#love lost and found again across the ages

[fingertipsmp3]

Like, moving to a big city in September 2020 only to be locked in a house with 4 strangers and basically never see the light of day for nine months was 1) a terrible experience overall and 2) not a bad setup for a horror series of some sort, but also I am nostalgic for a few things from that time

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

5 DAYS IN HEAVEN

Summary: Since Wade is going away on a mission, he asks you to take care of his roommate. At first you will refuse, but in the end you will be so freaking grateful.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, masturbation, breast play, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected sex (p i v), little blood, reader is smaller than Logan

A/n: This is so freaking long I'm so terribly sorry I got really into it, so I am sorry if there will be some grammar mistakes or some parts that won't make sense, I'm not a native English speaker, anyways enjoy <3

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"Fuck no Wade!" you shut your eyes as you frustrated shouted. "Please I need this!" he kept trying to convince you, reaching for your hands but you flinched. "I'm not going to make you a fucking housewife, have you lost your mind?" you asked, beginning to doubt about men's IQ at this point. “Not for me but for Logan” he corrected you as if that made a difference. “It's literally the same” you turned your back as you walked into the kitchen, Wade following you like a dog on a leash. "Please, I'll do anything!"

You stopped for a second. You've never heard Wade so desperate and you've known him for five years and as a neighbor, you know his behavior very well, this is not like him at all.

"Why do you care about him so much?" you asked, leaning against the fridge with your hands tied across your chest. "He's my bestfriend! I love him-" "Okay now it's getting weird" you turned around again as you poured some water into a clean glass.

"Please I can't lose him because he starved, I need my fuckbuddy-" you almost choked as you heard Wade's words while drinking. Never drink while Wade is talking, noted. "And why can't you just take him with you?" you turn around and furrow your eyebrows. "It's not that easy pumpkin" you rolled your eyes but didn't give up to find some other way.

"So he would order fast food, what's the matter?" "Do I look like I have enough money to feed a giant who eats like a beast?" you sigh in annoyance as you slowly realize that there probably isn't other way to solve this. "Wade, I can't cook for him-" "Why not? You're the best cook I know! Please, just for five days, no more!"

When you saw his beggar eyes, you had no choice. You sigh loudly and close your eyes as your head drops. "Fine." You growl and immediately regretted your decision as Wade grabbed you and spun you around at breakneck speed. "Jesus alright stop I'm gonna throw up!" Wade placed you back on the floor and you struggled to keep your balance. But when your vision was no longer blurry, Wade’s excited face warmed your heart. "Thank you so much! I owe you I swear!"

He gave you one last kiss on the cheek before he left your apartment. You could hear him excitedly screaming in the hallway, even on his way to his apartment. You chuckle and shake your head, he is really a child stuck in a 30 year old body.

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You don't really know Logan. You know that he moved in with Wade and they started living together, but you never found out why. Besides, you didn't even have much interaction with him, mainly because of his expression.

He still looks angry and sour, whenever you see him in the hall, you try to avoid him, because his stern expression sent you dread and goosebumps all over your body. Unlike Wade, he didn't look like a friendly neighbor who comes to visit you when he needs sugar or flour.

Rather, he looked exactly like the neighbor who just complains about you every chance he gets. You were a little afraid of the deal, going to cook for him and who knows what will happen if he doesn't like it. What if he spits on you? Or do anything worse?

You were only comforted by the thought that you would only go to him a few times a day and then you could lock yourself away and be safe. Your thoughts about Logan and the whole deal were interrupted by an aggressive pounding on your door. You immediately knew who it was.

You sighed when you saw Wade in the doorway, rudely barging into your apartment without asking. But you're used to it.

"So when are you moving in?" your eyes almost fell out of their sockets when Wade threw this question at you without hesitation. "What are you talking about?!" you tried not to think the worst, unfortunately it was the worst. "Well, you'll be living in my apartment during my absence-" you pointed index finger at him and shook him. "No no no, you didn't say that!" Wade stopped. "I thought it was obvious..."

Your heart was beating a hundred and six and your blood was at boiling point. "Wade! I'm not living with that psychopath!" you lost your shit and started screaming at him. Wade was still calm. “He's not that bad” you were shocked at his words and how easily he was letting them out of his mouth.

"Wade! What if he kills me?" Wade rolled his eyes and shook his head. "He won't kill you, don't worry, if something happens stab him...even though it probably wouldn't help" you started being red from how angry you were. "Why can't I stay here?" you finally asked him the main question.

"You know, I'm afraid something will happen to him, I want you to watch over him" you just started to mock Wade’s patheticness. Oh you are so done. "No….no! I am not gonna do it" "Ah come on sweetheart" Wade grabbed your hands so tightly that you couldn't even break free from his grip.

"I swear I'll give you anything for this, I'll be grateful to you for the rest of my life...just 5 days, please" even as you fought with every nerve and muscle in your body to refuse, his convincing eyes got you again and you let out an annoyed breath.

Wade immediately understood that you agreed and pulled you into a tight hug. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou" he kept thanking you and you started seeing stars for a moment from his tight grip. Again and again you regretted your decision and wanted to get a fake passport, change your identity and fly far away. Unfortunately, this option will not work.

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First day

The time had come for you to introduce yourself to Logan and move in. You only had a small bag over your shoulders, where were your clothes, hygiene items and necessary things. Even if you miss something, you can always go to the apartment next door, aka your home.

“Look, I'm just warning you, Logan can be a little…rude sometimes” Wade told you and you nodded. You already deduced that yourself from his face expressions. Even so, you wanted to be nice and make an impression on him, maybe he'll be a little softer if he sees you smiling.

“Alright, here we go” Wade looked even more nervous than you. When he grabbed the doorknob and went inside, Logan was nowhere to be found. You slowly followed Wade, looking for the grumpy big guy. But suddenly the door to the room opened and the famous, rude Logan came out.

He was wearing a brown shirt and jeans with a belt, now that you had a chance to get a good look at him, he didn't look so bad. "Logan!" Wade squealed excitedly while Logan still had a stern look on his face.

When his eyes landed on you, he didn't move a single muscle, unlike you. You were sweating, your smile was twitching but you tried to keep your cool. "Who is that?" he pointed at you and slowly walked closer. "So glad you're asking, Logan, this is your temporary housewife"

You were quiet but still smiling, while holding your hand for a shake. Logan rolled his eyes and moved his head from your sight in annoyance. That's a nice welcoming. "I don't fucking need her" you would be lying if those words didn't touch you a little, but Wade warned you, so you were at least half prepared for it.

You slowly dropped your hand back to your body and looked at Wade in confusion. "Well if he doesn't need me, I can go-" "No! Stay!" he grabbed your shoulder and looked angrily at Logan. "We already talk about this, be nice" he hissed through his clenched teeth and Logan just sighed. He looked back at you, that annoyed look still on his face. He was literally screaming through that face that he wants to kick you out and he really doesn't want you here. Your smile slowly dropped and you started overthinking, how the following 5 days would look like, with this grumpy rude man.

"Good kitty" Wade complimented Logan who growled back at him. "Well, the kitchen is over there, I'll show you your room and then I'll have to go, the mission awaits!" Wade got behind you and pushed you forward past Logan, who was staring at you but still with an annoyed and slightly confused expression.

"Well, put your things here and I have to go. Bye bye and thank you, I owe you” Wade quickly led you into the guest room, patting you on the shoulders before disappearing out of the apartment, leaving you and the curmudgeon alone.

You just let out a tired sigh before putting your bag on the floor and looking around the room. It was small but cozy. Even the view from the window wasn't bad, certainly better than in your own apartment.

“What's your name again?” you suddenly heard a deep growl and you quickly flinched as you quickly turned towards the voice. Logan was leaning against the doorframe, his hands wrapped around his chest, his biceps nearly tearing through the soft fabric he was wearing.You swallowed before looking into his face again and began to speak.

“Y/N…yours is Logan right? you tried to be nice again, thinking that the beginning was just a misunderstanding. God you are so pathetic. “Guess” he replied arrogantly and you pursed your lips into a thin line as embarrassment flooded your entire body.

"'kay...well it's kinda late, I'll go prepare some food" you informed him and Logan just nodded before walking off to who knows where. You were relieved when he left. As if his presence made you nervous, but not because of fear, but rather because of another feeling that you couldn't quite describe.

You came to the kitchen and started to assemble the ingredients on the counter. You decided to make spaghetti since that was the only thing they had all the ingredients for and looking around the fridge made you want to buy more stuff tomorrow. Apart from milk, some old rotting food and beer, they had nothing at all, men.

When you were almost done with the spaghetti, it was as if the smell summoned Logan without you having to say anything. He suddenly appeared in the kitchen watching you put spaghetti on two plates and pour tomato sauce over them. “I hope you like spaghetti” you said looking at Logan who surprisingly wasn't looking at the food like you thought, but at you. That caught you off guard a bit but not for too long.

"Mhm yeah" he said and immediately grabbed the plate when you finally added the basil leaves. Why are you even trying to decorate the food, you are not in a fancy restaurant here, but at Wade’s home. You just rolled your eyes and put noodles on your own plate. Logan's hungry chewing was making your ears pop and you couldn't wait to enjoy your dinner in quiet in your room.

No sooner had you added the spaghetti to your plate and decided to go into your room to eat, than Logan was already done with his food and obediently put the plate in the sink. Your eyes widened, Wade was right, this man eats like a beast.

"Do you want more?" he just shook his head as he wiped his red mouth with his hand and went straight into his own room. "m'kay" you whispered to yourself and since he left the living room, you decided to change your plan and eat while watching some TV.

This isn't so bad. If Logan answers with two words and doesn't have any long conversations with you where he just taunts you, 5 days will go by like nothing.

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Second day

You got up early because of the annoying alarm and went to get ready for work. You changed into comfortable but formal clothes, put on some make-up and took your bag. When you left the room, no one was there. You sighed with a smile and went straight to the front door.

Apparently Logan doesn't go to work, which you were a little envious of. He can sleep as long as he wants, then practically do whatever he wants for days, surely he must be a little bored if he's not saving the world.

"Where you're goin'?" you froze in a place when you heard Logan. You slowly turned around, and your eyes widened even more. He had nothing on than boxers, revealing his muscles, abs, and perfect body, which made your saliva fly from your lips.

You quickly wiped it off and looked back into his face. God he was hot. His hair was messy but fluffy, his face looked relaxed and tired but that stern look wasn't there anymore. "I- I am goin' to work" you answered with a shaky voice, for which you immediately cursed.

"What work?" his voice was also grainy and deep, he was literally hypnotizing you right now. "Why do you care?" you finally gain your confidence back and he rolled his eyes. "Geez just askin'" he went to the bathroom without saying bye or something like that. You didn't mind, the only thing that was bothering your brain was, why was he so interested?

Just yesterday he didn't want you here at all and now he's worried about you, that you'll leave him? You probably just overthinking. You took your keys and left the apartment as fast as you could.

When you arrived at the restaurant, your colleagues greeted you and you put on the fake mask with a smile. You changed into your suit and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes with the others.

"Hey everything okay? You look pretty frustrated" one of your colleagues asked and it took you a while to process his question. "What? Oh no it's nothing don't worry" you added a convincing smile at the end of the sentence and continued washing. Of course you're frustrated when you have nothing but Logan in your head, his body, his speech, his hair... this is going to be a fucking tough day.

When your shift ended, you were surprised you hadn't been fired. You were confused all day, mixing up orders, got in the way of your colleagues and even burned food a few times. Each of your colleagues asked you several times if everything was okay and you always gave the same answer. Yes, it is. You didn't understand it yourself, how could you be so stupid today and burn the food? This hasn't happened to you in at least 5 years...

All this happened because of your constant thoughts about Logan. You don't even know how it's possible. After all, he's Logan, the guy you were afraid of and would do anything to avoid him...but that was before you've seen him shirtless in boxers. God those thighs, just thinking about them makes your core vibrate.

Frustrated, devastated and tired, you arrived at your temporary apartment, threw your bag on the floor and leaned against the door with your eyes closed. "Tough day?" you hear that annoying but really sexy voice again, but this time it wasn't in your head.

You open your eyes and saw Logan, sitting on the couch with a can of beer, at least this time he was fully dressed. You didn't even have the strength to answer him with words, you just nodded your head. After that you crawled into your room where you had to clear your head for a while, you laid in bed and just stared at the ceiling.

After a while you heard footsteps, but luckily they crossed your room. Was it really fortunate, or rather unfortunately? Your head was a total mess. Now you could use a hot bath with rose petals and a candle around. This actually didn't sound bad at all, so you decided to indulge.

You got out of bed and went straight to the bathroom where you filled the bath and let out a tired sigh. You probably won't have rose petals and candles, but the bathtub is more than enough. You closed the door, not even bothering about locking it, and took off your clothes. When the water was almost full, you turned the water off and lay down in it, a pleasant growl left your mouth, when the hot water covers all your body. You feel more relaxed than ever.

You closed your eyes and in the blink of an eye, all of your fails today and thoughts of Logan were gone. You listened to the water and the silence around you which was more pleasant than ever before. You felt like you were going to fall asleep in no time, this was exactly what you needed. Until you heard the door slam open.

You flinched and immediately looked at them in fear. Logan eyes widened a bit, when he saw you in the bathtub, but after that one second look he looked down immediately, embarrassed. "Sorry" he said and left the bathroom before you could react in any way.

You were shocked, did Logan really think you wouldn't notice the quick check out before he looks down? Well, now you will definitely not stop thinking about him and it's all your fault. If you'd just locked the stupid door, this wouldn't have happened.

You came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel holding your clothes in your hand. You got another jumpscare when Logan was standing by the bathroom, leaning against the wall. How long was he there? Was he waiting for you or was he eavesdropping on you? You had so many questions but so little time.

"Hey um sorry for that" he didn't even look you in the eyes, apparently he's really sorry. "It's fine just, did you see anything?" Logan took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, giving you a clear sign that he saw something. "Oh my god-" you slammed your hand against your forehead and started flushing.

"Not everything! Just um..." "Stop. Just, act like it didn't happen okay?" you were even more frustrated than before and Logan could tell. He just nodded and walked around you to get into the bathroom. You cursed under your breath and walked into your room, where you finally locked the door and fell into bed.

Is it some kind of sign or bad karma that this is happening to you? First you see him almost naked, then he sees you, why do you deserve this? But the question that really played over and over in your head was, did he like what he saw?

He would have covered his eyes or closed the door immediately, but he just stood there watching you for a while longer. Maybe he was in shock, just like you, and you're overthinking again, or maybe not…

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Third day

You got up in the morning like you always did, did your morning routine and left for work, this time no Logan, no comments from him and it made you feel better. You knew that today was going to be a lot better than yesterday.

You didn't even have to put on a fake mask at work, you smiled for real because you had peace of mind from Logan both in your head and in the apartment in the morning. "Hey why so happy?" your colleague asked and you just shook your head. "I just slept well" which was not entirely true.

You couldn't stop thinking about that motherfucker all night. The way he looked when he saw you in that bathtub, how embarrassed he felt but also looked shy, which you would never say to such a tough guy. How he talks to you much more warmly now and how he even washes his dishes without you telling him to do it. You even had a dream about him that wasn't exactly innocent with rainbows and roses, rather the opposite. But that didn't stop you from having a bad day at work. Until you heard the familiar grumpy voice again.

"Is she here?!" "Sir, you can't talk to her right now-" "I just want to know if she works here!" oh no. You heard the angry punch into the table and knew you had to intervene. You stopped working and went from the kitchen to the restaurant behind the cash register, where was none other than the ass Logan. When he saw you, he immediately calmed down and straightened up.

"Hey, what's going on here?" you asked confused, trying to ignore Logan as best you could. "Um this gentleman is asking for you, is he your boyfriend?" "Fuck no!" you shouted, maybe a bit too much then was a necessary and looked at Logan. "The fuck you doin' here?!" this time you keep your voice low but still rough. Logan took a breath to speak but before he could, you grabbed him and went to the corner, so you won't bother the other customers.

"I um" you were surprised that he was out of words. "Goddammit just tell me!" "I was just curious where you workin' okay?! That's all..." although you haven't known Logan very long and well, you could tell he was lying. However, you didn't have time to investigate the truth so you just let out an annoyed breath.

"You can't be that aggressive here! If you don't order anything, get out!" and with those words you left him behind while walking back into the kitchen. Not gonna lie but you felt a little confident when you did this but you also felt a little guilty.

You are not the aggressive bad type like him, you find sympathy in people and you are a peaceful person who tries not to have a conflict with almost anyone. Logan is a really tough piece.

"Everything fine?" you coworker asked while frying some vegetables and you just nodded. How could you be so naive to think you'd slip through today without a single thought about Logan? You really are pathetic.

When you finished your last order, said goodbye to your colleagues and went to change clothes, fatigue hit you again. Today was better than yesterday, you were more focused and you didn't burn anything, but you still weren't yourself. You were still consumed by your thoughts and memories that your brain repeated over and over again, it was driving you crazy.

The only thing you hoped for now was that last night and the incident with Logan wouldn't happen again. You still can't tell if you liked it or not, but what you know for sure is that you can't stop thinking about that.

You left the kitchen ready to go home until you saw Logan sitting in one of the dining booths, alone, half asleep. He scared you again, like always, and you didn't know what to do, how to react, or what to say. When Logan saw you, he immediately stood up and was like a fresh fish.

"You're done?" he asked, like it wasn't weird at all that he is there sitting and waiting for you like your dad. "W-what are you doing here?" "I was waiting..." he didn't finish the sentence but he clearly meant that he was waiting for you. "Why?" you furrow your eyebrows in suspicion.

"It's pretty dark out there, something may happen" why is he so caring suddenly? Was he really waiting for you here all day, just to give you a walk home? Why? "I've been walking in the dark for years Logan and nothing happened to me" you informed him arrogantly and headed for the exit. Logan chased you like an obedient dog. "You never know" he added and quickly held the door for you like a true gentleman. You paused at his act for a moment before walking out and Logan following.

It was an awkward silent walk next to each other where you said so much but nothing at all. The street was quiet, hardly any cars passed by, and the glowing lamps around gave a pleasant atmosphere. You felt good, and maybe Logan's presence added something to that. After all, you were afraid to walk alone in the evening, even though nothing had happened to you yet, but with him you felt different, safe.

"What's for dinner?" Logan finally broke the quiet silence and struck up a conversation. "Oh um I don't know...maybe salad? If you don't mind there won't be any meat in it" Logan chuckled, hearing that laugh make your heart a little warmer. "Salad sound's good" he said as you arrive at the building.

When you got into the apartment you expected Logan to go take a shower or lock himself in his room like he always did, but this time was different. When you took off your coat and hung it on the hanger, Logan was standing in the kitchen waiting for you. You raise an eyebrow and throw a confused look at him. "You're that excited for the food or?" he shook his head and smiled. That's right, he smiled. You had no idea when did his tough-guy personality snap, but he is way nicer to you and you can't say you don't like it.

"Nope, I was thinking that I could help you..." you froze and just stared at him, still with that raised eyebrow. You were shocked, you didn't recognize him anymore. Logan notices your behavior, immediately having regrets. "but only if you want to-" "No! I mean yeah s-sure" you finally woke up and walked around Logan to get things ready. However, you couldn't escape the smirk that formed on your face.

As you pulled out the bowls and cutlery, you felt Logan's presence behind you. He was huge compared to you, covering you completely and you almost held your breath when you felt him almost touching your body. "What should I do?" he asked, his voice grainy, deep and low like a wolf, making you tremble from excitement.

You needed a second to answer him without any mistake or stuttering. “You can take the vegetables out of the fridge” you pointed your head at the fridge next to you and without a word Logan did as you told him. He put everything on the counter next to you and you couldn't help but watch his hands, how big and hairy they were and a lot of scenarios automatically appeared in your head of what you would like him to do to you with them.

"That's all we have" he breathed out and finally stood next to you, so that his dick wasn't touching your ass anymore. "That's fine, we can make something from that" you grabbed the cucumber and started removing the wrapper. Logan was watching you, really carefully and constantly watching your hand, the way you were holding that cucumber, the way you were taking off the wrapper, god he immediately started getting goosebumps and his dick started twitching in his pants.

"Give me a sec" he said quickly and left. You looked at him confused and flinched a bit when you heard the bathroom door slam. You just shrugged and continued to unwrap the cucumber. He probably just went to piss or something.

After you had almost half the vegetables cut to a small squares and thrown in a bowl, Logan finally returned. "Finally, I was thinking you ran away" Logan just chuckled awkwardly but said nothing. He watched you cut the pepper and finally decided to help you.

He took another pepper and a knife and started cutting it on the table. You didn't really care if he destroyed the table or not, it wasn't your kitchen after all. After you finished chopping all the vegetables, tossed the salad with the dressing, and Logan gave it a good toss, you were ready to feast.

You split the salad into two bowls, the same amount for each, and dipped a fork into it. Logan waited until you filled the second bowl as well, which was a little unusual as normally he would have already started eating and not even waiting for you.

Aftwr you take your bowl and Logan take his, you decided to go into the room to eat but Logan stopped you. "Hey I was thinking if you wanna watch a movie together?" again, his random nice behavior caught you by surprise. Where did the grumpy guy who literally didn't even want you in this apartment go? Apparently he's gone forever.

“Oh um…sure why not” you smiled and Logan went to sit on the couch where he was already holding the remote and selecting a movie. You obediently sat next to him, but at a sufficient distance so that you had enough space and it wasn't some kind of awkward, uncomfortable situation.

"Do you have any ideas?" he asked you as he kept switching between films. "Umm I don't know, I don't really care" you said as you finally took a bite of the salad, which was really fucking good. "Okay, you asked for it" he said and selected a horror movie called Evil Dead Rise. "Awh man this looks nasty" you said as you still chew the salad and scrunch your face in disgust. Logan just giggled and took his first bite too.

After a while watching the movie, you remembered that you are fucking scared of horrors. That film was chill at first, but after the first jump scare, you knew you are fucked. You tried to focus on the salad and not being some crybaby, but your fear got the better of you. When another jumpscare appeared, you almost throw you salad on the floor.

Logan, on the other hand, didn't move a single muscle the whole time watching. He was like a rock with a stern expression. The second he noticed your reaction, he had to look and intervene somehow. "Are you okay?" He asked and you just nodded, but your body said the opposite. You were shaking, wrapped in a ball and your eyes were bawling, the exact definition of a person being terrified to death.

Logan wasn't stupid and he knew you'd probably be peeing with fear in no time. That's why, regardless of the awkwardness of the situation, he scooted closer to you at first, seeing how you're gonna react. The closeness didn't bother you at all, so Logan put an arm around you, making you feel even safer.

"Is that 'kay?" he whispered in your ear, looking down at you while your eyes were securely locked with the TV. You nodded slightly and laid your head on his muscular chest, covered by gray shirt. It was comforting to hear his regular heartbeat. You felt amazing.

You don't even remember the last time you cuddle with someone like that. You don't care that it's Logan, all you focused on was the feeling. The way his body warmed yours, the way he made gentle circles with his finger on your shoulder and the way he breathed, these combinations made you forget about your fear.

After a while your eyelids started to feel heavy and you felt tiredness coming over you. But you were so comfortable that you didn't want to leave anywhere and that's why you succumbed to sleep really quickly on Logan's body.

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Fourth day

You grunted as rubbed your eyes. You lay in bed with your eyes closed for a while until you realized you had to go to work. Your eyes popped open and you sat on the bed as fast as you could. You looked around rashly, realizing you were in your room under the covers. But when you quickly checked the alarm clock, it was damn late. "Fuck!" you shouted and jumped from the bed like a lightning bolt.

You quickly started changing and getting ready for work, even though you were already 3 hours late. The whole time you were cursing under your breath and your heart was beating in the fastest way possible. If they don't fire you today, they never will.

After you were all ready you ran for your bag and went to the door. You've never gotten ready so quickly before. Suddenly you heard the door open and immidiately knew it was Logan. However, you didn't have time for his comments.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. When you quickly glanced at him, he looked pretty tired, like he woke up just now. In addition, he had only boxers again, messy hair and his voice was so fucking rough. When you looked at him you felt a weird feeling in your stomach. "I'm late" you said as you were putting your shoes on. Logan was processing your answer for a bit before he spoke again.

"Oh, work..." he groaned as he realized what you were late for. You just ignore him and give him a quick goodbye before you closed the door and ran to the elevator.

As soon as you opened the door to the restaurant, you ran to the dressing room to change. You tried to be so fast but you were just clumsy and rash. Your chef's suit was crooked and not even all the buttons were on when you appeared in the kitchen, trying immediately blend in. "Oh there you are! Where have you been?" one of your colleagues asked, cutting vegetables next to you. You just shake your head.

"Long night" you sighed tiredly and cooperated with preparing the food. "You're lucky boss wasn't here, you would be cooked" you look at him as he said that and you both giggled at that stupid joke. "Go fuck yourself" you nudged him with your shoulder and shook your head. But he was right, you have much more luck than sense.

You spent last night in Logan's arms and after you woke up and put yourself back together, you realized that he carried you into your room. It's not his fault you overslept, it's yours.

You shouldn't have fallen asleep, you should have just gotten up, said good night and gone to set that stupid alarm clock. But whenever you remember the feeling of him caressing you, how comforting his chest was as a pillow, how his chest smoothly rose up and down, every time your knees got week and you feel that weird feeling in your stomach. You knew what that feeling was and you hated to admit it, but you catched feelings for Logan.

You can't stop thinking about him ever since the first day, you have unchristian dreams about him and you always catch yourself watching him for too long. You never thought you'd like a bad boy, but here we are.

When you were already cleaning the kitchen and getting ready to leave, you noticed a familiar person sitting in the restaurant as one of the last ones.

Your curiosity got the better of you and you peeked more into the restaurant. Of course that the familiar figure was Logan. Again, he didn't have anything ordered, he just sat quietly and stared into nothing. You couldn't help but smile at him when.

You went to change and said goodbye to the others as you headed for the exit. You pretended not to see Logan and ignored him until he instantly came up to you. "Hey, how was work?" he asked as he gentlemanly opened the door for you and waited. You felt your cheeks heat up and you had to look down.

"It was fine, except for the morning..." you chuckle nervously. "Yeah, were you too late?" he asked as he walked closer to the road making you back up a bit. Another discreet gentlemanly move. "3 hours late..." "Damn" his eyes widened as his mouth surprisingly twitches. "Yeah, but luckily I didn't get fired so" Logan laughed and nodded his head in agreement.

"Anyway, any ideas for dinner tonight?" Logan's efforts to keep the conversation going tickled your heart. "Mhmm honestly I don't know…how about pizza?" you looked up at his face waiting for reaction. "Like homemade pizza?" Logan looked into your eyes and you tried to hold eye contact as long as you could. “Of course duh” Logan smiled at your addition and nodded his head. "Sure why not"

You were slicing salami while Logan poured a ketchup mix over the pizza dough. "What about some music?" he asked, still focusing on the smearing. You stopped cutting and looked at him. "Music?" you asked, giving him a confused look. He nodded, looking at you too and when he saw your expression, he stopped his actions and went somewhere.

You were watching him, as he walked to the radio and pressed something on it until a song started playing. Your smile widened and you started laughing, when you saw Logan dancing. He was moving his hips awkwardly and you can see that he really can't dance. His danced moves could be compared to dad style in the 80s.

You needed to cover your mouth and hold your stomach, because the laughter started to hurt, but you couldn't stop. Logan looked at you and held out his hand in front of him as he approached you. You shook your head and almost collapsed on the ground laughing. "Come on!" he shook his hand, convincing you to join him.

After a lot of refusing and giggling, Logan finally convinced you to dance. When you grabbed his hand, he immediately took advantage of it and pulled you a little closer to his body. You squeal a bit at the sudden move, but you immediately cooperated.

You held each other's hands and did little circles with them as your legs scuttle back and forth. You laughed and squirmed, Logan spun you around from time to time and you enjoyed it as much as you could. This is one of those moments that sticks deep in your head. A memory that will always popped up, whenever you hear Logan.

The music pulsed softly through the air, a fast, intoxicating rhythm that seemed to wrap around you and Logan like a delicate thread, pulling you closer. You couldn’t help but glance up at him, your eyes locking for a heartbeat too long, and the intensity there sent a rush of heat to your cheeks.

You tried to focus on the steps, on the sway of the dance, but something about the way Logan’s body moved with yours was deeply distracting. His scent, clean and warm, enveloped you, making your pulse quicken in ways you couldn’t ignore.

Then, without warning, your leg caught the edge of his, and you stumbled, your balance suddenly thrown off. Logan’s arms shot out, catching you before you could fall, pulling you tightly against him to steady you. For a moment, everything seemed to stop, your breath, the world, even the music seemed to fade into the background as you realized just how close you were.

Your faces were mere inches apart, your lips almost brushing his. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his gaze dropping to your mouth for just a fleeting second before meeting your eyes again. The air between you crackled with tension, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. Everything about this moment screamed for you to close that agonizingly small distance, to let yourself get lost in the magnetic pull between you.

Logan’s grip on you tightened ever so slightly, his chest rising and falling in sync with yours as he fought against the same urge. You could see it in his eyes, the desire, the restraint, the way he was holding himself back even though every inch of him seemed to be aching to close the gap. His gaze flickered down to your lips again, and this time, it lingered longer. You swallowed hard, your lips parting slightly, as if you were subconsciously inviting him to make the move.

For a moment, you both stood at the edge of temptation, teetering on that invisible line. Neither of you spoke, afraid that even a whisper might break the fragile tension and push you over the edge. Your bodies pressed together, heat pooling between you, your breaths shallow and in sync.

But then, something held both of you back. Maybe it was the weight of all that had led to this moment, the fear of crossing a line you couldn’t uncross, or maybe it was the unspoken agreement to savor this tension just a little longer. Neither of you moved, though the pull between you was undeniable. The space between your lips remained tantalizingly close, yet untouched.

“Close call,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of humor and the tension he was trying so hard to rein in.

You smiled, feeling your own pulse slowly return to normal, though the lingering heat of the moment still burned between you. “Too close,” you whispered back, your eyes holding his for a second longer before you reluctantly eased back, just enough to regain some space, some clarity.

“We should finish that” Logan gently let go of you and pointed his head to the half-done pizza in the kitchen. You nodded in agreement, still dazed from the situation that just happened and from the feelings you experienced. You were a little disoriented, just as Logan except, he could hid it better.

After you finished the pizza, the atmosphere wasn't so stiff anymore. Logan was telling funny stories about his past and you just laughed and tried not to get overwhelmed by his gorgeous face. Sometimes when you listened to Logan, the world slowed down and everything was black and white except for him. He shone like the brightest star in the darkness.

After enjoying dinner, cleaning the dishes together and saying good night, you couldn't even fall asleep. You couldn't shake the thought of Logan, that moment when your lips were so dangerously close and even though you didn't have any superpowers, you could feel that he wanted it just as much as you did.

Feeling his beard brushing against your soft skin, feeling his tongue inside your mouth, you could just dream about it. Also, tomorrow is the last day. You don't know if it's good or bad, you don't know if you're happy or just afraid, you don't know anything at all. After all, deep down in your head you had a soft spot and a longing for Logan.

Inwardly, you longed to spend a few more days with him, a few nights alone and see what would happen. This overthinking went too far, you kept your eyes open all night and stared at the ceiling, while outside the birds started whistling and sun rising.

It's here, the last morning in this bed, the last dinner with Logan, the last day.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Fifth day

You stayed up all night, your stomach churning at the thought that today is final day. At the same time, you couldn't get that moment between you and Logan out of your mind, when just a milimeter was missing and your lips would be stuck together. The desire for Logan, the need to always have him with you and not let him go, was growing by every minute. His smell of cigarettes and scotch always tickled your olfactory cells. Every time you felt him, it was like your heart burst with excitement. But now you couldn't smell it, the only thing that tickled your nose was the steam from the food in restaurant.

"Hey, are you okay?" a colleague nudged your shoulder. "Huh? Yeah I am fine, I am fine..." you weren't fine. The thought of packing up your clothes today and moving back to your apartment, alone. That there will be no one here to hug and protect you while watching a horror movie, that no one will help you prepare dinner, these thoughts were pressing all the points to make you cry.

Despite all these emotions, you tried to keep yourself in check and continue working as if nothing happened, as if the world wasn't practically collapsing before your eyes. You tried to think positively and looked forward to Logan waiting for you again in one of the booths and escorting you to the apartment and making dinner together while talking.

When you finally finished your shift and said goodbye to the others, you walked out of the kitchen looking for Logan with hope in your eyes. Unfortunately, you couldn't find him anywhere. There was no one in the restaurant anymore and your positive thinking was gone. You went alone with gloomy face. This is last night and he just ignore you like that?

When you arrived at the apartment, upset, you were a little surprised to see Logan in the kitchen making dinner. He looked behind his shoulder and his corners lifted up a bit when he saw you. "Hey...sorry I didn't pick you up today, I was preparing dinner" he excused himself and your anger towards him was gone immediately.

Your face softened and your heart melted. He's also sad that it's the last night and he wanted to make it up to you somehow. He doesn't even have to say it with words.

"It's f-fine..." you said, still a bit shocked but more flattered. You walked up next to him, curious about what he is preparing. "Spaghetti?" you asked, even though you saw exactly what he was doing.

"Yeah, we had them on a first night, remember?" he looks at you and you chuckle at the memory. "Oh yeah, you were all grumpy and just took it" Logan scoffed and nodded. "Yeah..."

"Well, it'll be done in a bit, so do your stuff and then we'll go eat, hm?" you just nodded excitedly and fought the urge to kiss him on his cheek as a grateful gesture. You literally ran to your room, closed it and wanted to change into some comfortable clothes. The thing was that all your clothes were dirty and even when you tried really hard to find at least a one clean shirt, it was pointless.

You sat on the bed with a sigh and wondered what you were going to do. "Hey um I just go take a quick shower okay?" Logan burst into your room without knocking and you jumped a bit. He was gone before you could even answer him.

"Okay...." you whispered under your breath and immediately got an idea. You sneaked into Logan's room looking for his shirt. After all, he won't notice that you're wearing it, and if he does, you can explain it to him.

You didn't look long and saw a gray shirt thrown on the bed. You shrugged, grabbed it and walked out of his room into yours. You instantly stuck it to your nose and inhaled its scent. Cigarettes and scotch, oh the combination was sending waves of pleasure between your legs and you couldn't take it anymore. You quickly removed all your clothes and put on his shirt. It was huge on you, it touched your knees and you laugh.

You could still feel him as if he was with you, on top of you and that was exactly what you wanted. You laid down on the bed and closed your eyes, your brain immediately cooperating and starting to create million scenarios while you were still smelling him. The vibrating between your legs started being unbearable and you had to stop it somehow.

I slowly moved my hand to the fabric of Logan's shirt. I stopped between my legs and lifted the shirt up, a sigh left your lips as you felt the cold air touching your folds. Your hand moved down, your fingers slightly touching your folds, making gentle friction. Your moves were slow and sweet, just heating up before you started putting more pressure.

Your jaw fall open as you inserted one finger in, twirling inside and stretching your walls. You imagined that it was Logan's finger that worked a miracle, that filled you with emotions and the need to feel something inside you, to feel him inside you. You desperately tried to reach the sponge spot, that whenever you touch your head you go dizzy in a second.

You needed more, that's why you insert another finger inside you, moving in unison with your hips. You tried to catch up with your orgasm with gentle but eager sensations, Logan's images replayed in your head over and over and your sighs got louder and louder.

“Hey have you seen my gray T-shirt anywhere-“ Logan walked in, not bothering to knock. You gasped at the surprise and immediately covered yourself with a blanket. Logan weist was wrapped by a towel, making you even more wet at the sigh.

"Oh shit" he looked away embarrassed, but you were the one who should be. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why didn't you knock?" you asked, trying to wash off the embarrassment and replace it with anger.

Logan shook his head, still looking away from you. "Look I'm so sorry I was just looking for my T-shirt" "Well I don't have it so go check somewhere else" you said, your voice calm but your heart beat fast. Logan finally gains the confidence to look back at you, furrowing his eyebrows. "Wait, is that my T-shirt you're wearing?"

You tried to be as calm as possible. “What? No, why would I be wearing your shirt?” All your muscles were tense and you prayed that Logan wouldn't notice. “No that's definitely my shirt” he look at the piece that protruded from the blanket as his corner of his mouth lifted up a bit.

