. Being locked inside had left you feeling stir-crazy, which didn't do any good for your mental state during a time that you were supposed to be recovering.

Dreams and nightmares have meanings, you remembered hearing. Maybe you being paralyzed and the figure that watched you was a representation of your deteriorating health while being kept trapped.

…. It probably wasn't that deep. Your mind was just running with random thoughts because it didn't have anything better to do. Again, another sign that staying cooped up was bad for you, regardless of what Chrollo told you.

It didn't feel good to sneak around him, but surely if you did this, he might ease up a little.

That thought had you feeling pretty good as you made your way down to the apartment lobby, pushing the button for the ground floor of the elevator and absentmindedly humming to yourself to pass the time as the elevator began made its descent. The last time you'd been out was when you were returning from the Dentora Region in Padokea, and you hadn't seen any of it as Chrollo wanted you to keep a bandage over your eyes until it was safe to remove, which was, of course, after you were back home.

There were two others present when you entered the lobby: a woman you didn't recognize who seemed to be a resident like yourself and a receptionist stationed at the desk. They were chatting with one another and didn't pay much attention to you when you walked past them. Heading towards the main doors of the building, you only glanced at them for a moment longer before bringing your attention to what was in front of you. Through the glass doors, you saw the street outside, the people who were walking along the sidewalk and the traffic in the streets.

Perfectly normal, nothing to be worried about.

But when you grasped the handlebar of the door was when you froze, and you stayed in place as you fully took in the sight before you.

The sad part was that nothing had really happened.

There was no dramatic scene outside that made you pause, no recreation of your accident with you being a bystander this time – it was simply a normal day outside in the city streets that were teeming with traffic.

And yet after that sight had set in, you stopped in your tracks.

Why? Nothing bad had happened. You'd been out before. Very briefly and while you were being transported to and from different hospitals and airports with Chrollo at your side, but still, dread filled you when you looked upon that street. Your hand gripped the handlebar so hard that your knuckles paled and your breathing got heavier.

Maybe it was because you were alone, because Chrollo wasn't here.

From behind, you heard the woman at the counter saying something that seemed to be directed at you. You couldn't hear it clearly. Then she got closer, and she said something else when she stood next to you. By that point, her words were background noise.

You weren't able to focus.

Suddenly you were in the backseat of that taxi, checking the weather forecast on your phone while some advertisement played on the car's radio. The driver was chatting with you about something mundane and unimportant while you half-listened to him, adding in some commentary of your own from time to time. Everything was fine.

Then the driver made a left turn and you heard him shout.

You looked up in time to see an oncoming car hit the taxi head on.

Then nothing.

Just the feeling of waking up with a curtain of darkness over your eyes that refused to lift.

This was a bad idea

Go back upstairs, you told yourself. Go back up and if you need to have a breakdown, do it in the comfort of your own home. Go back up.

Those thoughts ran through your head as you continued to look at the scene outside, unable to move.

Go back up.

“What's wrong with your eyes?”

You didn't really understand the question at first; all you knew was that someone was talking to you and you looked over to find that the woman was standing next to you. Better to apologize if she thought you were behaving strangely and to explain what had happened to you a year ago. Surely she and the receptionist would understand, and they would encourage you to go back up so you could recover in private.

But when you looked to the woman, you found that her expressions wasn't one of worry, but that of being disturbed, or even fearful, and she took a step back when you looked at her. When you glanced over to the receptionist who was still seated at their desk, they seemed confused until you made eye contact, and then their expression mirrored that of the woman.

They both looked at you like there was something wrong with you.

“Seriously,” the woman said, “what the hell is wrong with your eyes?”

You heard the question, but again, it didn't register. All you saw were the disturbed gazes of the two before you, and all you wanted in that moment was to get away from them.

Without saying anything, you made your way back to the elevator, pushing the button to summon it and hoping it would come down quick.

It didn't.

And with the two still staring at you for a few more agonizing moments and you feeling like you could tear and claw at your own skin as you desperately wanted them to stop fucking looking at you, you opted to take the stairs back up to your level. Before the door closed behind you, you heard them talking in hushed whispers almost immediately after you were out of sight.

You felt your heart rate increase on hearing that.

You were lucky enough to not run into anyone else on your way back to your unit, though you didn't feel that way when you slammed the door shut and leaned against it after, supporting yourself while you tried to level out your breathing. What just happened? Why did you freak out? How could you still be so unprepared for life outside these walls?

Why did those two look at you like that?

You had no clue. What was that woman even talking about?

Still no clue. Your throat felt dry, though.

Pushing yourself off the door, you made your way to the kitchen. A glass of water should fix that. And maybe getting some fluids into you would help you feel better after that ordeal.

On your way to the kitchen you caught sight of something strange in the reflection of a decorative mirror that hung on the wall as you passed by. Something that looked red.

You paused after you passed it, then took a step back and looked into the mirror.

Your heart could've stopped in that moment.

Where you should've seen two gray eyes in your skull looking back at you, the color you saw in the irises was red. Two violent, bloody red eyes staring back at you, and you saw clearly when your expression grew distraught as you backed away from the mirror.

Why?

In an effort to tell whether or not you were dreaming, you dug your nails into the skin of your arm, just enough to cause you pain. If this was just a dream, the pain would be enough to snap you out of it and bring you back to reality. But as the minor amount of pain made itself known in the flesh of your arms, the image before you stayed the same: you, looking back at yourself in the mirror, and a pair of red eyes in your skull.

Why?

Not convinced that what you were seeing was real, you ran to the bathroom, wanting to see if those eyes would appear in the mirror in that one, too.

They did.

Why?

Desperate to be wrong, you went to the bedroom and pulled out a hand mirror, wanting to believe that somehow, the other mirrors had been tampered with and that this one would show you the truth.

The same bloody red eyes stared back at you a third time.

Why?

Panic overtook you. Your heartbeat was thundering in your ears and you felt so light-headed that you ended up on the floor, sinking your fingers into your scalp while you breathed hard in and out through your mouth. Why was this happening?

What happened in the moments after that point was hard to remember exactly. You were so wrapped up in your panic that you didn't notice when time passed or when someone entered the room.

Chrollo found you on the floor of your bedroom, still staring at the image in the hand mirror that lay in front of you while you cried. He spoke your name as he placed both hands on your shoulders, and that snapped you out of it, looking up at him as you finally realized that you weren't alone anymore.

He stared at you for a moment before saying “it's alright now,” and pulling you against his chest. Without another thought you grabbed at him, holding onto him while you continued to cry. How long he held you like that was also unclear, but once you felt a bit more calm, you noticed that the sun was lower in the sky now than it had been when you first ventured out. Eventually your sobs quieted and your breathing became more regular.

