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dyns33 · 7 months

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Obvious

Most of the time I see him as the cool silly big bro, but I love Deadpool, so here's a long Deadpool x female reader.

Normally nothing destined Y/N to meet Wade Wilson.

A normal life, without enemies, without superpowers, without contracts on her head. She didn't fight, respected the law (at least for the most serious and important things) and she considered herself to be a good person.

The first time she had passed Saint Agnes Orphanage, she hadn't really paid it much attention. The second time, she found it a little strange that an orphanage was in this part of the city, which was not really made for children.

Then one evening, when she had had a bad day, she realized that it was a bar and she decided to go in for a drink.

Since she thought an orphanage was strange in that place, she might have thought it was odd for a bar to have such a name. She could also have been scared when she saw the other customers, who all turned towards her, indicating that she might not be welcome.

But Y/N was tired, and she just wanted a drink before going home, so she smiled politely as she sat down at the counter.

The waiter frowned, but he agreed to serve her with a shrug, muttering that as long as she was an adult, it wasn't his problem.

A tall, bald, tattooed guy then approached her, putting a hand on her arm without worrying about her private space, asking her if she wanted to follow him home.

"… No thanks."

“Come on, don’t be a slut.”

"Please."

“Come with me, you stupid bitch.”

"Now, that's really not very nice. The lady said no, a gentleman should know it's time to leave. But no Hector, not only are you insisting, but you're being rude."

"Fuck you, Wade, don't get involved in this !"

The waiter continued to mumble about cleaning, while this Wade guy smashed Hector's head against the counter. A tooth even flew close to Y/N’s face.

That might have been enough to scare her completely. In addition to the surge of violence that was happening right next to her, there was the red suit, the katanas and other guns, which could make you want to flee as quickly as possible.

But when he finished kicking Hector's ass, Wade turned to her, and despite the mask, it was obvious that he was smiling, extending a hand towards her.

"Miss, my apologies for that boor. He knows nothing of good manners."

"… Thank you."

"You're very welcome, lovely angel ! Wade Wilson, Deadpool, Merc with a mouth, at your service ! Oh, he spilled your drink… Bad Hector ! Or was it me ? Maybe it was me. Weasel, the same for the little lady, on my note !”

“You already owe me a fortune.”

“I will kill whoever you want for free !”

“I thought you didn’t kill anymore.”

"Ah yes… I'll suck you for free !"

“Here you go, two drinks, just shup up Wade.”

In the end, Wade was a bit special, but not evil. He stayed with her, partly because he loved having someone to talk to, but also to make sure no one else was going to bother her again.

And he talked a lot. Everything he said didn't always make sense, he even seemed to be talking to himself sometimes, but he was funny. It seemed to please him that Y/N laughed at his jokes. Behind the counter, Weasel was still muttering that she was doing something silly.

Among the long tirade he delivered that evening, she understood that Wade had not had an easy life. That he had done some things that could make him a criminal, but he had been trying to improve for some time.

"Colossus already wanted me to become an X-men but it wasn't for me. Wait, there are X-men in this universe ? I do not know anymore. Anyway, there's Spidey and Devy. No, he's right, this nickname isn't great, Devil. Like Daredevil. They want us to be Team Red, but only if I stop unliving people. It's not fair because they're friends with Frank, and Frank keeps unliving people, but he lost his wife and his kids, so I guess he has more sympathy points than me."

"I don't understand everything, but I guess Spidey is Spiderman ?"

"Yes ! He's super cool ! And his ass ! People confuse us sometimes, it annoys me, but it's a bit of a compliment. He's my role model."

Like a true superhero, Deadpool insisted on taking her home. He was terribly honest, saying that he could leave her a few blocks away, but that was useless, because as a former mercenary, he was very good at stalking people and he could find her address without difficulty, even if he only had her name.

"Which I wouldn't do ! Normally. I might want to see you again, and ask Weasel to find your number, but I know myself, I'll put it in my phone, and I'll hesitate for weeks, then I'll send a lousy message, you'll be scared, you'll block me, I'll be ashamed and I'll shoot myself in the head because I'm a moron."

“I can give you my number.”

"And I… Huh ? Huh ?! For real ?!" exclaimed Wade, jumping like a child on Christmas Day.