You quickly tried to hide more even tho you knew you were fucked. "No...it's not" Logan came closer to you. "Hey, stop tryna hide under the covers..." he grabbed the blanket and tried to pull it off of you, but as hard as you could try, he was much stronger than you.

"Let me just see it" after an unfair fight, Logan won and tore the blanket off you, revealing his shirt on your body. A devilish smile appeared on his face as he saw you. “So you are wearing my shirt” he narrowed his eyes and you started to panic.

“Yeah and what about it? It's the only clean thing I could find and it's comfortable” although you were telling the truth, it wasn't completely true, because deep down you know very well why you took his shirt. Logan chuckled at your answer and came even closer to you, standing right above you.

"So you're telling me it's just a coincidence that your hands are between your thighs wearing the same T-shirt I was just wearing?" oh you were so cooked. "It's not even like that..." you still tried to save it, but it was already too late. Logan giggled again, grabbing your chin, making you look up at him. "I'm not dumb, I know what you're doing"

Oh he was so freaking hot right now, and he knew it. "You're so fucking desperate" now there was nothing and no one to stop Logan in his way. He completely ripped the blanket off of you and got on the bed above you. In this moment you realize, all your desires are finally coming true.

He didn't hesitate for a second before pressing his lips to yours, aggressively and roughly. You immediately cooperated, your arms wrapping around his neck and your legs unintentionally removing Logan's towel as you wrapped your legs around his weist. You could immediately feel his length, making you whine a bit in the kisses.

Logan's hands were not docile and explored your body. He started from your thighs, continued under your t-shirt to your stomach and finally ended on your breasts, which he squeezed and massaged. You pulled out of the kiss, your eyes shut tightly as you sighed his name. Oh he loved the view he had right now. But he still needed more.

He attacked your neck with aggressive bites, leaving marks that will heal for a long time. "~Logan~" you moaned his name as you grabbed his fluffy hair and tugged them whenever he found that sensitive spot. You could feel his smile forming on his face, while sucking and licking your, now red neck.

Logan felt your wetness, your arousal. How he was grateful for those urgent instincts right now. He finally removed his teeth from your neck, but he definitely wasn't done with you. You opened your eyes as you watched him creeping down. His devilish smile not leaving his face for a second. The image of Logan's face between your legs drives you crazy and you couldn't wait to finally feel him. "You smell so fucking good kitty" he said before his lips leaned against your folds.

His hot breath on your bare core was sending shivers down your spine and you fight against every nerve in your body not to burst your hips into his face. He notices your desperate face and your shaking body, so he decides not to torture you anymore. He licked your fold, incredibly slowly but intensively, that you had to arch your back.

He repeated this move a few times, sucking all the wetness you could give him from the outside, before he burst his tongue inside you without any warning. You scream his name and pull his hair as his sudden move catches you off guard, making him chuckle.

His tongue was swirling inside you licking up all your juice, you were delicious. His nose was poking your sensitive clitoris, sending you even faster to your edge. Your hips were moving along his tongue, desperate for more friction and tried to reach your orgasm.

Logan stretched your walls even more, eating you like you were the best meat he had in years, his speed was unbelievable and the pleasure in you indescribable. You feel the tightening sensation in your lower abdomen and you knew you couldn't hold it in for long. You clenched around Logan's tongue, making it harder for him to continue, but he didn't stop. You tightly shut your eyes and throw your head back, as you almost pulled out some of Logan's hair.

He holds you firmly by your thighs, as your hips lose control and after few more twirl moves of his tongue inside you, the feeling of relief wash over your whole body, goosebombs appeared on your skin and your chest was rapidly rising and falling.

You smile, trying to catch your breath but your eyes were still shut. Logan climbed higher, he was now face to face. You felt his heavy breath against your cold nose, so you opened your eyes and smiled even more. Your juice glistened on Logan's beard and his hair messy, proof of your work.

He giggled as he saw your cheeks all red, your forehead sweaty and your hair destroyed, he loved what he was doing to you. "You're fucking beautiful princess" he said before he kissed you, giving you a taste of yourself. You loved the way he kissed. Hungry and furious kisses, but also sweet and gentle and si was his touch.

He explored you with his massive hands, his fingerprints all over your body. You looked really small in his hands, the sigh makes him even harder.

He couldn't get enough of you, he longed to hear you scream his name.

He quickly adjusted his hips and checked down, before he rammed into you, without any warning. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, as you felt his massive length inside you. The joke was, he wasn't even fully in yet.

You bite your lips, trying to be as quiet as you could but Logan didn't make it easier for you. He was inserting himself deeper, stretching your walls as far as they could go and he finally let out a big sigh, when he was balls deep in.

You felt so full, that every place inside you was now completely filled and there wasn't even room for air. You hold tightly Logan's neck and started making a blood mess on your lips as you dug into them with your teeth.

He chuckled and gave you a few hungry kisses, before backing up to get a good look at you. "Don't hold it in princess, let me hear you" his grainy voice tickles your eardrums and right before he finished this sentence, he started moving his hips. Just small smooth movements at first, he barely got out of you. Even though they were peaceful movements, it sent you sky high.

Your lips parted as you started leaving a quiet whispers and whimpers, barely heard but Logan heard them very well. Those pretty sounds of yours makes his mind go wild and he started gaining speed and strength in his hips.

Those smooth sweet movements? All gone in a second. They were fading into lustful, rough and uncontrollable thrusting, that makes those regular clapping sounds.

You rolled your eyes as he was hitting just the sponge wet spot inside you, you tried to desperately reach yourself before. "Hey, look at me" Logan growled through clenched teeth, and you with a bit of struggle manage to look at his focused face.

His hands find their way to your hips, keeping you in a place while he was pushing into you, desperately trying to catch up with his orgasm. He sat on his knees, looking at you from above, clearly showing who is dominant here.

You just seductively let him do anything with you he just wanted. You loved it, the feeling, the situation, the atmosphere, Logan. Everything together was sending you closer and closer to your edge. Sice you lost your hold spot when Logan sat down, your hands found the sheet around you and held them tight.

The wet sound started to permeate the whole room, after a while even the entire apartment. Your brain stopped controlling your body, which is why you started letting out loud moans and whimpers of Logan's name. It was pleassure to his ears.

He stopped counting how many times he imagined you like this, beneath him, fucking your soul out of you. How tears stream down your face and you beg for more as you scream his name. These thoughts and these dreams kept him awake and he himself is surprised that it took him so long to do this, to fuck you properly.

He feels that he is close and so were you. Another orgasm of the day was approaching very quickly, making your legs started vibrating. Logan growled, sigh softly, keeping his eyes on your face the entire time. Well, not the entire time, just a few times he checkedthe part where you were connected.

You started feeling that familiar urge to pee, while Logan's dick was twitching inside you, but not stopping hitting that juicy spot. You were over the edge now. You tried your best not to close your eyes and not release already, even though you knew it would come in any second. Logan also fought all the demons so he wouldn't cum into you and empty his balls, but he wouldn't last long either.

“Fuck” he huffed, dropping his head down while his hips lost control. His movements defied all laws of physics, the entire bed creaked with you and your entire body tensed.

"Logan I-" you couldn't even finish your though before you tightened around Logan, arch your back and close your eyes, finally letting the climax get you. Logan didn't stop, he couldn't, when he was so close to his orgasm too, his precum already mixing with your juice.

Logan felt it, he quickly leaned forward so his stomach was touching yours and he pressed his face into the pillow right next to your head as he thrust into you one last time with the most force. You moaned by his hit, still feeling dizzy from the recent orgasm. He growls like a wild animal as he cums into you, his fingers digging into your skin, definitely leaving bruises there.

You both breathe heavily, staying in this position for a bit. Your bodies were hot with sweat as you still processed the moment.

When your breathing finally calmed, Logan unhooked his face from the pillow and looked at you with a smile. "Don't look at me like that I look like a total mess..." you chuckle from embarrassment and close your eyes. "Said something bad about yourself again and you won't be able to walk for a month" your breath got caught up in your throat as you heard those words. He said that so casually.

"You're gorgeous" he added at the end and kissed you softly, calming your pulse and heartbeat down. After that he slowly pulled out of you, both groaning from the friction again and Logan collapsed next to you. You didn't wait and scooched yourself on Logans body, your leg laying on his while your head listening to those cute regular beats of his heart.

Logan immediately pulled you closer to his body and caressed your shoulder, making gentle circles on it. Your eyes were closed, trying to rest while being still full of the hormone of happiness. Your smile couldn't leave your face and neither could Logan's.

"What about the spaghetti?" you whisper softly, making Logan giggle. "They're probably cold now" he sigh, keep caressing your shoulder. You just grunted, too tired to answer that or even think of an answer. "Are you hungry?" Logan asked immediately with concern and you shook your head with a bit of burden. He relaxed after that and closed his eyes too. Both of you were tired and too lazy to get dressed.

"Would you look at that!" Suddenly you heard another male voice, this one was annoying and quite provocative. You both knew who it was right away. You quickly jerked away from each other when you looked at the door. Wade was leaning against the doorframe, his hands crossed on his chest and his smile was so fucking annoying.

You and Logan were frozen in shock, not knowing what to say or how to even react. "You take the 'take care of him' a bit seriously, don't you think?" you tried to defend yourself, explain it somehow, but you can't get out of this situation.

"Get out" Logan growled sternly but it didn't scare Wade at all. "Wow I mean damn I...I don't really know what to say-" "GET THE FUCK OUT!" Logan screamed this time, even you got goosebumps when you heard him. That already took its toll on Wade. "Okay okay chill...I'm just happy for you guys" he slowly closed the door but right before the end, he quickly opened them again.

"How many rounds did you have?" "GET OUT!" you both scream in union and Wade finally closes the door fully, leaving you two in a very uncomfortable situation.

You slowly looked at Logan and he did the same, but your staring contest broke as you both burst out laughing. You didn't know if it was the adrenaline you still had in your blood, or just a copy mechanism when something really embarrassing happened, either that you were crying from laughing, still laying next to each other, still naked and still in love with each other.

No one warned you that these five days would be the best of your life.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fanfic idea: Old Friends

Bruce Wayne is no stranger to losing people. He has lost them to death or to madness within this city he is desperately trying to save. With each person, the void within him grows darker and darkeruntil he feels like he is still trapped back in that alley next to cold bodies and a broken heart.

That is why he tries his best to not overthink about them as they were in their final moments. He tries to remember his loved ones for who they were in the better days before tragedy struck.

Once in a while, even those memories he desperately tries to suppress because he can't handle the pain they bring. Bruce is aware it's not healthy.

He's seen plenty of men who are allowed their passions to become violent obsessions- he thinks of Harvey often- but being Batman was the one time he was actually making a difference instead of just allowing more and more tragedies to continue.

As Batman, he is at least putting up a fight.

Maybe that's why, on the night of his two old friends' deaths, Bruce sees them standing under a light post in Old Gotham as he is swinging by dressed as Batman. The very same one he would meet them at back as a teenager, scrambling to sneak out after Alfred would do his rounds.

He remembers his heart beating a mile a minute as he hurried out of his manor's caves, using the forgotten paths to meet the type of youth Alfred warned him against.

They would greet him with crooked smiles, sharp teasing voices, but soft, kind eyes. Despite how the older generations would wrinkle their noises at their appearance, they weren't bad people. Sometimes Bruce thought of them whenever people asked if Crime Alley was ever worth the effort to reform.

He knew they deserved someone to at least try.

Bruce, had meet them when he was ten and angry. They had both come from bad homes- at the time he hadn't realized just how bad- but they had been willing to help the privlage rich boy find his way home. They invited to linger when he neeed quite nights, listen to his woes and encourage his desire to be more.

The three were the same age, but sometimes Bruce would think he was the youngest one there. He grew up fast after his parent's murders, but not as fast as they had done.

They would rather spend their nights sleeping around the center of a small plaza in front of an old movie theater than going to either of their family houses, told him.

They were his best friends, a comfort that someone his age understood pain even if it wasn't the same one he had.

Maybe that is why he hadn't told them to stay when they told him that one had finally saved enough money for a motorbike, which the two were planning to use to run away. Bruce thought that they needed to get away until they were all adults and the system would no longer hold the power of them.

He had only given them a big hug, and well wishes.

Bruce never saw them again.

The light post hadn't been fixed in all those years, so the flickering light fell on the two figures casually leaning against it just as it did the very last night. They stood side by side, chatting lowly, lips cured around cigarettes.

Even the smoke floating around them is the same, and for a second, Bruce wonders if he is looking at a photograph. The same crooked smiles, taunting body language as if daring anyone to try to make them sad, and the same kind but so lonely eyes.

Even the blasted motocycle that stole them from him is propped up next to the pair just as it did the last night he saw them.

Bruce swings to a stop on the rooftop overlooking the two he had outlived. He remembers when he found out. Alfred had just turned on the TV to watch the daily news, and their pictures were flashing across the screen, the words Deadly motorcycle accident under their image.

Bruce had thrown up the meal Alfred had made him. No one else came to their funeral, fitting as it had been the girl's father that orginized their deaths.

All because his daughter would not follow her mother's footsteps and thus he would be out of a worker. Not that anyone belived him, even though Bruce had orginized thier funerals and been one of the four attendees.

Even though she had told them both with a shaking voice that her father wanted her to start wearing the clothes she was in to attract customers.

It was one of the first few cold cases he solved as Batman. He owed them that much.

"B?" Nightwing calls, noticing that his father had stopped following. He comes to stand next to him looking down to where Batman is staring. He sees nothing. "What is it?"

"Just some old friends," He mutters, turning away from Johnny and Kitty. He swears he can almost hear Johnny calling his name but Bruce can't bring himself to look back. If he does he'll fall into the void instead of staring. He aims his grabbling hook and swinings away.

Down below, the pair of ghosts watch the heroes go with wishful smiles.

"He's grown."

"He has." Johnny takes a long puff of his cigarette "I think the idiot can see us. He's had too many close calls if he can spot ghosts without the crazy levels of ectoplasm Amity Park has."

"He better not die. His kids need him." Kitty scoffs, but she leans on Johnny all the same, staring at the city they had tried so desperately to escape in life. They had passed by the street corner her father had controlled the working girls in, and she had burst into tears to see that Bruce had turned it into a women's shelter named after her. "This city needs him."

Johnny, for all his faults, and his flirtatious nature had allways been her rock. That's why when she had been sixteen and scared, she had gone to him to try to run away with.

He had gone with her to their deaths. Sometimes, she wonders if her boys ever blamed her for the end of their stories. She certainly did.

Johnny glances to the sky, spitting a swear. "Come babe, the glowing brat is back. We should try to split before he shoves us back to the Zone."

[shellshocklove]

ridin' shotgun | joel miller

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

summary: as the snow covers the land, joel starts to like his new life on the farm, but is it too good to be true?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, guns, vomit, use of pet names, fluff, angst, fingering, oral (f receiving), some tags are left out to avoid spoilers, no use of y/n

a/n: this is the second part to this. so i'd recommend reading that before this one. i'm very sorry this took me so long! i'm hoping it was worth the wait! <3 also a big thank you to @dustydaddyyy who's always up for helping me when i'm stuck <3 happy reading!

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

“Morning, Joel,” Arthur greeted him as Joel entered the kitchen.

Joel felt far from rested. His eyes burned with sleep behind his eyelids. He’d love another hour or two on his pillow, but Arthur’s heavy steps coming down the stairs had woken him.

Damn, these thin walls.

“Mornin’,” Joel said as he sat down at the dining table, looking past the curtain on the portrait of the day. The world was blue with dusk, contrasting the low candlelight inside. Alma stood at the stove, butter crackling in the frying pan as she cracked an egg, then another, two suns in a greasy night sky.

“I think we’ll bring the logging sled today,” Arthur spoke up and gestured out the window, “I think the snow is more than deep enough for the sled.”

“Yeah?” Joel looked out the window again. Assessing the snow, he guessed it was about two feet give or take.

“Yeah, I think it’s gonna be enough– If not we’ll test-drive the sled, make sure it can handle the weight.” Arthur continued, but Joel lost interest as soon as he heard the sound of a door shutting down the hall.

Joel hummed, leaning back in his chair, his eyes flickering to the door of the kitchen waiting to see you walk through. A moment later, you padded into the kitchen in your pajamas, feet clad in soft wool socks. You’d thrown a sweater over your sleep shirt, but Joel remembered how the thin fabric had clung to your skin last night. Remembered the shape of your nipples poking through, the sounds you’d made as you’d whimpered his name. Joel’s cock twitched in his pants at the memory; crashing against the wave of shame and guilt that washed over him when he recalled what he’d done after he’d stepped back into his room.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Arthur greeted you as you sat down, opposite Joel.

“Good morning,” you smiled, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, tiredness like a faraway look across your face.

“Did you sleep well?” Arthur asked.

Your eyes widened at the question, quickly flickering to Joel before they found the table. Your face dug deeper into your hand as you twisted slightly in your chair. A shy smile blossomed across your face.

Huh.

A forgotten tickling feeling of pride filled Joel’s chest as he watched you. The way you avoided his gaze, like your dreams would show through your eyes if you did. But Joel didn’t need to hold your gaze to understand. Something had shifted, both for him and for you. It was different now.

A chuckle escaped Arthur at your motions, “That good, huh?” Arthur teased, “All fairytales and rainbows?”

“Something like that,” you breathed out a chuckle.

Joel cringed. He was closer to a nightmare. Why did he even entertain his thoughts of you? You were the one who was a rainbow, while he’d paint you in a dull grayscale.

Joel let out an inaudible sight, and leaned back in the creaky kitchen chair, as his hands twisted in his lap. He didn’t miss the way his movement caught your eye as he felt the drumroll of your gaze break over him. Joel didn’t dare move, scared he’d scare the warmth of your attention away. But something pulled at his chest, and he couldn’t deny himself to look at you, to drink in your early morning shyness. You didn’t look away this time, instead you smiled. It was a small and polite smile, but it still felt like a kiss to his skin. The small moment between you only lasted a second, but to Joel it felt like an eternity – one he wouldn’t mind spending with you.

You dropped your gaze when Alma placed the breadbasket on the table, and like it had broken a spell, you immediately stood to your feet, “Let me help you, Alma.”

A moment later the table was set and ready, and Arthur was already helping himself to a fried egg. Safe for the sound of cutlery against porcelain plates, a silence fell over the kitchen.

“We uh,” Arthur started, looking over at you, “We were thinking of using the logging sled today,” he informed with a dig into his eggs. “'Could use your help saddling up the horse.”

“Okay,” you nodded, reaching across the table for the butter, “but I need to milk the cows first– you know how they get if I don’t do it first thing–”

“I can do that, sweetie,” Alma interrupted you with a smile, taking a bite of her bread.

“Oh, okay,” you turned your head to Alma as you said it, giving her a smile, but Joel could see the worry behind it. “But if it’s too much I’ll be right there–”

Alma cut you off again, “I can handle it– I did this all by myself before you came along, you know.” She said it with a wink to put you at ease, but Joel saw how your teeth dug into your bottom lip, and he wanted nothing more than to ease it away with a kiss.

No. No kiss.

Shit.

After last night, Joel couldn’t think straight. He wanted you now. He wanted what he knew he couldn’t have– what he shouldn’t have. With his eyes boring down into his plate, he tried to will his wants away. Tried his best to not build memories on things not yet said – to not feel the ache of never having touched you.

The air nipped harshly at Joel’s cheeks. The sun had finally risen over the mountain, shining its light over the crystals in the snow. A thousand diamonds blinked at him as he helped Arthur pull the log sled out of the barn. It was covered in dust and dirt, and the cobwebs stuck to Joel’s mittens like cling film. Clapping his hands, a cloud of dust evaporated from his hands – almost cartoon-like.

Joel picked at the yarn, trying to cover the hole that had become wider and wider every day. He felt bad about it; you’d made them for him out of the goodness of your heart, and now he’d ruined them– or the work had. Sharp branches had hooked themselves through the stiches, and the rough bark had worn the yarn down.

As Arthur checked the sled, and got it ready, Joel felt himself drawn to the open stable door. Leaning against the barn door he watched you quietly. You worked with practiced hands, saddling the old workhorse, Ingydar, as you talked to it in a low voice.

“You’re going to work in the woods today,” you said to the beloved nag, “Work in the woods with Arthur and Joel. Do you remember Joel? He’s a nice man, isn’t he?”

Joel felt his cheeks warm at your words, his eyes falling to the worn wood floor, as he continued to listen to your little conversation.

“Yes, he is! He’s very nice– fed you too many carrots last time he said hello, didn’t he? But you liked that, didn’t you?”

Joel looked up at that, his eyes locking with yours’ as you looked straight at him, a teasing smirk covering your face.

“That ain’t how I remember it,” Joel defended, stepping closer to the open stall door. You tightened the straps on the saddle while your smile grew larger at his words.

“No?” You teased, moving on to checking the straps on the bridle.

Joel stepped closer, his mitten clad hand coming up to pet the old horse. “No,” Joel shook his head, “you kept handin’ me all those carrots ‘s how I remember it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you laughed, stepping closer.

“Sure, you don’t,” Joel teased, a rare smile tugging at his lips, matching your own.

Locking eyes with you again, Joel felt something light bubble under the surface of his ribcage. You really were beautiful like this – eyes sparkling and smile wide. He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him the way you were right now – like he hadn’t lost everything, like he didn’t have blood all over his hands, like he was worthy of a smile.

Stepping even closer, you noticed the holes in them. “Joel, your mittens.”

“Sorry…” he started, trailing off when you grabbed his hands, “They get hooked in the branches ‘nd–”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut him off, with a shake of your head, “I can fix them– it’s no problem.”

The sun shone through a small window in the back wall of the stall. Bright white light lit up the back of your head, crowning you in the morning. You stood so close now, the warmth of your finger brushing over his rough skin through the hole, and his hands suddenly felt heavy in yours.

A burden you shouldn’t bear.

“Uh…” Joel cleared his throat as he stepped away, pulling his hands from yours, “Thank you.”

Finishing up saddling the horse you led it out the stall door, the iron shoes click-clacked against the worn wood floor before it fell silent against the snow when you led the horse outside. With a nod in the direction of the house you told him to wait inside for you.

“Would ya let Arthur know he can go right ahead with the sled?” he asked you, his body half-turned towards the barn house.

You let out a breathy laugh, a frosty cloud of smoke clouding your smile before you nodded.

Inside, he waited for you on the couch, watching you wave Arthur off on the horse through the window. Joel’s heart picked up its beat when he heard your hollow steps across the porch. He shifted slightly in his seat when you walked in, almost standing but then decided against it in the same moment, rubbing his hands over his thighs instead.

Stomping off the snow covering your shoes you smiled at him like always, and Joel didn’t know what to do. A feeling starting to bubble under the surface of his skin. Excitement? Nervousness? Dread? Joel couldn’t tell. Maybe he felt all three at once– if that was possible. Excitement at the prospect of being alone with you, but also nervousness at the prospect of being alone with you. They gathered around his heart, filled his chest, but the dread, it climbed up his spine, bit its cold teeth in the back of his neck.

“Just let me grab my things,” you hurried with a gesture towards your room.

Joel cleared his throat and nodded. It felt clumsy and awkward, and he cursed himself for it while he waited for you. He couldn’t be alone with you. Couldn’t entertain the growing feelings. It wasn’t right – to you – Joel needed to stay away, to keep a friendly distance.

Joel sighed and closed his eyes.

Nothin’s happenin’. 

Like a broken record, those two words spun in Joel’s head in the few seconds it took before you were back in the living room, dropping down next to him with your basket overflowing with yarn.

It felt like déjà vu.

You worked in a comfortable silence, and Joel didn’t know if he should say anything. He watched how you worked your needle with a practiced hand – you made it look so easy – but Joel knew it wasn’t. A lifetime ago he’d spent way too many nights with a needle in his hand trying to mend a hole over the knee of tiny pink pants, his stubby fingers gripping the needle tightly, guiding it clumsily through the fabric until he was red in the face from frustration.

He needed to thank you, but should he say it now or wait until you’d finished? The longer he watched you, the stronger that bubbling feeling felt, bubbling over, up his throat and over the bite of dread.

“There!” you smiled when you’d fastened off the last stich. You grabbed a hold of his hands before he’d had time to think and pulled the mittens over his knuckles.

“Thank you,” he said, voice scruff but tone still shyer than he’d expected.

You smiled at him again and leaned a little closer to readjust the mittens, tugging at the yarn where you’d mended them, pulling them into the right shape.

“You’re welcome, Joel.” You locked eyes with him and suddenly Joel noticed how close you sat. It made him hold his breath as his heart started hammering against his chest.

His gaze flickered towards your lips for half a second, wishing for something he couldn’t have– shouldn’t have. He caught himself quickly, finding your eyes again but they were fixated on something else, his lips. Who leaned in first, Joel would never know, the only thing he knew was the feel of your breath against his lips before they brushed over yours in a soft kiss.

Warm. Joel felt so warm.

His hands worked by their own volition; mitten clad, and soft against your cheek, pulling you closer to him, but not close enough. Your hand grabbed at his jacket in the crook of his elbow, tethering yourself to him, to the moment, like you’d float away if you didn’t. You hummed against his lips, a desperate sound as you shifted closer.

The sound messed with Joel’s head, he wanted to hear more of it, pull it from you again. His tongue teased at the seam of your lips, a distant thought at the back of his head questioning where his boldness suddenly came from, but he ignored it.

It didn’t matter.

The sound escaped you once more and you opened yourself up to him. Joel’s other hand, moving with desperate urgency, found your hip – pulling you even closer. He licked into your mouth, and he fell deeper into you, deeper into the grip you’d snaked around his heart.

A loud slam of the kitchen door pulled Joel away, and the reality of what he’d done trickled coldly down his spine. Out in the kitchen Alma rummaged around while you looked at him with bright eyes, pupils slightly dilated with a hazy smile across your lips.

Joel felt awful.

He shouldn’t have done that.

He’d taken advantage of you. He’s too old for you – none of this was right.

You noticed the change in him, you must’ve, because your eyebrows pulled together in the smallest of frowns as you regarded him.

“Joel,” you started, your voice low and soft, but he just shook his head.

“I’m sorry!” Joel quickly stood to his feet, wiping his hands on his jeans as though that would somehow erase what he’d done. “We– I shouldn’t have done that– I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” you tried to grab at his hand, but Joel only shook his head again.

“I’m sorry.”

Joel was out the door before he could regret it, lord knows he couldn’t take anymore regret. His life had been full of them, full of ‘I shouldn’t haves’. He dug his mitten-clad hands in the pockets of his jacket, his head hanging low as he headed down the road towards the forest.

A heavy blanket of clouds had shaded the morning sun, the world darkened in the beginnings of real winter. As a snowflake kissed his cheek, his thoughts wandered to the butterfly he’d seen all those weeks ago. How it had rested over his knee– made him think of Sarah.

You’re on the right path.

Joel had never felt this lost.

The kiss.

It took up most of Joel’s mind. When he worked himself hard with an axe in his hand, when he was counting sheep, but most of all, each time he saw you. Then his thoughts had a mind of its own, reminding him of how your lips had felt against his own, the feel of your body under his touch, and the sounds you’d made just for him. The kiss had been the first kiss who’d made him want another. The first kiss where he’d pulled away and not been satisfied. He needed to kiss you again, to feed this new hunger for you.

But it wasn’t right. An old man like him with someone like you. It wasn’t a good idea– would never be a good idea.

So, Joel tried his best to avoid you, but avoiding you was impossible – you lived in the same house, shared a bedroom wall. He saw you every day whether he liked it or not – and he did.

He liked you, and it scared the shit out of him.

He felt like he lived in a cruel state of limbo. He didn’t know what you were thinking. If you were mad (you had every right), if you were disappointed (he hoped you weren’t), or happy (maybe the most devastating thought of all).

The fire crackled loudly, sparks kicking, the sound making you look up from your book. Joel’s eyes found his own book, rereading the same paragraph he’d been trying to read for the last thirty minutes– ever since Arthur and Alma had retired to bed. This was the first time he’d been alone with you since the kiss, and he felt it all over his body. The aftermath of the kiss sticking to his body like the Austin heat had done in the peak of summer – he couldn’t shake it off, couldn’t ignore it.

“When was the last time you cut your hair?” you suddenly spoke across the silence.

Your question was unexpected, and it made him pull his brows together in a frown. “You sayin’ I look bad?” Joel asked, dogearing the page he was on before closing his book.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head, “No-no, I mean it’s just a little long.”

Joel looked at you for a second before he ran a hand through his hair. Well, it wasn’t like you weren’t right. Lately his hair had started to get in his eyes, even when he pushed it back. Most days when he was working outside, he could tame it under the knitted beanie you’d made him, but it had started to have a life of its own.

“Boston. I think, Tes–” he cut himself off before he said her name, clearing his throat awkwardly to cover his slip up. He’d forgotten, forgotten for a second that she was dead. Forgotten she’d died for him and his stupid quest to find his brother. Died for nothing.

“I can trim it for you… if you want?” you asked with a bite of your lip.

He couldn’t say no to you.

“Uh… yeah,” he nodded, “Okay.”

As you led him up the stairs to the bathroom, Joel tried not to think too hard about what it would mean – you cutting his hair. He tried not to think about how the last person who’d done something like that for him was Tess, and what it meant that she was gone– that it now would be you.

Your fingers running through his wet hair felt good– what didn’t feel good was the way his back almost gave out from leaning his head in the bathroom sink. The basin was too small, and the tap hung too low for him to comfortably turn his head, instead the water spilled down his face.

Why the hell was he drowning himself for you?

“Done soon?” he grunted, his hands gripping the sides of the sink while he felt your fingers scrub at his roots.

Yes, Joel was uncomfortable, but the way you stood so close – practically leaning on him – it felt nice. So nice that Joel thought that if his eyes weren’t already shut, they’d flutter shut at your touch.

Soap suds ran down the sides of his face as you giggled, “Just a little longer.”

You maneuvered his head back under the tap, your right hand running through his hair under the water while the left covered his eyes in a useless attempt. Then you grabbed the towel resting next to him on the porcelain, the world suddenly silenced through fabric as you dried his now clean hair.

“You can stand now,” you told him with a small tap to his back as you stepped away. You’d laid the towel around his shoulders, ready to catch any excess water.

Joel groaned, “I don’t think I can.”

You giggled again and then your hands wrapped around him, helping him up. Joel groaned again, but this time for show. He liked the way you touched him, gentle – always gentle. He plopped down in the chair you’d brought in from the spare bedroom, while you got your comb and scissors ready. The wooden chair creaked as he shifted his legs, widening them while he rested his hands in his lap.

He’d never seen this chair before, but then again Joel hadn’t explored the house much – it didn’t feel right. He was a guest after all, only staying for a few months– or was he? His eyes found you in the mirror, and then that thought suddenly felt awfully wrong.

“Ready?” you turned around to him, a pair of kitchen scissors in one hand, and an old shaver plugged into the wall in the other.

You didn’t say much as you worked. It was uncharacteristic for a hairdresser, at least from what he could remember. Back before the outbreak he’d rarely gotten his hair cut by someone other than himself. With his clipper guard set to four he’d tidy up the sides when it was needed and called it a day.

Your quietness was also uncharacteristic to you. You never talked his ear off, but you were never this quiet – at least you weren’t before the–

Stop.

Joel tried not to think about that.

He’d gone and fucked everything up now. Instead, he stole a glance at you in the mirror, watched the way your lips pursed in concentration to the metal sound of scissors snipping, and the low buzz of the shaver.

He needed to apologize to you.

“I…” he started, watching your head snap curiously to watch him in the mirror.

No turning back now– just say it.

“I’m sorry ‘bout the other day– It wasn’t right to kiss you like that.”

Your curiosity pulled into confusion across your face, and your eyebrows tugged together in a frown.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Joel,” you told him, your voice gentle, “I didn’t exactly–... well I definitely wasn’t stopping you.” You said it with an awkward laugh. Your kind, always kind, eyes that’d watched him in the mirror, now glued to the back of his head as you gently combed his hair.

Joel felt something bloom in his chest at your words, and despite himself, he felt his cheeks warm slightly as thoughts invaded his mind. 

Maybe he should tell you why he did it. 

Shit, did Joel even know why he did it? 

“I thought you–” Joel felt the words stall in his throat for a second, before he cleared it decisively. 

No going back now, he thought to himself, just rip off the band aid you idiot.

Another part of Joel screamed at him to stop the words before they even left his lips, and his doubts gnawed at his insides with more intensity than ever.

“The other night, when you were asleep,” he paused to swallow, a lump growing in his throat, “I was getting to bed and I heard–... well, y’were sort of having a dream, sweetheart.”

With nervous eyes, Joel found your face in the mirror, and watched the way the smiling expression dropped off your face, quickly replaced by a wide-eyed look of pure mortification. 

“I–” you stuttered out, and Joel rushed to correct himself. 

“It’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, I shouldn’t a been watchin’ you, I just–... thought maybe y’liked me, or something.” 

His words hung heavy in the air between you, and Joel’s heart picked up its beat as he watched how all your movements suddenly went quiet, along with the shaver, seemingly processing all this new information.

Your eyes found the back of his head again, and when he felt the comb run through his hair again, Joel suddenly felt very guilty for even bringing it up. 

Stupid. Why on earth would he do that? Was he trying to send you into an early grave? 

“I’m sorry you walked in on that,” you finally managed, your eyes fixated on your working hands as you refused to meet Joel’s eye – looking infinitely embarrassed.

You’re sorry? He didn’t want to hear those words leave your mouth ever again – the only person in this bathroom who was sorry, was him.

In the mirror you looked so small, and it was his own doing. Your teeth dug harshly into your bottom lip as your combed, and combed, and combed his hair in a shaky hand. Joel felt his heart break.

He’d dug himself too deep now, Joel thought, he had to tell you, to reassure you it was okay.

After a beat of silence, Joel spoke again.

“I’m not.” 

Your eyes widened at his words before they snapped to the mirror, staring at him as the shears trembled slightly in your hand. Still, you didn’t say anything.

Joel didn’t have the faintest idea where he was going with this, and with the way you looked at him now, his doubts seemed to overtake him as he got the sudden urge to swallow his words right back up. 

“Look, forget I even said anything angel, I didn’t mean anythin’ by it–” 

The word slipped from his lips like the most natural thing in the world. Something flashed in your eyes through the mirror, he could’ve sworn it, and Joel seemed to realize a beat too late what he’d called you. Feeling his cheeks heat up, his embarrassment forced his gaze to fall anywhere but at you, quicklyfinding his hands knotted in his lap.

“Joel,” you said softly, and despite himself, Joel felt the earlier warmth expanding like a balloon in his chest, “It’s okay.” 

He perked up at your words, his eyes snapping from his hands to you as you moved, coming to stand in front of him. Your hands deftly moved the comb through his curls as he looked up at you through the strands. You seemed focused on cutting the ends, before you let out a breath. 

“It would’ve been okay if you had been watching, you know,” you said, your voice simple and even.

Joel felt his entire body tense at your words as his eyes bored into your face. He watched the way your face grimaced slightly; your eyes focused on snipping the strands right.

“I just mean I–” There was a pause as you gave him a half-embarrassed smile, your lips pursed together as you seemed to search for your next words. 

You were standing so close, so close he could smell the sweetness off you. You made him dizzy. Dizzy with warmth. Dizzy with proximity. Dizzy with something heavy in the depths of his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Joel didn’t know why he did it, didn’t know why the way his hands moved felt like second nature, but when the tips of his fingers grazed the back of your knee in an attempt to reassure you, it felt like something was calling to him.

“It’s okay,” he told you, “You can tell me, angel.” 

Finally, your eyes met Joel’s. Those kind sparkling eyes bored into his own as you, in an attempt to gather some courage, swallowed hard.

“I–I do like you,” you said.

The finality of your words lodged something loose in Joel, and something he hadn’t felt in a long time flicker to life in his chest.

“That so?” he asked, his voice a little lower.

Somehow, you were stood even closer, only slightly taller than Joel as he angled his head up towards you. Your chest started to rise and fall in a quicker rhythm at his question. Looking at him, your lips twitched in a nervous smile as you turned slightly away from his, placing the comb and scissors on the sink gently.

You nodded.

Still turned away from him, he watched how you gathered yourself, your hands resting on the porcelain as your head hung low between your shoulder blades.

“When you…” you trailed off, moving the comb and scissors in a perfect parallel line next to each other. “When you,” you repeated, “kissed me… I thought maybe… you liked me back.”

It was now or never.

Joel knew it.