Sensing that you were doing better, Chrollo gently pulled you away, caressing your cheek as he asked “what happened?”

After taking a few breaths, you spoke.

“I'm sorry,” you began, “I wanted to go out. I thought I'd be okay, but when I got down there…. I don't know, I freaked out.”

That wasn't the issue, you remembered. It was your eyes.

Your eyes. That he clearly saw.

You felt stupid. It would've been the first thing he noticed. You were looking right at him, and currently, his expression was neutral. Had it not hit him yet how strange it was? Would he have a similar reaction to the two downstairs? The thought of Chrollo looking at you like that almost sent you into an entirely new panic. But you shoved that down as you forced yourself to speak.

“You can see them, right?” you asked, “my eyes.”

He nodded slowly, but said nothing.

That only made your panic worse.

“I don't – I don't know why this is happening,” you stammered, “I don't know why this happened, what could've caused it. I swear this hasn't-”

Chrollo brought a hand up, and you stopped talking.

“First things first; we should get off the floor,” he told you.

Taking both of your hands into his, he pulled you to your feet and kept his grip firm on you when you stumbled. Once you were steady, he led you out of the bedroom and took you to the kitchen, where he sat you down at the table before pouring you a glass of water and urging you to drink it. You did as he told you, and as you downed the glass, he pulled up a chair to sit closer to you, keeping a hand on your shoulder as he watched your expressions. The water and his touch had you feeling more at ease.

When you placed the glass back down, he asked “are you feeling better?”

“Sort of.”

You reached up to touch the area beneath your eye, asking “but I don't understand why this is happening.”

Upon hearing that, Chrollo's hand that had been softly rubbing your shoulder stilled, and you looked back to find a resigned look on his face.

“Chrollo?”

“It's alright, love,” he said, “you were going to find out sooner or later.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you asked “find out what?”

Chrollo considered you for a moment before he spoke again, saying “I'm afraid I have a confession to make.”

“Confession?” you repeated.

“About the origins of your current eyes.”

You weren't sure where this was going, so you stayed quiet and waited for him to explain further. But instead, he asked you a question.

“Have you ever heard of the Kurta clan?”

Your eyebrows furrowed again as you shook your head.

“That isn't too surprising. They were a very small, secluded group of people that lived on the other side of the world,” Chrollo explained, “there isn't much known about them due to the way they isolated themselves, but the main thing that was known was what would happen to their eyes once they became agitated or upset in some way.”

What he was saying clicked for you as you asked “they turned red?”

He nodded.

Part of you wanted to feel relieved. Technically speaking, it wasn't so bad. Sure, it would be inconvenient for your eyes to turn red whenever you become upset, and learning to manage that would be difficult, but it could be worse. At the same time, however, you didn't understand why Chrollo had kept this from you. Since he had labeled this as a 'confession', there was no way for him to claim ignorance about the eyes. Maybe keeping this from you for the first few weeks was somewhat reasonable, but to stay silent for all this time? What reason could there be?

“…. So my eyes came from a donor from that clan?” you asked.

You didn't like the way he frowned after you said that, and the sinking feeling you were having only got worse.

“I'm afraid that the story is far more gruesome, love,” he began.

“How?”

“The scarlet eyes were considered by many to be a wonder of sorts, and the way the Kurta hid away from the outside world only made those people want to see them even more.”

You said nothing, but you couldn't help but note that he had referred to the Kurta in the past tense this entire time.

“It ended with the Kurta being massacred several years ago, and the eyes of those that had stayed red after death were harvested and sold on the black market.”

“Black market – people buy them?” you asked, incredulous and not sure what point you should address first.

“They're considered to be a collector's item,” Chrollo explained, “and their value tends to be high, given that there are only thirty six pairs in existence.”

Then he added “although now the number of eyes that one can buy has dropped to thirty five.”

It all clicked into place in that moment, and no words could escape you. All you could do was stare at Chrollo in shock.

He didn't fault you for that as he continued to speak.

“I'm sorry, love. I knew you wouldn't be happy once you learned the history behind them, but after realizing that you may never be able to see again, I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

You didn't know what to say, and your hand returned to your cheek as you processed what he'd just said. Things made sense now. Why he didn't want you going out. Why he made sure you weren't alone for any long periods of time. Why he wanted you to leave the city with him. All it would take was one really bad moment out in public and you would become a spectacle. Like what had happened downstairs in the lobby.

Just how long was he planning on keeping this from you?

Fuck

None of what he'd just told you could've been legal. He said that the eyes were sold on the black market, right? How many crimes had Chrollo committed to help you?

He must have sensed that your thinking at that moment was something along those lines, as he made a point to assure you that nothing bad would come from any of it, that he'd been thorough in making sure nothing would lead back to either of you. That no one knew he'd gotten the eyes aside from the specialist in Padokea, and that they'd been paid to not talk about it. Everything would be fine as long as the two of you were careful.

Everything would be fine.

He'd said that a lot during the past few months, and him telling you that had done a lot to keep you calm. Your thoughts went back to the many, many times he had his hand in yours as he said that, and how at peace you felt when you heard him say that.

And as for right now…. You still wanted that. Chrollo brought about a certain sense of security with him, and as you weren't sure how to take in this new information, it would've made you feel better to feel his touch and have his arms around you again as you decided what would've been the best way to react to all of this.

It didn't feel like you could do that right now as another question was on your lips.

“You bought the eyes of a murder victim off the black market?” you asked.

He was quick to respond.

“I know it sounds nasty, but it was for the best, love,” he answered, “there's nothing that can be done for that person who died, but their eyes can be put to good use for your sake.”

….. You didn't know how to reply to that. And despite his attempts to continue to talk to you, you weren't able to say anything else.

This was all too overwhelming.

You needed some time alone.

When you began to stand up and pull out of his grip, he spoke your name. But you didn't let him get any further as you interrupted him.

“I'm not leaving or doing anything stupid. I just need some time to process this on my own,” you told him.

He didn't seem happy about it, but he let you go and didn't follow after when you walked back to the bedroom and shut the door behind you, though he watched you the entire time. Once you entered, your gaze immediately went to the hand mirror that you had left behind on the floor earlier, and you approached it tentatively, scared of the sight you might find in it again.

Relief hit you when you looked into the mirror and found that the red color had dulled. It wasn't gone completely, but it wasn't as vibrant as before. Hopefully it'd be gone completely soon.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, and you settled down onto the edge of the bed.

….. The room felt stuffy.

Being on your own wasn't enough. After spending who knows how long in here freaking out, you needed out of this room completely.