Wade called her right away, specifying that it was not to verify that she was giving him a false number but a little. Despite the mask, his face showed surprise when he saw that she hadn't lied.

"I should put a bullet in my head to make sure I'm not dreaming."

“You wouldn’t wake up.”

“Baby girl, we only just met, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

When Deadpool talked about shooting himself, he meant it literally. It often happened that he died, either because of an enemy, an accident, or by his own hand. But he always came back. A gift like a curse.

They became friends. It was obvious, and quite sad, that Wade didn't have many friends.

Most people around him couldn't stand him or were afraid of him. It was true that he could be quite unpredictable, especially when he got lost in his discussions with the boxes, or an imaginary audience. But he was never mean.

Weasel was more of a collaborator, Al was forced to accommodate him, and the other heroes, unable to get rid of him, tried to make him a nice guy.

And he was really nice. Crazy but adorable, funny and wanting to do well.

Very quickly, Y/N started to have a crush, and even more. Even after seeing him without a mask. He never took it off completely to eat, repeating that he didn't want her to lose her appetite or feel like throwing up.

But after landing in a trash can after a fight, and forgetting that he had invited her to watch Princess Bride, Y/N had seen him. Yes, his scars were a bit impressive, but they weren't that bad.

With an embarrassed smile, he waved his hand while remaining frozen near the entrance.

"… I can move if you want to run away. I won't follow you. I may look like Frankenstein's monster, but I only pursue young girls who ask me to. Or who deserve it. Because criminals have no gender, I don't discriminate."

“I brought popcorn.” was her only reaction.

"... Oh. Sweet ? Salty ? Caramel ? Al must have beer somewhere, hidden with the cocaine."

After that, he was a little less afraid to show his face, even though it was obvious he wasn't comfortable. It wasn't easy to reassure him, repeating that she didn't care about his appearance.

Y/N didn’t remember how they ended up having this conversation. The only thing she knew was that she was pressed against him, laughing, when she had innocently said it would be fun if they went out together.

This made Wade laugh, but a very serious laugh, leaving no chance and hitting where it hurt.

"You and me ? Ah ! No chance."

"Why ?"

"It's obvious."

A simple little sentence could sometimes do a lot of damage. Too busy making fun of the characters on the screen, Wade didn't see Y/N's look of sadness, just as he didn't feel her body stiffen.

Still, she should have expected this response. Of course it was obvious that they had nothing to do together. Deadpool was a super hero (in training), he was tall, muscular, funny, rich.

She had seen photos of his deceased ex, Vanessa. She had observed him flirting with beautiful women and men before. It was already fortunate that she was only friends with him.

So Y/N swallowed her pride, accepting the obvious, and not talking about the subject again.

But it was hard, because the more time passed, the stronger the feelings became.

It was even harder when Wade entered his depressive phases. He kept putting himself down, insulting himself and accepting insults from the boxes in his head. It took a lot of patience and perseverance to get him to put down his gun.

"Anyway, I'll come back later. Bad luck for the world. People would be happier if I wasn't here anymore. Maybe they'll miss me a little, for a few minutes."

“I would miss you, Wade.”

"Yeah… You say that because you're adorable, baby girl. But you'd be better off without me too. I'm a real drag."

“You saved me the first time we met.”

"And since then you think you owe me a debt. You know, every time we're in the street, the others look at me and they're afraid. If I wasn't there, you could be with them. You could have lots of friends.”

"I don't want lots of friends, Wade." Y/N sighed, taking him into her arms. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Oh, sweetie pie, me too !”

It was rarer for them to find themselves in the opposite situation. Not because Deadpool wasn't capable of empathy, but because she didn't like talking about her problems, preferring to keep everything to herself and cry out of sight.

Unfortunately, she had made the decision to become friends with a former mercenary who loved to jump from roof to roof, only to come visit without warning by tapping on the window.

Y/N had no time to hide her tears, holding back a sob as her eyes met those of Wade, who had stopped mid-movement, fist raised against his window.

He didn't hesitate before entering, terribly serious.

"Who ? Who did this ?"

“Wade…”

"Who made my baby girl cry ? I want a name. Spidey and Dev will understand. Yellow wants decapitation, White wants emasculation. Tell me who."

"It's really not necessary. It's not important."

“It’s important if you cry.” Deadpool growled as he looked around the apartment for clues.