Standing from his chair, Joel’s hand found your shoulder, turning you to face him. You didn’t look at him right away, your head tipped in a bow as you fiddled with your fingers.

“Hey,” his fingers brushed lightly under your chin, tilting your head up. Your eyes were wide, flickering like sunlight over wavy water as you studied his face. His eyes fell to your lips – he couldn’t help it, and the memories of how they’d felt against him resurfaced in his mind. If he just leaned a little closer, he’d feel them again.

“Joel… if you don’t want me– if you don’t like me, you can just tell me– I’m a big girl.” Your voice sounded almost breathless, like you’d run up a flight of stairs or walked miles in knee deep snow.

Joel shook his head before you’d even finished your sentence. Don’t want you? Don’t like you? It was absurd.

“It ain’t that.”

“Then what is it?” The way the words left your lips, broken, beaten, it had Joel’s heart tear apart in his chest.

“It ain’t right, angel. I’m too old f’you– I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

A frown pulled at your face then, “Take advantage?” you questioned with a shake of your head. “I’m a grown woman, Joel. Would it be taking advantage if it was what I wanted? If what I wanted was… you?”

Joel had never thought about it like that before. The thought of you wanting him back had seemed like a fantasy – something that would never even be a possibility.

Your fingers moved a strand of hair out of his face, brushing it away, and Joel held his breath. Hesitating for just a second, you cupped his cheek gently and leaned closer. The softness of your lips over his own had Joel reeling – didn’t matter how quick or chaste the kiss had been – it only left him wanting more.

“I look stupid.”

“You don’t look stupid, Joel,” you laughed, full of joy.

You adjusted the bandana holder and fixed the crooked kerchief around his neck slightly. The red fabric picked up the warmth in his lined leather jacket, and the metal holder caught the shine of the sun.

Joel couldn’t believe he’d said yes.

This morning when he’d gotten up with the sun, Alma had stuck her head out of her and Arthur’s bedroom right as he was on his way out the bathroom. Arthur wasn’t feeling well, and Joel had prepared himself to work in the woods alone. It wasn’t the first time Arthur had gotten sick, and with the way he was looking lately, Joel figured it wouldn’t be the last.

He'd been washing his dishes from his breakfast when you’d padded into the kitchen. With a look over his shoulder, he’d caught the way you’d smiled at him before you padded over to him.

“Good morning,” you’d said and wrapped your arms around him from behind.

“Mornin’, angel,” he’d hummed back. He’d dried his plate and placed it on the counter before he’d turned around, still in your embrace.

Joel wasn’t used to it yet, your affection, he still had a hard time comprehending it was meant for him. That it wasn’t some joke you’d so cruelly played on him. A joke to see how long you could feed him this adoration until he’d get hooked on it, hooked on you, before pulling away.

Joel didn’t dare hold you too tightly. Everyone he’s ever held in his arms had been pulled away by death’s hands. Every day since you’d told him you liked him, wanted him, Joel had been afraid to lose you.

Maybe that’s why he’d said yes? You’d convinced him it’ll be safer for you if you knew how to shoot.

Joel didn’t know.

The only thing he knew was that he’d caved under your wide and blinking eyes. You’d looked too cute to say no, and he disliked seeing a frown upon your lips, unless he could kiss it away.

Which he did – but only when you were alone.

You’d both agreed to keep this thing, the fondness, the love, growing between you a secret. It was easier that way, at least until you both knew what it all meant. Right now, it was a thing, a fondness, but not yet a love, although Joel wasn’t far off if he were being honest with himself, especially when you looked at him with those moony eyes.

With a pat to his chest, you pushed off him with a smile. In a closet upstairs you’d found you both a cowboy hat and some bandanas you’d insisted on him wearing. The whole thing was silly, but the way you’d lit up with happiness when you’d placed the cowboy hat on his head, it didn’t matter to Joel.

“C'mon cowboy,” you laughed, and grabbed his hand.

He let you drag him with you before he caught up with you. He pulled at your arm so you crashed into his side, and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. It made you giggle, and the sound bubbled around Joel’s heart.

Ingydar stood waiting dutifully in his stall, where you’d gotten him ready. The saddle bags were packed with your lunches and a box of ammunition, and at the back of the saddle you’d rolled two sheep skins and tied them with leather ties. Everything was ready for your day out together.

Or your date, Joel thought as he trailed after you, closing the stable door behind him as you led the horse outside.

Joel insisted you get on the horse first with his help. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable and sat as safely as possible before he slid his foot into the stirrups. You wiggled around to mess with him, and Joel grabbed your knee to steady you. It made you giggle again, and he earned himself a ‘Relax, honey’. Then you leaned back and made space for him to get in front of you.

Joel liked the sound of ‘honey’.

“Y’alright back there?” Joel said over his shoulder after he’d gotten on the horse. Placing the shotgun over his lap, Joel made sure the safety was on before his hands came down to take yours where they rested over your thighs, and gently guided them to slot around his waist.

“Y’actually gotta hang on sweetheart, or you’ll slide right off the minute he starts trotting,” Joel said, fighting back a smile when he felt your arms tighten around him.

“I know how to ride a horse,” you retorted, and his chest shook with a slight chuckle. 

“Not saying you don’t, angel,” he replied easily, and kicked Ingydar lightly in the sides.

The old horse started walking, and Joel pulled on the reins, steering it down the road and then south towards the woods.

“’Just makin’ sure you ain’t gonna fall off ‘s all,” he said.

You hummed in return, leaning your body against his back. “It’ll have to be a really bumpy ride for me to fall off, Joel,” you spoke, the innuendo not lost on Joel.

He decided to pull at the thread a little, “And I s’pose you’ve had a lot of these bumpy rides, have you, angel?”

Your hands around his waist tightened slightly as he felt you lean over his shoulder, your hat dumping into his. A smile tugged at his lips, and in his side vision he could see you narrow your eyes playfully at him. 

“What are you insinuating, Joel Miller?” you asked him, your tone only half-sharp.

A chuckle rumbled in Joel’s chest, before he bit back a smirk. “I’m not insinuatin’ nothin’,” he replied, keeping his tone as normal as he could.

He felt your eyes study him for a moment before he heard you let out a dissatisfied hum. “You definitely are.” 

“Well, we got an entire horse ride to god knows where to debate it,” he shot back, which made you smile.

You leaned back again, and a second later he felt you rest your forehead against his back. Joel figured you must’ve flicked your hat off; letting it rest against your back tied by the string around your neck.

“An entire horse ride to god knows where?” you repeated half-mockingly, speaking into his back but Joel could hear your smile in your voice, “You really know how to make a girl wait for it.”  

“You have no idea, angel,” Joel replied, an otherwise joking tone overshadowed by something else, something more honest.

Behind him, Joel felt you shift, and a small spark of pride filled his chest. He had an effect on you, the same way you had an effect on him. Quickly, you changed the subject, and that spark of pride grew larger in Joel’s chest.

“Did you have a plan, by the way?” you asked him, your voice light and innocent, “Or are we just riding this horse off into the sunset?” 

“It’s the middle of the day,” Joel pointed out, “And you’re the one who put me in a bandana, so don’t even bother tellin’ me you ain’t the one with the plan.” 

You let out a giggle at this and pressed your face into his back once more. “Just keep going straight for now, you bore, I’ll tell you when.” 

Joel chuckled at you, and did as you said, guiding the horse south at the edge of the forest where the snow wasn’t as deep. He felt you tighten your hands slightly around his waist, before you fell into a comfortable silence.  

The horse held a steady pace, rocking you in a soothing rhythm in the saddle. The day was bright and sunny, almost blinding against the snow. Joel had never gone down this way before, never seen the stone face of the mountain up close, the way it cried glittery winter tears when the sun shone.

“There’s a river down here somewhere,” you suddenly spoke, breaking the silence that had built between you. “There’s a nice little spot down there where we can camp.”

Joel pulled at the reins, following in the direction you’d pointed. “You’ve been down this way before?” he asked.

“Maybe once or twice a year,” you started, “There’s this town, Jackson, maybe a week’s ride south. I’m not exactly supposed to talk about it– they run a pretty tight ship, coming off a little more threatening than they are, but they’re sort of like a commune. Arthur has this deal with one of the ladies, Maria, where we help each other out by trading.”

A frown pulled at Joel’s face, “I thought y’all were all alone out here?” 

“Well, we are, but not really. It’s because of them we still have running water and electricity– we’re connected to the same system they use. And then usually in the fall or in the spring Arthur will go trade with them for things we need like soap, or nails and stuff we can’t make on our own at the farm.”

Joel hummed, and the puzzle pieces of information you’d given him, started to fit into the bigger picture he’d painted of your life at the farm. He could understand why Alma and Arthur still resided at the farm. It was their home, the place where they’d lived their whole life, but for you, for you it was different.

“So… you know ‘em? You’ve gone with Arthur to meet this Maria?” he asked.

“A little, I guess. She’s uh…” you trailed off, resting your cheek against Joel’s back instead.

The river finally came into view, and Joel let you have the silence. He guided Ingydar down towards the riverbank. A wound cut the ice in two where the river poured backwards eternally. The water clucked under the ice as you rode along the edge; was it wishful thinking to think it sounded like the coming of spring?

“She?” Joel prodded gently.

Joel heard you sight before you sat up, no longer leaning your weight on him. “She invited me to come live with them… in Jackson.”

Joel frowned, “’nd you told her no?”

“Well… yes– I just, I can’t leave them alone.”

“Sweetheart–” Joel started, but you cut him off.

“Let’s stop here!”

You didn’t say anything as Joel watched you loosen the saddle bags and sheep skins, while he petted the old horse. He found himself wondering how you’d ended up on the farm, and if you could’ve been happier somewhere else– like Jackson.

He tied Ingydar to a tree, before he waded back to where you were trampling the snow flat. He helped you form a bench out of the snow, cutting through the layers until you found a hard enough crust to hold both your weights. The sheepskin warmed under him, as he sat down with a groan. It made you turn around from where you sat on your haunches in front of the fire you were building, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of your mouth.

“Tired already, old man?” you teased as you stood to your feet and walked closer.

Spreading his legs, Joel made room for you to stand between them, as he tipped his head back to study you above him. Your smile was dangerous, wild and wonderful.

“Old man, huh?” He raised an eyebrow at you, not able to resist the urge to wrap his hand around the back of your knee.

Your teeth caught on your bottom lip at his touch, and a pride swelled inside Joel. Pride at pulling a reaction from you. Before you could answer him, a boldness took a hold of him, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you down into his lap.

You yelped out a giggle and your hands came down to brace yourself against his shoulder. Joel felt a feeling overcome him; one he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Happiness.

It tickled at his heart, teared at something inside, and it scared him.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice coated in concern, and Joel felt his cheeks heat up. He let out a dry chuckle, embarrassed by how easily you could read him.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “I just…” he trailed off, studying your face and watching how your eyebrows pulled together in the smallest of frowns.

He shook his head again, before he leaned forward, not thinking it through as he brushed his lips over yours in a kiss. You reciprocated the kiss immediately, although maybe a little caught off guard. Joel’s arm around your waist tightened, as his other hand brushed up your side. He needed to hold you close for just a second, just to know this was real, that this feeling was real, and that you were real.

You broke away first, breathless with a giggle before you dove down again for another peck. Joel let you kiss him; let you cup his cheek and bring him closer. You shifted in his lap, your core rubbing slightly over his crotch. It could’ve been an accident, but the small gasp you let out told him it wasn’t. His arm around your waist tightened, and he had to pull away.

Wide eyes looked back at him, and Joel couldn’t help but stare at your lips. He felt like a teenager, a teenager sneaking out the house to meet a girl. To finally be with you without the secrecy – to touch you and kiss you openly.

“You’re somethin’ else, aren’t you?” he whispered.

A smile teased at your lips before you leaned in closer, your breath brushing over his ear, “You have no idea.”

Blood coursed south, and Joel felt his cock come alive behind the confinements of his jeans. It was cold enough for a man to freeze his balls off, but desire’s warmth filled him anyway.

He pulled his head away, finding your eyes blown full of lust. A smile teased at the corner of his mouth as he spoke, “Let’me teach ya to shoot before you get too excited.”

“Before I get too excited?” you laughed, and sat up properly in his lap again, “I think that might be you, old man.”

Teaching you to shoot was less of a success than Joel had intended. He’d found a couple of old glass bottles in the barn to use as target practice, but your aim was terrible, missing each shot. To your credit, it wasn’t your fault. He’d taught you how to load the gun, how to stand safely, and with his hand snaking around your body, how to hold it properly.

He could swear his intentions were good at first, he actually wanted to teach you, to make sure you knew how to shoot, and safely, but when he saw how your body shivered from his voice in your ear – he decided to play with you a little.

Maybe he whispered a couple of innuendos in your ear while he dropped his voice an octave just to see your reaction. Or maybe he pressed himself a little closer to your body, showing you how it was done like in those cliché romcoms he’d been forced to watch with Sarah.

It didn’t take long before the empty bottles, or the shot gun was forgotten, as you pressed your lips against his in a desperate kiss, your cold nose rubbing against his own.

But Joel didn’t have it in him to complain.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound at the door jolted Joel from his sleep. He’d almost been dragged under, laying in that limbo state between awake and asleep– not yet in dreamland, but not still among the living.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Joel sat up, letting the duvet fall into his lap and exposing his chest as the streak of yellow light coming through the ajar door cut his bedroom in two. Joel had to squint to see you properly in the doorway as he shed the last grip of sleep.

“Angel?” he questioned, as a tight grip of fear ran through him. He sat up properly now, ready to jump out of bed, his hands already searching for his shotgun resting at the foot of the bed.

With his eyes now fully adjusted to the dark, he watched how you quietly stepped inside his bedroom, closing the door as gently as you could – and the panic seemed to seize just a little. You padded to the edge of his bed, still so quiet, with your hands clasped nervously over where the hem of your sleep shirt met the bare of your thighs.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whispered.

Joel shifted over slightly and lifted the duvet for you to slip under. An open invitation– one you were quick to accept.

“D’you have a nightmare?” Joel whispered, the wolf hour keeping his voice down.  

You shifted closer to him, your head rested on his pillow, and Joel couldn’t help himself from touching your waist gently – his fingers dancing over the soft cotton of your shirt.

“No,” you whispered back, “just couldn’t sleep.”

Joel hummed and shifted over onto his back, extending his arm for you to shift closer. It felt natural now – touching you. You felt like his, and he felt like yours. He didn’t know where it was going, but he was starting to enjoy the road to you. To get to know you more, what made you laugh, your quirks, and the way your body felt under his hands.

The weight of your head on his chest, Joel welcomed; his other hand quick to intertwine with the one you’d slung over his middle. He just wanted you close now, every chance he got.

“’Just try ‘nd get some sleep, my angel.” Joel pressed a kiss to the top of your head before he pulled back and closed his eyes. With you in his arms now, he knew he’d have no trouble falling back asleep.

“I–” you whispered.

Joel hummed; his eyes still closed.

“I kept thinking about you.”

Curiously Joel opened his eyes to find yours. You had tilted your head to look at him, you mouth slightly parted as you studied him with moony eyes. The way you looked at him stirred something inside him, a warmth pooling in the depth of his core.

“Yeah?” he questioned with a slight cock of his eyebrow, “’bout what?”

Then you got shy all of a sudden, hiding your head in his chest. “Thought about how you touched me,” you whispered.

“Touched ya how?” he prodded, gliding his hand up your arm slowly.

He knew it was wrong to play with you like this. Everything was still new, each touch unexplored and seeking. He couldn’t fuck you, even if he wanted to, and he did, badly, but Joel couldn’t risk it. Not in this world, not at this farm, it wasn’t fair to you.

Over him you held your breath as he teased your skin, eyes fluttering shut as his hand moved down the side of your body, and under the duvet.

“Like… like how you touched me in my dream,” you exhaled in a breathless voice.

Now Joel sucked in a breath, holding it in his lungs as he tried to calm himself down. He had an idea on how he’d touched you in your dream, but he couldn’t hold himself back from asking anyway.

“’nd where did I touch ya in your dream, angel.”

You squirmed against his body when his hand reached your bare thigh under the duvet, and soon your fingers locked around his wrist to guide it up over the soft skin of the inside of your thigh.

“Here,” you whispered.

A small gasp escaped you when he brushed his thumb gently over your clothed clit. Joel felt the wet warmth of you against the pad of his finger, making his cock twitch to life in his pajama pants.

“Here?” Joel whispered back, as his thumb started rubbing small circles over your clit.

“Y-yes.”

The noise you made, the noise he pulled from you from his small touch, sounded like the sweetest melody in Joel’s ear, and he wanted to hear it again. He ran his fingers through your cloth covered folds, and felt the wetness already seeped through.

Fuck.

“My angel… You’re so wet already,” he tutted, “Were you touchin’ yourself thinkin’ ‘bout me in that bed of yours?” he hummed in your ear.

A shiver ran through your body when his fingers found your clit again. Slowly, he started circling his fingers again, and the quiet moan that escaped you filled his chest with desire.

“Yes,” you breathed out, almost a whimper.

His teeth caught on his bottom lip, biting down to stave off the groan he wanted to let out at your words. He needed more of you, to feel the softness of you, to pull more of those breathy whimpers from your breath.

“Tell me, angel.”

In a bold move, Joel dipped his fingers into your panties, gliding two thick fingers through the seam of your folds, dipping into your arousal soiling your panties. His touch made you suck in a quick breath, as your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. A proud grin spread across Joel’s face. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman, even longer since he’d been with a woman he felt something for.

He’d felt something for Tess, but that had been so complicated – it didn’t work right, they didn’t work right together as more than friends, like the puzzle pieces didn’t quite fit together. But the sex had been good, something to make them both forget for a little while.

Everything with you worked almost too easily, and Joel wanted to make you feel good, you deserved it, he thought.

“I-I,” you said breathlessly, as he worked his fingers slowly up and down from your hole to your clit, “I thought about your f-fingers.”

“Yeah, baby? Where?” He whispered in your ear before placing a kiss to the column of your neck. Joel was playing with you now, seeing how desperate he could get you before he tasted you.

“I-inside… I thought about your fingers inside me.”

Joel smiled into your neck. This felt as good a time as any to slip a finger inside you, so he did, slowly. You keened under his touch, and the sound of the small gasp you let out made Joel’s cock even harder.

“Like this baby?” he teased, pumping his finger slowly in and out of your wet warmth. He felt your hand wrap around his wrist, holding his arm, almost guiding him in his movements. He curled his finger inside you, trying to find that spongy spot inside that made you see stars.

“Y-yes, Joel–ah!”

There it was.

He liked the sound of his name falling from your lips like this, and he intended to hear it again. He couldn’t help but think about the way your cunt would squeeze around his cock, how tight you’d feel around him, as he continued to massage the spot with the pad of his finger.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” he cooed, and placed a kiss to your cheek.

“Uh-uh,” you nodded, your eyebrows pulling together in a frown of pleasure, “Uh-uh.”

He felt your walls flutter around him, and Joel knew he had you just where he wanted you. Quickly, he pulled out his finger before slipping in a second. Your wetness dripped down his hand, coating him in your arousal with every pump of his fingers inside you.

Your breathing picked up, and small moans escaped you in time with the thrusting of his fingers. Joel had to contain himself from rubbing his bulge against your thigh, chasing any kind of relief.

This wasn’t about him, he told himself, he only wanted to make you feel good.

He knew you were close now, with just a flick of his thumb over your clit he’d have you coming on his hand – but Joel didn’t want it to be over yet. He needed to taste you, he’d thought about it as he’d jerked himself of, fantasized about how you’d taste on his tongue.

Suddenly, Joel pulled his finger out of your cunt. A strangled noise of, what Joel could only describe as disappointment, escaped your lips. It made Joel chuckle.

“Joel,” you whined, and squeezed your fingers around his wrist.

He didn’t answer, instead he sat up, a teasing smile coating his face as he shifted down the bed and pulled the duvet with him.

“Calm down, angel, be good f’me, okay?”

His hand wrapped around your calf to spread you apart for him, and he slotted between your legs. He placed a gentle kiss to your knee and let his eyes find yours where they looked back at him wide with anticipation.

“Are you gonna be good f’me?” he asked as he gave you another soft kiss, but this time to the inside of your thigh.

A breath escaped you in staccato, and you nodded, “Y-yes, Joel.”

“Good girl,” he rumbled, placing fluttering kisses up your thigh until he reached your core.

Joel didn’t want to waste any more time.

He stripped you out of your panties, and threw them to the side to get lost in the bedding. Finally, he got a good look at you, and fuck you were beautiful. Your cunt glistened with your wetness in the low white light of the moon coming through the window. Your hole pulsed when his thumb found your clit, where he pulling the hood back slightly as he teased you.

“Please,” you pleaded, your hand wrapping around his shoulder; searching for something to hold on to.

“It’s okay, angel,” he comforted you, as his finger spread your lips apart, and put you on display for him before he pinched them together. Under him you let out the smallest of whimpers as he played with you.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on you now, baby,” he told you, his finger back to circling your clit. “Gonna taste you pussy.”

His eyes flicked from your cunt to your face, searching for any indication that this wasn’t what you wanted. But Joel didn’t find any, your mouth had dropped open in the smallest of o’s, and your eyes were glazed over in lust.

“Please, Joel,” you begged, spreading your legs wider for him.

A grin spread across Joel’s face, and at last he finally closed the distance between his lips and your cunt, placing a kiss to your clit to start.

A hand found his head, as your fingers dug into his hair, which only made him smile wider. He dipped lower, flattening his tongue to taste you properly. You tasted so good, a sweet-salty taste he instantly craved more of. He licked a stripe from your clit to your hole, gathering up the arousal leaking from you, and hummed in contentment.

The fingers in his hair tightened their grip as he teased at your hole, pushing his tongue inside you a couple of times and earning himself the sweetest moans. Joel made sure to remember every twist of pleasure, and whiny moan.

He continued with a lick up the seam of your folds, which made your hips buck, chasing the swipes and zigzags of his tongue.

“That feel good, angel?” he prodded before latching onto your clit.

“Y-yes!” you gasped as he sucked and flicked his tongue.

The noises he pulled from you went straight to his hard cock. He could feel the precum leak from the tip and staining the fabric of his pajama pants. Shamelessly, he started bucking his hips against the bed.

He had to calm down, this wasn’t about him.

With a sudden move he pulled away, making a breathy whine escape you at the loss of his mouth. Joel sat up on his knees, before his hands found the back of your knees.

“Hold your legs f’me, angel,” he commanded, and pushed your legs up towards your chest. You did as he told you, and hooked your arms under your knees to put your cunt on full display for him.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, “so pretty f’me… so messy– listen.”

He ran a finger down your cunt to prove his point, a slick wet sound filling the air.

“Please, Joel,” you begged again, your voice broken with a breathless whine.

“Please what, angel?” he mocked, a spark of pride filling his chest as he watched you bite down on your lip.

“Please… make me come,” you whispered, and Joel thought he’d never heard anything sound so hot in his life.

He dove down again, consumed your cunt. His tongue lapped at your core, his finger teased your hole, pushing the pad just inside your opening; in and out, in and out. His lips found your clit again, where he flattened his tongue before drawing precise circles. Around his finger your cunt pulsed – you were close.

Joel never slowed down his tempo, determined now to make you come. He continued to lick and suck, thrusting his fingers inside you fully now as he pushed up against the spot he’d found earlier. Your breath picked up the pace, small breathy moans and whines escaping you in an increasing tempo.

“R-right there,” you heaved, your face scrunched together in pleasure. “D-don’t stop– I’m gonna c-come.”

Joel hummed against you, continuing his rhythm with his fingers and his tongue, coaxing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You started to mumble something, but Joel couldn’t hear it clearly between your heaving breaths.

He was determined now.

Curling his fingers again, your eyes snapped open, “Joel!”

Your cunt spasms around his fingers, and then you came around his fingers. Your eyes screwed shut as you moaned, as your body squirmed under him.

You looked so beautiful– you sounded so beautiful.

He continued to massage his fingers inside you, thrusting them slowly as you rode out your high. Making sure to drink in every sound, every squirm and twist of your pleasure as he watched you calm down.

When your breath had started to come back to normal, Joel pulled his fingers from your cunt. His fingers were coated in you, coated in your slick arousal and your cum. With a cheeky smile he brought his fingers to his mouth as he locked eyes with you and sucked them clean. The wide-eyed look on your face was the sweetest thing he’d seen.

“Joel,” you begged, your hand pulling him down over you.

He held himself up with a hand digging into your pillow, and he couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at you. He never wanted to forget the look on your face in this moment, never wanted to forget what you looked like glowing in a post-orgasm bliss.

Your hands cupped his cheek and pulled him down to your lips. The kiss was desperate, wet and messy, and it made Joel’s heart soar inside his chest. His cock was so hard. He could slip it inside you just for a moment, only the tip.

“Please,” you said breathlessly between kisses, “you can fuck me, Joel.”

No, not yet.

With a shake of his head, he came to his senses, “No, angel, this was just f’you.”

Your eyes widened with confusion; a slight frown pulled at your eyebrows as he pulled away. Joel bought himself some time by pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around you, careful not to press his hard cock into your ass.

“There ain’t exactly any condoms out here,” he told you, “It’s just too risky.”

It was a sorry excuse, Joel knew it, and he could tell you did too. His boner rubbing into your ass told you as much. Joel wanted to, he wanted to fuck you, but he just couldn’t, not yet anyway. Not until he knew that it was what you wanted, that he was what you wanted.

A moment went by before he heard you whisper, “You can pull out?”

Joel couldn’t hold back the smile threatening to spill across his face, “I’ve heard that one before, didn’t exactly go to plan.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning around in his arms to find his face.

Shit.

“Nothin’,” he shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that right now, didn’t want to feel that grief that’s never gone away, didn’t want it to tear at the happiness he felt in this moment. “It’s just somethin’ from before.”

Your interest seemed to pique at that. You turned around fully in his arms and slung your arm around his broad chest. Your eyes glittered with curiosity, “How was it? Your life before?”

Memories flashed before Joel’s eyes; days of hard work under the Austin sun, drunk laughter at the bar with his brother, pink birthday parties, and singing along to girl groups in the truck.

He held his breath for a moment before he let out a quiet sigh, “Normal, I guess.”

When he looked down at you where you rested your head on his shoulder, it seemed his brief answer had disappointed you, so he decided to elaborate, “I worked too damn much– me ‘nd my lil’ brother we uh, had a business together–”

“Contractors,” you remembered.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “that’s right.”

“What’s his name?” you asked.

“Who’s name?” Joel frowned.

“Your brother,” you said, the ‘duh’ not spoken out loud, but your tone indicative of it either way.

“Uh, Tommy.”

“Joel and Tommy,” he could hear the smile in your voice. “What’s he like?”

Joel sucked in a breath, “A pain in my ass first of all.”

A playful slap landed on his chest and Joel couldn’t help but smile, “I’m serious.”

Interlocking his fingers with your hand on his chest, Joel opened up to you. “Tommy always wanted to be a hero. He enlisted in the army right outta high school, I was… well, it doesn’t matter– they shipped him off to Iraq a few months later and he…” Joel trailed off, his eyes fixating on a crack in the ceiling.

“What happened when he got back?” you gently asked with a squeeze of his hand.

“Turns out bein’ in the army doesn’t make you feel much like a hero,” Joel sighed, “I watched out for him, kept him outta trouble, made sure he had a steady job.”

“You’re a good brother,” you told him, but Joel felt the opposite.

“I don’t know,” Joel shook his head slightly, “Then the outbreak happens, and Tommy convinces me to join a group makin’ their way up to Boston, which I did, mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive. We meet Tess, join a crew ‘nd… did some things I ain’t proud of, but we were survinin’, right?”

You squeezed his hand again, urging him to continue. “Then Tommy meets Marlene. She talks him into joinin’ the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was eighteen– wants to save the world. ‘Course, last I heard he quit the Fireflies too. So, now he’s on his own out there.”

“And that’s how you ended up here, looking for him.” You said the words slowly, like you were contemplating each word, “and he’s still out there somewhere.”

A lump of guilt grew in Joel’s throat. Had he abandoned his brother for the safety of your arms? Let Tess die for nothing?

“Yeah,” he swallowed around his guilt, “Last contact I heard from him came from around the Cody tower– in Wyoming.”

“Cody?” you sat up, “That’s not too far from Jackson… maybe that’s where he is? I need to ask Arthur, but there’s no other settlements around here except in Jackson.”

A small glimmer of hope awakened in him, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, “when spring comes you should go to Jackson with Arthur– maybe he’s there!”

Your enthusiasm was cute; the way you seemed to glow above him. “Maybe,” he hummed, noncommittedly, as he pulled you down to rest against his chest again.

A moment passed in silence before you whispered, “And this Tess… was she your wife?”

“No, she… she was my partner– but she was family.” The words strained in his throat, like they didn’t want to come out, “She’s dead… got bit.”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you said, your voice gentle as you squeezed him tighter. “I understand… my family–” you cut yourself of, but Joel understood.

Dead.

“Arthur said I wasn’t the first person passin’ through. I’m guessing that was you?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I uh, my family and I, we were travelling with a group. It wasn’t very large, but I guess it was big enough to draw attention. One night, uh,” your voice started to tremble, and it broke something in Joel.

“Angel,” he whispered, his hand wrapping tighter around you, “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, “it’s just really hard to talk about.”

“Don’t apologize, I know baby, I know,” Joel soothed before pressing light kisses to the top of your head.

“One night,” you cleared your throat, “We’d camped, had dinner and I… I waited for my parents to fall asleep so I could sneak into the tent of this boy that I liked, Ben. He was the only person my age in our group. I had just turned eighteen and I was in love, I guess.”

You paused, and Joel pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “We were fooling around in his tent when I heard something outside,” you continued, “Ben said I was being paranoid, that I was just afraid to get caught by my parents, but then we heard a gunshot. It was chaos, e-everything, t-they’d killed my family, Ben, e-everyone. I managed to hide behind a tree, my feet were like frozen to the ground, I-I couldn’t run. I saw each and every face of the men who murdered my family. They raided the camp, took e-everything.”

“Angel,” Joel soothed when you started crying, “You’re safe… you’re safe now.”

“I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to get away– I just ran, ran as fast as I could for as long as I could. I’ve never been so cold, or tired or hungry as when I stumbled on this farm. I don’t remember the first days, I was so sick, but Alma and Arthur took care of me– I owe them everything, they saved my life.”

You were full on crying now, and Joel tried his best to calm you. He whispered soothing words in your ear, pressed soft kisses to your skin, and held you in his arm. He let you cry, as he cursed the people who’d done this to you – cursed the world who continued to take, and take, and take.

Joel couldn’t leave you, and maybe deep down he’d know it for a long time. He’d do as you’d suggested and go with Arthur to Jackson come spring, but he was coming back for you.

He wasn’t gonna leave you.

The days came and went and collected into a tranquil rhythm of the cogs in Joel’s routine. He’d wake to the bleeding blade of the sun over the lip of the mountain, or your kisses over his heavy eyelids. After that first night together, you slept in his bed more nights than not, as his bed transformed into a room for just the two of you. A place where Joel didn’t have to think or be anything other than completely himself. A place to laugh and smile, whisper under the bright moon, and hear his name fall from your lips in breathy moans.

Your chest rose and fell in a steady beat, your eyes closed so delicately you looked like a sleeping angel. And you were, his angel. Joel never made a habit of watching you sleep, but sometimes he’d indulge himself in the peacefulness of the hour between night and dusk. By the time the room started to turn blue with the morning light, that’s when Joel missed you too much; wrapping his arms around you with just enough movement to wake you without being blamed.

He’d let you dream for a few moments longer, though. Content to lay in the silence with you before the noise of the day would pull you apart. But the moment of peace could only last for so long, the soft thumps of Alma’s steps down the stairs told Joel it was time to wake up.

Under the crinkling of the sheets, Joel’s hand found the dip in your waist. He was about to kiss you good morning when he heard Alma’s steps come closer and closer. A surge of panic coursed to his chest.

“Joel?” she knocked on his door.

“I ain’t decent yet, Alma,” Joel yelled through the door. The loud bass of his voice made you blink your eyes open, looking up at him with a curious look.

“I’m sorry Joel– I was just letting you know that Arthur isn’t feeling well today.”

Joel sighed. This was the third time in as many weeks Arthur was sick, and now Joel was in for another day alone with the work and the trees.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be out in a second.”

“I’m going to get started on breakfast for you, Joel,” she answered.

When Joel had thanked Alma, and her steps had faded away, Joel indulged himself in a morning kiss. The way your lips slotted against his felt like oxygen rebounding his lungs. 

“Again?” you sighed when you broke away from the kiss, your hand found his hair to brush a curl from his face.

“’s the cold I reckon– ‘nd the work… it ain’t exactly easy on the old man.”

You hummed and cupped his chin. “Maybe I should go with you today? Help you out?” you posed.

Joel heard himself chuckle and shook his head, “That ain’t happenin’, angel.”

A gasp left your lips in mock shock, “Why?”

“’Cause the animals would miss you, and I intend on stayin’ on their good side,” he said, a smile hanging off his face.

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, intent on making him cave, “They’ll be fine.”

Joel only laughed, “You say that ‘nd the next thing I know I got Colonel Eggsworth on my ass.”

“I don’t believe that,” now you were giggling, “Colonel Eggsworth is the nicest rooster we’ve had!”

“I ain’t takin’ any chances, angel,” Joel pecked your lips.

“Coward,” he heard you mumble under your breath as he got out of bed. It made Joel smile, and a warmth gathered around his heart.

Back in the routine, after another quick kiss, you sneakily slipped back into your room to get dressed. While Joel pulled his sweater over his head, he thought about what it meant to wake up each morning with you and feel three words rive at his heart, never having it in him to say them, to let them spill out his mouth.

Maybe saying nothing was honesty’s default. Maybe it was how he could avoid telling you all the stupid things he wanted to say. So, for now he said nothing. Said nothing at the breakfast table. Nothing when you’d helped him saddle up Ingydar. And nothing as you waved him goodbye.

After months working in the woods, Joel did his work on autopilot. He always started with a reconnaissance round, looking for which trees to chop down. Then, with the weight of the axe in his hands, he’d start his work. Now, after they’d brought the horse out, the work was somewhat easier. He still had to chop down the tree, and clean off the branches, but he could move the trunks much easier now with the horse.

The wind howled like a hound, biting at Joel’s cheeks but the sun was out, and Joel didn’t mind. He’d gotten used to the cold by now, and Arthur had taught him quickly how to layer up. The increasing number of knitted pieces of clothing you’d made him also helped.

By the time the sun was at its highest peak, Joel debated going back for lunch. He’d done so every time he was alone out here, and especially after they’d started bringing the horse. The walk back had been cut in half on horseback, maybe even more than half now that he didn’t have to wade through the snow.

Looking back, Joel almost couldn’t see Ingydar where he’d tied him to a tree. He’d gone deeper into the woods than yesterday. Maybe it wasn’t worth it today? He could eat his packed lunch and finish up a little earlier instead.

The days had gotten shorter and shorter, and the hours of daylight had shrunk in the months he and Arthur had been working. But the sun had turned, Joel felt it. It wasn’t much, maybe a half hour or so, but he felt the difference.

He ate his lunch in the company of Ingydar, feeding him some carrots he’d snagged from the basement. He was a good horse, old and tired but hard working. Joel worked until the sun dropped behind the mountain, a shadow coating the world as it grew darker and darker. He needed to get back before it got properly dark. Joel quickly gathered his things, swinging his gun over his shoulders before he was back on horseback.

The horse knew the way back by itself at this point, even in the dark, but something wasn’t right. What was that smell? Small snowflakes started to fall from the sky the closer he got to the edge of the wood, but the smell only grew stronger.

Smoke.

Thoughts tumbled in Joel’s head, small fleets on a stormy sea. With a kick to the sides of Ingydar, they picked up their pace. The muted rhythm of horse hoofs against the packed snow trail, beat along to Joel’s heart.

A cloud of smoke rose up to the sky, dancing through bright yellow and orange flames. Joel couldn’t get there fast enough, pushing Ingydar to the limit as they galloped up the trail to the house. Joel’s heart was in his throat.

What the fuck was happening?

The flames licked at the sky, devouring the house, moaning and kicking like a beast. The heat was unbearable, the light almost blinding. Ingydar neighed loudly as Joel quickly jumped down, not bothering to tie him to something or calm him down. Joel watched the house burn in total disbelief. Frozen to the ground by shock, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

You.