The door that opened up to the balcony slid open and you stepped out. Taking in a deep breath as you got the fresh air you'd failed to get earlier, you sat down on the balcony flooring and wrapped your arms around your legs before resting your chin on your knees as you collected your thoughts.

How the fuck had you ended up in this situation?

In the span of a single conversation, you'd found out that your boyfriend of several years had done dealings on the black market by buying the eyes of someone who had been murdered. You'd learned of a clan who seemed to have been driven into extinction because people decided it was better to cut out and pickle their eyes like collectibles, and then that your boyfriend had essentially used one of those pairs of eyes as spare parts so you could go back to the way you'd been before the accident.

Where do you even begin to unpack all of that?

Legally, all of this was wrong. Buying body parts was illegal, and getting involved with the black market and possibly the mafia would be opening up a whole world of potential trouble. How much had all of that cost? The eyes along with whatever he had paid that specialist in Padokea – how much had you drained him financially? You knew Chrollo did well with his job, but would there be any resentment on his part for how much you had cost him?

You hadn't noticed anything off about him, but then again, Chrollo was good at hiding things. This revelation was proof of that.

And then the eyes themselves. Or rather, where they had come from. You'd assumed that they had come from someone who'd been in an accident and had signed up for organ donation. That had made you a bit more comfortable with the idea, that the eyes had belonged to someone who didn't want them to go to waste. Now that you knew what had really happened, it felt morally wrong that you were using them. Someone had died for something as silly as preserving an eye color, and now their eyes had been used just so you could see again.

Spare parts.

Those words came to mind again and you felt guilt for it.

If only that accident hadn't happened. If only you hadn't gone out that day. If only, if only.

You pressed your head against your knees while wrapping your arms tighter. Fat lot of good that kind of thinking did.

The door to the balcony slid open, and you turned your head to find Chrollo standing outside. He had one of your hoodies in hand which he held out to you.

“It's cold out, love,” he said, “wear this.”

You didn't feel that cold, but you accepted the hoodie anyway and gave him a soft “thank you” in response.

He seemed pensive as he watched you pull the hoodie on.

“Do you still need to be alone?” he asked.

It hadn't been that long since you separated yourself from him – it was a few minutes at best – yet you answered “I don't know.”

He hummed as he shut the door behind him and took a place next to you on the balcony, both of you sitting on the floor while you looked out at the buildings across the way. You glanced over at him a few times, only to find that you couldn't really read him in that moment. Your worry from earlier reared its head again – was he mad at you? Did he feel like he'd spent so much time, effort and money only for you to turn out to be an ingrate? What would happen if that was the case?

“Are you angry with me?” you asked. Your nails were digging into the skin of your leg, scared of what his answer might be.

“Of course not, love.”

Chrollo pulled your hand away from your leg and held it, clearly not wanting to see you hurt yourself.

“I should be the one asking if you're upset with me,” he then said.

He kept his eyes on you while your gaze stayed on the city as you thought over what he'd said.

Were you upset?

Yeah.

But how much of that was directed at him?

“I don't think so,” you answered.

“You don't think so?”

It took you a moment to collect your thoughts before you were able to get the words out.

“I don't want to sound ungrateful, because I'm really happy that I got my eyesight back, and it also makes me really happy that you would do so much just for me, that I matter enough for you to go that far,” you began.

“But it's really scary that you would involve yourself with criminals.”

He stayed quiet as you continued.

“I don't want you to get involved with dangerous people and get hurt for my sake. It would kill me if someone went after you because you bought the eyes just so I could see again. If I had known that was what you were going to do to help me, I would've told you not to go through with it.”

Chrollo seemed thoughtful as he considered your words.

“I suppose I wasn't thinking about that,” he told you, “all I could think about was how I could help you.”

That was sweet, you had to admit. And it made you feel guilty for pulling away from him earlier. He was just trying to help, right?

“What made you go that far?” you asked.

“That's a silly question, don't you think? Why wouldn't I do everything in my power for your sake?”

…. That also made sense. And you knew that if the positions were reversed, you would want to do everything you could to help him if he needed it.

The whole issue of the eyes themselves was still strange, however.

“Why didn't you tell me that the eyes would change color?” you asked.

“I wasn't sure they would change at first,” he said, “when they were preserved, they were permanently stuck in their red form. It was quite surprising when you first opened your eyes and I saw that they were gray.”

Had he seemed surprised when you took off the bandages? You couldn't recall; being able to see again had been too overwhelming for you to remember much of how he'd been acting during that time.

“Did you ever realize before this point that they could still turn red?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

For once, your boyfriend didn't seem to know how to respond. An unusual sight to see, for sure.

“I was going to once we left the city,” he eventually said, “I thought it'd be good to do it then once we were in an environment that was better for you.”

“I think I would've preferred you told me before this.”

“That's understandable. And for that, I'm sorry.”

Chrollo squeezed your hand gently as he added “thinking on it now, I was using that as an excuse to put off telling you about it. I couldn't think of any way to ease you into revealing the truth.”

He had a point there. As hard as you tried, you couldn't think of any way to open up a conversation like that.

He still should have told you, though.

But there wasn't much you could do about it, so all you said was “at least I know now.”

Chrollo was oddly quiet once again.

“Can I ask you about something else?” you added.

“Of course.”

“Was the specialist you took me to also involved with criminal stuff?” you asked.

“There were no legal avenues I could take to restore your vision, love.”

That made sense. It explained why the doctors at the hospital you'd gone to told you there was nothing that could be done. It was also scary; Chrollo had entrusted everything to some shady individual who operated outside of the legal limits. What if something had gone horribly wrong? What if they'd done something to you and you were left off worse than you were after the accident?

But Chrollo wouldn't have let that happen.

You needed to believe that.

The two of you remained quiet. Your brain couldn't come up with any other questions at that moment, and Chrollo was waiting for you to speak.

Not long after he took the initiative to ask a question of his own.

“What else is bothering you?” he asked.

“…. I feel guilty,” you said.

“Because of how the scarlet eyes came to be available?”

“Yeah.”

“You shouldn't,” he said, “after all, you didn't have anything to do with what happened to those people.

“I know that,” you began, “but I just feel like the person who had the eyes originally would be mad that I was using them. They died because of their eyes, and then I end up using them like they're spare parts for a car.”

“That's quite a pessimistic view.”

“Doesn't mean it's wrong.”

“True, but think of it this way, love,” he continued, “instead of leaving their eyes floating in jars to be gawked at, you're putting them to good use. I'm sure that, whoever they were, the Kurta Clan member would have preferred that someone actually use their eyes as opposed to allowing them to gather dust while they sat on someone's shelf as a decoration.”