Once he had an idea in his head, it was almost impossible to divert his attention. If it wasn't so important, it was possible with food or talking about Spiderman's butt. But this time he considered it very important.

Tired, Y/N thought that all she had to do was say that it was just a ridiculous heartbreak for him to calm down. He had no reason to kill someone just because they didn't love her back.

This actually seemed to calm him down a bit, as he patted his cheeks with his hands in a dramatic gesture.

"What ?! Someone doesn't love you ?! Someone doesn't like my sweet little angel ? Are they crazy or stupid. You deserve the best !"

"Actually… He's the one who's too good for me."

"Bullshit ! The important thing is love ! If a woman can marry a space duck, then everyone can be together, as long as it's legal and consensual !"

"… What ? No, wait, it doesn't matter. Wade, please forget it."

"A name. Let me prove to you that this fool doesn't deserve you, and not the other way around !"

"No."

"A name !"

"You ! It's you !"

For the first time since they met, Wade was silent for more than a minute, staring at her like he wasn't sure she was real. He often had hallucinations, so this happened to him.

Then he muttered incomprehensible things, probably speaking with his boxes to check that he had heard what she had just said.

"… Me ? As in, me ?"

“I know what you’re going to say.” Y/N sighed, wanting to disappear. "You've already said it, it's obvious that we're not meant to be together. You're charismatic, and strong, and funny, with powers. You save people, you have an extraordinary life, while I… I am me."

"… Baby girl. Do you have a fever ? Did you lose a bet ? Because… You saw me without a mask. You know I'm crazy and dangerous. There are several bounties on my head, I've unlived more people than the population of New York, and my favorite movie is Zoolander 2. When I said it was obvious… I meant that you were too good for me."

There had been a misunderstanding, each being convinced that the other could never want the other, because they were too different. But even though he was special, with skin problems and an inability to concentrate for more than ten minutes, Wade was much better than a space duck.

However, while she was sure of what she wanted, he hadn't clearly said what he expected next.

"I mean, if you just want to be friends, I'll understand."

"You can't tease me like that and then break my heart. Don't play with me, woman !"

“Wade…” Y/N sneered, as he gesticulated like a degenerate, declaiming his great love for her and her smile, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Taking advantage of his inattention, she approached him, until he froze when he felt her hands on his mask.

With a look, she asked him if she could take it off, and as he didn't move to stop her, she took it off first up to his nose, before hesitating.

Y/N didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but she also didn’t want him to think that she didn’t want to see him if she didn’t go further. So she took out the whole mask, she observed Wade, smiling before kissing him.

"… Don't take what comes next as a bad thing." he whispered as their lips parted.

"What ?"

"I'm going to have a heart attack…"

As always, Y/N thought he was joking at first, until he collapsed in front of her, looking delighted even though his heart had stopped beating. Fortunately she was used to seeing him die, even if it was still a little traumatic.

It took almost an hour for him to wake up. Y/N had time to take a shower and make herself some tea, sitting on the couch to wait.

"Shit !" he shouted as he opened his eyes, looking around the apartment before looking at her. “Did we kiss ?”

“Yes and you died.”

"It's weird. Normally you go to heaven after you die, not before. But I probably don't have enough superhero points for heaven yet, so the other option is that I became totally crazy."

“Wade…”

"I know, White and Yellow would have told me. They're already saying that all the time, but they would have insisted, especially for me to escape from the asylum. It's no fun fighting with fake people and hippos. Was I dead long ?"

“No, a little over half an hour.”

"And you stayed with me, it's so cute. Nurse Y/N. No, Doctor Y/N, and I'll be Nurse Wilson. Oh, Doctor Y/N, I made a mistake in the dosage of a patient, I'm a bad nurse, punish me."

"… Let's see Nurse Wilson, we're in the middle of an intervention, calm down."

"Uh oh ! You're playing along !" Wade exclaimed, pouting from the ground. "I didn't expect that ! Wait, I need a blonde wig, and a white dress. You'll see, I look super sexy in a dress. Wait, we do this now or it's quick and we should have a date first ?'

“I wouldn’t say no to a date.”

"I see the genre, like in novellas. Doctor Y/N takes me to the restaurant to talk about my future promotion, but in fact, you are going to admit to me that I am pregnant with you, before I even enter your bed !"