Where were you? You had to been able to get out somehow, right? Why was everything so quiet?

Something caught his eye then, only a few steps from the porch stairs. His feet carried him without a second thought. Arthur was clad in only his pajamas and his robe. He must’ve been forced out of bed. The snow around him was stained crimson from where the life had spilled out of him.

Joel’s first thought was that he was dead, but then Arthur’s eyes flickered open to find Joel’s. The snow creaking under Joel’s shoes must’ve pulled him from his slowed death.

“Joel?” he croaked, blood spilling from his mouth.

“Don’t try ‘nd speak.” Joel’s voice came out colder than he’d expected. This couldn’t be real. Falling to his knees, Joel worked quickly, placing Arthur’s head gently in his lap as he found the source of the bleeding.

The blood oozed from a hole in his stomach. A bullet wound, most definitely. Joel put as much pressure on it as he could manage. His mittens drank the blood greedily, saturated by red. It just kept coming, the warmth coating his fingers.

What the fuck had happened?

Under him Arthur coughed, spilling more blood down his chin, coating his white beard in red. “Listen…”

Joel shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. This was just a bad dream. If he could just open his eyes, he’d be back in bed with you. He just needed to open his eyes.

“She’s alive,” Arthur managed to say, “They took her alive. Raiders–” another cough, “Broke in. Alma dead.”

The panic in Arthur’s face was almost too much for Joel to watch. His breath was heavy, breathing through this new information as his head spun with questions. Arthur’s eyes glazed over, and Joel knew there wasn’t enough time.

“Where is she?” he hurried, his hand lightly tapping Arthur on his cheek. He just needed to stay alive a little longer.

“Woods.” Was the only word Arthur could manage, as he used the last of his strength to point south.

An awful stench mixed with the smoke, and Joel knew Arthur was gonna die. His body couldn’t control itself anymore, ridding itself of the last of pieces of life. There was nothing beautiful about it. Nothing peaceful or dignified. Not how an old man like Arthur should leave this world.

Joel grabbed Arthur’s hand, it was clammy and cold, but it was the least he could do – Arthur wasn’t gonna die alone. He tried to think of something to say, anything at all, but the words died on his tongue.

“Alma…” Arthur whispered with his last breath, and Arthur’s hand went slack in his hand.

An eerie silence fell over the farm, safe from the fire crackling and moaning. Emotions raged inside Joel, fighting to bubble to the top. Anger, confusion, guilt, grief. A loud crack could be heard, like glass shattering, and it pulled Joel from his shock. He gently laid Arthur down on the ground, before he managed to rise on unsteady feet.

A loud noise started ringing in his ears, and Joel’s breath started coming out in an uneven pace. Shit. Joel tied a fist over his chest, his body tilting forward as he tried to catch his breath over the panic tying up his throat. He took a few shuffling steps before he hurled, gall burning his tastebuds as Joel vomited on the ground.

When he’d thrown up all there was in his stomach, Joel groaned. He ripped off the bloody mittens as quickly as he could, his hands digging into the white snow to wash his mouth of the bitter taste.

Joel burned inside and outside. Standing so close to the house, the heat was unbearable. Everything was unbearable. Sarah was dead, Tess was dead, Alma was dead, and Arthur was dead.

Could he take anymore grief? Joel wondered. How much grief was a man supposed to endure in a lifetime? None of this was fair.

Had he just gone back to the house for lunch, they’d all be alive. Had he not dragged her across the country to find his stupid brother, she’d still be alive. Had he not told that soldier she was hurt, she’d still be alive.

As he stared into the raging fire, Joel felt his own anger simmer to the surface. It pushed away all the grief, and the guilt, and sharpened his senses, made him laser focused. His arms and legs moved by their own accord, tugging the shotgun from his shoulder, before he started moving in the direction Arthur had pointed.

They were gonna pay for this. They’d made his world go up in flames and struck the match on their own life in return.

As Joel vanished into the night, he left a piece of himself behind. He was going to find you. He was going to hold you and kiss you again. Nothing or no one could come in the way of that.

Nothing could come in the way of Joel.

i hope someone liked this? i'm very curious about what your thoughts for the last part will be, so if you have them please leave a comment, reply or an ask. they are always super welcomed, and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

next part -> here!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[mrsshabana]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞

ꔫ‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, age difference, angst, fluff, daddy issues, mommy issues, modern au ꔫ‧₊ Note 5k words. I want to thank everyone who was so excited for this fic, your kind words really encouraged me to write so much! I hope you enjoy it and keep an eye out for chapter two ♡ ✧:･ﾟ→ Part two ✧:･ﾟ→ Part three

This is the most exciting thing that’s happened in Gyutaro’s pathetic life since his sister was accepted into college. 

His life is nothing special really, and it never has been. Always taking care of his little sister was his number one priority so his needs and wants were always put on the back burner. Not like he had much of a choice anyway. With a face like that, how are you supposed to get anywhere in life? He’s thirty-five and has never had a romantic partner, but no surprise there. His personality is unpleasant and he doesn’t have much going for him. His job is alright and he can afford to support himself and his sister but that’s about it. 

By now he’s come to accept the fact that some things just aren’t in the cards for him. Things like a wife and maybe even kids. As he got older he found himself longing for these things more and more. Especially when he witnessed all of his friends getting married and starting families of their own. But now at his age, no woman would want to get with him, let alone start a family.

At first, he was mad at the world and everyone in it. It wasn’t fair that he was denied love just because he had a few spots on his face, crooked teeth, and was a bit rough around the edges. The jealousy and anger ate at him for many years, causing his personality to become bitter and cold. On the outside, he seems like the kind of guy who wouldn’t care about love, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Since he grew up without receiving any love from his mother, it was always something that he craved, even as an adult.

But he grew up, and he had no choice but to realize this was his reality and there was no changing it. It was hard to accept, but he’s finally come to peace with it. At least he has Ume, and honestly, he’s grateful for that. 

But now, you came into his life and things are beginning to take an interesting turn. 

You’re Ume’s friend from college, she’s a year older than you but you got to know her well in one of your math classes. Ume hates math so she waited until her senior year to take it, which she is starting to regret now. The only upside to the situation is that she met you.

Having gotten pretty close to Ume over the course of the semester, she would often invite you over to her place. You’ve heard her talk about her brother before but you had never met him since he was usually at work when you came over. But when you saw him for the first time, he wasn’t what you had expected. He looked a lot different than the image you had in your mind and he was a lot less friendly than Ume had described him. But even though most of the time he was in a bad mood, he’d be polite to you for the brief moments he was around. 

The first thing you noticed about him was how tall he was and how deep and raspy his voice sounded. It was oddly attractive, especially when paired with his messy black hair. You knew he was older than Ume but he didn’t look that old. The only thing that maybe signified his age were the dark circles around his eyes, probably from being overworked. 

Gyutaro never expected to get close to his little sister’s best friend. It’s something he never would have considered, but your actions are causing him to rethink his stance on your almost nonexistent relationship.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

One night you’re studying over at Ume’s place again. The two of you sit in the dining room, with notebooks, pens, and textbooks spread across the table. Midterms are coming up so you’re trying really hard to get some studying done. Even though Ume keeps getting distracted and scrolling through TikTok.

You’ve almost lost your sanity with this study session when you hear the front door unlocking. 

Gyutaro, looking as tired as usual, walks into the house. Kicking off his shoes and throwing his bag on the floor. He barely even acknowledges you as he walks past saying, “Girls, can you please clean the table.”

“Mm hm,” Ume hums as she continues looking at her phone screen. 

He knows she isn’t going to do as he asks, but he always asks anyway. Today has been a long day and Gyutaro just wishes he could go to sleep but he knows he has a household to take care of. So he hurriedly rushes over to the bathroom and takes a quick shower. Coming out with messy damp hair and a towel wrapped around his waist. He goes straight to his bedroom, but you manage to catch a glimpse of him through the hall. 

The way his long hair sticks to his muscled shoulders and back distracts you. And even after he’s gone from your sight, the heavenly image is still stuck in your mind. 

“Will I ever get a break?” he thinks to himself as he puts on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, “As soon as I’m done cooking I’m passing out.” It’s only 8 pm but after another overtime shift, he’s pooped. Ume’s lucky he loves her so much, or else he would just make her eat a Lean Cuisine for dinner.

He doesn’t even bother to brush his hair and just heads straight towards the kitchen. But on his way, he’s met with something that surprises him. 

“You actually cleaned the table?” he says in shock.

“No, she did,” Ume points to you without even looking up from her phone. 

Gyutaro scowls and hits Ume in the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper, “What’s the matter with you? It’s rude to make your guest clean!”

“Hey!! Cut it out!! I didn’t tell her to, she did it on her own!” Ume whines.

“Still, you should have cleaned it yourself,” he grumbles and throws the newspaper to the side, “Y/N, I’m sorry. Please stay for dinner, that’s the least I could offer you for helping my sister since she’s too lazy to do anything on her own.”

“No no, it’s ok! I don’t want to put more work on your plate -”

“I insist,” he smiles and begins preparing the ingredients. 

Ume pays no attention to the matter, as you admire her brother while he works away in the kitchen. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he takes a sip and sighs before he begins washing some vegetables. 

You sit there and stare at his muscles, admiring the way they move along with noticing the tattoo on his upper arm. The way his hair falls in his face, and he tries to push it away with his wrist while his hands hold ingredients. 

This is something you’ve never had before. A man who takes care of you. It’s something new for you, and quite frankly you’re a bit jealous of Ume. It must be nice to have someone who takes care of her like Gyutaro does. Especially since your father was never around, it feels comforting being in this kind of atmosphere with Gyutaro and his sister. 

The loud clattering of metal hitting the floor snaps you out of the trance you were in. It seems that Gyutaro dropped a knife because he had almost fallen asleep. You can see his eyes closing slowly as he shakes his head in an attempt to wake himself up. Even though you barely know him, the sight makes you feel bad for him. He must be so exhausted, yet he’s determined to make dinner for his little sister. 

“Hey, do you need any help?” you ask as you walk into the kitchen. 

“N-no, thank you though.” He tries to brush you off and continue cooking but you stop him, grabbing his wrist and taking the utensils out of his hand. “It’s ok really, you seem exhausted. Plus I like cooking so it’s no biggie!” You smile and try to lead him away from the kitchen.

“What? No! You’re our guest it’d be rud-”

“Onii-chan just let her do it! She’s offering, stop being so stubborn!” Ume chimes in.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re a bad host. You’ve been nothing but welcoming to me, I just want to help out,” you lead him over to the couch and force him to sit down, “Everyone deserves a break once in a while.”

“But I-” his sentence trails off as he watches you walk away, not giving him any say in the matter. He feels incredibly guilty for letting you cook. But his body is too tired to fight it, and you no longer hear any complaints from him.

Looking around the kitchen you scan what Gyutaro had set up. There’s a pot of boiling water on the stove, a pan with oil in it, some half-cut tomatoes, a box of pasta, and an unopened package of meat. You can only assume that he was trying to make spaghetti. Luckily for you, it’s easy enough and something you’ve made countless times before. 

After about 30 minutes you have all of the food prepared. You make a plate for yourself, Ume, and Gyutaro. 

“Thanks, Y/N!” Ume exclaims as she finally puts down her phone and takes her plate. 

Next, you walk over to Gyutaro to give him his food, but he’s already passed out on the couch. The bottle of beer still in his hand, half full. 

“Poor thing,” you whisper to yourself, “Guess it’ll just be Ume and I for now.” You take the plate to the table and eat with Ume, opting that it’s probably best to let Gyutaro sleep. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

His stomach rumbles and his eyes are heavy as he slowly opens them, looking around at his surroundings. Confused for a moment as he forgot where he was. The living room is dark and quiet and he can’t quite remember why or how he fell asleep here. 

But then he looks over at the coffee table and remembers everything. His bottle is placed aptly beside a plate full of delicious looking pasta. Neatly wrapped in plastic wrap with a note reading, Enjoy! :)

“No way,” he mumbles as he tears off the plastic and begins to dig in. His eyes roll to the back of his head when the delicious food hits his tongue. Things taste so much better when someone else makes them. And honestly, he can’t recall how many years it’s been since someone has cooked him a meal. Five? Possibly ten? Either way, he savors the moment.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

That meal has been on Gyutaro’s mind for days now. Never forgetting the taste and the gratifying feeling of eating a meal that was carefully prepared by someone else. It was amazing. And you’ve been on his mind ever since that night.

He told Ume to thank you since he didn’t have your number, and he really hopes she actually did it and didn’t just blow him off like she usually does.

As he drives home from work he can’t help but think of how nice it would be to come home to one of your home-cooked meals. It’s become a fantasy of his to imagine this on his drives home after a long shift. The thought brings him some comfort even though he knows it will never become a reality.

And just as he was driving through downtown he saw someone familiar. It was you, standing beneath one of the street lights as a strange man loomed over you. He appeared to be talking to you, but your body language looked as if you were very uncomfortable with the situation. 

The strange man appeared to be around Gyutaro’s age and all he could think was, “C’mon man, you’re too old to be doing this shit to a young girl. You should know better.” He rolls his eyes and pulls over next to the sidewalk. 

With a deep, tired sigh, he gets out of the car and yells, “Hey Y/N! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” 

At first, the sudden voice calling out to you startles you, but as soon as you see that it’s Ume’s brother you feel like you’ve been saved. The strange man looks over at Gyutaro too, giving him a confused look.

“We’re gonna be late for that movie,” Gyutaro smiles as if everything is normal and walks up to you, “Oh, who’s this? Do I know this guy?”

“Uh n-no, I don’t think you know him,” you say nervously. 

Gyutaro nods and takes your hand, “Sorry man, but we gotta go. We’re gonna miss the premier if we don’t get going now.” 

The stranger seems convinced and walks off as Gyutaro leads you back to his car. Opening the door for you, as he watches the man walk away. Making sure he’s gone for good. 

You don’t hesitate to get into his car, a huge wave of relief washing over you once you’re safely inside. 

As soon as Gyutaro gets into the car he scolds you, “What the hell were you doing out here by yourself?” His eyes scan your form, and he notices you’re wearing a short dress.

“I was out with some friends,” you say shyly, “and I wanted to go home, but everyone else wanted to stay out…” 

He sighs and starts the car, “You can’t walk around like that, creepy guys are gonna flock towards you. It’s dangerous.”

“I know, I was so stupid for doing that… B-but thank you so much for helping me, Gyutaro! You really saved me there,” you feel tears well up in your eyes as you imagine what might have happened to you if Gyutaro never showed up. 

“Hey hey, it’s alright,” his expression softens, “You’re ok now, that’s all that matters. And from now on if you need a ride just call me, ok?”

“R-really? I don’t want to inconvenience you or anything…”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re Ume’s friend. I’d do it for Ume so I’d do it for you too. Besides, I work around here so it’s no big deal,” he smiles and hands you his phone so you can put your number in.

“Thanks. Ume’s really lucky to have a big brother like you,” you say as you finish creating your contact in his phone.

“I try my best I guess, heh if only Ume heard you say that. Anyway, where do you live?”

“Oh, right! It’s super close to here,” you type the directions into his phone navigation, “I really owe you for this, Gyutaro! What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Wh-what? No no no, you don’t have to do anything,” he gets a bit flustered as he begins driving towards your place. 

“Come on! You did so much for me, it’s the least I could do! Ooh, how about I cook something for you?” You raise your eyebrows and smile, trying to convince him. 

When he hears your plea, it’s like his prayers were answered. 

“... well, I can’t say no to that.”

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

The long-awaited day has finally come. The day that you will bring over some home-cooked meals to Gyutaro’s house. He’s been anticipating this ever since you promised it to him.

You come over holding tons of containers of food, much more than he had expected. 

“Woah, let me help you,” he says as he holds the front door open and takes one of the bags out of your hand.

“Ah, thanks. I didn’t realize how much food I made until I had to pack it all up,” you laugh and walk into his home. Placing the food on the table, you neatly snack boxes of prepared meals. 

“What’s all this?” he asks, a bit confused. He was expecting you to bring over a big container full of food, not a bunch of small ones. 

“I know you work a lot and stuff. So, I thought it’d be better if I packed everything up into individual meals so you can just grab them and take them to work. Less prep work for you. I hope that’s alright…”

Gyutaro is truly left speechless, unable to believe that you not only put so much effort into this but also so much consideration as well. Still in disbelief, he takes one of the neatly packed boxes and opens it up. Inside he’s met with a delicious meal separated neatly, and even a small dessert tucked into the side. The sight is beautiful, but the smell is what really makes him salivate. 

“Wow,” he smiles, “I-I don’t know what to say. This is amazing, thank you.” 

He begins to choke up. After so many years of taking care of his sister, always worrying about her needs, caring for her, stepping up and being that guardian that she needed, never once did someone stop to ask him what he wanted. Let alone go out of their way to take care of him. And for once, just once, he gets a taste of what it feels like to be cared for. Nurtured. And it’s a feeling he wishes he never had to let go of.

All of the emotions he’s kept in for so long finally pour out of him. Your kindness and consideration force his walls to crumble. And his eyes begin to water as he pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask as you immediately notice that something isn’t right.

It takes him a moment to compose himself, “I-I’m ok,” he rasps, “Just… I really appreciate you doing this. It’s been so long since someone has done something for me…”

“Well, you deserve it,” you smile and try to comfort him by rubbing his back, “I can tell you work really hard. My mom is the same way. So I understand.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and quickly composes himself, “A-Anyway, I’m going to try one right now. It smells great.” He quickly tries to change the subject partially because he’s embarrassed, but also because he genuinely cannot wait to taste your cooking again.

The food still feels warm so he rushes into the kitchen to grab a fork, and he sits at the table and digs in. Immediately as the food hits his tongue he lets out a groan of satisfaction. 

“Mmph, ooh my god,” he says right before he shoves another spoonful into his mouth, “so good!”

“I’m glad you like it,” you smile and sit beside him at the table, “These recipes are super easy and budget-friendly, so I can give them to you if you want.”

“Please! Mmph, that’d be great,” he swallows another big bite, “Where’d you learn to cook so well?”

“I just learned over time. It’s always just been my mom and I, my dad was never around,” you sigh, “So I kinda had to learn how to take care of myself since my mom always had two jobs. I would always make food for us to ease her workload. And I’ve always enjoyed cooking so I never minded.”

“Wait, for real?” he looks surprised, “My mom was never around! Man, it fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So you understand how I feel!” you smile despite talking about something upsetting, “So, your dad was the one that raised you?”

“Basically,” he nods as he licks his fork clean, “My mom wouldn’t let my dad come around much, even though she wasn’t around much herself. I was pretty much on my own till my mom  died and my dad took us in.”

Watching him talk about his past, you get the impression that it’s something he doesn’t often talk about. His body language alone is enough to tell you that. But the two of you feel some type of connection having shared a similar childhood experience.

“Your dad sounds like a good man,” you smile, “I think he’d be very proud of you.”

He looks up at you, his eyes shining with a mixture of sadness and appreciation. “Thanks… he really was the best. But sometimes I just wish I could have had a normal family.”

“Yeah I totally get it,” you sigh, “That’s why I always told myself I’d try to give my future kid the best life I can.  I want to give them the childhood I never had…” You trail off, thinking about the future you hope will become a reality one day. 

“Exactly!” he shouts, “That’s exactly what I told myself too! I always wanted a family so I could do things right.”

He seems excited at first but his expression quickly shifts to one of sadness. 

“But it’s too late for me to have a family,” he continues, looking down as he opens up about one of his biggest failures, “Oh well, if Ume ever has kids I’ll just try to be the best uncle I can.”

“Why would you say it’s too late?” you tilt your head to the side, confused.”

“Y/N, I’m thirty-five years old. I’m too old to start a family… Besides most women my age are done having kids. Not that any woman would want to be with me anyways.” He frowns, being reminded of how he failed to fulfill one of the only dreams he’s ever had. 

“Why not just start a family with a young girl, like me?” You ask without completely realizing what you’re saying. 

“Wh-what?” his eyes widen, completely taken aback by your statement. Could you be insinuating what he thinks you’re insinuating? He’s not sure whether you’re just naive or completely delusional. 

“W-Well um,” you blush as you begin to realize what you’ve said, “I think you’re a really great guy. Any woman would be lucky to-”

“Get out,” he cuts you off. 

“I’m sorry-”

“GET OUT!” He raises his voice, striking fear into you to the point where you feel your eyes begin to water. 

You feel utterly embarrassed and ashamed. Just when you were starting to get close to him too, you had to say something stupid to ruin it all. Honestly, you have no idea what you were thinking. You will admit you did have a crush on him, so maybe your heart just got excited and took a risky leap of faith. But unfortunately for you, it backfired. 

Without another word you rush out of his house as fast as you can, balling your eyes out. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚. 

It’s been a few days, and Gyutaro has been ignoring your texts. They stopped coming after that first day, and even though he didn’t respond he still read them. Reading your apologies over and over. He couldn’t get the situation out of his head no matter how hard he tried. So he decided maybe he needed an outside opinion. 

He finds himself sitting at a bar, drinking a beer. Rubbing his rough hand across the stubble that’s grown on his face as he’s been too stressed lately to bother shaving. Honestly, he looks pretty rough. He’s caught up in his self-sabotaging thoughts when he hears a familiar voice call out to him.

“Gyutaro! How’ve you been, man?”

He turns around with a smile on his face, “Hey Kai, what’s up?” He stands and gives his best friend a side hug. 

“Gyutarooooo, do I get a hug too?” an annoying voice chimes, a voice that instantly gives Gyutaro a headache. This voice could only belong to one person. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I invited him too,” Kaigaku laughs nervously.

“Douma…” Gyutaro deadpans.

“What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Douma smiles wide, giving Gyutaro a one-sided hug. “So, spill the details! Kai said you had some juicy gossip to talk about!” He says as he sits beside him at the bar, placing his hand under his chin and batting his long eyelashes. 

Kaigaku takes a seat on the other side of Gyutaro and mumbles, “Maybe this was a mistake.”

“It’s fine,” Gyutaro sighs and takes a drink from his bottle, “I really just wanted some advice. Just promise you won’t make it weird.”

“When do I ever make things weird?” Douma asks. 

Gyutaro just stares at him, thinking of all of the times he has indeed made things weird. 

“Come on man, just spit it out already!” Kaigaku nudges his shoulder. 

Gyutaro groans and slumps over in his seat, “Alright alright. So, there’s this girl-”

“A girl?!” Both of his friends say in unison. 

“Shut up!” Gyutaro growls, knowing exactly why his friends are so shocked. Because out of all of the years they’ve known him, he’s never once brought up a girl. 

“Anyway,” he continues, “There’s a girl I kind of like… she’s really sweet and we have a lot in common but…” he trails off, hesitant to tell them the truth, “She’s only twenty-one…”

Kaigaku chokes on his drink.

“I don’t see an issue,” Douma says, genuinely confused.

“Of course, you don’t,” Gyutaro mumbles under his breath. 

“How the hell did you get into this situation?” Kaigaku coughs.

“It wasn’t on purpose! I didn’t pursue her at all!” Gyutaro scowls, “Listen, she’s one of Ume’s friends. She comes over a lot and she’s been really nice to me. She even cooked a bunch of meals for me too…”

“And? Spill it, Shabana!” Douma pouts, getting impatient. 

“AND, we were talking about what we want for our future. I told her I wanted a family one day but I’m too old… and she said why don’t I have a family with a young girl like her. I immediately told her to leave. I’m starting to think maybe I overreacted…”

“Well, girls that age are very fertile!” Douma chimes as if his statement was completely innocent.

“STOP!” Gyutaro shouts, “That’s fucking weird, man! Don’t say it like that!” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him…” Kaigaku mumbles. 

“Hey, it’s true! I am a gynecologist after all, it’s just medical facts! And she’s right, having children with someone your age will be much more difficult and there could be complications!” Douma asserts confidently.

“The fact that you’re a gynecologist disturbs me,” Kaigaku says. 

“Me too,” Gyutaro adds. 

“Come on guys! It’s not as weird as you think. Why would it be so wrong to date her?”

“For starters, she’s fourteen fucking years younger than me! That’d be creepy right…? I don’t want people thinking I’m a weirdo or a creep,” he frowns, starting to feel like maybe he is a creep for even considering something with you. 

Kaigaku takes a sip of his drink, thinking long and hard about what advice he should give his friend. Especially since Douma is useless. 

“I mean, it’s not that bad,” he shrugs, “At the end of the day you’re both consenting adults. And since when did you care about what other people think of you anyway?”

“You have a point,” Gyutaro replies, “But she should live her life instead of wasting her time with an old guy like me.”

“First of all you aren’t even that old,” Kai rolls his eyes, “And second of all, she’s an adult who is fully capable of making her own decisions. If she wants to be with you, then she wants it for a reason. Maybe she wants a guy who is at a more stable point in his life. Who knows?”

“Exactly, Kai’s right. I see age gaps much larger than this all the time, it’s more common than you think,” Douma adds. 

“And besides, it would only be creepy if you were talking to her when she was a minor,” Kaigaku states, “Like if you’re an adult talking to a minor, then wait till they’re an adult to pursue them romantically it’s a little creepy if you ask me. But you didn’t even know her at all until now. So don’t worry man. You aren’t creepy or weird for liking this girl.”

Gyutaro feels a wave of relief wash over him as he listens to his friend’s explanation. It's the first thing he’s heard that actually made him feel a bit better about the situation. “So, you really think it’s ok for me to pursue her?”

“Hell yeah! Be happy, man. I know you’re not the kind of guy to go after a girl just because she’s young. She sounds like a really nice girl, and I’m happy someone finally sees what a great guy you are.”

“Thanks, Kai,” Gyutaro smiles, “Alright, I guess I’ll go for it.”

Gyutaro feels a newfound confidence overtake him. His friends are right, he shouldn’t be so caught up in the details when the fact of the matter is that a really amazing woman is interested in him for the first time in his life. And he cannot let this opportunity slide, as it may be the last chance he has at happiness. 

“Who knows, maybe she’s one of my patients!” Douma chimes in out of nowhere.

“Shut up, Douma! God, I can’t take you anywhere!” Kai growls. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

That night you receive a text from Gyutaro, “Do you want to go to the botanical gardens with me this weekend?”

When you first read the text you had to pinch yourself in case you were dreaming. Why would he say that all of a sudden? Did he suddenly have a change of heart? Or maybe he’s inviting you out just so he can tell you off in person. 

You aren’t sure which one, but you’ve been so stressed over this situation that you’ll do anything to make up with him. So you hastily respond, “Yes! I’d love to :)”

Immediately you regret how eager you sound in the text, thinking that it might make Gyutaro think you're even more childish. But in reality it makes him smile knowing that someone is excited to see him for once.

“Ok. I’ll send you the details,” he responds a minute later.

Is this a date? That’s the only question that keeps replaying in your mind. A date with Gyutaro, your best friend’s older brother. The whole thing feels taboo, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t make you feel even more excited.

Taglist: @gyusimp @mistyychann @cherrysxuya @angelicsaiko @hoshigafuru @matsukaah @merryclaus @whisperhug97 @dawn-rays-dingo

(I tagged people who showed interest in my previous posts. If you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist just let me know. The next chapter will have smut so if you want to be tagged make sure you have your age listed on your blog ♡)

[slu7formen]

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her like this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

[puckinghischier]

Nervous

Jack Hughes x fem!reader, smitten!Jack

summary: request for jack and reader on their wedding day

notes: this is my first time writing anything for jack and i literally had so much fun with it. i hope you guys like it 😌

[2.6k]

~

Jack had never been this nervous before. Not during nationals games, not on his draft day, not on the night of his rookie debut, and not in any circumstance that he can remember. Ever. He’s not usually the type to dwell on feelings of nerves, trusting his skill and his ability to focus on the task at hand to get the job done.

Today, though, is the most nerve-wracking day of his life. It’s his wedding day, for crying out loud. The day he gets to marry the girl that has been there for every major event of his life. The girl that has never missed a Devils home game. The girl that he’s pretty sure his family loves more than him. The girl that has stuck by him through every hardship and crazy hockey season so far. His girl. The girl he gets to make his wife.

Hell, he wasn’t even this nervous when he asked you to marry him. He recalls the day as if it happened mere hours ago, not a year and a half earlier.

“Jack, where are we going? I thought you said you had an event with the team tonight? You’re going to be late,” you ask, noticing you’re driving further and further away from the city.

You had been doing laundry, trying to get ahead on some chores you had been neglecting, when Jack had come into the living room and told you to put your shoes on, he wanted to take you somewhere. You had asked him where, and if you needed to change, but he simply shook his head no and told you it was a surprise. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Jack. You just assumed he found a new ice cream place he thought you would love, or some quaint little coffee shop he knew you’d like.

You didn’t think anything of it until you found yourself watching the city disappear into the distance almost forty-five minutes later, no destination in sight.

“We’re almost there, darling. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours,” is all he said, taking his eyes off the road for only a moment to flash one of his soft smiles in your direction before continuing to drive.

You sit in the comfortable silence, a slow country ballad playing softly on the radio. Jack’s hand resting on your thigh adding a much-needed warmth to your body, not having grabbed a jacket before he dragged you out of your shared apartment. You watch the road around you become surrounded by trees, admiring the greenery that seems so hard to come by in the city.

Before you realize it, too lost in your own thoughts, Jack is turning off of the paved road you were traveling onto a dirt road, clouds of dust billowing behind the car. You lean forward a bit, trying to take in the scenery to find any sort of clue as to where you were. You’re just about to ask where he’s taking you, yet again, when you see the most beautiful scene appear through the windshield.

At the end of the road stood a large red barn, aged in all the right ways. The red was slightly faded, showcasing the years of sun damage and there were pieces of the shingled roof missing, lost in the wind who knows how long ago. Off to the left of the barn was a large area surrounded by a wooden fence, a few horses grazing on the bright green grass. The sun was just beginning to set, causing one side of the barn to be coated in golden sunlight, the other side blanketed in a shadow. As Jack turned the car to enter the field where the barn sat, you noticed the obscene number of lights strung high into the trees covered by the shadow of the barn, giving the effect that little drops of sunlight were dripping from the limbs.

“Jack…what- where are we?” You ask him, disbelief lacing your tone.

“Just a little place I stumbled across with Luke one day. We were out for a drive, just wanting out of the city for a few hours. Found this place and instantly thought of you. Knew I had to bring you here,” he reveals, parking the car and turning off the engine.

Jack opens his door to get out of the car and quickly moves to open yours, taking your hand while leading the two of you over to the forest of lights. You’re so busy looking up at the sight in the trees that you miss the large, wooden arch set up in the middle of the two biggest trees in the mini forest. There were a few hay-bales on each side of the arch, large bouquets of white daisies placed all over the bales, with some even bunched around the top corners of the square arch.

Once you take in the scene in front of you, you turn your head to look at Jack, finding his eyes already on you.

“Jack, you have about three seconds to tell me what’s going on here,” you calmly tell him, even though your stomach felt like it was doing summersaults.

“I told you, I wanted to show this place to you. Thought you’d like it.” His lips curled into an amused smile once he noticed the glare on your face, knowing you were calling his bluff.

“I wanted to show you this place, because I knew you’d like it. Because I know you. How lucky I am to know you,” he begins, slowly moving you forward until you’re standing directly in front of the arch.

“How lucky I am that I’m the person you chose to trust with your heart. How lucky I am to be able to come home to you after a hard day. How lucky I am to be the recipient of your kindness and your love. How lucky I am to bask in your happiness and your spirit day after day. How lucky I am that you put up with the crazy world I live in, and do it without complaint.”

Your hands were starting to shake at this point, eyes watering.

“What I did to deserve all of this, I’ll never know. But I know I’ll never take it for granted. I’ll never take you for granted. And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend every day of the rest of our lives telling you how thankful I am to whatever celestial being lead me to you,” Jack pauses, dropping to his knee and fishing around in his pocket for the velvet box he’s had hidden in a pair of old skates in the closet for months.

“You are pure sunshine, shining light on every single person you meet. Y/N Y/L/N, please, let me live the rest of my life sunburnt. Marry Me.”

That was the easy part. Asking you to marry him was the quickest and easiest decision Jack had ever made in his life. He hadn’t thought twice when he called Luke on a random Thursday afternoon, telling him he needed to help him run some “errands”, driving to the nearest jeweler as soon as Luke sat in his passengers seat. Didn’t even hesitate when he called your best friend, asking if you had ever talked about what your favorite diamond cut was. Not a nerve in sight when he flew out to meet your parents to ask for their blessing two months before proposing, claiming he was just making a quick trip to visit some friends.

So why? Why was he so nervous today? He’s been looking at himself in the mirror for twenty minutes now, worried that his bow tie is crooked, or that his hair looks too messy. He didn’t know why he was so focused on his appearance. You’ve seen him at his worst. You’ve been there to take care of him after far too many drinks on a night out celebrating a win, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, head buried in the closest toilet. You’ve seen him after a brutal game, face red from exertion and weird imprints all over his body from his gear. You’ve seen him when he broke down after his first loss during his rookie year, putting all the blame on himself, holding him in your arms as he sobbed in your kitchen.

He knew you didn’t care if a few hairs were out of place, or if his tie was a centimeter too far to the left. But he did. He cared, because this was the most important day of his life, and you deserved for him to look his best. You deserved for him to make sure everything was perfect.

Jack is pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door, Luke and Quinn making their way into the room.

“Ready, Rowdy?” Quinn asks, going to stand behind Jack in the mirror.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jack responds, turning to look at his two brothers, forcing a smile that’s supposed hide all of his nervous emotions.

“Are you sure? Why do you look like you’re about to vomit, then?”

“I don’t? Do I? Oh god, what if she thinks there’s something wrong when she sees me? How do I make myself look like I’m not gonna hurl all over her dress. Luke, do I really look like I’m gonna blow chunks?” Jack frantically asks, looking between the two brothers, turning back around to look at himself in the mirror once again.

“Jack, breathe, man. You look fine. Luke was just being Luke. He doesn’t look like he’s going to vomit, right, Luke?” Quinn attempts to calm Jack, glaring at Luke.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean it. Sorry, Jack. You look fine. She’s probably gonna want to jump your bones or some shit. You look great.” Luke blurts, trying to not only escape the wrath of his eldest brother, but to keep Jack from actually vomiting.

“Okay, not what I meant but whatever works, I guess.” Quinn sighs, placing his hands on Jack’s shoulders to turn him back around.

“Listen, everything’s going to be fine. We just went to see Y/N, she’s nervous just like you are. I don’t know why, you’re both so painfully obvious with how much you love each other. There’s nothing for you to worry about. She loves you, man. More than I’ve seen someone love another person. As long as you’re standing there waiting on her at the end of the aisle, you could be covered in dog shit for all she cares. She just wants to see you. She just wants to marry you.”

Jack stares at his older brother, letting the words sink in. His thoughts drift to you, only three doors down, standing in your dress looking into the mirror just like he is, freaking out over things that don’t truly matter to him. He thinks about how you could walk down the aisle, hair un-brushed, pajamas still on, slippers on your feet and he would still be ecstatic to see you.

“You’re right, Q. Of course you’re right. I knew I chose you to be my best man for a reason,” Jack chuckles, feeling his nerves settle a bit.

“I know I’m right. I know you. And I know Y/N. As long as the two of you leave here today with the same last name, everything else could go wrong and you would still be the happiest couple I know,” Quinn removes his hands from Jack’s shoulders.

“But, nothing is going to go wrong, because Mom has been out there running around like a madwoman to make sure everything is in place. The only thing left is to make sure you get to the altar. Which is what we were sent here to do,” Luke chimes in, trying to assure his brother one last time.

“Alright. Yeah. I guess it’s time, huh?”

“It’s time, Rowdy. And it’s been a long time coming.” Quinn pats Jack on the back, the three brothers making their way towards the door that was left open.

Jack smiles at his brother’s statement, knowing you’re just as much a part of his brother’s lives as you are his. You watch every single one of Quinn’s hockey games (as long as he’s not playing at the same time as Jack and Luke) and scream loud enough for the neighbors to complain. You were there at Jack’s side for Luke’s draft day, just as proud, if not more, of the youngest Hughes. You always invite Luke over for a post-game dinner, knowing how tired he is after games and wanting to make sure he gets a meal before he goes home and claims he’s too tired to eat. He knows you hold a special place in his mom’s heart, too. Her claim that you’re the daughter she never had proving to be true through this whole process, knowing she’s been involved in every step of this wedding right along side your mom and yourself.