…. It did make it sound a bit better, but it wasn't like the guilt could be pushed aside just like that.

That would likely be something else you'd need to learn to live with.

“Are you sure you're not mad at me?” you asked.

“Not at all,” he told you, “I know that the steps I took to help you are ones most consider to be wrong, and I understand the guilt you feel after finding out where the eyes came from. But I hope that you also understand that I did what I did because I wanted to help you.”

“I do. And I really am grateful.”

You sighed, adding “I just wish that accident had never happened. Then we wouldn't even need to have this discussion.”

“I know.”

With that, Chrollo squeezed your hand softly again, just like he had during those long days from before. That made you feel a bit better.

“Can you just promise me something?”

“Promise you what, love?” Chrollo asked.

“That you won't buy human body parts off the black market again. Or anything similar to that. Even if you're just trying to help me,” you said.

To that, he smiled, and brought your hand up to his mouth so he could kiss it.

“I promise I'll never buy body parts off the black market for any reason,” he said after.

You let out a sigh.

“Never thought I'd need to ask you something like that,” you said.

“Life is full of surprises,” said Chrollo.

“That's one way to put it,” you answered.

Sunset was quickly approaching, given the golden hue in the sky. Nightfall would come soon after, and accompanying that would be a drop in the temperature. It probably wouldn't be the greatest idea to be sitting on the floor for too much longer.

Chrollo certainly realized that as he squeezed your hand again and said “we should go back inside, love.”

You nodded.

“Okay.”

With that, he stood back up and pulled you up after. One of his hands went to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly at your skin.

“I think it's time we got started on dinner, don't you?” he asked.

You nodded again.

“And after if you'd like, we can watch one of those terrible horror movies that you enjoy so much.”

At that, you couldn't help but let out a little of a laugh.

“You must be desperate to make me feel better if you're willing to sit through one of those with me,” you said.

“Whatever it takes to make you happy,” he answered, jokingly adding “even if I feel my brain cells slowly shriveling up while I sit through the trash you make me watch.”

“Rude.”

“It's the truth, love.”

You laughed again as he led you inside. This felt good. The normal, playful banter between you two that signified that things were fine. As questionable as everything he'd revealed had been, you didn't want to think about it much right now. It was easier to push it to the side and focus on other things. Like the intentionally awful movie you'd pick for him to roll his eyes at.

But as you were considering that, another thought came to mind.

“Actually….”

Chrollo turned to you after shutting the balcony door, tilting his head in question.

“After dinner, would you read to me?” you asked.

He smiled.

“Of course, love.”

After dinner, the two of you found yourselves on the couch, with you resting your head against Chrollo's shoulder while he read aloud to you, his free hand in your own and your fingers intertwined with his.

After the accident, when you'd been brought home but your leg was still in a cast, Chrollo would read to you often. With you being largely confined to the bed, he would settle down next to you as he read to you, holding out his hand so you could take it in yours. More often than not you would wrap both of your arms around his, your cheek resting on his shoulder while his hand would hold yours firmly. Those moments on their own made the days while your leg healed more bearable.

The feeling of Chrollo's hand holding yours had become a familiar one during that time. It helped a lot more than you would've anticipated – with sound alone, you weren't always sure of where he was around you, but the feeling of his hand in yours while he talked with you or read aloud to you helped you to know for certain that he was by your side.

That he really wouldn't leave you.

He stopped suddenly in the middle of his reading, and you looked up to find his gaze on you.

“What's wrong?” you asked.

“I have to admit, I was worried,” he said, “after learning everything, I thought you may want to leave me.”

“Me? Leave you?”

That thought hadn't crossed your mind even once. While you'd been shocked and incredibly worried when it came to the black market dealings in particular, you couldn't envision any sort of future where you packed up your things and left him behind. Certain things he'd said still scared you, and maybe for some people, those admissions might be enough to make them leave. But everything that had happened, you couldn't imagine spitting in his face like that.

Even if some of what he said was scary, it wasn't like his actions had directly hurt anyone, you told yourself.

You shook your head as you said “I don't think I could live without you, Chrollo.”

The second you uttered those words he kissed you.

It was far more forceful than you'd experienced in months and the pure passion of it surprised you, leaving you slightly stunned. He held you after he pulled away, and again you were surprised, this time by how firmly he held you.

Chrollo had been that worried that your response would be to leave?

You reciprocated his hug, silently communicating that you wouldn't do that.

You sensed the way he smiled against your hair.

He understood.

The day you learned the truth about the scarlet eyes had been a hectic one, yet it had managed to end calmly. Despite that, however, a majority of the days that followed were more in line with what had happened down in the lobby: out of nowhere, something would come over you and leave you unable to function properly as you struggled to control your emotions. Sometimes it was triggered by a phobia that suddenly made itself known, other times you were once again left confused as to why it happened at all.

Maybe it was all because you knew now what would happen once you became upset and how you'd see similar reactions from others like the two downstairs. It could be really bad for you if you freaked out in public and someone from the group that killed the Kurta found out and think that they'd missed one.

It was safe to say that your desire to go back out had died completely.

Even if the chances of those killers finding out about you were slim, you decided that it was too dangerous to risk it. Especially with how out-of-control your emotions were right now. You didn't want people to know – to look at you like that again.

The only one you could depend on was Chrollo.

Your boyfriend was always quick to rush to your side when he saw you weren't doing well – now easier to tell than ever due to the mood ring quality your eyes possessed. Despite this new bought of helplessness you were now displaying, you still got no sense that he was annoyed with you over it. He was just as understanding and calm as he'd been prior.

He stared at your eyes a lot, though.

It took you a few times of it happening before you realized just how often he would stare, his gaze on the blood red color in your eyes. There was always some reason he had to pull away from you, be it to grab you something to drink or to cup your cheek and caress it softly. With that latter action, there was always the silent encouragement to turn your face up towards him, his hand ever so slightly angling your jaw so you would look at him. And when his gray eyes met your scarlet ones, you felt as though you could see something strange moving within them. Some emotion of his being betrayed despite the expression on his face showing something different.

There was some manner of fascination he had with them, you came to realize, and you wondered how long he had known of the scarlet eyes before your accident even happened.

…. At least he wasn't disgusted with you. The faces of those two in the lobby frequently came to mind, especially during those moments of duress. At least Chrollo wasn't looking at you like they had. And even if the way Chrollo would at times treat you as though you were made of glass, you knew it came from a desire to protect you, perhaps born out of whatever feelings of helplessness he had felt once he finally received word that you had been in that accident, that you had been hurt so badly while he happened to be gone.

Chrollo looking at the scarlet eyes the way he did wasn't a big deal, you told yourself.

The fact that he cared about you so deeply was more important.