Before Jack knows it, the ceremony is beginning and he’s being given the signal to make his way to the altar, standing next to his groomsmen as he waits for you to walk through those doors.

As he looks out over the crowd, he finds himself growing nervous once again. Did he put on enough cologne? Did he bring the right kind? What if he wasn’t wearing the one you told him was your favorite? Did he brush his teeth? What if he kisses you for the first time as your husband and his breath tastes like the burger he had for lunch? Oh god, what if you don’t want to kiss him because he has burger breath?

Quinn can sense the nervous energy radiating off of his brother once again. He places his hand on Jack’s back, giving him a few pats to let him know he’s right there next to him. That everything’s going to be okay.

Jack looks over at his brother only briefly before he hears the unmistakable tune of “In Case You Didn’t Know” by Brett Young start playing through the speakers. It’s Jack’s song for you. He plays it all the time when you’re in the car together, not even trying to be subtle. He loves to send it to you when he’s on the road, letting you know he’s thinking about you. There was absolutely no question in your mind as to what song you were going to choose when your mom asked what you wanted to walk down the aisle to.

He snaps his attention to the double doors that open at the other end of the large room. His stomach is in knots, really hoping he doesn’t actually look like he’s about to puke, because he sure feels like it right now.

As he watches the first flash of white make an appearance in the doorway, he knows he’s a goner.

You step into his full view, hand wrapped around your father’s arm, looking around at the various guests for only a split second before your eyes meet his. Jack swears, all time stops in that second. He can barely see through the tears that well in his eyes, completely in awe of you. You match his gaze, forcing yourself to keep the tears from dropping, not wanting to have mascara streaks running down your face before you even get to the altar.

The two of you simply stare at one another for what seems like an eternity. An unspoken declaration of love passed between one another in a simple glance. Your father having to tug on your arm slightly, forcing you to step forward, too lost in Jack for you to remember where you were and what was currently taking place.

As you start to walk down the aisle, every step bringing you towards Jack, towards the rest of your life with him, the feeling of calmness washes over his body. You’re here. You’re his. And you’re everything he has ever wanted and more. It’s in this moment, watching the rest of his life walk towards him, smile on her face, a single tear slipping down her cheek, Jack Hughes has never been less nervous in his life.

[peachsayshi]

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ being wrapped in your arms feels like coming home ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 1,820

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: here is a little drabble in honor of toji's birthday! this piece was originally titled as "adoration" but I changed it to this instead. I'm taking a small posting break, but I'll be back to my regular schedule within a week! I'm sorry if I haven't been responding to tags or messages, but I will do so soon <3 I hope you're all having a wonderful time and I'm sending all my well wishes out to you! xo

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: widow toji; age gap (reader is 30 while toji is in his early 40s); a little angsty; toji attempting to break up with you but failing because he's oh so in love

toji overstayed his welcome which was only supposed to last the scorching heat of summer, but he found himself lingering through the quiet stillness of fall. winter came in with a brisk chill and gloomy skies, and that's when toji knew it was time for him to end things with you.

he’s lost interest far quicker in previous relationships. they served their purpose of healing over the wound in his heart, of soothing away the ache of loneliness. he oftens forgets that he was once a loyal, loving husband whenever he abandons yet another fling.

the difference, however, is he at least had the guts to verbally cut things off before.

fucking pathetic, he thinks as he scolds himself. he's been a coward, reducing his actions to disappearing before the sunlight peeks through the horizon, and avoiding any chance of waking you up. he ensures that he is never there to see the way your brows furrow with concern when your hand meets the cold pillow, because otherwise he would falter in his attempt to escape.

this has been going on for over two weeks now but last night was the first time you've actually snapped at his cold, detached behavior. he approached the argument with nonchalance to wither you down, shrugging off the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach and then walking out halfway through the fight.

he stayed at a motel thinking that maybe you have finally taken the hint that he's done.

he arrives back to his apartment only to be met with unfamiliar silence. the entrance of his home is dark and lifeless, and it's so quiet he can even hear a pin drop. there's a tightness in his chest, followed by a wave of disappointment that runs over him like a feverish shiver.

despite his hard headed decision, he's still anticipating on hearing your lovely voice to greet him as he walks through the door.

he knows it's selfish.

toji expected many things to happen after last night's fight. he figured the reaction to him leaving you (again) would be far bigger. a screaming phone call or a string of cursing text messages to call him out on his shitty behavior.

after all he deserves it for acting like an insufferable asshole.

he tries to swallow his guilt but it remains lodged in his throat when he acknowledges that this might actually be the end. 

the expression on his features falls.

it’s better this way, he consoles, dragging his feet across the floor to approach his kitchenette. he shrugs off his beaten up, oversized coat and tosses it over one of the chairs. he opens one of the cupboards, and grabs a mug to prepare himself a cup of tea.

she’s too young to settle for a guy like me, he continues. widowed with two kids who he barely sees anymore, working paycheck to paycheck just to make ends meet…

a deadbeat.

he exhales, swirling his brew in his ceramic cup. the aroma of sweet leaves dances up the spiral of steam to kiss his nose.

she deserves more than me.

he places the kettle down but stares at the cup mindlessly, losing all train of thought as his hands grip onto the edge of the counter. 

he can acknowledge that his insecurities are clouding his judgement on something truly special, even though this was only ever meant to be purely physical.

except, the sex was growing more intimate. the experience wasn't about pleasure for him anymore. he would find himself losing all focus to the depth of your pretty eyes, stealing kiss after kiss like your mouth was the source of where all his happiness belongs.

belonged.

belonged.

it’s over now, he thinks again. it has to be.

a faint patter of footsteps distracts him, prompting him to ease his hold on the counter as the muscles on his face relax. his heart steadies itself, and he draws in a breath when he feels two arms delicately twine around his waist.

“you’re...still here...” he points out in shock. 

he feels you press your forehead into his back. “of course, where else would I be?” 

he clears his throat to release the guilt then spins on his heel to face you.

"I thought you might have taken off," he bluntly states as he rests his lower back against the counter.

his heart swells, emanates flurries of golden sparks when he meets your gorgeous irises. the will to carry on with his decision crumbles when he catches the corner of your mouth tick into a slight grin.

"I thought about it," you reply casually, loosening your grip to place your palms flat on the side of his stomach. "but the truth is I'm worried about you and I just…want to talk things out…make sure you're okay...”

“I’m the one acting like a jerk and you’re worried about me?” he blurts.

you quirk your brow at the slip of his question. “so, you know you’re acting like a jerk?”

toji’s eyes widen slightly, a hint of pink tainting his cheek. “I asked the question first.”

you purse your lips playfully, aware of the crack that's been revealed and ready to swing once again with another blow.

“it’s because you’re acting like a jerk that I’m worried about you,” you explain, “you’re not yourself when you’re unsettled about something…”

his face warms, the hue of pink deepening into a stronger blush. the familiarity of pointing out his personal traits feels all too homely. seven months shouldn’t feel like a forever but in this bubble with you time ceases to exist.

you trail the pads of your finger tips up his torso, your hands clasping around the back of his neck as you press all your soft and sweet parts right up against the frame of his body.

the brush of your lips on his scar prompts him to flutter his eyes close. he fails to stop himself from holding you then, his firm hands reaching for the outline of your waist

“so,” you murmur with a tempting kiss as you return to your question, “you know you’re acting like a jerk then?”

please don’t make me say it, he thinks, please don’t make me unravel right in front of your eyes.

he squeezes your side, whispering a defeated “listen…”

“did I do something wrong?” you question, a hint of pain laced through every vowel which only makes his heart ache further. “did something happen?”

toji shakes his head.

“it’s not you,” he grumbles. “look, you asked me a couple of weeks ago if this thing between us was serious and…it shouldn’t be.”

you narrow your gaze, tilting your head with adorable confusion that makes toji want to kiss you right there on the spot.

he can feel you pluck at the fabric of his sweater nervously, “why not?”

toji drops his head and sighs.

“c’mon, doll, let’s be real. I’ve got nothing to give you other than a good fuck in this shitty apartment. you're better off finding someone else and I don't want to waste your time”

you press your mouth into a firm line. “your behavior…” you reply, nipping your bottom lip slightly as you gather your thoughts. “are you acting like this because you…want to end things with me?”

toji has never felt smaller. you’ve reduced him into a shriveled pea rolling around his scuffed up boot. “look, it’s better this way, alright?” he admits with a raise of his head, still refusing to outwardly say what you easily deduced. “it's better to move on before things get too complicated…”

the silence hangs heavy in the air, the tension so thick toji feels like he can’t breathe properly. his heart rattles with no restraint, and he finds himself suddenly lightheaded. an apology rests on the tip of his tongue, ready to take back everything he just bombarded you with but his throat simply tightens once more when your hands cradle his strong jaw.

“I like your apartment,” you quietly speak, “your bed sheets always smell so good, and you fixed the water pressure after I complained that it sucked…”

toji blinks back his surprise.

“I also notice that you burn the candle that I got you and that you switched laundry detergents when your old one gave me that weird rash,” you giggle and toji couldn’t help but huff out an embarrassed laugh himself. “the windows let in the best kind of sunlight, and it’s always so cozy in here…”

you press your lips against his mouth to leave a chaste kiss, “as for the company…” you add on, nuzzling the tip of your nose over his, “I consider you more than just a good fuck.”

toji can physically feel himself wilting underneath the heat of your gaze. “I’m just looking out for you, doll.”

"you can look out for me by making me breakfast instead of running away from me..."

he looks serious but his eyes are sincere, holding a level of tenderness that he only reserves for you. his palm moves to seek out your lower back, a hint of pressure pulling you back into his warmth.

your lover has stayed tight lipped about his past, but over his period with you he's found himself spilling out a few secrets here and there.

"I haven't done this in a long time," he vulnerably admits.

"I know," you reassure him, "but...the real question is, do you want this?"

he parts his lips ready to seal the last nail in the coffin, ready to give you the chance to walk out of his life for good. but you're gazing up at him from underneath your eyelashes, your determined stare an opening of your own mercy. your plush, supple lips summoning his cowardice into oblivion.

"toji?"

his breath hitches, his apprehension silenced by the urgency of his desire.

you're so lovely, he thinks. you feel like home.

"I want you," he reveals, his deep voice smoky and untethered, releasing enough sentiment in those three words that he can feel you tremble in his arms. "I just don't deserve you. I don't want you getting caught up in my bullshit..."

""you're a lot sweeter than you look, you know?" you run your fingers through the streaks of his black hair, combing it back to reveal his forehead. "you deserve to be happy, toji, and...and I think I can make you happy..."

your aura beams with delight when he flashes you a wolfish grin in return. a smile you've grown to adore so deeply. his apology comes in the form of a kiss, one that's gentle and slow. a stroke of fire burns up the back of your neck, making you quiver in places when he glides his tongue across yours. you hum softly into his lips while he releases a content sigh, the barrier he's been keeping up turns to ashes beneath your feet.

[rogersideup]

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini ♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter one:

Love You More

Series Masterlist

Next part: Wine and Dine

Word Count: 6,987

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

Steve sat pretty in his office at the compound, he had changed from his usual work clothes into his workout clothes not too long ago, preparing to switch from boring office work to one on one training.

He had gotten a call a few minutes ago letting him know an agent was being sent to him for disciplinary action due to some unfavorable behavior.

So he sat and waited, moving side to side in his swivel chair with a grin on his face, anticipating he knew exactly who was about to walk through that door.

And just like he thought, you stormed in his office like a little grey rain cloud. Not a single knock on the door before entering, not a professional greeting, no eye contact.

Just you, plopping down on the less comfortable swivel chair across his desk. Arms folded, eyes on the pothos plant he tried his hardest to keep alive, and your face contorted in such a manor that gave away all your internal emotions. You were seething, the pinch in your brow and the twinge in your pout told him so.

He sat with a sympathetic grin on his lips as he waited for you to pull your wireless earbuds out so his words didn't get lost behind the music you seemed to always be listening to in order to keep your mind occupied and away from reality.

"Hi, Bug." Steve greeted his friend who had been sent to his office as if he had been through this many times before... because he has.

"Hello Roger Stevenson." You responded in the same tone, slouching further into the same chair you've slouched in dozens of times now.

"What did you do?" He questioned, just as dryly as he greeted you.

"Kicked an agent in the dick." You stated confidentiality.

Steve smiled. "Why did you do that?"

"Because he cornered me durning training and tried to scare me into dropping out of the program with you." You complained.

This was the problem nearly every single time you sat in that very chair. Women agents in the compound were far and few between, and women agents that were high up in ranks were even further and fewer. Not because they were incapable, but because of the way they were treated.

Steve saw the misogyny from miles away, he saw it every day, and he had to deal with it every day. The agent training programs were chalk full of toxically masculine men who very obviously felt threatened by the presence of strong women.

He knew every single woman agent by name at this point because of how many times he had to put the men around them in their place. He had done it a billion times before, and he'd do it a billion times again.

You were the firecracker at the compound. Physically and emotionally, you outranked every agent the compound had ever seen. You worked your way through every training program so easily that you had been 'randomly selected' for more drug tests than any of your other colleagues. Peers always accused you of being on steroids, the men cornered you, belittled you, sexualized you, and sometimes even went as far as to touch your body.

At this point, you found yourself in Steve's generously spacious office a minimum of twice a week. Most of the time it was because your commander always sent you for disciplinary action because the only part of the altercations that were ever caught happened to be you defending yourself, rather than the initial issue. The other times were because you snuck away to the only place in the building you felt like you could take a moment to regain your composure, maybe have a little cry if you needed it.

For a few months now, you've been undergoing a completely new program to continue progressing in your training. Four days a week after your normal group work, you had private training with Steve.

You were learning a lot from him, and all the time the two of you had been spending together had turned you and Steve into close friends but naturally, that fueled the fire of all of your peers. The tormenting had turned up to a level that had you seeing red.

Steve couldn't and never blamed you for all the times you sat across from him for having kicked, punched, or screamed at a colleague. He was proud that you had it in you to stick up for yourself, but sad that you even had to in the first place.

However, everyone in the compound could tell that the never ending abuse from your peers was affecting your mental health. Tony and Fury had formally invited you onto the Avengers team twice now, not only because of your skill set, but also in hopes of making the situation a little better for you. Both times you professionally declined the offer with high honor, and when Steve questioned your choice both times, it was always because you didn't think you were good enough yet. Shit, you hadn't even made it through all of the training programs the compound had to offer.

It was painfully obvious that you were over qualified for a spot on the Avengers to everyone but you. The words being viciously spat at you nearly every day by inadequate men had sunken so far deep into your brain that you started to believe their words to be true. So, more one on one training it was.

"What should your disciplinary action be?" Steve asked, leaning back in his chair.

You noted his work out clothes, then looked at the time. "How about five minutes of peace and quiet before you beat my ass for two whole hours of training?"

"Peace and quiet?! That just seems so cruel." He offered an apologetic grin.

"I deserve it. I'm a terrible team player, far to emotional to ever be a good agent." Sarcasm dropped from your tone. "I must be on my period today."

"Go assert your dominance over on the couch and take a breather, I'm starting to feel way to intimidated by your feminine energy." Steve joked. "I have a few things to take care of but I'll get you when I'm ready for our one on one today."

You nodded, and stood up before making the very short walk over to the cozy couch in his office. Having spent many hours here with him before, you always felt comforted by the suede nook and throw pillow wonderland.

There was always an unspoken sense of appreciation when Steve knew not to make a big deal out of what happened. Sometimes if he harped on it for too long it would just make you cry, and if he went and yelled at the agents who had put you in this position, they'd only come back and try twice as hard to deliver you your downfall.

So pretend write ups and stern talking to's happened to be the best way to go about it.

As you sunk into the couch, Steve got up and grabbed you a water bottle and a snack. Having already trained for a few hours today with a few more ahead of you, he wanted to make sure you were taken care of.

Squatting down in front of you, peace offering in hand, Steve saw all the emotions you were trying to suppress. "Oh, and as part of your punishment you're required to hang out with Bucky and I tonight at my place. We're getting pizza and watching movies."

Only then did your smile appear. "How dare you? It wasn't even my fault and now I'm being punished far beyond the offense."

"I don't want to hear it young lady." He stood up. "You do the crime, you gotta do the time."

"Well I guess I can't say no." You took Steve's peace offering. "What time are you expecting my appearance?"

"I'm off work after training you so just come over whenever you're ready." He shrugged, moving back to his desk.

"I'm gonna shower and nap after this." You raised an eyebrow.

"Just as you deserve." Steve agreed as he sat down and fixed his eyes on his computer screen. "Your cruel and unusual punishment of peace and quiet starts now."

Feeling appreciative of Steve, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back onto the cushion. Trying your absolute hardest to meditate the anger and sadness out of your body, it was difficult to not allow yourself to sit in the emotional puddle of despair that these altercations constantly left you in.

Had it not been for Steve, you would've quit this job and ran far, far away by now. Every work day was proving to be a mental and physical hurdle that was starting to slowly chip away at your spirit, but you had no choice but to truck along considering you've already made it this far.

But eventually sunshine, rainbows, and a hot, cheesy slice to pizza consumed your thoughts to create a calmer peace of mind. That was until all of the green meadows and greasy goodness was cut off by a pillow gently whacking you in the face.

Upon ripping your eyes open, and the same seething pout returning to your face, the soldier stood proudly before you, hiding his invasive laughter by biting his tongue.

"You know, if you weren't my higher-up I'd kick you in the dick too." You grumbled.

All of Steve's self control broke free at your words, and his laughter sounded through his big and beautiful office. "I wasn't sure if you were awake or not."

"So the solution was violence?" You questioned, trying to hide your amusement. Though you could put on a pretty good act, you couldn't imagine a world in which you would ever be genuinely angry at the lump of wholesome goodness in the form of your big, strong best friend.

"That wasn't violent, that was a creative solution!" He smiled widened as your lips tugged upwards. "I chose the softest one!"

"I'll find a creative solution to get you back for that." You playfully threatened. "I know where you live."

"Can you find a creative solution to getting up off the couch so we can get training started?"

You let out a fake cry of complaint "but Stevie, my legs are so sore."

"You're being worked way too hard, we'll take it easy today." Steve offered you his hands to pull you up off the seat. "We can focus of hand to hand combat, give your legs a good break."

"No, it's fine. We can do tricking like you originally planned." You denied. Your hands found his, and he pulled you up with ease.

"Tricking is a martial art that relies mainly on your legs." Steve challenged, letting go of your hands when you were steady on your feet. "I don't think it's a good idea for today. Let's do it tomorrow instead."

"It'll be okay, I can to it." You shook your head.

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should." Steve started walking out of his office towards the private gymnasium the two of you trained in together. "I know you can do it, but I'd rather you properly recover than prove a point."

"...it's not to prove a point." You stated, trailing behind him like a puppy. "I'm just trying to be a good little agent and do my best."

"Your worst is better than most of the other agents best." He looked back at you with a grin. "So there's no harm in waiting until tomorrow."

"Whatever you say, Captain."

Though Steve has made it abundantly clear many times that you didn't have to prove your worth to him, you harbored a deep sense of disappointment in yourself for letting that complaint slip passed your lips.

He would've wanted you to feel comfortable expressing your bodies needs and limitations. In fact, he reminded you all of the time that recovery was just as important as the training itself. But you wanted to be capable of doing it all without a single peep about your discomfort.

You wanted to be mighty, you wanted to be strong, you wanted to prove your worth.

Your friend always knew your value even when you couldn't see it, so he made a habit out of advocating for your needs when you wouldn't. While you studied him to become a better fighter, he studied you just as hard. At this point he knew what every single one of your facial expressions meant, he sensed your attitude change before you expressed it, he was an expert in your body language, and was knowledgeable about your body in general.

If you weren't able to properly take care of it, he would. With the most careful respect anyone has ever given you before, Steve knew you better than anyone else in your life.

Although he took training a little bit easy today, he never stopped letting prideful compliments slip past his tongue every time you nailed a new move on the head, or every time he noticed an improvement. Even if you didn't do something so well, his critiques always started with a compliment on your brave attempt and never ended with a belittling statement.

Training with Steve always ended with a hug, or a high five if the two of you were far too hot and sweaty to want to touch each other anymore, then he'd remind you to get some rest, drink some water, and fill your belly with lots of food.

Today was no different, and as he ended the session with a big hug and words of affirmation, your mind felt a whole lot clearer than it did when you initially stormed into his office.

You said goodbye to him, but not for long because not even two hours later, you were knocking on the door to his cozy apartment in the compound.

Most people in the compound lived in barracks. A few agents to a room, with a community living situation for kitchens, living rooms, and bathrooms. The only exceptions to this were the Avengers who got their own little apartments in a private sector of the compound and..... well; you.

You were initially assigned to the barracks just like everyone else, but much like the rest of your personal journey here at the compound, the living situation got complicated.

Not only were you getting bullied and harassed while you were working, it started seeping into your living situation too. Sleeping, showering, changing your clothes, there was not a single moment in which you felt safe and confident that you weren't about to get caught in the crossfire of an angry colleague.

So after one too many incidents, your commander moved you to an apartment to yourself. It was away from the avengers and all the other agents, so even though it was nice to have a place for your own, some days it also felt isolating.

Thats why you loved hanging out with the boys. Sometimes you just needed some comfortable interaction with people you trusted in places that felt like home.

Before your hand even made it back to down to your side, the door swung open.

"You know, you and Bucky both have a key to my place. I don't understand why you guys still knock." Steve was on the other side, now wearing a white T-shirt and some cozy pants. A smile stretched across your lips and he gave you the stink eye. "I also don't understand why you showed up to pizza and a movie like that. Especially when you said you were gonna take a nap."

Usually the dress code for his house was strictly cozy clothes only. But you now had a full face of makeup, your hair was curled to perfection, and your outfit definitely didn't look comfortable.

"There was a small change of plans." You shrugged, walking past him entering his place before kicking your shoes off in the entryway.

"What do you mean change of pla-"

"Bucky!" Your smile widened when you saw your other friend sitting on the couch.

Immediately standing up, Bucky approached you and wrapped you up in a big hug. "Buggy! It's been too long!"

"It has been too long, and it's all your fault" You joked, enjoying being wrapped up in his arms.

"How is it my fault?" He asked, pretending to be offended.

"Because you went on that mission a few weeks ago!" You reminded him.

"Well then it's your fault too because you left on a mission the same day I got home." Bucky disagreed, letting you go.

"Maybe if less people in the world were so needy and evil we'd be able to see each other more." You noted, plopping down on the couch.

"Why do you look so pretty?" Bucky questioned.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out!" Steve added.

"Because I'm going to watch a movie with you boys... then maybe going out with a ...friend right after this." You sneakily explained knowing damn well they were about to hate what you were saying.

Like it was choreographed and synchronized, they looked at each other, then turned their heads back to you with a glare.

"You're seeing Harvey, aren't you?" Steve deadpanned.

"If I was, why would that be so bad?" You questioned.

"Because Harvey is your ex boyfriend. Emphasis on the ex." Bucky raised an eyebrow.

"No he's not. We didn't break up, we simply took a break. Those are two completely different things." You defended yourself knowing they both hated Harvey's guts.

"Taking a break is breaking up but just so much worse. He's just hurting your feelings more and dragging you along." Steve vented with his hands on his hips, like a disappointed dad.

"Exactly. And everyone knows he's one of the worst Agents in the compound." Bucky sassed, sitting next to you on the couch. "He's not nice, he doesn't have a good personality, he's falling behind so far we don't even feel comfortable sending him on missions anymore."

"He does have a good personality, he just doesn't show his true self to a lot of people. He's closed off to the outside world." You defended him.

"He's friends with all the douche bags that torment you every day. How could you be okay with that?" Steve dropped his tone to a more gentle one as he sat on the side of you opposite Bucky.

"I still haven't forgiven him for breaking your heart not even 3 months ago." Bucky reminded you of when he broke up with you over text, just to beg for you back not even a full week later.

"I know on paper it all looks bad, but you guys just don't get it. You won't understand unless you see it from the inside like I do. He can be really sweet, and he is a good agent, he just lets his dumbass friends distract him too much." You continued your defense with a shrug. "He's a Scorpio."

"Oh please" Bucky laughed. "Don't bring astrology into this."

You leaned back onto Bucky's arm and let your legs rest over Steve's lap. If you had to hear their lecture, you at least deserved to be comfortable.

"What does that even mean?" Steve questioned curiously.

"Scorpio's are kind've intense." You explained. "They're mysterious and charming, but sometimes vindictive. Harvey feels things strongly, and acts on his feelings immediately with not much to rationalize his behavior."

"Yeah, vindictive is definitely the right word to describe him" Bucky backhandedly agreed, slinging his arm around your shoulders allowing you to get more comfortable.

"What am I?" Steve asked.

"A cancer, I think." You smiled. "Let me look it up. Your birthday is the Fourth of July, right?"

"You know me so well" Steve nodded.

Your fingers typed on your phone and Bucky watched the screen. "I'm a Pisces." He stated.

"Okay, Steve. Cancers are soft, loving, creative and nurturing. They care deeply for the people they love and are uniquely in touch with their emotions. Cancers are able to handle all the roles their counterparts get lost in, they are chivalrous but are sensitive and easily emotionally wounded." You read the google search to them.

"Okay you can stop now, that made me feel vulnerable." Steve joked with a smile.

"That's Steve if I've ever heard it." Bucky agreed that the description matched him perfectly.

"Read Bucky's now." Steve encouraged, poking your leg.

Your fingers typed quickly once again. "A Pisces man is kind and unafraid to nurture his feminine side. He has the ability to listen compassionately, show deep empathy. They tend to view attention as a gift, and only ever wants to feel loved and cherished. Oh, and they're lazy, idealistic, and use escapism as their main coping mechanism."

"Awww, that's just like our sweet little Bucky boy." Steve cooed.

"Now I feel vulnerable." Bucky momentarily hid his face in his hands earning your laugh.

"What's yours, Bug?" Steve questioned with a giggle.

"I'm a Gemini" You stated proudly. "Most people don't like Geminis"

"What's there not to like?" Steve cocked his head to the side.

"Well the most notable trait of a Gemini is that we have a strong ability to switch between different roles, interests, and perspectives with ease. Kind've like Yin and Yang all in one. We can be emotional and logical, introverted and extroverted, analytical and intuitive all at the same time." You explained.

"I still don't see the problem" Steve said.

"Most people take the duality as being two-faced. Almost like we will use it as manipulation or means to have a hidden agenda. But I think that's a false representation of what I'm really like." You continued with a shrug. "I don't have an ulterior motive, I just try to view all things from all sides and find a good balance of logic and emotion. Like letting your heart and your brain make choices together."

"Being able to see situations from all angles is what makes you such a good agent, that's practically a super power" Bucky commented, lightly nudging you with his shoulder.

"Exactly. Understanding your enemy can let you get two steps ahead of them while still holding your own with grace and precision." Steve agreed.

"Float like a butterfly, and sting like a bee." Bucky added.

"That's exactly why I call her Bug!" Steve enthused with a big smile.

"Oh, I call her Bug because you call her Bug, but that makes sense!" Bucky laughed. "I thought it was because most people are scared of her at first but once you learn more about her, she's really not that bad after all!"

You looked up at Bucky with eyes squinted into a glare worth a thousand daggers. "Worms for brains!"

Steve's laughter at the comment didn't falter either, so you gently kicked him in the rib. "Hey! I'm the second person you've kicked today!"

"I wouldn't have to kick people if people didn't give me a reason to kick them." You defended yourself. "And I stand by that!"

Steve's hands held your two legs tightly in his hands. "Keep your legs closed and to yourself, ma'am!"

You gasped and clutched your chest in exaggeration before joking. "Are you calling me a slut, Captain?!"

"Steven Grant Rogers!" Bucky protectively clutched you closer to him. "That is not how we speak to women!"

"No wait!" Steve laughed. "That's not what I meant!"

“Mmmhmmm" Bucky sassed.

"I meant stop kicking people! Especially me!"

"I'm choosing to forgive you, under one condition." You giggled. "Please order the pizza. I'm starving."

"I heard your stomach grumbling during training, I ordered it 15 minutes ago." Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Ugh, I love you so much." You professed. "Sweet, sweet man."

Steve's cheeks subtly warmed. "I love you more!"

"I'm gonna vomit." Bucky grumbled behind you. "Remember when he called you a slut?"

"I did not!" Steve shrieked.

You barked out a laugh before rolling onto your side to reach for the remote on the coffee table. "What are we watching boys? Lord knows this is going to take at least half an hour to figure out..."

And right you were, because the pizza arrived before the three of you agreed on a movie. You stuffed your bellies and watched the film before saying goodbye to them and meeting Harvey for drinks.

Though you didn't have high expectations of how you wanted the night to turn out with him, Harvey somehow found a way to dig underneath the bar you had set on the floor for him.

It was clear from the moment you showed up at the causal dive bar that he wasn't interested in speaking like adults, so through the entire duration of your first drink he sat and belittled you. It was as if his friends in the compound had taken control of his brain like a parasite. All of the reasons he claimed he could never get back together with you sounded just like the reasons most of the agents at the compound treated you like a piece of garbage.

You weren't even that good of an agent, he didn't like how much time you were spending with Steve, your invitation to the avengers was just coercion, and you spent too much time working and not enough time attending to him... even though both of you worked the same hours.

Needless to say, you cut him off before ordering a shot on his tab. You threw it back effortlessly without as much as a stink face or a wince, slipped the bartender a tip, then walked away without as much as a single goodbye to the man you once loved with your whole heart.

Maybe Steve and Bucky were right. They were always right, and you always ended up looking like a fool.

Much like a fool would, you cried for the entire walk back to the compound. You cried through the hallways up to your apartment, you cried while taking off your makeup and brushing your teeth. You even cried as you slipped on your pajamas and walked back to Steve's apartment, hoping that maybe him and Bucky were still watching movies.

But, you did manage to stop the tears as you slid the key in and unlocked his door. You sniffled as you stepped in and were greeted with a dark living room and his bedroom door shut.

Feeling a little defeated, you still wanted to be with someone. So you quietly made your way into his room and slipped into the unoccupied side of his bed.

You didn't know if it was the big, scary superhero sleeping next to you, or maybe the extra comfortable blankets and pillows, but Steve's bed was the most comforting place in the world to you.

He never questioned why, and neither of you even remembered how it came to be, but you made a dirty little habit of sneaking in and sleeping in his company when you couldn't fathom being alone at night. You had a lot on your plate, and Harvey was known for breaking your heart right before bed. The compound to you wasn't the warm and fuzzy place it was to Steve and Bucky, it was cold and sterile. So Steve was happy to let you come to the one place you found comfort whenever you needed

But there was one unspoken rule, and that was for very obvious reasons. No one could know about this. Not any other agent, not any other avenger. Not even Bucky.

Why? Well, the most obvious reason was that if anyone found out about how close you and Steve really were, especially your little sleepovers, all of the times your colleagues falsely claimed that you were having sex with him to climb up in ranks would quadruple in amount. You were already getting horrifically bullied at the compound, and neither of you could stand to add fuel to the fire.

The second reason being Steve was technically your higher up. Like a manager or a supervisor, you occasionally reported to him. Though him being your main disciplinary figure and trainer, he also occasionally did other duties surrounding your job such as deployment on missions, oversight on testing days, and training assessments.

Your friendship was already crossing way more lines than either of you have ever crossed in a normal boss - employee relationship. Steve had moral dilemmas about it every single day, he could see the dilemma in your eyes every so often as well. On paper it was wrong, but given the circumstances that his friendship with you was similar to his friendships with the avengers, Steve made himself feel better by viewing it as stepping stones to get you onto the team. Because once you were officially an Avenger, the two of you would be equals and there would be absolutely nothing wrong with your closeness.

The third and least obvious reason was the unfortunate fact that Steve was head over heels in love with you.

He really never meant for this to happen, but it hit him harder than a freight train the very first time he ever laid eyes on you. You had just ranked high enough to start agent training under Steve's devision. Anticipating a brand new group of recruits to whip into shape, especially with rumors about a nameless and faceless agent, Agent 306, who had worked their way into his devision in less than 3 months, less than half the time it took everyone else to get there, he walked into the group training room and his eyes immediately locked on yours.

Once they found you, he couldn't look away. You reminded him so much of when he was in boot camp before he took the serum. In a lineup of men that towered over you in height, you seemed tiny but mighty. Steve knew better than anyone else to never underestimate the little guy.

So he started down the line and put the assigned agent numbers to faces while trying his best to memorize them as fast as he could. You stood as tall as you could and improved your posture as he got closer to you. Admittedly, being in front of an avenger for the first time was terrifying and nerve wracking. The closer he got, the harder your hands shook.

Then, it was your turn. The man towered over you with his big, solid frame. But the second you looked into his big blue eyes, you immediately recognized the kindness and warmth that lived within them.

"Agent?" He raised an eyebrow at you.

"306." You stated simply.

Expecting him to nod after he studied your face and move on like he did the rest of the agents, his eyes widened for a moment before his lips tugged up into a smile.

You were the most beautiful thing his eyes every had the pleasure of looking at, and while he had the permission, he took in all your features as quickly as he could. He remembered how much he thought you looked like women painted in fine pieces of art for centuries. Classic, timeless, effortlessly beautiful.

"306." He smiled. "I've heard a lot about you. You've got a big reputation to uphold. Keep up the good work."

Just when he thought you couldn't get any more beautiful, your eyes twinkled. He could tell you you were suppressing a smile to keep a professionally straight face. "Thank you, Captain."

Just like that, he moved on to the next agent in the line.

But to this day, he's never moved on from you. He tried his absolute hardest, but he just couldn't. So he shoved it down so deeply into his heart, and locked it up, and threw the metaphorical key into the middle of the ocean.

Since that very day, he had to work hard so just to make sure nobody would ever find out how smitten he was of you. He'd never look at you for too long, never pick you out of the line unless it was necessary, never overly complement your work, and never let his mind wander too far.

You had a boyfriend, and he was your boss. Plain and simple. He wiped the dirt off his shoulder.

But over time, your friendship blossomed, the harassment got worse, and one on one training with you started. That started a whole new level of trust that he simply could not break for you.

Training was intense, and when all the men around you tried to cop sneaky feels of your body, you and Steve grew a mutual trust in touching each other.

Sometimes he had to throw you, catch you, you had to throw light punches and kicks at him. There were days in which he'd have you in a headlock, maybe you full body tackled him onto the ground, maybe he had to grab your waist to correct you mid-flip to make sure you wouldn't snap your neck upon landing.

You were so confident in his ability to be respectful of you, that you were comfortable enough to sleep in his bed when you had a boyfriend.

It took so much time to gain that kind of trust with you, and that trust was very important to him. To accomplish what you two were doing, feeling comfortable and confident in your partner was make or break.

If you ever found out that he had a stupid little crush on you, he could only imagine it would break a majority of that trust. Immediately, the comfortable energy between you two would become very uncomfortable for you, and he simply couldn't put that burden on you.

If Bucky found out you had occasionally been sleeping in Steve's bed, he would immediately figure out his dirty little secret. It would alter the dynamic of your little friend group, and he would push and push for Steve to just tell you the truth in hopes it had some fairytale ending.

So yeah. Nobody could know about this.

Steve had enough conscious awareness to know that you were there with him last night, but not enough to remember you sneaking out before he was awake. You loved to avoid his questions about what had you down enough to not want to be alone, and you had gotten better at tactics to avoid the post sleep interview he loved to bombard you with.

You were so good, in fact, that you managed to avoid it all day until you walked into the private training gym anticipating your routine with Steve.

Oddly enough, he was late. You were never there before him, and he was never even a minute late to anything. So you took the time to start the music from your shared workout playlist with him, and do some warm up stretches on the floor while you waited.

Ten minutes later, he frantically walked into the room. "So sorry I'm late, had an emergency call down to the track-" he stopped in his tracks when he saw lingering sadness on your face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing" You shook your head, touching your hands to your toes. "I'm fine."

"You look like you've been crying." He noted, cautiously sitting on the floor in front of you.

"It's fine, I've been looking forward to this all day. Can we just get started?" You asked, unable to fake a chipper tone of voice.

"I was late because an agent decided that working through a hangover was a good idea, and now there's vomit all over the running track. Could that violent hangover have anything to do with your tear stained cheeks, Bug?" He asked.

"Harvey?" You questioned.

"Bingo."

"I frankly do not care to hear anything else about him." You shook your head again. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that, but it has nothing to do with me. I'm not responsible for any of his dumb choices anymore."