The other upside during that period of time was the fact that your nightmares had stopped. Maybe that was because you were simply too exhausted from the stress to have the energy to dream. Regardless, you preferred it that way, even if your days weren't all that better.

When Chrollo broached the topic of moving again, you didn't fight him on it. There were too many stresses that came with living in the city. The last few days had made that clear. If you wanted to live a healthy life, you couldn't continue on like this, and while you were sad to leave the life the two of you had made together here, Chrollo encouraged you to think on it positively. It wouldn't be the same, but it would be better for you.

You agreed.

After that point, the panics that took over you almost daily slowly died down as you began moving preparations.

In your mind, that was because you were being moved to a place that would be better for your mental health, with less things that would stress you out. While a part of you would always be sad that you likely wouldn't be back here, the fact that your panic died down cemented to yourself that this was the right decision.

The days were filled with moving boxes and packaging. Monotonous work that left you tired and sweaty after moving around heavy boxes. Today had largely consisted of packing away a majority of Chrollo's book collection, so you were more tired than usual. After a shower, you were standing in front of the bathroom sink in the middle of your bedtime routine, ready for another dreamless sleep.

When Chrollo entered the bathroom and came up behind you, the way he wrapped his arms around you after wasn't entirely unexpected, looking at you through the mirror as he held you close to him.

You leaned into his touch, placing a hand on top of one of his as you asked “everything okay?”

He nodded.

“I'm just grateful we can still have moments like this,” he told you.

You smiled and lightly squeezed his hand as you said “me too.”

Chrollo smiled back at you.

He turned you around and placed a kiss on your lips. You returned the gesture, placing your hands on his chest as you leaned against him.

Then one of Chrollo's hands reached up to cup the back of your head while his tongue pressed against your lips in a not so subtle way of asking that you open up for him. You obliged, and his tongue was then moving against your own while his free hand wandered down and squeezed your ass. The noise of surprise you made was muffled by the kiss.

Ah.

It'd been a while for both of you, hadn't it?

With all that had been going on since your accident, with your broken leg healing up and your recovery after getting the eyes, sex had been one of the furthest things on your mind. But now that you had Chrollo's body pressed up against you and his lips on yours, you realized just how much you needed him. To have that skin on skin contact and that ache in your legs afterwards.

You wrapped your arms around his neck while your teeth nipped at his tongue that was still in your mouth. Chrollo's hands immediately went down so he could hoist you up onto the counter, opening your legs after so he could slot himself between them.

He must've been pent up as well, but had held off until he was certain that you were better.

Always looking out for you and your well-being.

You pulled away from the kiss to whisper “I love you, Chrollo.”

“I love you too,” was the response he gave before he pressed his mouth against yours once more. He seemed needier than you were used to – no doubt a result of him putting his needs aside for you. You decided then that tonight you would do whatever he wanted.

A strand of saliva kept you connected when he pulled his mouth away from yours before it broke as he stood up straight. His hands went to the hem of your shirt with the intent of pulling over your head as he looked back to you-

And then he froze.

Chrollo blinked at you, as if he was surprised. You, on the other hand, were confused by why things had stopped.

“What is it?” you asked, still a bit breathless.

“Have I upset you?”

His question confused you as you answered “what? No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Your eyes.”

“Huh?”

You turned your head so you could look at the mirror and see what he was talking about.

Oh no.

Your irises had turned red.

But why? You weren't angry or upset – you wanted this. Why had they changed color when you were fine?

Then you felt Chrollo begin to take his hands off of you, and you quickly turned your attention back to him, grabbing onto his shirt as you said “Chrollo, I'm not upset. Really. I want this, too. I promise.”

One of his hands came up to caress your cheek as he gazed into your eyes.

Then after a moment, he nodded as he said “I believe you.”

Relief filled you, and you glanced back at the mirror again, taking in the red of the irises.

“I don't know why they turned red, though,” you mumbled.

Chrollo hummed as he moved your head so he could look into your eyes again.

“Perhaps,” he began, “the Kurta eyes don't change color just from anger.”

“Wait, you mean they also turn red from….?”

You trailed off, for some reason finding yourself too embarrassed to finish the sentence. But he decided to finish it for you.

“Arousal, yes,” he confirmed.

“…. Did you know about that?” you asked.

“It's new information to me,” he answered, “I doubt that the Kurta clan would have wanted to advertise such a thing.”

“Ah, yeah. That makes sense.”

He was still staring at your eyes, not saying anything. And the longer things stayed like that, the more awkward you felt. Until he'd approached you, you weren't aware of how much you wanted him, the tiredness you'd felt moments earlier gone completely. Now that he'd stopped you desperately wanted to continue where you left off just a few moments earlier.

Did he not want to now? You'd realized that he had a fascination with them, but was adding sex into the mix too off-putting for him?

“… Does it bother you?” you asked after another beat of silence.

He smiled at you.

“On the contrary,” Chrollo said, pulling you off the counter and turning you around once again, making you squeak as he did so.

“You were upset those times before, so it seemed inappropriate to say anything about it-”His hand gripped your jaw as he made you look back at your reflection.

“-but it is a beautiful color, don't you think?”

With little other choice, you looked to the reflection of your eyes in the mirror.

The vibrant scarlet was still present, but now that you were made to really look at them, you found that the color was darkest around the outer circle of the iris, with bits of lighter shades of red speckled around going up towards your pupils. The blood red color itself was so vivid that it almost looked as though it was glowing. Your pupils dilated the longer you looked, and then you noticed another quality they had: an odd shimmer within the scarlet, like a halo that surrounded your pupil that almost seemed to have an iridescent quality to it. All of those things were odd, to say the least, yet you found that you couldn't disagree with your boyfriend's opinion.

You looked back to Chrollo through the mirror and found that he was waiting for a response from you.

“…. It is,” you agreed softly.

He smiled at you before leaning in to kiss you on the cheek.

“It really-” you were cut off when he buried his face in your neck, sucking at your skin with the intent of leaving marks. Looking at the mirror during that felt strange, so you looked to the side while you gripped at the counter.

“It really doesn't bother you?” you managed to get out when you composed yourself.

“I promise you; it doesn't.”

His free hand snaked down beneath the waistband of your pants as he said that, and you let out another squeak when his fingers began to play with your clit.

“Chrollo-”

“Keep looking, love.”

Those fingers continued playing with your clit while his other hand re-positioned itself on your jaw, making you look back at the mirror. While you did try a few times to move your jaw out of his hand, you were forced to give up as his grip was scarily strong. And when you shut your eyes as you felt Chrollo's fingers slip into your cunt, a nip on your neck forced them back open, and he whispered as he once again told you to keep looking. Remembering what you told yourself of doing what he wanted, you followed that instruction.