"You never have been." Steve agreed with reluctance. "Last night didn't go so well, huh?"

"We're done." You finally looked Steve in the eyes. "You and Bucky were right. I'm done being discredited and disrespected by the worst excuse for a human in this place."

"I'm so sorry." Steve's face softened in sympathy. Despite his internal happiness that you were officially done with a man who has treated you so poorly, it didn’t make up for the empathy he had for your sadness. "I know you loved him a lot, I can imagine this is difficult for you."

"Can we do that thing where we don't harp on an issue for too long so I don't get even more upset about it?" You asked, feeling as if you'd explode into a puddle of tears if he kept being so nice to you.

"Sure thing, we can talk about it later when work is over." Steve agreed, standing up and offering you his hands. "Did you drink last night?"

You let him help you up and let out a sigh. Technically, you weren't supposed to be drinking much or consuming any substances that could alter your sobriety just in case you got called on emergency.

"I did, but not enough to get me hammered." You explained, letting him help you up. "Just a cocktail and a shot. But I also ate and drank plenty of water."

"That's fine, you know I trust you to make good choices." Steve acknowledged, happy you told him the truth.

"Then why did you ask?" You questioned, dusting your hands off on your work out pants.

"Just wanted to make sure you're not going to throw up on me." Steve smiled.

"I think we're in the clear." You giggled.

"You're allowed to take a day off, you know?" Steve reminded you. "We don't have to do this today if you want to just take a day to pull yourself together."

"This is how I pull myself together." Your hands motioned around the room. "If I sit and do nothing all day, I'll lose my mind."

"Fair enough" Steve nodded in understanding, he was the same way. "Want to get started?"

"Yes please"

It took a bit for you to snap your mind into the proper mindset, but with a bit of guidance, Steve got you there. Once you were all in it, he had you practicing and improving skill sets he started teaching you last week.

About an hour and a half in, you were a hot mess. Your shirt quickly came off leaving you in just a sports bra and work out pants, your hair was tied back as sweat dripped down your face, and you were panting so much that all you wanted to do was lay out on the floor.

But this was typically how hard Steve pushed you, and that's why you loved him. You barely left your typical agent training procedures with a hair out of place. With him, you actually felt like you were making improvement.

The upbeat music and Steve's voice guiding you through how to maneuver in defense hardly even masked the sound of running footsteps down the echoing hallway.

Your commander poked his head into room to see Steve trying his hardest to punch and kick you, while you were moving tirelessly to try and block each attempt. As he watched you miss every single fist and foot, he couldn't help but to be impressed.

"306" He called out in a hurry.

You continued blocking Steve until he stopped, only then did you turn your head and stand tall at his order.

"Commander Bennett." You acknowledged, trying to catch your breath.

"Sorry to interrupt, Captain Rogers. We need 306 on an emergency deployment right now."

“Don't be sorry, it's okay." He acknowledged before looking at you. "Are you going to be alright?"

That question had too many layers to unpack at the moment. In general? Probably. After your break up? Maybe not. Going on a mission when you were already worn out? No, but you'd pretend like you were fine.

"Yeah, I'll be okay." You nodded, grabbing your shirt and pulling it back over your head.

"Good work today, we'll pick back up when you get home." He reached out for a high five which you happily accepted. "Stay safe."

"Will do, see you soon, Stevie." You slapped your hand against his.

"Get home quick, Bug." He smiled as you fast walked out of the room backwards. Commander Bennett already running down the hallway.

"Love ya!" You waved, your pretty smile sending a shockwave of physical pain through Steve's heart.

"Love you more" He smiled through the pain.

Then just like that, you slipped out of the door.

He waited until he could no longer hear your footsteps before quite literally back flopping onto the soft floor mats behind him, and took some long, deep breaths.

That little locked box that resides in the depths of his cold heart was desperately trying to work its way up. The contents of love for you inside of it was starting to ooze out of its seams, and you officially being back on the market after months of running back to the same man who was committed to breaking your heart on an endless loop wasn't helping.

He laid there with his eyes closed, letting the thick cushioned material cool his skin as he let the cold hard facts sink into his brain once more.

The only certainty was that he is your boss, your friend, and your own personal cushioned landing mat. He'd be there to catch you if you fell, he'd lend you a shoulder to cry on, and he'd help you get back up on your feet.

He was certain that you loved him as a friend, but he was most certain that he loved you more.

He would always love you more. More than you'll ever know, and more than he will ever tell you.

Next part: Wine and Dine

Tag list: @saranghaey @firephotogrl74 @selella @talesofadragon @ss28 @nekoannie-chan @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @spikeluv84 @crazyunsexycool @callmissrogers

Tag list is still open if you’d like to be apart of this bumpy ride 🌟

[imfinereallyy]

Spooky Spouse🕸️𓆩♡𓆪🕸️

happy spooky season :) this is for my mutuals @cranberrymoons @penny00dreadful @theheadlessphilosopher @vthx who when I asked about when we think steddie bday's was, it derailed into well...this. And it was too hard to resist.

v brief mention of nsfw

"You want to what?"

Eddie stares at Steve excitedly, practically vibrating in his spot across from Steve in the kitchen.

"We should get married on Halloween!" Eddie shouts.

Steve lets his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he looks at his very manic, albeit very cute, fiance. "Babe, I love you, and for that, I am going to hear you out—"

"Love you too." Eddie interrupts softly.

Steve's mouth curves at the edges; he's sure he has what Robin has claimed as his 'lovesick' smile on his face. "—but why would you want to get married on your birthday?"

Suddenly, Eddie's excitement switches into an embarrassed blush. Hiding behind a finger spun around a soft curl, he mumbles, "...about that..."

Steve sighs and leans back in his chair. He feels the familiar ache in the bottom of his back, scarred road rash that never quite healed right in 86'. If he sits too long in one spot, Steve finds himself fidgety and unsettled.

He wonders briefly if he can convince Eddie to give him a massage later.

Eddie's embarrassment shifts for a moment to concern, eyes wondering where Steve's back meets the base of the old wooden chair they found on 74th Street two years ago. Steve knows Eddie had liked the way the chair creaked like Steve's knee, and that was reason enough to bring it home. Now, though, with the way Eddie holds his breath to see if the familiar creak of the chair will mix with the sounds of Steve's young bones aging, Steve knows he won't have to do any convincing at all.

"I'm okay, Eds. You were saying."

Eddie's face blooms red again. "Okay, only if you promise not to be mad."

"That is never a good sign."

Eddie bites his lip, "What if I told you that my birthday isn't really on Halloween?"

Steve stares blankly, "I know I've had a few knocks on the head, Eds, but I'm pretty sure you can change your name, not your birthday. Having a wedding doesn't mean you get to move your birthday."

"Well!" Eddie jumps, this time with more anxious energy, "You see, that's what I mean; we wouldn't have to move my birthday if we got married on Halloween."

"Okay, you lost me. Am I concussed again? Did we go too hard last night? I know you said you were 'gonna fuck me so good I would forget my name,' but I'm pretty sure this isn't what you meant."

Eddie takes a deep breath before getting on his knees in front of Steve, taking his hand into his own. "Stevie, I mean that I lied. My birthday isn't Halloween. It's actually in February."

"What."

"You said you wouldn't be mad!"

Steve snorts but gives Eddie's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm pretty sure I actually said that 'wasn't a good sign'. I never agreed not to be mad."

"We both know it means the same thing to you." Eddie huffs.

Steve's lovesick smile is back again, despite knowing he should be mad. "You're telling me you've convinced everyone your birthday is on Halloween?"

"...well, everyone but Wayne." Eddie's smile turns sheepish.

"Jesus Christ Eds."

Eddie jumps up from his knees back to his feet. Steve can hear Eddie's ankle crack at the sudden change. He keeps a hold on Steve's hand. "Listen, I had good reason. I love Halloween; I should be a Halloween baby. My death was almost by bats; I mean, by that logic, it's almost full circle."

"I feel like you're D&D'ing me into logic that doesn't make sense. Eddie, are you trying to make it worse?"

Eddie throws his head back and groans, "No. I'm just—I love Halloween. It feels wrong not to have something important on that day."

"So you decided to change your birthday? Ed's that's not legal."

Eddie's excitement comes back tenfold, giving Steve whiplash. "Well, neither is our wedding! So it's perfect! Honestly, very metal of us to be fighting the law on such an amazing day." Eddie's arms flap around in excitement, making their conjoined hands move messily throughout the air.

Steve wants to be mad; he really does. But he can't help it; he just loves this idiot too much. "Fine, we can get married on Halloween."

"Really?!"

Steve stands, bringing his lips to Eddie's hand, then gently to his lips. He murmurs against his mouth, "On two conditions."

Eddie nips Steve's lip, "Anything, baby."

"One." Steve starts, sliding his tongue into Eddie's mouth, just to be a brat, before pulling back. Eddie groans but doesn't protest. He knows that this is the rare occasion it's his turn to be punished. "You have to tell everyone the truth about your birthday."

"Yep, fine. You got it." Eddie grabs Steve by the back of his neck and pulls him back. Consuming him greedily, Steve gives in to the distraction for a moment. Loving the feeling of Eddie's heat pressed against his own.

Steve pulls back reluctantly, a trail of spit connecting the two of them. Eddie whines and paws at Steve's hips, trying to draw him back. "Two, you have to tell me when your actual birthday is."

The heat clears from Eddie's eyes and the sheepish look returns. "Uh..."

Steve starts to remove himself from Eddie, but Eddie scrambles to bring him back against his chest. "Fine. Fine, I'll tell you."

Steve leans his forehead against Eddie's, patiently waiting for him to spill.

"It's February 14th."

Steve's eyes go wide, "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ."

**

this spiraled form all of us being convinced eddie would lie and say his bday is on Halloween. to my mutals, sorry I didn't tag you all it got to long, but this was for you guys ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[shuenkio]

Rewrite the stars | PJ.s 🍂

Paring: Jay x Male!reader | Genre: Angst but fluff.

Synopsis: the man who once broke your heart, decided that he will make a change between you and him, to form the love once again.

Cw: nothing just two exes getting back together.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st lang.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A-N: This was way back in June so it's a bit 🤏 cringe and many dramatic scene you'd discover, again I'm still develop how to express character emotion:> .

Years of dating with Jay crumbled in a blink of an eye when m/n saw him with a girl on a date with his gift that m/n gave him during his birthday. M/N calmed down, trying to process what's truly happening. We can't judge a book by its cover, but the moment M/N saw Jay press a soft kiss on the girl's cheek, it's over.

There's no explanation for this. M/N's tears break down unconditionally; he wants to go there and scream at Jay's face and ask why he would do such a thing to his boyfriend here. That's the ugliest memory you had of him. Nevertheless, since I love him very much, he can't seem to let him go.

Not because of his wealthy status; it's because he loves him so much from the bottom of his heart that he swears he would do anything for Jay. However, Jay had asked M/N to break up with him, and with no more heart in those eyes that once used to be, the adorable expression he made just for you when he talked about his day is no longer in this broken relationship.

Begging for him to stay would just make you pathetic and blinded by love. When m/n has decided he has to let him go, the person who's once been the love of his life is now leaving for their own good. Are all of the memories and promises nothing to Jay? The question seemed unspoken without an answer, clenching in his chest painfully in sorrow, along with the hurtful words that haunted your sleep every single day.

"Let's break up"

—5 years later, after  M/n graduated and found his true passion with his dream job. He was no longer stressing about nonsense; he got everything at the age of 25: money, a car, a house, importantly, a job. chapter of his life wherein he can get whatever he wishes for. I worked as a designer, making tons of exquisite and high-quality collections of luxurious clothes and dresses that hit the market every single time they were launched.

His name soon became the hot topic in society; not only did he walk with the trend, he was also loved by everyone with his relatability and kindness. Moreover, during the week, while he was spending his time at the spa, M/N got a call from his manager saying that there'll be a new member of a top-tier design team who wishes to work with you, especially as one of the co-workers. This was not new, nor is it difficult to handle, but what was coming for you was a blind spot.

The time has come; M/N is now in a meeting room, waiting for the new guy who is eager to work with him so much. He wonders who it could be, as a top-tier designer in this city will make an appearance in front of you at any moment soon. The glass door was opened by a pair of hands, and his manager came in with the taller man behind in his black suit. Everyone in the room stood up as a sign of respect except M/N.

He was so lost in thought at the new face behind his manager. He is quite familiar. M/N refuses to care if he's scolded by the supervisor, yet who cares? The whole group settled down in their own seats, and due to M/N sitting across from the table, he began to focus on the meeting instead of giving his attention to that guy.

"Everybody, Meet Jay Park! He will be working with us from now on, as a designer, of course, just like our gem, M/N. Haha, and it looks like this gentleman is here. I look forward to working with you. How do you like that m/n? " It was horrible the unrequited attention on you was your least favorite thing you thought would never happen; the uncomfortable shift in your seat explained everything.

"Very well, Mr. Park. So then, since I've already seen him, I'll take my leave. Please excuse  me." Once m/n knew who he was, he spared no time before leaving the place immediately. A glance on Jay's face, flashing back all of those nightmares once again. I don't know if it's because of work or something else, but deep down, a part of him said Jay is probably planning to take you back. How annoying.

Ever since the first meeting, of working together with your ex, M/N got nothing but troubling. Whenever Jay had time alone with M/N, he would always bring up the past topic all over again. He was truly sorry for his actions—for hurting you and for cheating on you with another girl. Jay swears he would wear his skin to the bone just for you to accept him once again.

However, it was such a bad move. Due to how much popularity M/N had, there's some reason you thought he would come back for you just because you had fame. Along with the sudden request to get back together, what will happen if he's going to cheat and repeat all the events once again? A busy day ended with the finished touch of your creation. M/N didn't know how long he had been standing here in the studio. All the sections are in pitch black except him. Employees have all gone back to their own homes. Prepared for you stuff to head home after a long day, a fade of voice fills the room from behind. Well, it was loud and clear to recognize.

"M/n i... Aren't you supposed to go home yet?" He paused, dipping his hands into his pocket.

"I'm about to. It's getting late; you should too," m/n implied with no enthusiasm for a small talk.

"Look, um, I know it's hard for you, but please hear me out." Jay's words seem so desperate; the low tone in his voice gives me chills. From the head to the bottom, not gonna lie, it's true he's a total mess. The bags under those eyes were visible on his face, and the lip was dry like he hadn't drunk any water. Is he going to make you pity him? No? At least you give him a chance to talk.

"If you talk about our relationship again, you should stop. I have nothing for those past  memories."

"I’m so sorry... I never should have hurt you. I'd let you go. But every day without you is like living in a world with no sun—cold, empty, and endless. I was wrong to think I could burn on my own and that I didn’t need you. Without you, I’m just ashes. Please, I can’t keep pretending I’m okay. I’m losing pieces of myself every day. Give us another chance—I need you more than words can say" He whispered, his voice thick with regret. His hands trembled as he reached out, but he hesitated. Still respect your boundaries and keep the space between them. M/N stood there, stunned.

His chest tightened, and he could feel the lump forming in his throat, making it impossible to speak. Memories flashed through his mind—the laughter, the nights spent together, all the moments they shared. Tears began to well up in his eyes, blurring his vision. He tried to hold them back, but they spilled over, one after the other. His hands shook, and he felt completely lost, unable to do anything but let the tears fall.

Unable to hide his own weakness, he covers his own face with the pair of his palms, breaking down on the spot as his knees feel weaker than ever. Why should you cry over someone who once broke your heart, someone who left you in the middle of the ocean with no shore at all yet? Till today, he was crawling back, begging for forgiveness, swearing he'd never done it ever again.

Isn't that two times more painful than before? Should you accept him back or not? Or are you scared of getting stabbed again? His heart sank as M/N started crying. Seeing him so broken made Jay's chest tighten with guilt and sadness. Jay can't contain himself to stand while watching you in this state; he was the one who caused this after all.

Unexpectedly, you were surprised to see him wrap his hand around you before pulling you into a tight hug. Listening to your sobbing was enough for him to bury himself alive in the graveyard. He wanted to wash all his sins away for having wounded you; if he could go back in time, he'd sacrifice anything just to keep you close

once again.

"Let's rewrite our story hm ? I'll be a better man from now on. I promise there'll be fewer tears in your eyes, pretty. I'll love you till the day that i die " 

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ dividers: Thecutestgrotto and crd to all the pic owner..

Thanks for this pookie 😽❤️ IWALY!!!!

[echo-stimmingrose]

Grover is the satyr equivalent of 12-14 in the first book. He is a child.

When he was tasked with bringing Thalia to camp and failed he would have been at most 9 years old. He was traumatized by her death, and he no doubt blamed himself for it.

He was shamed by the cloven council at (max) 9 years of age for a death he would not have been strong or skilled enough to prevent. He knows the counsel would have preferred that he died trying to save her which likely would have ended up in his and Thalia's deaths. He sometimes wonders if he would have preferred that as well.

When he is trying to get Percy to camp safely Percy hears him muttering "sixth grade- they never make it past sixth grade!" A reference to Thalia and his first mission. Grover is knocked unconscious due to the minotaur but thankfully Percy is able to get to camp without dying. However, he loses his mom in the process. Another death Grover has on his conscience before she comes back.

Thalia, against all odds comes back as well and he's able to feel some kind of relief. He gets to see her alive again and can almost not feel guilty anymore. He starts to calm down, able to ease his own anxiety with the help of Percy and Annabeth. He works on no longer feeling like a failure.

Then he finds the Di Angelo's. The third and fourth big three kids Grover has stumbled across. He tries to hide his anxiety as he gets the two very young kids to camp, focusing on his task because he would not fail again.

They arrive safely to camp unfortunately at the cost of Annabeth being taken. He doesn't know what to feel. It seems his loved ones safety always comes with a sacrifice.

He's the first to volunteer for the quest for her after Thalia. He knows Percy wants to go as well and will not be happy that he can't but a part of Grover wants Percy to stay at camp. Stay where it's safe as selfish as that may be.

Of course his hopes of Percy staying put were unrealistic and he knew that. Percy was far too loyal to rest while someone he loves is in danger. He could sense Percy's anger and restlessness as soon as they left and he knew his best friend would catch up to them very soon.

Grover is now on a quest with three kids he found. Three kids he was tasked with protecting. Three kids from a group of five where two are fated to die.

Bianca is lost and Grover knows that unlike the last two, there is no hope for her return. Even then he digs through the rubble desperately, not stopping until Thalia pulls him away.

They are able to rescue Annabeth and return her to safety. But as always, the safety of his loved ones came with a cost. A sacrifice someone else had to make.

[milkteabinniechan]

Professor Chan

Possessive Chan x !female reader

warnings : implied age difference (reader is over 18!) Just smut, probably typos

I love writing about possessive Chan so please let me know if you want more <3

You knew when his offive hours were. You had memorized the hours. You fantasized. You lost track of time in his classes, staring at his hands, his lips, the way he walked across the lecture hall. He spoke so passionately about everything. He would recite poetry with fire in his eyes. And every time he made eye contact with you, your body shudder. Jesus Christ, your body would literally shudder. You'd lick your lips and close your legs together, squeezing around nothing. An emptiness you were begging him to fill. You weren't even subtle about it anymore. Your eyes glossy with need and desire. You wanted him to see you. Really see you. You were all his.

Now you were here. On his desk. During office hours. Unbuttoning his slacked black pants. His hands gently around your neck while his lips traces kisses down your neck. Once his zipper reached the end of it's line, you reach in eagerly to pull him out completely. You chuckled deeply into your neck at your readiness. It was making him hungier. You wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, the girth of him pulsing into your palm. God, he was huge. You found yourself praying to a god you didn't believe in to will you the strength to take him completely.

"I want you to teach me something, professor." You spoke softly. A small smirk grew as Chan lifted one of your thighs high to give him the best view. A string of wetness spread across your center and you exposed yourself to your teacher. Your heart began to race faster as his hand gripped tighter around your thigh. His other hand grabbed your chin to pull your focus to his eyes. You were very focused on another, larger, part of him.

"are you ready?" His question was genuine. He was focused on your face, waiting for your answer. Unmoving until you responded. "Yes. Yes. Yes." You answered in slow succession. You wanted him to hear every single Yes you uttered. With that, Chan began to slide in you. Slowly at first, the sensation of fullness already becoming too much. You grabbed onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from levitating off of the Earth itself. This man. This man.

Chan was now farther inside of you. Not completely. But enough now he could grip your ass and help you move into him. You started a rhythm with him almost instantly. Both of you pushing and thrusting. His hips bucked into you and you saw stars. Your hand was wrapped around his tie now. A red tie. You loved when he wore the red tie. The leverage it gave you allowed you pick up speed. A primal growling rose from your professor.

"Am I doing good, sir?" You begged for approval. You loved it. You needed it.

"You're doing so good. Look at you. You're doing so good for me." Chan was picking up speed now. You were leaving a mess on his desk, you could feel it beneath you. You were so close. His full length now inside you entirely. Your core becoming so hot, your release was reaching its peak now and you were near falling apart. In danger of being left a puddle on his desk.

As you screamed through your climax, Chan pressed a hand over your mouth, still thrusting vigorously. "You'll have to be quiet, another class might hear you." He said with a smile.

He loved the thought of that as much as you did. You broke apart for him and his eyes promised to put you right back together again. You just hoped this wouldn't be the last time you came to visit him during office hours.

[auragasmics]

A NIGHT IN OUR PAST!

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ synopsis! Banquet Night, a time of class, grace, and digust. When invited to the yearly banquet hosted by tokyo’s elite, you and toji step into a glamorous world that hides remnants of the past you both barely survive. When the memories start rolling in and emotions of the past run high, who will crumble to the feet of the elite first, or will love light a way out for these two?

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ pairings! ! widow!fem!reader x toji fushiguro

˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ ˚ ₒ ∞ cw! ! 14.6k words, dubcon, pwp, age gap (toji is 35, reader is 27), use of ocs, mention/talks of death, hints of fluff, implied anxiety/panic attack, implied flashbacks, use of alcohol, drunk sex(?), power play, vouyerism/exhibitionism, oversimulation, slight dom fem!reader, masturbation, toji hits from the side, fingering, oral(m → f), teasing, multiple orgasms, spitting, no protection, slow sex, implied marathon sex, sorry if i forgot some mwuah <3

˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ˚ ₒ ∞ xoxo, chris! yeahhhhh…if this isn’t the epitome of self indulgent idk what is. thanks to my gracious beta reader @n3vr-f0und (thank you for reading these bricks i send you :3)

tags: @lalunanymph @mikyapixie @prettylvne @dongh9e @humantrashcan2000

m.list. pt. 2. pt.4

ONE NEW MESSAGE FROM: M’LADY 

“WHENEVER YOU SEE THIS, 

DON’T ASK ME WHY IT’S DOUBTED. 

JUST TAKE IT WITH THAT SMILE.

PAYMENT: + ¥ 80,000

Again, Toji’s stuck grimacing at his phone screen. It comes with a heavy sigh as he rests his throbbing temple along the tinted glass of the car window. 

It’s his typical trend to gasp, gawk, and mindlessly swipe at the screen whenever a payment from you enters his account but in a month’s time, he’s learned a valuable lesson.

Numbers don’t lie and neither have you.

He’s been under your care for a month, and not once have you failed to honor the haphazard agreement. In truth, Toji’s managed to accumulate 250,000 yen in the short month with you. He’s been thinking about it; He’s saved himself from financial ruin with more money than he could’ve hoped for, so why not leave?

Yet, there’s something worth more than all the money, all the wealth, and all the thoughts he’s had recently.

And that could be found right next to him— you squinting into the small hand mirror carefully swiping on lipstick he knows he’ll be dressed in once the night comes to its sinful close. 

Would Toji say he’s fallen for you?

No, he knew this wasn’t love, not when he’s being paid 80,000 yen to do something he would’ve done for free—should you have asked him with that smile he loves so much. It wasn’t love but lately, Toji’s had his hands full of acquainting himself with every curve, every etching, and every nerve found across your body. It wasn’t love but Toji’s been finding solace in waking up in your bed with you snuggled up in his arms. 

It wasn’t love, but right now Toji can’t help but allow himself to get lost in your artistry. 

Beautiful, that’s the only word Toji can use when he’s at a loss like this. His azure irises hinge on your precocious care for detail, watching as you softly trace the curves of your lips in red.

So slowly does that shade of rouge melt upon your lips, as if nothing else outside the backseat of this car speeding down the Tokyo interstate matters. So mindful not to miss the thinning corners of your mouth too, ensuring that your grace permeates every inch of your being.

Toji’s thinking about what you’d possibly do once you drop the brush from the canvas, would you turn and grin at him out of that childish sense of accomplishment? Would you mark him with a kiss or two like you always do? Every artist signed their painting, and it’s due to you that Toji can break into the world he’s never known—or the world he barely escaped from. 

Right now, he wouldn’t mind donning an extra accessory for the night. Just to walk into the room with your lipstick as a badge of honor that shows everyone in that room who he belongs—

“Toji!” your voice pulled Toji from his mediated fantasy.

Jolting awake from his wondrous thoughts, Toji nervously tucks his phone back into the breast pocket of his black suit before giving you his attention. 

“Hm? What’s wrong, Baby?”

“This,” you sigh, dropping the small compact mirror from your face. Levering your neck, you turn to Toji for his thoughts. “Does this shade of lipstick go with my dress? I think it’s too…cheerful.”

“Isn’t that what you wanna go for? I mean, it is a banquet. Drab and depressing isn’t what I think of when it comes to events like this.”

“Ha!” you sneer, “Banquet amongst Japan’s elite. I rather sit at home and count how many times the street lights flicker.”

The flat of Toji’s palm coats your thigh, his pulsing grip teasing past the leg slit of your brown mulberry silk grown. “So…it’s boring? I’m sorry Princess, but ‘m just a little confused. Last month, you were all excited about gettin’ dressed up and going out, but now you hate it?”

“I don’t ‘hate’ it, I hate the people we’re about to encounter. Tokyo’s elite, remember? And…it’s the first time I’ll be showing my face in some years. But it’s just for barely an hour, then we can go—”

Toji found his way beside you, nuzzled at your side with his chin resting along the peak of your bare shoulder. He’s peering at you with heavy eyes, weighted by dreams waiting to waltz through his mind. His voice mirrors his new form, his deep voice softened by comfort. 

“Tell me about these people you hate so much.”

There’s a longing breath that curls in the back of your throat, your lips twisted and pursed as you gather the best words to present your heartaches to Toji.

“These people…they’re heartless. They care only for their money and status, as if they too didn’t come from humble beginnings. When my husband and I were first invited to these events, I was just making my name as a business consultant and he was just making rank as a CEO.

And on that night, I’ve never met such a bunch of disgusting, rotten people. The men hound the women, and the women hate each other. Nothing is good enough for them, there’s always a complaint.”

“Yeah?” Toji echos, “So then, why are we going, Princess? It’s like we’re going straight into trouble. Not that I mind that—there’s always an adventure waiting—but it’s not your style.”

You drop your sights to meet Toji, his gentle-mannered stare washing over you with relief. But that glance you pay him comes with a heavy price—that bubbling urge to kiss his tepid smirk. It’s a need you could act on, but there’s a shrouding guilt staining your mind, one that you can’t ignore: 

Your ex-husband.

The memories are still there, fresh in your mind. Even now as you vaguely speak on his name and legacy, it’s almost like he’s here, holding you in his arms, watching you with a smile on his face, playing the role of spectator to your timely crime.

It’s an act of betrayal in your eyes, in your gut, yet this longing to kiss Toji reigns with an iron fist over your will.

But it’s Toji who has you tucked beside him now, and he’s the only one listening to your dolors with attentive ears. He’s giving you all—the attention, time, and energy. Whether it was genuine was his concern alone, nothing for you to ponder, that conversation being between him and the universe. 

For now, he’s here with you, taking in every word you say with a look of interest. He’s even tagging his palm to your waist, keeping you close to his side. He’s turning himself into a place of solace for you, which has you itching for more than just his attentive nature. 

All the cards are present and in your favor—but the guilt of upheaved tradition denies the relief of giving into your desire.

You bear it with a harsh swallow, your eyes fluttering shut as you work to finish your explanation. 

“Be-Because…as the wife of the former CEO, I’m now the unseen face of the company. I have to handle all the social affairs, to tend and mend relationships. Being here…going there to dine with people I despise…it’s all for him. And I intend on keeping all his hard work alive and thriving.”

“Aren’t you a good wife? Most men would travel through heaven and hell if it meant they would meet you in their next lifetime. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let anyone look or speak to you wrong, especially when they have no clue of the burden you carry on your shoulders.”

He’s straightening himself up, sitting tall beside you from his slouched state. And of course, he’s still forgotten the mere idea of space, the pad of his thumb reaching to swipe along your powdered chin.

“Fuck…” Toji whispers, his sly smirk drifting dangerously close to your lips, “You’re just a good girl, after all, Princess.”

There’s room for mockery in his tone, something that has you waving off his favor with a shrug. “Stop it, don’t try to baby me, Toji. I—”

“ ‘m not trying to do that. Not in the slightest. I admire it, honestly. You don’t need my sympathy, and I wasn’t offering it up. Just take my praise and let it be, alright?”

Hesitantly, you accept Toji’s words, shooting your narrowed eyes to scan over his impartial mien. 

“…Alright.” 

Toji’s latent apology is a mere stare, his typical gaze eased by a nurturing glint. He's tentatively squeezing at your waist, luring you into his salacious trap.

His suave nature has your mind dizzy with everything Toji—his gentle smile, his warmth, his cologne wafting past your nose. He’s done nothing to you, yet that suppressed craving is flickering once more and it has you diving blindly into Toji’s stronghold. 

Until the perfect excuse presents itself.

“Toji, wait! I’m all dressed up and it was a pain to get this!”

“Shhh, just giving you a kiss. I wouldn’t dare to ruin all your hard work. And besides…” He trails off, tilting his head towards the tinted glass wall separating the driver from the blooming scene.

“He can’t see a damn thing.”

“Fine,” you huff, “Just a kiss, okay?”

“Whatever you say.”

“No, I said just a kiss—”

Toji steals the last words of your warning as his own, sealing them away behind a soft peck. 

Though his fingers ache to strip you bare, a kiss is truly all Toji tends to leave you with. He’s considerate towards you, aware of the fact that your lips are dressed up in the similar fashion you carried yourself for the night. He doesn’t dare to bite at your bottom lip, to slip his tongue along your own, he simply presses his kiss slowly onto you.

“See?” he grins as he pulls away, “Just a kiss. Told you I wanna keep you looking nice.”

“But I think I changed my mind,” you tease, pushing your eager lips back onto Toji’s gaping awe. The care you could almost thank him for flies right out of the window as your greedy tongue traces the caverns of his mouth. 

You’re just so delicate, taking the time to study every inch of him before working a shy coil around his tongue. It’s nearly as if you’re treading a careful line too, holding back from what you know will pass.

But that won’t stop your hands from roaming along his chest, smoothing out the wrinkles from the silk black lapels of his suit jacket, tugging at his collar, all for your touch to find the comfort of cupping his rosy cheeks. 

He takes heed with a smothered smirk, offering a lengthy response through unspoken language. But being the man he’s sworn to be tonight, Toji can’t let you show face with swollen lips, smeared lipstick, and wrinkles spouted all over your dress. 

To depart from your adoration chips at Toji’s heart, but he does so with a parting gift. His teeth, pearled and strong, generously nip at your bottom lip as a courtesy to his exit. But he doesn’t draw too far, just enough for his shaky breaths to cloud your skin. 

He tethers onto a smug smile to huff out his rhetorical thoughts, “What happened to being classy, Honey? Now your makeup’s gonna be messy ‘nd–”

“I don’t care about that. Any of it,” You lay out flatly, biting down on the present Toji plucked onto your bottom lip. “It’s nothing we can’t clean up in the bathroom, right?”

Toji kisses his teeth, using his grip to squeeze at your waist, “Nasty girl. As much as I'd that, and I really hate to ruin our moment, but I think we’re here so…here…”

Reaching beside you, Toji grabs the discarded pocket mirror and tube of lipstick for you. With what gap exists between you both, he presents the tools with a soft tilt of his palm.

“Go on, I’ll hold your mirror for you…for a price.”

“A price?” You press, lurching back from Toji’s hold. You accept the silver bullet from him, tugging off the cap before placing the red velvet tip to your pout. 

“Mhm.” Toji blindly nods. He’s already absorbed into you, his hounding gaze following your careful hand once more.

“When you’re done, kiss me on the cheek. Just to…make sure it’s all dried, y’know?”

All you offer Toji is a sharp squint, “Is that right?”

“Yup, riiiight here,” Toji beckons, tipping his jaw towards you. 

A sigh seeps through your lips, but you cave at Toji's request. Pressing your dressed lips along Toji’s cheek imprints the mark of deep crimson upon his fair skin.

“There, how’s that?”

Toji greedily turns the mirror on himself, his eyes gawking at the pretty signature you’ve given him. 

“Perfect! Wooow, red looks good on us, Princess,” He chuckles to himself. Toji shuts the compact in his grip, leaving him to pin his sights on you. 

“Well, ready to eat, breathe, and drink like elites?”

“Oh, Baby,” you playfully coo, your hand sitting along his thigh, “We already do.”

That’s all Toji needs to hear before he reaches for the door handle, pushing the heavy black car door open. The sidewalk’s concrete cracks beneath his feet as Toji stands from his seat, his hand reaching back for your own.

“Careful, careful, don’t step on the dress…” Toji chants as he guides you out of the backseat to stand beside him.

His concerns bring a giggle to ring from your lips as you thank him, softly squeezing at his linked grasp. Though, you find your attention set onto the building before you—standing at easily 30 floors high with what you made out to be an open rooftop on the top floor. Through a bushy squint, you noticed flickering lights dancing from the rooftop, pulling a sigh from your bundled chest. 

“Yup, just like ‘em. Partying on the top floor like the gods they wanna be,” you mutter under your breath. 

Stress wasn’t a good look on you and Toji needed a way of breaking that tension quickly. 

Toji didn’t need another word, he knew he had to ease your worries fast. Lacing his arm around your hips, Toji adopts the role of an attendant, using slow steps to lead you inside the building. He steals a look at you, and he’s met with a clenched jaw and twisted lips. 

“We’re gonna have fun tonight, ‘kay?” He assures, “Just go in—hey, wha-what do you eat at these things anyway?”

“Oh, a mix of everything. Native food like sushi, sashimi platters, and beef. Some foreign dishes like curry, or stew to call it something fancier, some other stuff. They serve oysters here sometimes—Oh, desserts derive from France, so things like that. But you can see some local items like parfaits, cakes, and red bean dishes too.”

Toji simply grins as you speak. He’s got you so invested in rattling out food, you didn’t even notice his intention of distracting you. Just his luck that it’s working. That list of potential menu items brought you both through the grand lobby of marble walls and columns, down the winding path of red carpet, and into the awaiting elevator leading upstairs

As the elevator doors shut, Toji pulls you into him once more, his fingers tapping at what curves lay within his grasp. He takes a moment to look around the small chamber with curious eyes—and down to your heavy stare cast upon him.

“Ugh, your lips are a little red, Toji. Want me to wipe—”

“Don’t bother,” he shrugs, “ Now you can’t go around calling me your “friend”. And I’ve got all the proof.”

Your brows weave a knot of confusion, “So you had all this planned out?”

“Pfft, ‘course not,” Toji swiftly shoots down, “Listen, don’t worry about any of that. You’re my lady, that’s it. And besides…I like being covered in your kisses. Is that so wrong?”

“I guess not—”

The soft ‘ding’ of the elevator doors rings through the speakers rip you and Toji out of your safe haven, and the growing sliver of light from the retracting doors seals your fate for the night. 

Toji rushes to assume his role as your escort, taking your dainty hand into his calloused palm. 

As you laggardly stroll out of the elevator, Toji leans towards your bejeweled ear with a whisper.

“I’ve got you, Princess. Keep a smile on your lips and no matter what…you’re here for a reason. Don’t let anyone take that from you.”

You keep your eyes pinned to the beckoning glass doors, but your focus doesn’t hinder how a smile crowds at your lips. 

The marble flooring dons the honor of bearing the first step you take into the busy room. People, crowds of the recognized and deemed distinguished, scatter about the hall, cradling dainty glasses to their chest. 

And one of these “recognized and deemed distinguished” has your name rolling off their tongue. 

“Ah, isn’t it the lovely lady we’ve all been waiting for!” The voice calls out.