You saw how your fingers held tight onto the edge of the counter, unable to find purchase anywhere else. You saw how you bit your lip in frustration when Chrollo began to tease you by pushing his fingers in before immediately pulling them of you in favor of caressing the lips of your pussy. You saw how his arm moved as he delved into you again with the intent of scissoring you open. And you saw the way his eyes flashed over to look at you through the mirror when he heard the noise that escaped your mouth.

Through all of that, you found yourself always looking back to the red reflection of your eyes that only seemed to grow more vibrant.

It felt embarrassing, to be made to watch a reflection of yourself becoming a flustered mess from the way your boyfriend toyed with you while he kept you pressed against the counter. Every time his fingers brushed over a part of you that was sensitive would have you jolt against his firm chest, and every time you felt his teeth biting ever so softly into the skin of your neck had you moaning.

By now you could feel how hard he was as his erection pressed up against your ass.

His fingers were gliding out of you even easier now and your underwear was a wet mess. The heat inside of you was building up as you moved your hips against his hand, trying to get him in deeper.

Chrollo glanced up at you again through the mirror and your eyes met.

And then he stopped.

You managed to keep a frustrated whine contained within you as he pulled his hands away from you, leaning them against the counter as he remained on top of you.

“Would you do something for me?” he asked breathlessly.

“D-do what?” you asked in response that was just as breathless.

“Turn around and get on your knees for me.”

“Ah…”

He pulled away from you as you understood what it was he wanted, and though you were immediately missing the way he touched you, you told yourself not to be selfish.

The fibers of the bathroom mat protected your legs from the cool tiles of the floor as you knelt down before him. Though your hands were shaky, you went to undo his zipper before you pulled the material of his pants and underwear out of the way, allowing his cock to spring free of those confines.

You let out a soft breath as one hand went up to stroke him, fingers gliding over his length with a feather light touch. When you gripped him fully was when you felt him twitch in your hand. You continued like that, hand running along his dick while you leaned in to place a kiss at the head, licking the tip after. You heard his sharp intake of breath and saw from your peripheral vision the way his hand clenched into a fist. Remembering once again of how pent up Chrollo must've been spurred you to not waste time with teasing him and in moments you had his length in your mouth, your tongue moving against the underside of his dick and your cheeks hollowing as you sucked.

The appreciative groan that came from his lips and the gentle hand that settled in your hair after told you that you were doing good, and you closed your eyes as you continued to bob up and down his dick.

“Don't do that.”

Those words surprised you, and you stopped suddenly to look up to him, uncertain of what you'd done wrong. The intensity of his stare caught you off-guard and you pulled off of him. Or you would have had it not been for the hand that kept your head from moving any further. Within a moment, that same hand moved to caress your cheek just beneath your eye.

“Keep looking at me, love,” he said, “just like that.”

You made a noise of affirmation before you continued as you had been, keeping your eyes open this time. It felt a little awkward for you to stare at him the whole time, but if that was what he wanted, you would do it.

You wanted him to be happy with you.

His cheeks became more flushed and his breathing was getting harsher, all the while those gray eyes bore into you. Chrollo always had an odd way of seeming to look right through you, and that was no exception now. Though never had there been such an intense look of fascination and awe until now, as his eyes gazed into yours.

You would be lying if you said it wasn't slightly unsettling.

It won't always be like that, you told yourself.

It's only because it's been so long since you did this for him.

Both of Chrollo's hands ended up tangled in your hair, and he stopped your movements completely as he forced himself down your throat. A soft groan from above and the clenching of his thighs served as the signs that he was about to cum, and soon you felt his release running down your throat, forcing you to gulp as you swallowed it since he still held you in place.

When you felt him begin to soften he finally let go, pulling out of your mouth and leaning against the sink counter as he collected his breath. You watched him from your spot on the bathroom floor, your thighs pressing together while you bit your lip. Your pussy was dripping and you were desperate for him to do something about was the frustrating ache inside of you. Remembering the way Chrollo had his fingers inside of you for that brief period only made it worse, and all you wanted was for him to continue where he left off.

He noticed, smiling at you as he asked “shall I take care of you as well?”

“Yes,” you answered without any hesitation.

He laughed.

“Eager, aren't we?”

“I was a little worried you weren't going to,” you admitted.

“When have I ever been that cruel to you, love?”

He said that while holding a hand out for you, one that you took and allowed him to haul you up to your feet. You ended up leaning against his chest, wide eyes staring up at him.

Out of curiosity, you glanced over to the mirror. Your eyes were still red. What a surprise. At least you were getting used to the sight. Chrollo then turned your jaw once more so you would face him as he leaned in for a kiss.

A weird pain suddenly shot through your chest once you saw his face.

You should hate him

…. Why would you ever hate Chrollo?

You weren't given anymore time to think on that as your lips met his and your arms wrapped around his neck while you pressed yourself against him. That weird feeling was pushed down into the depths of your chest; this was all you cared about right now.

Chrollo was on top of you, his arms caging you in on the bed while he thrust his hips against yours. You were squirming beneath him, one of your hands insistent on holding onto one of his own while you did your best to minimize the amount of pained noises coming from your mouth. He knew he was being too rough; you hadn't had sex in months and he should've been more gentle. But the sight of you laying beneath him and the red Kurta eyes staring up at him so lovingly caused Chrollo to simply not care as much at the moment – as long as he didn't hurt you beyond some bruising, you would be fine. And even that could be soothed in the moment. Whenever those noises of discomfort did become too loud, Chrollo would lean back down to place tender kisses on your lips or suck on your neck, and the feeling of his lips against your skin had you mewling while you squeezed his hand.

The marks on your neck, shoulders and chest tallied up while you forgave him easily, likely in part because of the past few months and how much of a burden you must've felt like during that time, as well as because of the sheer gratitude you had towards him, that he had done so much to give you back your sight.

He could get away with being a little rough.

And as he pushed himself back up so he could stare down at you again, he once more brought his gaze to the sight of the scarlet eyes that he admired so much.

It was a surreal sight, one he had never anticipated.

Nor had he planned on using the scarlet eyes for you. Not at first.

It began after bringing you home. Determined to keep the promise he'd made to you at the hospital, he had tracked down a transmuter who had the skills to replace your old eyes with ones that worked – a pity he couldn't steal their abilities for himself – and once you were well enough to travel again, Chrollo had looked about the area where the two of you lived to find a suitable replacement. At that point his goal had been to find a pair of eyes that looked close to yours, spending a considerably long time trying to find the correct shade of your original color while you recovered under the supervision of other members of the troupe.