The curiosity prompts you and Toji into a standstill, his hand softly squeezing your own. 

“Not even a minute inside and you’re already getting hit on. Tch, don’t forget about me, alright?” He smirks, passing a teasing wink onto you.

You roll your eyes, scoffing at Toji’s playful taunt. “Please, nothing but old men have their eye on me. But, that voice…it sounds so familiar. If I’m remembering properly, it belongs to…him.”

Your pairs of eyes fall short of the approaching figure, your nose wrinkling at the unfortunate realization. 

He's a stout man, with tanned skin, black hair sprinkled with stands of salt and pepper, and his lecherous gaze hides behind the glare of wire-framed glasses. Few wrinkles dress his face, aside from the heavily contoured smile lines around his thin, pink lips. 

He’s no taller than five-foot-seven, dressed in an all-white suit with a gold tie tucked behind suit lapels. He keeps a cane in hand, clutching at the polished brown stick modeling his laggard trail. 

And when he flashes you a smile, there's a gold tooth that floods your mind with a single name.

That man is…Dr. Sai Yusuno.

“Who’s this old man?” Toji whispers into your ear.

“Dr. Sai Yusuno. He used to be on a board with my husband. But when he passed, this man has been nothing but persistent to court me. He asked me out a week after the funeral. Hah, guess someone couldn’t wait,” You hum while maintaining your smile as Dr. Yusuno urges closer.

Toji keeps his hold over you, drawing you into his side once the unwanted presence comes to stand before you both.

“Oh…Dr. Yusuno! How…nice to see you this evening!” Your pitched voice feigning innocence as you bow your head. 

“Oh…I didn’t know you’d taken someone new,” Dr. Yusuno chides, sucking his teeth as he scans Toji from head to toe. “So…who is this man?” 

“Oh..um…he’s my—”

“Toji Fushiguro,” Toji introduces, keeping his head held high. “She’s my lady. That’s all that needs to be said, if we’re being honest.”

“Hmm…,” Dr. Yusuno pauses for a moment, “Toji, you say? That name sounds similar. Are you from a cl—”

“Oh! Princess!,” Toji blurts out, “I think I see your names over there, let’s go get comfortable.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod, giving into Toji’s lead. “See you later, Doctor!”

Leaving Dr. Yusuno behind, Toji guides you to a chair at the end of the long dining table, allowing you to explore the rest of the banquet hall.

In your sights, you’ve found the bar standing in the corner, the staff working hard to feed thirsty patrons their desired dream for the night through shaken or stirred drinks. 

Above hangs a grand crystal chandelier, the chiseled gems cutting the pure white night into a lively kaleidoscope of rainbows across the banquet floor. 

Marveling the lavish space with wide eyes, you mumble to yourself.  “It’s beautiful!” 

Toji’s abrupt stop drags you out of thought, the sudden appearance of the dining table catching your eye.  “Here you are, Princess,” he hums, pulling you from your thoughts. He works swiftly to tug out your seat from beneath the black tablecloth. 

You find yourself reading a small tented card, the white paper wearing your name in gold characters. 

“Thank you, my good sir,” your giggling flirt satisfying his ear as he pushes you in gently. 

Toji falls to his knees beside you, bracing your thigh for support. 

“How was that? Said hi and now it’s just some food. If you like something enough, I’ll cook it just for you,” he grins, the polished apples of his cheeks drawing his marked skin taut.

You trace the faded kiss on Toji’s cheek, inviting a doddering frown to your face.  “Aww, I think the kisses are fading away.”

“That’s fine, Princess. But when we get home…I’ll be expecting ten times the amount you gave me.”

Before you can craft up some sly response to his innuendo, Toji rises back to his feet and over to the seat across from you, where his own name awaits his arrival.

“Aw man, I feel so fancy!” Toji chuckles as he slips into his seat. 

“It’s kinda nice, right? And we came just in time, dinner’s coming out!” You note, pointing towards the budding sight of servers carrying plates into the dining room.

Like moths to a flame, all the socialites work to end their conversations as they drift into their assigned seats, making new discussions with those around them.

You’ve set your eye on the man before you, whose scarred grin captures your attention with ease.

“What’s that smile for?” your head slipping into a faint tilt. 

“I know these types of events. Stuffy people, but the food’s great and there’s high-quality booze on rotation all night. Plus, I get to enjoy all this while courting the most wanted woman in the room,” Toji chuckles as he folds his arms over the table. “Aren’t I just the luckiest man in Tokyo right now?”

He’s an arm’s length away and that’s still not good enough. 

While there’s a growing tension weighing on the minds of you both, nothing compares to the story written behind the doting stares you set onto each other. With your dilating eyes pinned on him, batting your blackened lashes ever so slowly with that small smirk creeping onto your features. 

He’s no better, the poor man hiding his satyric ways behind the act of mindlessly tracing along the supple curves of his lips with his tongue.

All the chatter, all the screeching chairs, it all drowns out around you and Toji. Nothing dares to break into your world—except for the commencement of the dinner service. 

“Pardon the intrusion.” The presence of a young man pulls you and Toji from each other, the pair of steady eyes watching him place a gold plate before you both. 

“Tonight, we have for you both slices of seared beef, smoked salmon, dusted with truffle oil and masago. Please, do enjoy,” the server slowly announces for you and Toji. 

“Wow…” the dull excitement speaks for Toji as he carefully observes the plate. “Where’s the rest of it?”

You slowly unravel the folded cloth napkin, hiding a laugh behind your focus. “These things are multi-courses. We’ve got like…10…15 small dishes like this to go. But we can go get something to eat after this too, I’m usually hungry after these things.”

Toji simply nods as he turns to face his plate once more. He stares hard at the delicate trims of meat before him, reaching for his hidden fork within the napkin. ‘At least it’s the high-quality cuts,’ he wonders to himself, bringing the gossamer trim of meat to his mouth.

As the gentle chew rings in his ear, Toji takes a moment to observe the room’s sudden shift.

Chatter breaks around the dinner session talks of business and affairs break from each end of the table. Not a single word matters nor interests Toji, not when he’s seeking out your due attention once more.

His sapphirine tincts wash over you, and instead of being greeted by your allure, he’s somehow satisfied with watching your newfound interest in the paper-thin strip of beef sitting on your plate.

Though he’s taken to you as his newest attraction, his ears are keen. Ears like this are carefully trained to hear even a pen drop in a room like this, and even with such skill, immunity from the talks of the elite isn’t granted unto Toji.

“…Oh! Have you heard who’s taken up the role there now? I heard he’s nothing more than a moron trying to fit in amongst the best.”

“Such a poor man. He’ll try so hard to win over the shareholders, but he’s just so useless.”

“Useless? An animal would have better luck than him!”

“No, but have you heard of the newly elected president of XXXX?”

“Ha! I did…he’s no better than a dog. So worthless, how dare he accept the position? Does he think he’s worthy? He must be thinking he can sit in some company and just gain status like us! Disgusting!”

All this talk surrounds Toji, filling his ears and penetrating his firm psyche with such cruel ideals. To critique a man is one thing, but to ridicule his name without any consideration for his character, his actions, his morals—why, that simmers on Toji’s tongue like poison.

He’s gripping his fork tightly, his knuckles dusting a ghostly white. He can’t explain what’s brought about his sudden shift in manners, but it’s unnatural for the man he’s become.

His eyes flicker to you for guidance, but you’ve taken to some light conversation with the woman beside you, whose questions seem true and modest.

Toji’s left to rely on himself, his spiraling mind coaxing him to bite down on his lip—he wants your aid but he deems his fragile thread of composure is nothing worth interrupting you over. 

Yet, these words still sit uncomfortably familiar in Toji’s ears. Not a single word aimed at him, but the message behind them pulls at memories he’d buried years ago. But all it takes for his mind to crumble is the utterance of mere affirmations…

“He’s worthless!”

                                    “He’s not worthy of what we offer.”

                        “He’s better off dead…”

“He’ll never be accepted here!”

               “Born a failure…and always will be a failure.”

His heart races in his ears, channeling a cold sweat to sweep across his body. He can’t even focus on you anymore, not with his eyes senselessly blinking away the threatening patches of stars. 

Slipping a finger between the apple of his throat and the pesky collar button of his dress shirt, Toji yanks the tied cloth from the back of his neck in hopes of fresh air flooding his hitching lungs. He tries to cast his gaze elsewhere, though, in a room so vast, how could the walls suddenly close him in, trapping him in his plagued mind with spinning thoughts? 

 Memories replay in his head with the very words in the air as a soundtrack. He can’t figure out why these exact words would come to haunt him years later?

Dead? Was he really better off dead? He hasn’t heard such heartless words since his younger days, why—how could strangers know about his anguish? Why would strangers speak to him like this, judge him before his character can attest for him? Why…why…

Why would a family speak to their own like this?

There’s only one thing on Toji’s mind, and it’s the one thing he knows all too well: escape. He has to put some space between him and the dinner, and he’s already plotting his next move.

Toji’s weary body shudders as he stands from his seat, his mind stumbling over his ingrained words of manner.  

“Um…I-I…Excuse me.” 

His words fall short on the ears of others, but the loud shriek of his chair scraping along the black tile commands the attention of all in the room.

“Toji?” You mouth out his name, but his eyes hang low—low and blurred by his nerves.

His exit fades out as the idle dinner chatter picks up once more. His brisk steps toward the patio are drowned out by taxes, how well the beef has been marinated, and worse of all—the ridicule of Toji’s “childish” need for attention. 

The look on Toji’s face was like nothing you’d seen from him before. He was pale as if a ghost had just tapped his shoulder. And the very confidence you found yourself fond of was replaced by a quaking fear, one so heavy he couldn’t even keep his head held high.

Guilt shrouds your mind, and it’s a heavy cloud that threatens all the confidence he’s worked to instill in you. That very guilt–the need to balance your mind with comfort…his specific comfort. Without a moment’s delay, you rise from your seat, the similar screech of your seat ringing through the hall. 

“Excuse me.” Your announcement halts all chatter, all gossip, and all means of communication falling short of your cold tone.

The clicks of your heels dart across the glossy floor as you tread toward the balcony. 

You find him leaning along the stone-carved railing, gazing out at the city’s skyline. To ease the mood, you mark your next steps carefully, creeping behind him with light steps. 

But Toji doesn’t even have to turn his head to know you’re there. 

“Don’t go hiding from me, you know I’ll find you, Princess.”

Dropping the charade, you join Toji’s side, leaning into him with a hand bracing the tensed sleeves of his suit. 

“Then I’ll never be lost with you. But…”

Your touch laces onto the frazzled hairs covering Toji’s eyes, lazily raking through his onyx locks. 

“That means you can’t go hiding from me either…what happened, Toji?” 

Toji’s attention from the overview doesn’t seek a replacement, his eyes dead set on the passing nightlight below. “If I tell you, it’s not like it’s gonna change how I feel. And it’s silly anyways, nothing you need to stress yourself over.”

“Toji,” you coo “If your feelings don’t change, that’s okay. And if you think it’s silly, that’s fine too. But…I can’t help but stress with you. So don’t tell me, I won’t force you. We don’t even have to talk, we can stay out here all night, looking out over the city.”

Toji sighs as his head drops, “You care too much for me, y’know that? Most people would’ve let me be. But here you are, on such an important night…babysitting me. I think we’re making each other soft, yeah?”

“That’s fine with me, as long as I’m with you, right?”

Those words had no business slipping from your lips, but they did. By uttering something so dangerous to Toji—your sentiments of care to him—all he can do is gawk at you.

His jaw’s sunk slack and the words he wants to say fall short on his tacked tongue. He wants to ask you why give him a second of your time. His outburst might have cost you your reputation and relationships. And you could be inside, tending and cleaning up whatever tension that might have been sparked—but you’re outside with him as your only muse.

That’s what he aims to say, but his heart has him rattling off something he can’t—rather, something he won’t try to bite back any longer. 

“All this…fancy dining, sitting and talking like this…it reminds me of a life I barely got away from. I hated it—those people treated me like their mortal enemy. All my life until I was old enough to leave, living in hell became my home..”

You lean into Toji, resting your chin on his shoulder. With a weighted gaze, you peer up to Toji through your lashes, and the very words that roll off your cherried tongue break down any wall he had left standing tall towards you. 

“Tell me about these people you hate so much.”

Toji finds the energy to scoff, the choked chuckle cracking through the crisp air. “Horrible. Because I didn’t meet some standard they made up in their heads, I was a castaway in my own family.

Having to work myself to the bone, proving myself to people who didn’t care if I dropped dead right at their feet. And having done all that work, just for it to be thrown back in my face when it came time for dinner. That cycle…no one should have to go through that.”

“Some days, death seemed like the best option. Better than putting on a brave face that mattered to absolutely no one.”

“What kept you from ending it all then?”

“Hope. It’s a stupid thing. But the hope of knowing it all might get better saved me. If I had given in to all that hatred and become what was expected out of me, giving up would’ve been worse than dying. But all the scars you love to touch, that’s both from the hell and freedom I’ve lived through. The scars of freedom, however…they never once hurt me.”

“So then,” you begin, carefully gathering your words, “Was it all worth it?” 

That’s when Toji committed himself to you, his body shifting to face you. He’s got his eyes pinned on you and you alone, his ears tuned to your gentle coo, and his heart open to sing its long-awaited melody. 

“...Yeah. It all…it all brought me to places I couldn’t begin to imagine, to meet people in my wildest dreams. It’s been a crazy one, but I wouldn’t regret a single moment. But, I have to say this one thing, or else I’m gonna lose it…”

Toji stares at you for a moment in silence. His eyes scan every curve of your face for what he wants to discover as a hoax, but all he’s met with is the kindness of sincerity. Sincerity dots your eyes, in that soft smile you hold, and touches every strand of hair your digits comb through. 

Sincerity is a rare trait for a man like him to encounter and when he does…it becomes something he has to question.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

Reverting back to his old self, Toji stands tall with his hands briskly searching for your waist as his keepsake. He’s back to grinning, drinking in that sudden gasp you give when he encompasses your body flush to his own. 

“You just…sat there and let me talk your ear off. None of it affects you, yet you seem like you actually care. So…why?”

“Why do I care?” You rehash, fixing your arms to link along the broad of Toji’s shoulders.

 “I care because that’s what I’ve come to do with you. You care for me and I care for you. And I’ll be honest, it’s scary…caring for you like this is going to give way into something I can’t afford just yet—but I won’t stop it. So yes, talk my ear off. But I want to listen, I want to know whatever you’re willing to let me know about you because…that’s how much I care for you, Toji.”

Toji ghosts a peck against your lips, breaking his sentiments with a speech. “Well, aren’t you the poet? Thank you, really. You’re learning just how to calm me down and I like it.”

“Don’t thank me, I just want you to be okay. So we don’t have to—oh Toji?!” You yelp as he begins to lead you back inside. His hand slips into yours, tracing your gentle palm with his grazing thumb. 

All Toji gives you is his back, hiding the flourishing spout of blush curling at the tips of his ears and the highs of his cheeks. He’s almost forgotten: he’s the luckiest man in Tokyo to have you. And with such a title means he has one single job: to keep a smile on your face at all times.

 “Don’t go and worry your pretty little head off. Let’s get back in there and enjoy ourselves!”

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀  ✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀  ✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀   ✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀

“Mhmm…Toji?” you huff, tightening your slinking arms along his shoulders.

“Y…Yeah, Baby? Whatcha’ wanna tell me?”

“Are we home yet? I wanna go to sleep with you.”

Toji chuckles as he peers down at you, his pretty lady cradled resting like a princess in his arms. 

Replaying the night in his head, he’d call every minute of it a success. After the heart-to-heart out on the balcony, you and Toji went back into the party as if only you two were there. 

From sharing sips of the finest aged wine and brandy, finishing out the dinner service, and sharing a dance that ended with you and Toji swirling about for an hour pressed to each other, all the makings of a night to remember. 

But with every night out, the fateful comedown is never too far behind. 

When the adrenaline wears off, tummies are full of food, and the liquor’s finalizing its course through bodies, the whimsy of the night comes to a curtain-falling close.

As for this timely scene, Toji’s taken on the role of caretaker. And as a caretaker, that means ignoring his hazy brain and tired muscles to carry you out the car and inside your apartment.

Beneath the dull glow of the street lights, Toji steals a glimpse at you, gawking at how a sense of ease dresses your visage.

Beautiful, that’s the only word in his mind as he admires you. Your eyes gently shut, your timid lips faded from their red hues, your puffy cheeks soft and begging for a kiss.

 In his eyes, you look perfect in his arms, resting in his care without a care. That’s his lady—a woman he’s finding himself endowed to with each passing day.

Living carefree, as Toji’s learned, is a right that belongs to everyone. To wake up, do whatever you please, and do it all again the next day. And while living carefree is deserved, it’s a word that carries various definitions. 

In his definition of carefree towards you, Toji would work to strip your mind of all the grief, stress, and responsibilities that come with your world.

But when the morning comes, you’ll be back to worrying, making phone calls that hold materialistic value, and working to the bone–while Toji continues living carefree on your dime.

What a life.

Toji aimlessly presses a kiss to your forehead, charming himself back to the present where your question awaited an answer. 

“We’re right outside the door, silly. Then we gotta take the elevator up, take off this pretty dress, wash your face, then you can go to sleep, ‘kay?”

“But…I wanna sleep with youuu,” you draw out, your eyes widening at Toji’s lack of involvement amidst his own plans.

“Alright, alright,” Toji sighs as he taps his hip against the lobby’s door sensor. “Stay up and wait for me. I gotta help you, then I gotta help myself. So after all that’s done, then we can sleep. Sounds like a deal?”

Pushing yourself deeper into Toji’s hold, you nuzzle your cheek against his burly chest. 

“Deal.”

Entering the quiet lobby, Toji rocks you in his arms as he treks to the elevators. A night full of dancing, drinks, and questionably small plates leaves him with a dumb smile plastered to his lips. 

And to end it all right, he’d finally be able to sedate all his concerns for you within a matter of minutes. 

Though, the call of his name impedes his plans. 

“Oh, hey Toji!” the night doorman calls out with a wave.

Sho Hisagari, the nighttime doorman. Standing at six feet even, he’s a gentle giant with a strong build that hides behind a black uniform jacket. He’s got sharp brown eyes, dyed blond hair that sits just short of his ears, and a soft, crooked smile that’s kind to the eyes of all. 

During the day, he’s a college student entering his final days of graduate school, and at night, the twenty-five-year-old collects a check watching the night of Tokyo pass by.

Toji’s quick to recognize him, considering that he’d been the mediator to bring Toji up to your doorstep a month prior. 

He looks over to greet Sho with a lax smile, “Hey kid, how’s the night going?”

“I should ask you guys,” Sho chuckles as he leans over the desk. “I’ve never seen her drunk.”

“Oh, this pretty lady?” Toji hums as he glances down at your serene face.

“She wanted to drink some wine, then some martinis, a few cocktails, and I got to thinkin’ ‘ Who am I to keep a grown woman sober?’ So I made sure she didn’t overdo it and ended up getting some sake and a few cups of wine in my system too. But, someone had to be the responsible one. She’s always the strong one, so why not let her enjoy this?” 

“She is strong, isn’t she?” The doorman breaks, Sho steadily focusing his sights on you. 

The sudden interest in you has Toji intrigued. He carefully studied Sho, how his brown eyes hang over your dozing face. It’s a familiar gaze—a look that brings even the strongest, unmovable, and rigid of men to dote on their muse. A look that softens the eyes into a trained whimsical glint, leaves the lips and jaw lax for the gasps or gape to roll out.

A mien that seems so familiar to Toji because he dons those exact traits whenever he too is entranced by you.

And while Toji had no reason to feel that lump in his throat swell, his harsh swallow barely chips at the growing resentment. 

It’s such a pure look in his eyes, but why does it look so…so…natural on Sho?

As if he’s trained his eyes to look at you like this?

“Well, I’m gonna go and get her in bed. Have a good night, kid,” Toji mumbles before entering the elevator, leaving Sho with a solemn nod. 

“Night, Toji! Tell the miss’ I wish her a good night too!”

Toji could only count the seconds before the doors shut, leaving him alone with his sleeping beauty wrapped up in his beastly arms. 

His cobalt hues flicker down to your timid visage, and all the anger that threatened his eventful night was wiped clean the moment you began to stir about in his hold.

“Toji?” your weakly rasp, your pinched eyes squinting at your suitor.

“Hey, Baby. Thought you went to sleep without me for a sec,” he teases behind a growing grin.

You simply shake your head, hands coming to rub your strained eyes beneath the piercing white lights, “I thought I heard Sho’s voice. Wanted to say hi.”

“Huh…” Toji trails off. “You like Sho?”

“Mhm,” you nod, He’s nice. He gives me flowers, takes me out to lunch, and sometimes when I can’t sleep. I’ll go downstairs and talk with him for a while.”

That taints Toji’s mind like ink bleeding through a scroll. He’s overrun by hypotheticals and probabilities, trying to make sense of what your sentiments towards the young man might be.

He didn’t expect to uncover such a rich history between you and the doorman, yet he has no choice but to absorb it all for what you’ve shared. 

Toji has half a mind to seek reassurance, his mind already sorting out the indirect questions to pry at your own sentiments towards him.

But…he stops.

All thought, all the plotting, it comes to a screeching halt when your words at the balcony replay in his mind. Those sincere words that sat on his ears like the sweetest hymn from a siren. 

Upon reciting your soliloquy in his head, Toji peers down at your softened features with the very look he envies Sho for wearing.

He can’t blame the guy, he was falling for you all the same—all because you care. You take the time to show your adoration for others, the words only act as a seal to what’s already known. 

Maybe, just in some random universe that happened to be his own, maybe it was lov—

“...Are we home yet?” you groan, pulling Toji from his thoughts. 

The chime of the splitting elevator doors welcomes you and Toji back into the humble abode, the familiar dark scene of the living room draws Toji inside. 

“Look, we’re in the living room. Now, let’s get you in your room and in bed” Toji hints as he begins his winded strides down the dark hallway. 

He softly nudges the door open with his hip, revealing the night-clad oasis to his eye. The faint twinkling rays of moonlight cast upon the red duvet of your bed, drawing Toji to put you to rest.

“Okay just lay there for a—”

“Toji.” you call out calmly, your blurred gaze setting on him.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Folding your hands along your tummy, you rally the energy to turn towards him, a weak smile curling onto your lips. “I’m feeling better, trust me. The room’s stopped spinning now, just a little tired, but I’ve got some energy.”

“Okay, good!” Toji beams with a bright grin, “If you can sit up, I can bring...”

Toji’s offer falls deaf on your ears as you sit up slowly, shifting hands sinking into the soft red duvet beneath your body. Tilting your head back, you stare aimlessly at the ceiling, the miniature glass chandelier returning your starry gaze.

In theory, Toji's done a great job; he kept you company, made sure you arrived home without a hair out of place, and he's even going the extra mile to put you sleep too. you've arrived back home in one piece

However...something's missing from the night, from his usual antics.  He's too princely, acting so pure when he's the farthest thing from.  He was insistent on being classy for the night, but did he really means the whole night?

Even after he kept pressing kisses to your lips and cheeks alike, pinning his hand to your side, and even whispering about how he'd love to take you down out of some cups of wine.

And he has yet to act on any of the hints he planted. Now, here you are, just on the verge of greeting the setting night and he was still too kind with you.

There simply has to be some word, some action, just something you could call upon to rouse all the desires he's pushed aside for the night...right?

“Princess?” Toji croaks as he stands before you. He takes a tender hold of your jaw, the pad of his thumb grazing along the softened contours. “Talk to me, what’s got you so down?”

“I’m okay, really. Just…a little disappointed is all.”

“You? Disappointed?? No no no, how can I fix it?” Toji hums as he drops to his knees. He tends to remove your heels, tugging the tiny clasp free from your ankle. 

“Okay okay, ‘disappointed’ is a little bit of an exaggeration. Tonight was fun…but…”

“But?” Toji repeats, his hand coasting along the peeking curves of your thigh. 

“I won’t lie, I was expecting for us to sneak off for a quickie or something.”

“Yeah?” Toji breathlessly chuckles out. “You were really waiting for that?”

“Mmhm,” you nod, tugging your bottom lip between a smothered grin, “That’s why ‘m not wearing any panties.”

The sweet smile Toji taped to his lips withers away beneath a slack jaw and widening eyes. First he’s pale, the draining palettes of shock claiming his lush skin. You’ve grown bold, something he’s taken note of, but he wasn’t prepared to handle this. 

Somewhere in his stunned sights, he falls on the cut in your dress, the slit freely bunched up to your hip. He swallows hard, blinking at the realization: you’re sitting all too pretty with your cunt waiting for him.

That’s when the prickling sear of heat licks at his cheeks, a cloud of pink spreading across his gawking face.

“Like…uh...allll…night?”

“Don’t believe me?” You giggle as you slowly drape your leg along Toji’s shoulder. You bear witness to his final threads of sanity snapping as your dress drips off your skin, revealing the results of a one-sided gamble.

“Check for yourself.”

What visibly seals Toji’s fate as he hunts for a shed of fabric is the languid spread of your legs…just enough for him to see the delicate webs of slick sewn to your folds.

“See what you do to me, Toji? All that teasing in the car, touching me all over the dance floor, it’s all for you. And you let your so-called ‘lady’ walk around dripping and this is all you can say?”

“Oh fuck…” he’s shuddering, swallowing down the hindering lump in his throat. “Princess, i-if you wanted me to—”

“Don’t apologize. And I know you wanna fix things too, but I think, for tonight at least, I’ve got things under control.”

“No, let me make it up to you, “ Toji pleads, “W-What…do you want me to do?”

“Watch me.”

“Watch you?” he presses with a quirked brow, “Watch you do—”

You cut Toji’s question short carelessly, “Mm, Toji, help me out. Can’t keep my legs at the same time.”

Toji’s stare is heinous as dark clouds threatens his sights. You’ve got the nerve to sit there and wait for him as if he’s holding you back. He has the words boiling at the tip of his tongue, ready to fire off his rebuttal.

He picks the latter, Toji locking his firm grip around your thighs. The hold he has over you is unyielding, not granting an inch of room for any second thoughts.

He’s even spiteful enough to drag you right to the edge of the bed, forcing your hips to tilt toward his awaiting mouth. 

“How’s this?”

“Just like that. Now keep your head riiiight here.”

Your lithe fingers sit atop the charcoal coronet of Toji's head, veering him to rest his cheek along your inner thigh. He doesn’t fall to hesitation either, merely falling to your whims with the same daunting stare.

You’re hurting his pride, turning the man into nothing more than your pet. To sit there and take orders, listen to your every fancy, and be expected to act on them without fail. You almost feel bad for him in a way too, considering how you can watch his patience grow thin with how he clenches his jaw. 

But then again…it’s precisely what he signed up for. 

“You’re such a good boy, Toji. You know exactly what I want without me saying it. Starting to understand me more…”

Again, you descend on a journey, tracing the curves of Toji’s flustered features until you find a ledge worthy of your touch—that cute quivering pout he wears proudly. 

His lips feel plump against the pads of your digits, such supple skin brimmed with a soothing heat. Toji’s still sitting beneath awe’s influence, flustered and shy. 

You take to the idea brewing in your brain, especially when there’s something so delightful laying behind his lips. Your ghostly touch sedates the brimming heat of his pout, that mere swipe a lulling famed whimper from his mouth. 

“C’mon, baby…don’t keep me waiting…you always know exactly what I want.”

“Do I?” He sarcastically scoffs, but his remarks don’t go unnoticed. 

“Yeah, you do. I don’t have to say a word, I know you’ll give me what I want.”

Just like that, Toji’s lips part to welcome you into the caverns of his mouth. His tongue’s swift to coil around your digits, basting your skin in his spit to his heart's content. He’s given himself to lust, sloppily working his lips until soapy bubbles seep out of the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, you’re such a good boy!” You purr as you reel away from Toji’s swollen lips. All that connects you both is a wispy thread of glass, serving as evidence of your time together.

Your dripping digits sit right between your legs to paint your cunt in his shade, fingertips dragging glossy webs along the pink pearl.

Your hand falls into a tantalizing sway, drawing messy circles about your clit. It's a slow start but you’re quick to respond to your own touch, rousing the dormant nerves with haste.

It’s the heft of arousal that suddenly douses your bud in a searing heat that drives you over the edge, your hand adopting a frantic pace. 

“D-Do you see what you do to me, Toji? 

There’s a reveling heat blooming amongst your core. It’s all-consuming, so overwhelming that every bit of your strength surrenders to you. Sinking back down onto the bed, Your enticed spine spikes into an arch, forcing your hips to bear the heft of paradise alone.

But Toji’s right there to help you; wedging your thigh atop his shoulder, hands clipped to your rocking hips. 

He’s sitting there with a pout on his face, the flat of his tongue sketching over his lips. Each time you swipe over your clit, Toji’s thinking about what he’d do instead. He’s the one who knows your body like his own, so watching you work so hard splinters his pride by the seconds. He can’t take it, watching his poor baby enjoy such shoddy workmanship. 

“Just like that, Princess, you got it.” All he can do is support you through words, his touch, and the kisses he’s peppering along your inner thigh. 

He can’t surrender his gaze to anywhere else. He can’t complain, can’t intervene, so he simply takes it. He takes it while sitting enviously on his knees, gawking at the sight of you bathing in that sweet ambrosia. He wants nothing more than to touch you—so badly that it hurts him in mind, body, and spirit. 

 You know how bad he wants to touch you too and just how much restraint it’s taking him to play the innocent act. And all that knowledge is the very thing that pulls a spiraling heat to flood your tummy. 

You want a reaction from him, to hear him ridicule your poor technique. Excitement captures your entire body as you begin to draw out Toji’s true colors with a wandering touch. You slide a single finger between your folds down to your quivering hole. 

The manner you take to tease your rousing core is gentle, paddling your sweet spot beneath tender strides. Just off that calm touch, you’re melting into your touch. With Toji being the one handling your needs as of late, you’ve almost forgotten the thrill of chasing your own high. 

But that sense of bliss quickly turns to thirst, a ravenous urge to feed that heavy pit in your tummy. You swiftly invoke a jagged cadence, drumming at your spot feverishly. You’re working so hard that the stack of bangles on your wrist erupts into a cheery jingle, voicing the hymns of your pursuing finger. 

“Mmm…f-fuck,” you whine, drawing the glossed finger from your cunt. 

Toji’s eyes staple to you, a burning gaze that overlooks your polished digit tapping along his bottom lip. He isn’t waiting to hear permission, he simply can’t bring himself to wait a moment longer. 

He envelops your fingers between his lips, the flat of his tongue cupping along the digit. Toji’s swift to clean up your mess, the slicked muscle twirling at every inch of your skin dressed in your essence. 

“So needy…C’mon, spit on it.”

Toji’s eyes widen at your request, his shot pupils darting to meet your gaze. He’s mulling over your question, using every ounce of his strength to think clearly. Did you really just ask him to spit on your—

“Aww, what’s that look for, Baby? Didn’t hear me?” you taunt, ripping your digit from his mouth.

“N-no, no…I-I heard you. I-I just...uh—“

“Shhhh," you whisper, placing a slicked finger against his rambling lips, “I’m waiting…”

A muffled moan snags itself within Toji’s throat as he slowly leans in. His quivering frown just grazes past you, closing the distance for the tears of spit he’s dying to glaze over your sporuted mound.

 You’ve gotten so wet, dripping from the sad display he’s born witness to. He doesn’t want to spit on your clit, he’s dying to taste you, to create an abstract mess out of the swollen bud. 

But he does as he’s told without fail, his puckered lips pushing out sticky rivets of spit. His stares stays pinned to you as he observes the messy trail whisking down your folds.

“Fuck… pussy’s so pretty like this,” Toji mutters to himself as he pulls away to admire his finishing touch. 

He’s right, your cunt does look so pretty being pushed to the edge—the glistening pearl of your clit consumed by a waltz of shivers, your puffy folds dewed by your essence and his spit, and your cute little slit flittering for attention. 

Somewhere in his murky mind, he’s thinking about it: how you’ve finally elicited his help without having to lay a finger on you. 

And to think it’d be so lewd, so messy—and just perfect for a man like him. The thought doesn’t just stop with the mind, it’s feeding his cock with all sorts of ideas too, condemning his bulge to strain against his pants. 

You slip your hand between the sloppy mess of Toji’s lips and your cunt, rubbing the soapy bubbles of spit to meld with your slick.

“Just like that…n-now, don’t stop o-okay?” you moan, driving yet another finger to fill your walls. Lazy pulses rip against your piqued nerves, engulfing your pussy in a ravenous flame. Your thighs suffer beneath the force of your inevitable undoing, immersing your suspended legs into a world of tremors. 

“ ‘m gonna cum! gonna–I’m c-cum—"

A flash of white breaks over your eyes, stars dotting your sights. Curses spew from your lips as that knot in your tummy finally snaps. It’s all too much, your saturated body succumbing to the consequence of reaching nirvana. All you can do is toss your head back and grit your teeth, your hands racing to fist at the plushy blanket beneath you.

In the peak of your heat, Toji settles a peck between your folds, a poor excuse to satisfy his need to taste you. 

A sly smirk creeps onto your lips as you come down, fixing your misty eyes to study the shameless kisses he’s pinning to your swollen pussy. 

Your hands slip into the ruly forest of Toji’s hair, combing away the frazzled locks from his face. 

“Look at you, couldn’t even wait.”

The route Toji endures to have his tongue bathe in your essence is dangerous. He’s so reckless, disregarding your sensitivity just to sedate his gluttonous desires. He’s savoring the fruits of your high, the mere taste blurring his unmoving judgment. You’re just so sweet, so sticky and so addictive like honey but venomous once you seep upon Toji's palate.

But he’s using every drop of that venom to soothe his soul, regardless if you can supply him or not.

“W-Wait! Toji…s-slow down! I jus’ —fuck!—came!”

Toji breaks himself from you, painting your flushed cunt in his hot, patterned breaths. He doesn’t meet your stare, his eyes trapped to the corked swell of your clit. “Sorry, baby. I’ll be gentle…and so fucking gentle, I swear."

Whether he meant it for your ears or not, Toji couldn’t tell you. But that won’t change his resolve. The resolve that bleeds through the dripping tongue he swathes against your folds. He’s working his jaw to bear those long, pampering strokes of his. 

Those long, pampering strokes that trail up from your gummy hole. 

The lazy, careful drags that skims against the pulsing channel of your folds. 

His gentle laps that cling to your spry knob just because it feels so damn good to soak up the beating heat that leaves your clit so puffy and cute.

“Oooh—shi– Just…hah…just like that, Toji!”

He has your body running hot, your stirred nerves sparking underneath your skin. He’s simply dragging his tongue against you, so how can something so simple risk pulling another orgasm from your core?

He’s honoring his words too, using soft laps to soothe your poor bulb. But that doesn’t stop the twitches that litter your weak legs, that arch driving your chest into the air, and the mindless drivel spilling from your gaping lips. 

“Mmmm,” Toji whimpers as a ‘pop’ ricochets from his mouth, “I wanna suck it, Mama. Please? I’ll be soft too! Just let me suck it, ‘kay?”

“Th-then go ahead! I’m not gonna—oh fuh—Toji!”

“Mhmm,” Toji hums as the whites of his eyes flicker behind his squint. If there’s one thing he’s grown to attach to, he’s grown too fond of sucking on that clit of yours.

Something about having the cute pearl swell up between his lips that plays on his senses a little too heavily. Just the thought alone has his mind wiped clean of anything that wasn’t your moans, your writhing body, or the looming orgasm he has to bring over you.

It’s sheer vigor that graces him to lure your clit between his quivering lips. He has to coax you, earn your trust before delivering ruin right to your feet. That’s why he’s ever so kindly pedaling the tip of his tongue against you, lazily winding a mindless path around the bundle of nerves. 

Every languorous lash of his slicked muscle weakens your resolve—a fact he can see with the naked eye. Your hips tell him all he needs to know, rolling along with his rhythm. 

The power of the unspoken is a great one, and because of its strength, Toji is able to move on with his plan. One that allows him to gradually reel back that curling tongue of his, letting his lips plant fluttering kisses as an apology for stealing back what’s rightfully yours. 

A whimper tells him you miss it, but the pecks he’s baking at your core aren’t for naught. Not when he’s easing you in, blanketing his lips over your clit until all he can do is cling to the silky button.