He thought he knew what he wanted when he found a woman who had the color you once had, and after learning her schedule and when she would be alone, he'd gathered up what he needed for the job: the blade he would use to slice her throat so he could kill without her crying out, the tools that he would use to extract her eyes from her skull without damaging them, and the jars filled with fluids that would keep the eyes preserved until they could be transferred to you.

Chrollo was moments away from ending that woman's life when he remembered that job from years prior, when he and the troupe had attacked the Kurta Clan. Handling the jars had brought the memories back, as they had brought over a hundred of them for the heist; yet most had ended up unused as they hadn't been able to kill enough of the clan members when their eyes had been in the scarlet state.

While the massacre of the Kurta Clan had been a success in the troupe's book, he had always been personally unsatisfied with the final results of that heist. There was something lacking in the end result for him, as the eyes in the jars didn't look the same as when they did in the heads of those Kurta members who had died by his hand. The vibrance that had been present in living eyes that held emotion – that was gone. After the deed was done, all he saw in the dead eyes that floated in those jars was a waste of effort.

It was disappointing, to say the least.

That was when the thought struck him: what if he gave you one of the pairs of scarlet eyes?

… It was impractical, he thought after. For one, it would require him to track down someone who had a pair of the eyes, and once he found them, he'd need to steal them and more than likely kill the owner in the process. And going through all of that would cause you to wait longer. It was much less trouble to go with what he had planned initially and settle for the eyes he had already picked for you.

There was no need to go that extra mile when you would be grateful either way.

But now that the idea had come to him, it itched in his brain. The thought of not only being able to see the scarlet eyes as they were meant to be seen, but also that you might have them.

That mental image was all he could think in that moment, and it was then that Chrollo knew that he wouldn't be satisfied with anything else. So he walked away from his would-be victim's apartment, the woman within completely unaware that a passing thought of his had saved her life.

It was more for him than it was for you. He was well aware of that. And during the time he spent tracking down one of the thirty six pairs, he was aware of the disappointment you felt at how often he was gone, though you kept those thoughts to yourself. He could tell even without Pakunoda informing him that you were desperately terrified at the thought of him leaving you. The relief you felt when he always returned was evident in your voice, your body language and the way you gripped his hand.

The stress he was putting you through his search and retrieval of the eyes was wholly unnecessary.

But he pursued it regardless, intent on making the vision in his mind a reality.

And within a relatively short amount of time, he did just that. Now not only did he have you, but he also had the sight of the scarlet eyes with the life brought back into them.

Your pussy walls fluttered around his cock and he heard you moan. This time it sounded far more pleasurable and he sensed you were getting close. Without missing a beat Chrollo moved his hand so he could rub your clit with his thumb.

That was enough to make you cum on his cock, and the legs you had wrapped around his hips clenched hard onto him while your grasping fingers intertwined with his and you rode out your high beneath him.

That shade of red truly was mesmerizing, Chrollo thought to himself, his eyes focused on yours. Everything he'd done had all been worth it just to get to this moment right now.

He reached down once your orgasm had subsided, softly petting your cheek while you breathed through your mouth. You leaned into his touch immediately, smiling up at him.

“Love,” he began, “may I finish?”

As expected, you agreed. You didn't say anything when he resumed his harsh pace from earlier; you only readjusted your grip on his hand. With another love-bite left on your neck, Chrollo pushed himself back up with his arm, staring down at you while he continued to thrust his hips and fucked you into the bed.

“You're perfect.”

He breathed those words out and you smiled, somehow managing to seem embarrassed by the compliment despite everything he'd done to you tonight, as you glanced away. Chrollo cupped your cheek, bringing your gaze back on him.

When the scarlet eyes looked up at him again he began moving faster.

This surprise you both learned about the Kurta Clan eyeballs was a welcome one. Now he didn't need to force you into a panic to see them again. No more need to use any stolen ability to get your adrenaline to rush during the day while you were left inconsolable. No more need to interrupt your sleep schedule to gaze at them during the night while you silently cried. Now if he wanted a view of those eyes all he needed to do was force you onto your knees and push his cock in your mouth.

He'd be doing that more often. Definitely.

And you would be eager and willing to do so, jumping at any chance you could to show your appreciation for all that he had done.

As Chrollo looked into your eyes, he felt as his hands moved to your throat, grabbing you and holding you just hard enough to cut off the circulation. He'd done it without thinking, continuing the habit he'd picked up from those nights he spent watching you. There was something about the way you looked up at him while he had you like this. How helpless and at his mercy you were.

Your reaction was let out a soft gasp in surprise and to move to place your own hand on his forearm. There was no attempt to pull him off.

Once more, he was fascinated by the sight. And once more, he had to wonder if those eyes had looked at him like that before when they'd been in the possession of their previous owner. If this particular set was one that he himself had collected and bottled up.

If the eyes that now gazed up at him so lovingly had once done so in hate.

His grip on your throat must have gotten too hard, as the hold you had on his forearm tightened ever so slightly while you whined. Hazy scarlet eyes stared up at him, looking up in a mixture of arousal and fear.

He fully lost control then, stopping as he pressed himself as deep as he was able while he came, his hot release spilling into you and making you whimper as you felt his cum dribbling out of you.

That was long overdue.

With that, he released his grip on your throat and relaxed, falling onto the bed next to you as he pulled himself out of your sore pussy. Your eyes were still that shade of vibrant red, and they would remain that way until your heart rate returned to normal.

As relaxed as he felt, he noticed how tense you had become, your eyebrows furrowed as though you were thinking about something unpleasant.

“Is something wrong, love?"

You blinked as you looked over to him in response to his question, looking blank for a moment before forcing a smile on your face and shaking your head. Chrollo brought his hand back up to cup your cheek, asking “are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you answered.

The way your eyes moved about told him that you weren't being entirely truthful, and he wondered for a moment just how much you were able to remember of those nights he spent gazing at you.

But before he could begin to do any sort of damage control, you spoke again, asking “Chrollo, could you do something for me?”

“Anything,” he answered.

Your smile seemed more genuine as you softly asked “will you hold me?”

Within an instant Chrollo had pulled you against his chest, cupping the back of your head with his hand as he said “you never need to ask for that.”

You hummed happily, nuzzling your face against his chest. The tenseness of your muscles melted away shortly after.

He'd been far too greedy tonight. He was so focused on the eyes and the newfound knowledge of the color also being linked to arousal that he'd wanted to drink in the sight at every moment. So much so that he'd held you down to keep you in place, something he'd never really done before the accident.

He would need to do a better job of controlling himself in the future if he wanted to keep you happy and complacent. While the chances were slim, there was always a possibility that you could learn the truth about everything: about him, about the troupe, and about who really was responsible for the death of the Kurtas.