So fragile, it’s the opposite of his entire persona, demeanor, and even his way of life. The polar opposite of him, but Toji wears delicacy like a glove when drawing your clit into a churning toil. He’s nursing you with the kindest of care, suckling the spry nerves into a pudgy bloat. 

“F-ff-fuck! I‘m gonna cum again!” you squeal, your thighs knocking against Toji’s head.

He doesn’t curse. He doesn’t chatise you. Toji merely slips his hand from your waist in exchange of bracing the silky plush you’ve crowned upon him. 

He could stop, Toji knows that much. But hearing your cry out like that—you’ve abruptly fueled some hidden agenda of his to push you over the limit. Just how loud can you scream his name? How many times can you cum before you’re a fucked out mess? All these questions contaminate Toji’s fleeting mind, and he’s dying to answer each and every one tonight.

“Go ‘head, I can take it, Baby.”

He means every word. He’ll handle everything to come with you; the good and the bad, all the pain and the pleasures, he’ll take it all with a smile.

Your orgasm is a heavy burden to carry, costing you every ounce of strength in your reserves. The familiar flash of white crosses your eyes, dashing in front of your sights for a single moment. Like the thrill of lighting cracking through the sky, your body holding strong before the crumbling curse washes over you. 

The looming heat at your core surges across your body, from the balls of your curled feet to the fading reality in your head. Your jaw drops slack by a muted cry, and all you can do is give into your body’s coiling instinct without delay.

Toji’s hands are foreign to you, but it’s the only source that brings you down as he softly taps a wayward tempo along your flushed skin.

 “Oh, that was beautiful, Princess. But, I hope you can keep up that little act…we’re not done here.”

As you pull the words from your broken thoughts, Toji’s swift to reach over you, his hunkering body casting a shadow upon you. 

“Toji?” you mumble out, squinting at his face with blurry eyes. 

“You started this. You gotta finish it—and if you don’t…well, you might regret it.” His warning comes with a hint, one that lacks the grace of subtly. Because in Toji’s mind, the hint he has for you sits right against your inner thigh, his thick cock hidden behind a shameful bulge. 

Perching upon your elbows, you close the distance between you and Toji, leaving just a sliver of the room’s heat to separate you both. 

“I’m going to regret it? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to scare me, Toji. I told you already, try all you want…you can’t break me. Besides, if I choose to let you go to bed like this, who’s truly gonna regret it?”

“Only one way to find out…” the final words marking the room’s sultry atmosphere as Toji captures your lips with a kiss.

He keeps his rhythm purely surface—soft, gentle, gliding his kiss against you like the finest silk. He doesn’t dare to, not when he’s already dizzy off those small whimpers you let sink into his mouth. 

It’s so gentle that it’s almost hypnotic, the soft curl of Toji’s lips passing over your own. He’s leaving you wanting more, the impulse to trace his skin burning at your fingertips. However,  the obstacle of clothing hinders you—but your hands move quicker than you can think. 

Nothing could truly explain the way you labor across Toji’s towering body; tugging off his suit jacket, unbuttoning his dress shirt, yanking at his black slacks until he was free of all clothing, and the loud clunk of his belt and shoes joining the floor. 

But you do it all while the fervour of his gentle kiss stews at the forefront of your mind.  

He could say the same, unsure of what skills allowed him to strip you of that dress, tugging off your shoulders, down your legs, and off onto the floor with such ease—but he did so anyway. 

He did it all while relishing the heat of your lips on his. 

And maybe a kiss does hold such mind-numbing powers, to subdue lovers to its binding will. As much as you rather push off such a ridiculous thought, the evidence lies with you and Toji alike. 

Why, it must have some influence over those who dabble within its magic because the next time you blink, you find yourself laid on your side with Toji’s bare chest tucked along your spine and his bicep as your pillow. His hooked arm outlines your chest, pitting him to knead the silky fat of your tits. 

He’s peeling away from the sin of your kiss down to your exposed neck, peppering pecks along the velvety tract of your throat. Just because he’s broken from your lips doesn’t mean he’s stopped sipping from lust’s cup. His hands, wide, firm, and blessed with fingers so thick, take on the honor of roaming your body. 

Those husky hands that cup your tits, kneading at the pillowy flesh until your pebbling nipples slip between his windowed grasp. 

Those stout fingers that lazily caress your curves, the pad of his thumb feathering along your skin. 

There are so many whimpers that don’t mean to pour from your lips—but they do, shamelessly and unfiltered. He carries the art of delicacy, Toji’s treating you under the fear of breaking you. But his efforts only spur you on, guiding you down the path that he leads. 

Those stout fingers that lazily caress your curves, the pad of his thumb feathering along your skin. A hot, rousing channel that erupts beneath Toji’s languid tour of your body. His touch smolders over your skin, coaxing every nerve to greet him without fail. 

His path ends just short of your thigh, his reach slipping to coddle the supple underside. 

“Hold your leg back,” Toji instructs, dragging his hand to cup the back of your knees. Carefully, he replaces his brash grip with your kind, tender hands, pinning your folded leg just short of your chest.

“What are you doing?” you pry, skewing your head along Toji’s chest. 

His hand slowly glides along the front of your body, squeezing at whatever fills his rough hands. His trail lands him right before your sopping cunt, his shaky hand dusting past your puffy lips.

“...Tch, n-nothing. J-just wan..n-na touch you, that’s it,” his trembling breath mutters along the thumping pulse of your neck. 

The moment Toji’s confidence allows him to dip into the viscous mess of your pussy, a hiss cuts between his lips. You’re dripping, your slick dressing his touch before he’s even landed a tap on your puffy pink pearl. Suddenly, there’s a stress on Toji’s mind that warns him of the impending doom set to befall him. 

The doom of him cumming too quickly.

It’s an issue he’s never had until meeting you. He still remembers the mess your sputtering pussy drowned him in back in that dressing room. But this doesn’t even compare to that first time.

He could only imagine how you’ll suck him up this time, how sloppy you’ll be after a few rolls of his hips, how he very much could end up creaming your walls white—

 “Oh fuck…” he groans at the thought, his hips bucking along the small of your back. 

Precious anticipation that has Toji taking his sweet time to trace through your folds, up towards your clit, and down to your entrance. You tug at your bottom lip as he drifts over your hole at last—but deliverance like this doesn’t come with the flick of a wrist. 

Rather than fulfill your every wish, he’s taken with the idea of thumbing at the fluttering ring, the tips of his digits just nicking at your knotted hole. 

“Don’t tease me, just do it alread—”

Just two fingers. It only takes Toji slipping past your sticky slit to ruin your pussy beneath that burning stretch. He’s sinking into you, your cunt swallowing every bit of Toji’s fingers. He’s down to the hilt with you, so far gone that he has no choice but to adorn your sweet spot with his hooked reach. 

“Hah, omygosh—fuck, Toji!”

“Thaaaat’s it! Oh, you feel that?” Toji taunts as his wrist flicks against your splitting cunt.

All he’s met with is your breathless gaps, your mouth hinged by a gape. He’s got you right where he wants you—speechless and needy—and that’s exactly when he plans to strike.

And Toji can’t help but savor every passing second. 

“Aww, why can’t you talk to me, Baby? Told you I just wanted to touch you…’nd it’s nothing you can’t handle…”

There’s a timeless look that settles on your features, one that Toji can’t help to admire with a ghastly smirk. The look that has your gaping mouth webbed with spit, dewy eyes screwed shut, and your threaded brows weighed down by a crease. All he’s done was fill you, nothing more and nothing less. 

“Toji, Baby, please! I-I can’t—I can’t take it!” 

Toji’s chuckling along the shell of your ear. All that sass, and you can’t even keep the charade you—it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. But that’s his princess, always making a mess he’s just a little too willing to clean up. 

“I’m not one to tease, Baby. You know that. You make me wanna go harder, so ‘m not playing when it comes to you,” he hums between the wayward kisses he plants along your cheek. 

“Oh, fuck you, Toji,” you wince, hips flinching at his curled fingers. 

“Yeah?” he purrs, “Then c’mon, I know you feel that dick begging for you, so do it then…fuck me, Mama.”

His taunt comes with the relentless drive of his soiled fingers, bullying your sweet spot with brash toils.  He’s trying to be kind but when you start clenching down around him like that, he’s faced with having his way with your squelching pussy. 

His wrist picks a brazen droll, driving up against your honeyed walls however he pleases. All his efforts reward him with a ring of white to brandish his twirling digit—and bring you onto the cusp of what might just be another wave of ecstasy. 

You’re shaking, thrashing about in his hold for mercy from his punishing touch, but Toji’s doesn’t even grant you a lick of freedom. Not when he’s so insistent on keeping you close, his hunkering body seizing you in his grasp. 

“Toji, wait! I don’t think I can cum again!” you hysterically sob, bracing your body for the weight of yet another orgasm. 

“Oh, but you can, Princess, “ Toji’s quick to reassure, “Just not now.”

Leaving you with one final curl of his fingers, Toji swiftly reels his glossy digits from your heat. 

Toji embellishes a pumping fist around his length, lathering your slick down his shaft. His hips ride against you, bringing the head of his cock to rake between your sloppy folds. 

But that’s all he does, simply dragging his twitching cock aimlessly. He plays it off, but the throbbing veins that dust against your clit tell you how he’s barely hanging from a sliver of thread. 

You had the chance to ridicule him, call out Toji for his bullshit—but who were you to say a word when something so easy like this was throwing you into ruin? Each time he pulls back, that brewing heat in your core pines for him, inexplicably desperate for his fat cock to spread you thin around him. 

You dip your head along his chest, catching sight of his crumbling exterior. He’s breaking, the man you once knew is now replaced by his shadow self. He’s a panting mess, his fair skin claimed by heat’s red tinge, and those midnight blue eyes are clamped shut. Toji’s dangling at the edge with his feeble attempts of euphoria, as if the solution to his issue doesn’t lie right between your legs. 

“Tojiii…” you call out, earning his lowly grunt as a response. “Don’t keep me waiting!”

“H-h…hm?... Think you can take it, Baby?” Toji sighs as his forehead rests along your temple. His eyes peel open to find you staring right back at him, that precious dreamy gaze binding him to your every whim. 

“Mhm,” you nod, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. “I can take it.”

Excitement gets the better of Toji at the sound of your voice. All knowledge of his feeble states flees from mind as he races to align himself with you. One brash snap of his hips sends his cock wedged between your fluttering walls and his mind snapped in two.

“Fuck…” Toji’s trembling against you, painting the peak of your shoulder in hitching breaths. All he’s accomplished is plugging you up with the pink-hearted crown of his cock and he's doomed with facing a losing battle. 

With whatever breath he can muster, Toji grapples with himself to fulfill his lone task. No matter how good, how sinful, how tempting it seems, he’s got no choice but to walk down the path of slow and easy if he desires to win this race. 

Inch by painstaking inch, Toji guides himself to fill you. The slow drive of his hips coaxes the fat girth of his cock to simmer along your silken walls. As his eyes begin to roll, he’s groaning at how your pussy’s suckling him deeper. 

There’s something to be noted with how he’s immersing himself in your warmth, how his gentle approach differs from nights like this. Maybe it’s because for once, Toji isn’t rushing to stuff you, he isn’t rushing to make you eat your words. Tonight, he’s got something else on the brain, something soft and gentle.

And with this ‘gentle’ approach, you can’t help slow down with him. You can’t help but notice all the little details unfolding between your merging bodies, like how the heavy underside of his cock twitches with each inch plunged inside of you or how the veins ribboning his length pulse whenever you clench around him. 

You can feel every unspoken word he’s crying out to you—and he knows you can too.

“You feel that, Baby? That’s me…stretching you out like that…nice ‘nd slow, just for you. C-Can I take my time with you?” he’s almost begging as his warm breaths fans along your opened mouth.

“Y-yes…fuck, yes, please!” you cry out, sealing the deal with a sloppy kiss. A kiss so messy that control flies out your hands and leaves you two crashing into one another.

Through the hunger of desire, Toji’s drawn back into exploring your body, intuition guiding what’s blinded by logic. He’s driven by the messy kisses you push against his lips to hold you close, to have his touch become your entire world. 

He knows you like having your hips squeezed, so he does it. He knows you like having your nipples tweaked between strokes—so he does it. He knows you love those deep, long strokes that overwhelm your pussy with sheer thrill, so he does that too just to hear the praise. 

“Yesyesyesyes—j-just like that!” 

“That’s my girl, feels good, right? I kn—shit—I know!” He chuckles, hips mindlessly drawn back for another laborious round. It’s tedious work but Toji’s enjoying every moment of it. Even with his mind so hazy, he isn’t one to overlook how good it feels to have your velvety walls coddling his pudgy length. 

He can’t tune out the lewd symphony playing in his ears either. By guiding his cock to strum your walls, he’s able to give you a solo debut with those breathless notes pouring from your lips. By curling his hips just right, he’s able to coax your pussy into giving him those perfectly viscous chimes that churn through the air. 

And when he’s ready for the finale, all it takes is for that single dip. That single dip that sends his tip to kiss your teased sweet spot sparks every fiber of your being into a raging flame.

 Your mind, broken by the night, is too far gone for the courtesy of announcements. Your body, drained and frail in Toji’s hold, is spent of all precious energy—but that fact alone welcomes the crashing world of your orgasm through you like no other.

Because when Toji did land that finishing kiss, all he’d done was strike devastation upon you both. 

Your legs fall to a thundering close, limbs riddled with harsh tremors. Your hands race to grasp into the robust arms Toji’s tied around you, manicured nails scratching at his bulging muscles. Your spine arches off of his chest, and all you can do is whimper as the ripped tide leaves your body parched and weak.

Toji’s no better when he rushes to withdraw from you, seething out a string of curses at how the cold air bullies his cock. With a fist wrapped to the base, he pulls one final stroke over his length before the rushing spill of white weeps from his raw tip.

Toji cuddles himself besides you, burying his head along the nape of your neck as he bucks his hips into the fat of your ass. 

It’s all too much for him. His vision’s blown white and spotty, his heart skipping beats, and the sweltering heat settling amongst his skin drives him mad. Toji’s desperate for something, anything to ground him.

He’s left to his own devices, scouring around until his findings leave him to cling to your waist. He prays you won’t say too much for the brash act, but you’re the only one he can turn to, the only one who knows how much of a toll his bliss takes on him. 

What he doesn’t expect is you combing back his sweat-sunken hair, your lips scattering kisses along his clenched jaw, and the thoughtful words of encouragement loops in his ear.

“It’s a lot, right? Just let it out…”

“Fuck, ‘m still cumming,” he rasps. He has a song mulling heavy on his heart, all those moans waiting to break free from their cage. With all the restraint he can muster, Toji knows he can’t continue the ruse of choking back the notes any longer.

 And with you soothing his woes, Toji’s resistance gives without a second thought. The heartless, cold shell Toji dons shatters the moment his lips give way with a whimper. Because of you, he’s whimpering, letting his body grieve the weight of his orgasm with you as his lone witness. 

You pull his clipped hand from your waist into your own, swiping at his roughened knuckles with the pad of your thumb. “That’s it, you’re doing such a good job, Baby.”

“T-Thank you, Princess,” Toji shudders between breaths. 

A veil of silence falls over the room, the pair of you finally mending tattered breaths. While silence keeps the scene calm, nothing about your entangled bodies changes one bit.

Your hand can still be found in his, your bodies still bare and melted into each other, even the exchange of soft kisses joins the frame. 

But calmness is a fleeting trait, with the call of Toji’s name summoning a new plot to play out. 

“Oh…Toji?” you innocently coo.

“Hm?”

“Can we go again? Just one more time, please?!?”

A weary smirk crowds upon Toji’s lips as he flickers his heavy eyes over your face—that callow look of batting lashes melting his perseverance. Such a pretty face, and a kind voice, but the nastiest mind.

His chest is still heavy, sweat lathers his skin, with exhaustion claiming him whole, Toji’s newfound soft spot for you curbs him from committing such a treasonous act of denying you. 

“You really wanna go again?” He chuckles, pressing his forehead to your own.

“Mhm,” you nod, pulling your bent leg taut to your chest. 

“It’s gonna be slower than before…”

“That’s fine, I just—"

“You don’t have to say it or explain yourself, Princess…I know.”

It’s just as you said, Toji knows you so well, so much so that he knows that you aren’t after another high—it’s just the sheer intimacy that has you both addicted.

Because for the first time in Toji’s life, he’s finally reached his long-waited oasis through your hands—sensuality.

A place where time stands still for lovers, allowing them to abstain from all that isn’t each other. Where all that’s needed to survive is the heat of one’s body, the synchronization of breaths, and the beating drum of a unified heart. 

That s why Toji has no issue to grant your wish by taking hold of his length once more, his palm greeted by his hardened cock once more. 

Strings of curses rip from Toji’s throat as he works to fill you all over again. The tepid lunge of his hips, the breathy moans slipping from his barred mouth, his hand still clinging to yours as his lifeline—all of which he establishes to be his new standard for taking you. 

He keeps his eyes in line with yours when he finally immerses himself so deeply within your walls, a timeless gasp capturing you both. 

You’re back to smothering his girth beneath a sticky grasp, marking every inch of his cock in your essence. He’s curling up beside you, using his angled hips to reach deeper than before.

You feel so good, you always do but tonight has Toji’s strong-willed mind rolling off the faintest touch.

Sensitivity isn’t a word Toji likes to associate himself with, out of his respect for his pride and ego—yet he’s imbued with the very essence of the word tonight.

Every graze, kiss, even the shallow channel of your breath renders him a quivering, frail mess. He can’t begin to handle it when you pick up a nasty habit of rocking your hips against him, grinding your deepest bliss down against his cock’s writhing bulbous head.

There’s no loud clash of skin, overdrawn cries, or pleas of mercy—there’s just the beautiful blend of skin on skin, keeping each other company through another one of the world’s perilous nights. 

Why ruin you with tyrannical lust when sensuality grants him your warm body melding into his, your every cry sitting like music in his ear, and your touch pulling him into a dream? 

“Fuuuuccck,” he's whining, his stark chest billowed with staggering breaths. “Oh Princess, what’re you doin to me?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but it’s been burning on your mind all the same. What was he doing to you?

Just off his driven cock, he’s carving at your walls, littering you with memories of how he fits. He’s marking you with every vein, curve, and twitch he carries so you never forget how he’s supposed to feel inside you. He’s taking the time to make you his, inside and out, by focusing on you and you alone.

All this attention on you, it has the gears of your empty brain turning. And then…the unthinkable falls from your lips.

“T-Toji…please…don’t go…”

Before you can even catch the mistake, Toji’s peppering your cheeks with kisses, shushing your words with his boyish smile.

“Shhh, don’t talk like that. ‘m right here and I’m not going anywhere, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, hiding your blunder behind a returning kiss.

Because, of course, you just meant right now…right?

[daddyricsdoll]

Hate but I love you too ✭ Ollie Bearman

Summary: From when he ignored you then nearly kissed your lips. Or never said sorry to begging for you. Oliver was a rollercoaster of emotions and it's safe to say- It took hate to love him.

Warnings: Unprotected sex.

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: Based off of a request. I'm sorry it took a while, quite a few things happened, but I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading this too! (did change a few things)

“Hey Ollie” I smile at him as we walk toward our karts that sit only metres away from the other. “What do you want?” He turns his head toward me with furrowed brows. “Oh, I-um just came to say hi and good luck.” I try my best to keep a smile on my face as he grimaces. “Ok then, thanks I guess.” He mumbles under his breath before quickening his pace and rushing to his kart. 

It did hurt to watch him leave because of me, but it wasn’t the first time and it never made me stop from approaching him again. And just like the first time, it happened the next, he would always find a way out, but I found another in. I had questioned his actions and dislike toward me, but never got the answer, or maybe the one I was looking for at least. So after setting the goal of speaking to him every time we were in the same premises, I eventually lost it. Moving up into F4 and giving him a smile, then F3 and little glares. 

F3 was an interesting time, it was when we started to only focus on racing, relationships later, whether it was friendships or romantically, we could all agree we had some struggles. And then came the part I thought would be my happy ending, but U-turned straight out. 

But then came a experience for all of us drivers to experience what a lot of kids our age do. So then came a party with nearly all the drivers on the grid, hosted by a driver, so you could expect it to be on the spectrum toward chaotic. It happened to start light, small talk and grabbing another drink, before people loosened up and with that came party games. The truth or dare and spin the bottle. 

My hand lightly shook as I grabbed the bottle in hand, trying to estimate which person it would point toward. Hoping it would be the British boy that sat across from me, and this time he wouldn't walk away. 

Everyone's eyes stuck on the bottle and when it pointed in between two people I looked up to see it was Ollie and Jak. Everyone started shouting out their opinions of who it shall be before they all voted, and it was Ollie. I watched many emotions cross his face as we both leant forward and our lips inched closer to the other.

I stopped moving, waiting for him to make the next move, his lips were so close that I could feel his breath against my skin and I closed my eyes as I waited for him to close the gap. My lips curled into a smile as I was sure I would finally feel him. But instead of his lips ultimately against mine, I felt cold as I lost his presence and then his voice that refused to kiss me. “I can’t kiss her, we’re both rivals and it might ruin the race tomorrow.”

I don’t say anything, but sit back in the circle, at long last, accepting my defeat. I watched as some conflict arose, people telling Ollie it’s just a game and it doesn’t mean anything, but then he fought back claiming he wouldn’t kiss anyone in the circle, and then the game ended. 

I found somewhere to sit in sorrow but also bliss, at how close his lips came to mine, but then how he left. I was alone for a short while before Arthur Leclerc approached me. He wasn’t even part of F3 this year but said “I could never miss out on a party.” and then sat beside me while enlightening me with his jokes and bad english. From there me and Arthur became close, while the tension between me and Ollie grew. I secretly schemed ways in my head to get Ollie back, make him feel the way I felt, make him regret something or tempt him with something, make it come so close then take it from him. There was no denying I wanted that thing to be me, and that’s what held my plan back. 

The next year we both were signed into teams on the F2 grid, he had the opportunity to be with Prema racing and me with ART grand prix. 

After Jeddah, our rivalry started to grow realising we were the top two drivers fighting for the win each race, me getting the victory first and him second. Then came up Australia, a track we were all new to, but it didn’t mean we wouldn’t try as hard. 

I led the race with Ollie right behind me, fighting around corners and defending on straights. We had 3 more laps left as our tires started degrading drastically and our cars lost the power they had earlier in the race. Speeding down the main straight and reaching turn 1 Ollies tire clipped mine and we both spun into the gravel.

Furrowed brows under my helmet as I got out of my car that would’ve taken me to the top of the podium if it weren’t for Oliver Bearman. I put my steering wheel back in and smack the halo, needing something to take my anger out before walking away with clenched fists. Oliver stands still and stares at me as I aim to stride past him, but instead I land directly in front of him but don’t say a word. Our helmets would’ve touched if it weren’t for our heights and although my visor was still on I knew he understood the emotions that ran through me at that moment. We stayed like that for what felt like minutes until I walked away with a brush against his shoulder and hand. 

Every race after that there was a stronger battle between both of us, it was either me or him that won, and those few times we didn’t, the bottom two on the podium had our names on it. 

Just like last year, there was a party held, but this time we were in F2 and I wasn’t tailing after him. 

Me and Arthur walked in together dressed impeccably and proud. We had a good season together and maybe letting loose at this “party” might make this season better. 

Since everyone on the grid was here, it would be inevitable to see Oliver. Whether it’s a good or bad thing, I kind of do want to see him, especially since after that crash, I’ve never been better and he doesn’t enjoy being under me, so I’ll have a great time. 

It barely took 5 minutes until Arthur found Oliver and started a conversation, while I stood with Arthur people congratulated me on having dominance over the season so far and I just waited till Oliver would say it too. And to my surprise it didn’t take long. “Oh um, congratulations.” I hear him mumble under his breath. “Sorry I didn’t catch that, can you say that again?” I ask him, hiding my smirk with a confused look.

He gives me an annoyed smirk, knowing wholly what I was trying to do. “Congratulations.” He quickly says and watches a smile curl on my lips before walking away with one too. Me and Arthur somehow separate and I find another one of my favourite people on the grid–Juan. I immediately laughed as the first words he said were an enlightening joke, and we sat at the table and talked, it felt so short but apparently it wasn’t. 

I excused myself to the bathroom but not without a short interruption. “Nice boyfriend, since when?” The oh so recognisable accent drew me out of my stride. 

“Oh, Oliver? I never knew you had an interest in people's personal lives.” I sarcastically joked, but I gained no reaction from him. 

“I never knew you had an interest in people so low in the championship.”

“Unlike you Oliver, I actually know how to interact with people whether they are high or low in the championship because I know they won’t ruin my race even if we’re rivals.” I try to add some of his words from that night in F3 while taking a step closer toward him and most definitely getting in his personal space. He doesn’t attempt to move back into the wall that he already rests on, but instead looks down at me with concentrated eyes staring into mine. 

“How do you interact with people? Oh please show me. Is it actions before words?” I knew exactly what he was asking for so I step on my tippy toes to stand taller and he lifts his head to look straight forward at me, I move my face closer to his, just like he did that night. I feel the ghost of his hand along my hips as my parted lips hover over his. I breathe against his skin and feel him try to move closer to me just before I break away and walk back into the main room.

Losing my need for the bathroom I walk back with a smirk and see the same one of Arthur’s faces. We both found a seat next to each other and laughed as I told him what happened. Arthur couldn’t get over it and started making fun of Ollie from across the table. Sending him air kisses and chuckles. 

And just like I hoped this night did make the season more enjoyable. 

I walked out of the Prema garage as we were 15 minutes till lights out and me and Arthur had just spent the morning being stupid together. We still couldn’t get over last night and Arthur was just waiting to see Ollie again, which was definite thanks to them being teammates. But as Ollie walked in, I had to leave. I sent him a teasing smile and he looked away with his signature furrowed brows. 

We all got in our cars and lined up on the grid, me and Oliver sharing the front row. Once the lights went out Ollie kept the lead and I trailed behind him, keeping the gap close. Halfway through the race there was a yellow flag which lasted a few minutes before we were back to racing. The yellow flag closed the gap between both of us by a lot and now we were wheel to wheel.

I had the inside line so we both knew what was going to happen. But just like Australia, our cars collide and our race ends in seconds. I was most definitely filled with the same emotions as Australia but I knew hitting the halo wouldn’t ease them. I don’t dare to walk close or past Oliver so I take the long way around and stride straight to my driver's room. I don’t speak to anyone on the way there and slam the door once I arrive. 

It hadn’t even been a minute until I received an unexpected knock on my door. Everyone knew that when I was angry, it was best to leave me alone unless you were certain that you could make me feel better. So when I got up to answer the door I was surprised to see Oliver. Before I could say a word, he beat me to it. “I’m sorry.” I stood there confused trying to process the words he had just told me. “I-I hit something and I couldn’t control my car, I think you hit it too and then we both…” 

“And you think sorry will fix what just happened? For the second time!”

“No, I don’t think it will fix everything, but maybe if you accept the apology then things might change.”

“What happened? So you start talking to me, and now you learn manners! What happened to ignoring me and sending glares or not talking because I’d ruin your race or maybe you just never liked me!”

“A lot happened! And I don’t know how to explain it, but don’t act like I’m the only one that changed! What happened to the smiles you would give me before the race or when you would walk with me on the track?”

“You ignored it Oliver! You never showed an interest and you knew what you did that one night. You really hurt me Ollie.”

“Well then please, give me a chance to fix it. I regret everything I ever did or didn’t do.”

“And why do you want to fix it now Oliver?”

“I… I realised something. I realised that I really enjoyed when you would talk to me! And that the reason I ignored you before races was because you would infiltrate my mind during the race like you do every day and night! And I really wanted you- I still want you!”

“Fuck it.” I mutter under my breath as my hand grabs his and pulls it into my room and shutting the door right behind him. I had spent so long wondering what his lips would feel like, and now I know, they are the definition of paradise, my paradise. And his hands finally against my body did more than just touch my skin, they touched my mind and I tried to engrave the feeling into me. We broke the kiss and I looked into his eyes, irises being eaten by his pupils. Once my eyes landed on his neck, my lips did too. Placing hickeys all over his skin and moaning at the sound of his hushed groans. 

“Is this what you wanted, Oliver?” I ask him against his skin. I don’t get words as an answer but little whines instead. My hands go to the top of his racing suit and I start unzipping it, soon pulling it down his body. Ollie starts to help me, mirroring my actions and seconds later we both stood in just our fireproofs. I couldn’t bear to still see him in clothes so my hands pulled his top off and my hands travelled along his unclothed chest. 

“Come on Oliver, I’m not the one that has to fix this.” I mumble against his lips with a smirk. His hands then grip the back of my thighs and pull my body up against his. My legs wrap around his body like it’s not the first time and he lays me down on the small driver's bed. 

“Is it too hard to finish what you started?” He whispers against my skin as he pulls my pants down my legs and they land on the ground. I sit up and lean forward to slide his pants down his legs so he can help ease the need between my legs. And once his pants sit next to mine, I have to clench my thighs together for at least some friction. 

“Would you like to watch me finish what I started?” I ask and before I gain an answer I swap our positions, I replace my body on the bed with his and I stand in front of him. I barely give him any time to react as I crawl onto his lap. And then in seconds I lower onto his dick. Emitting a loud moan from his perfect lips, one that’s louder and longer than my own. 

“I guess I’ll take first place again, on your list of best people you’ve fucked.”

“Fuck, oh, you’re the only one on the list.” He somehow manages to grit through his teeth. His words do something to me, and I start to work harder, his hips also coming to meet mine. 

“Good, let’s keep it that way.” I occupy my lips with his and we capture each other’s moans. It didn’t take long until we were both moments away from coming, and it was like we had planned it together as we simultaneously came. I started riding both of our highs out until he grabbed my body again and flipped us over. 

My back hit the soft bed and his hands slid along my hips as he started ramming into me. My whole body moved and it was something I didn’t expect from Oliver, but luckily I now enjoy the unexpected. We both cursed under our breath and out loud as our second climax was inching closer. I clenched around his dick and traced the delicacy of his body as I let myself feel everything that he was giving to me.

His eyes that remind me of autumn glint down into mine before I have to shut my eyes as my back arches and I cum onto his dick for the second time. I wait for the disparate feeling of him releasing in me again and whine when it finally happens. 

He then lets out a long sigh and lays down onto me, body enveloping mine as he stays inside of me. “This was more than what I wanted.” He breathes out and then lays beside me, resulting in feeling the emptiness between my legs but oh so satisfied. 

“Have I fixed what was broken?” He asked me.

“Maybe, but this is the first step.” I turn toward him and smile before he smiles back. This was more than I hoped and certainly more than I expected. So to sum it up, Ollie is many things and emotions, maybe I had to go through the dislike to savour and realise how much the like is worth. So Oliver, you made me want to stab you, but heal your wounds. Drown you, but part the ocean so you can walk through. You made me hate you, but love you too.

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 1

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

a/n - another short chapter, but please bare with me here.

-> <-

June 1972

Eddie Munson has taken your doll. Your precious princess with the silver tiara glued to the top of her head (because you lost the tiara once and you wailed for hours until your mom found it, and she decided to glue it to her head to keep this from happening again).

Never go past the porch. Your mom has repeated time and time again. So, you sit with your feet kicked out in your gingham dress that your mom insists you wear.

Across the trailer park, Eddie is counting down the minute until “blast-off.” Tying your doll to a toy rocket he got with his allowance from his uncle, he knows that this thing won’t go to Mars. Perhaps, a nice landing in the tree hanging above his house would be nice.

It would - until Uncle Wayne soils his plans.

“Eddie!” Uncle Wayne scolds with a newspaper rolled into a swatting weapon. Smacking Eddie upside the head, he warns, “you be nice to her and give her back that doll!”

Eddie huffs, “I wasn’t going to hurt it.”

“Why don’t we give her one of your toys to play with?” Wayne smirks knowing he’s about to win this tireless battle. “G.I. Joe would look pretty in a dress and a little makeover.”

“Ugh,” Eddie tears the strings that hold the princess doll hostage, “I’ll give the toy back. Jeez!”

“And apologize,” he sighs.

Eddie kicks the dirt below his feet and storms across to the trailer there. You’re a pain in his side. Blubbering about a doll? Really?

Wayne constantly reminds him that you’re younger. Actually, you’re about two years younger than Eddie. You can’t chase him around like he wishes. There’s not many kids his age in the trailer park, and the ones that are his age fear the Munson name.

You’re not sure you want to be friends with the boy who keeps taking your dolls to throw around. There isn’t much choice now that your mom has to work, and she’s handing you over to Wayne in the mornings. She offers him a list of emergency contacts, and warns him not to feed you too much sugar.

It’s then you’re left to play with the thief, who steals your dolls. And, for a while, Eddie ignores you. He digs in the dirt with a plastic shovel until he finds a slimy worm. Thinking this would be the perfect time to show you he’s in charge around here, Eddie grows a sly grin. He hovers over you, while you take a keen interest in the toy dump truck left in the sun. Dropping the worm onto your hair, you squeal and shake off the invading insect.

Despite his short victory, you’re now toying with the worm. Rolling the creature between your fingers, you find a nice spot of wet dirt for your friend to crawl around in. Muddy hands grasp at the legs of Eddie’s pants.

Wayne rolls in laughter from the porch. There hasn’t been a moment that Eddie has gone so mute. A shrunken look of dispare drops against his nephew’s face. Jutting out his lower lip, Eddie goes back into his corner to play in the dirt. It just so happens that Eddie’s crafted his own little mud pile, so he can fling a clump or two in your direction.

It isn’t until Wayne is done wiping the tears away from his eyes that he realizes what Eddie has done. Standing on his two feet, ready to scold his nephew, you’re actually too quick for him. You toss mud back.

Thus, a mud fight begins.

Mud in between your fingers and mud between your toes and maybe some mud even squeezes behind your ears.

Wayne waves his hands desperately trying to get the children to stop throwing mud at each other, but alas it is far too late. By the time he gets either of you wrangled, you’re dripping in muck and so is Eddie.

There’s no way he’s trusting either of you inside of his house in such a state. Wayne gathers a garden hose from his neighbor, who will just have to deal with it.

The older man makes sure the water won't freeze your skin, or cook you dry before holding the nozzle at your feet.

“Spin,” Wayne directs.

You wave your chubby little arms back and forth, before wobbling in a semi circle. Warm water douses your entire body. Still, mud manages to cling to the parts of you that Wayne doesn’t see. You’ll have a bath later in his house, and Wayne will offer you some of Eddie’s clothes that he’s outgrown.

During Eddie’s hose down, the young boy shakes and rattles like a wet dog. He flings a disastrous amount of dirt across the trailer park, and onto you and Wayne. Before he can wrap a towel around Eddie, the boy is weaving past him into the house so he can get to the shower first.

“Boys,” Wayne rolls his eyes.

You giggle at this.

“Oh, but you’re as pretty as a peach,” he tells you, “don’t worry. My nephew will come around.”

Wayne brings you inside, and has to help you bathe yourself off. At first, he lets you splash around in the water by yourself feeling a bit uncomfortable washing a young girl. When you discover the joy of throwing water outside of the shower, Wayne steps in to help you. He’s also there to wrap you in a towel, and he helps dress you.

Eddie has already claimed a comfortable spot on the couch. There’s a screeching car chase happening on the blaring television in front of you. This couldn’t possibly be what your mother would approve of you watching.

Wayne’s belly tightens.

“Ed-,” but he stops himself.

Bobbling around the carpeted living room, you squeeze around the shoes left in the middle of the floor. You’re reaching the edge of the sofa where Eddie is. Eddie breaks from the television to scoot forward to the edge of the couch. He puts his thumbs under your armpits and holds onto your chest tight as he lifts you onto the couch with him.

Eddie doesn’t really think you’ll scoot in so close to him. There’s plenty of room that even his uncle could fit between you two. But, you chase after him as he gets comfortable sunken into the cushions.

There’s a moment when the older boy freezes unsure how to handle another person in his space. His eyes go wide and stare a hole through your head. It’s curious your mom chose to put your hair in pigtails - anyone could tug at them. As tempting as that might be, Eddie resists the urge when the car on television crashes on the side of the road. You slap your hands together and laugh.

Wayne mutely coos at the two kids on the couch. Perhaps his nephew will have a real friend out of you one day. That would warm his heart.

“Uncle Wayne?” Eddie kicks his feet out.

“Yeah?” Wayne replies.

“Can we have popcorn?”

“Sure, kid."

-> <-

[Sep. 1974]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92