Even with his efforts to ensure that you were heavily dependent on him, you wouldn't want to stay if you learned all of that. You might not even want those eyes in your skull anymore.

Better to not put you in situations where you could remember something unpleasant involving him and begin to put the pieces together. Keeping you happy while he kept you away from the rest of the world would be better for you, even if the alternative possibly gave him more opportunities to see that red color he admired so much. Losing the way you so eagerly clung to him wasn't worth it.

“I think we sabotaged ourselves,” you mumbled against his chest.

“Hm?”

“It's so late, and we still need to do so much. We're going to be exhausted tomorrow,” you continued.

“We'll manage,” he said, “just like we always do. Right?”

You smiled against his skin as you nodded, and Chrollo took the opportunity to place a kiss on top of your head.

“Getting some sleep is a good idea, though,” he added.

You hummed in agreement as Chrollo turned to flip the light switch, and held you once more as the room was shrouded in darkness. Moments passed before you spoke once more.

“Chrollo?”

“What is it, love?”

“Things will be better now, right?”

Chrollo smiled to himself as he answered “of course they will, love. You can trust me on that.”

[thot4ellie]

oh sweetheart pt. 2.5

pairing: boxer!ellie x f! jesses sister!reader

word count: 1.2k

rating: 18+ (smut will be coming in later parts)

warnings: dealer! boxer!ellie, weed, alcohol,

summary: ellie gets your phone number.

author notes: hi just something small for a filler, setting up for the next part, hoping to have it posted up friday the 1st! thank you for reading! pls reblog, comment, or like! i love the support, and thank you for over 1000 likes and 100 followers!! it’s a great feeling

italic = ellie and bold = reader

part 2.5 | part 3

series masterlist <3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

its been a week and a half since you last saw her when she drove you home from the match in her old busted truck. thoughts of her plagued your mind all week. you wondered if she was working. you wondered if she was out with friends. you wondered if she was thinking about you. she is but you don’t know that. you’re not aware she’s thinking of you also. thinking of the way the smell of strawberries stained her car after you left. thinking of the way you said you like it when she calls you sweetheart.

both of you wonder when the next time you’ll see each other is.

its a wednesday afternoon, you’re currently sitting on the couch with dina. she’s the only friend you have down here so far and its not weird that she’s dating your brother. she has come over a bunch, helping you shop, getting little things for your apartment, watching movies and of course, getting high. which is exactly what you’re doing right now. you both sat on your old lumpy couch and watched the iron man series that you had on dvd, not paying to much attention to the tv, but rather your conversion.

“so no luck still? you should just come work with me at the farm, i mean i love it- the horse shit not so much.” dina exclaimed.

“yeah its like no one is hiring, i may have to take you up on that, i still wanna keep looking though, maybe something will come along.” you told her.

“yeah avoid horse shit as long as you can, something will come along don’t worry!” she said trying to make you feel better knowing you’re stressed. but at the end of the day, you need something to fill your time besides thinking of the boxer that drove you home.

you guys just sat and talked then eventually as the credits rolled for the last movie, you got up and started to clean up the mess from the pizza you ordered earlier. after you went to the kitchen and put the plates in the sink, you grabbed the bottle of wine and two glasses and made your way back to dina still in the living room. you hold it up to her and with the look on her face, you knew she was thinking the same thing.

by the third bottle, it was 10pm and you’ve run out of weed and not much wine left but you both are feeling great, laughing and giggling like kids. its nice to have a friend you thought.

“what are you doing friday night?” she questioned.

you responded to her, “probably exactly what im doing right now” you both laughed.

“well there’s another match this weekend, me and jesse are going if you want to come along again, ellie will be there too.” she replied. you couldn’t hide the smile on your face when she said her name.

“woah! what’s with the smiling and the blushing…” she joked asking. you didn’t tell either of them what happened that night at the first match. from outside or inside, they assumed you both got an uber and you didn’t tell them any differently.

“nothing, i just thought she was nice thats all.” you said trying not make any signs of anything more.

“oh she is!,” dina started, “well maybe not at first but once you get to know her, we’ve been friends for years now,” she laughed and kept going, “she fights at the gym sometimes, but she works there too, its a good hang out space plus cheap drinks. plus she’s bringing us the restock.” she finished as she picked up her weed jar.

“oh you get it from her?” you inquired, thinking back to the faint smell of weed in her car when she drove you home.

“yeah she’s got good stuff and nice deals, ugh its great, always easier to get it from someone you know,” she ended. you thought about asking her if you could tell her to get you some to and for some other non-obvious reason but she beat you to it.

“ill send her your number and she’ll text you.” she said to you as she pulled out her phone and sent a message. a few moments later, her phone rang and she answered, it was jesse waiting outside for her so she gave you a hug and grabbed her stuff and you walked her to the door.

you locked it before you turned around to sit back down on the couch, grabbed the wine glass and poured the last bit in your cup, you were still drunk and definitely feeling it. you heard your phone buzz and you picked it up, answering the call, not paying attention, thinking it was dina but the voice surprised you.

hey sweetheart

you didn’t expect her to call so soon, you haven’t even given yourself a moment to think about what to say beforehand. you weren’t prepared for this. you feel yourself getting nervous over the girl you only met last week but you just cant help it. she’s been on your mind since you met her.

hi ellie

dina sent me your number i hope that’s okay

yes she said she was going to

well in that case, she said you needed to buy

yeah we managed to smoke up all her stash and i haven’t gotten any since i moved here, probably cause i didn’t know where to get it

well no worries, i’ve got everything you need sweetheart.

thank you ellie, you said smiling but she couldn’t see you through the phone, you wondered what she’d think if she saw how red your face was right now.

you can call me el sweetheart, no need to be so formal.

she laughed through the phone, and then asked if you were coming to the gym on friday with your brother and dina.

they invited me but i hadn’t thought about it yet, not wanting to sound too eager about the potential thought of seeing her on friday.

mhm- well you should, we’re just gonna have some drinks and chill so nothing crazy. but i will have the weed for you then if that peaks your interest.

bribing me with drugs?, you laugh into the phone and she laughs with you.

if that’s how you want to put it sweetheart, sure

you smiled into the phone, not even sure how to respond to that before becoming flustered, before you continued,

i guess we’ll just have to wait and see then…

yeah i guess we will… goodnight sweetheart.

that was the last thing she said before she hung up and you sat staring back at a black screen. thinking that now she has your number and you have hers.

it’s almost 11 now as you brush your teeth, throw on a t shirt and cuddle up in bed. falling asleep to the thoughts of how friday was going to go when you finally saw her again.