“As long as you’re in my bed before the hundredth episode.”

“UH !”

The small, high-pitched cry of pleasure preceded a second cardiac arrest, Deadpool's mind imagining Y/N and him in a bed, with a stetoscope.

When she asked him if he was going to have a heart attack every time, he told her that he would probably die for good the day he saw her naked, or that they made love for the first time.

But Wade was a gentleman, he ate lots of vegetables, exercised, and begged Daredevil to teach him meditation techniques.

So he had the courtesy of having the next heart attack only after they were finished, and in the toilet. And every time after that they were together, Wade would go out of his way to just get a nosebleed.

Especially on Weasel's counter, telling him everything they had done or almost everything, which annoyed the poor waiter a lot, even if he knew that it would happened from the start, the moment he saw Deadpool with Y/N.

#deadpool #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #deadpool x reader #deadpool fanfiction #deadpool imagine #wade wilson fanfiction #wade wilson imagine

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dazed-and-confused23 · 5 months

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Dear Hearts and Gentle People 4

Summary: After their reunion at the Atomic Wrangler, Cooper decides that he wants more than just a quickie out of his wandering trader.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings. Drug use and Alcohol. Fluff and Smut. Little longer than the other ones ❤️

DHGP Masterlist

Cooper sits on the side of the bed, inhaler in hand as he stares down at the chem. You are still asleep behind him, body tangled in the sheets, exhausted after the exciting reunion between the two of you. You had been a breath of fresh air for the ghoul, especially after finding out the truth behind the fate of his family, and then Lucy, the vaultie, had left him too. Gone back home to her vault to save them from those goddamn Bud's Buds.

Cooper had elected to stay in Vegas. He likes the city, and the booze was cheap, and the chems were even cheaper if you knew where to get them. However, now that the ghoul was borderline sober, and with you by his side, Cooper realized that he'd had something to look forward to. To live for again. You.

Every time the two of you had crossed paths, you never failed to send the ghoul's black heart racing. You were a wastelander through and through, but you were good, and Cooper didn't want to let that go. No. He would hold on tight, and nothing in heaven or hell would get him to let you go.

First thing first, however, was to show you that he was serious and that he cared for you beyond a quick fuck and drug transactions. Cooper turned in the bed and leaned over you, tucking his knuckle under your chin and kissing you until you woke up. A soft sigh escaped you when the ghoul pulled away, and you opened your eyes to see him above you.

"Well, that's one way to wake a girl up," you murmur, and shift to your back, opening your arms so that Cooper can fall against your chest, his face pressed in the crook of your neck. You hum softly and press a kiss to his bald head, "What's got you in such a good mood?"

Cooper buries himself against you, shoving his arms under you so that he can hold you close. He listens to your heartbeat, and the sound of content he makes sounds more like a cat purr than anything else. He debates with himself before deciding to hell with it.

"Let me take you out. On a proper date," He began, and the more he spoke, the more he felt like his old self, Cooper Howard, before the end of the world, "You deserve it after everything you've done for me."

You eyed him, though your lips were already turning up at the idea. Who knew your ghoul was such a romantic? You tilt your head to the side, "Oh? And what did you have in mind?"

Cooper rises to his elbow and admires how your hair halos around your face. You are beautiful, even sleepy-eyed, and dressed in nothing but your panties.

"We're in Vegas, Baby. Let's make the most of it."

~~~~~

Mick and Ralph's had a surprising number of preserved prewar clothing, and you picked through the dresses looking for the perfect fit. You spotted a cute, blue number that would hug you in all the right places and billow out at the waist. Mick even had a cute pair of kitten heels that he gave you on the house.

Cooper had also done some digging around and conveniently found one of his old set costumes. The colors were faded, but they looked brand new compared to the get-up he always wore. Dressed to impress, the ghoul admired himself in the cracked mirror. If you ignored the obvious, Cooper looked like he'd just come off set of A Man and His Dog.

He wold whistles when you step out of the back room, and even though you're custom to his flirty behavior, you still blush bright and give Cooper a tiny grin. You've never had an opportunity to wear something so nice before, and it made you feel different, but not in a bad way.

"Well, look at you, Darlin'. All dressed up and beautiful for little ol' me," He crooned and snagged your hand, spinning you in a slow circle so that he could admire you from all angles. You give him a smile so full of fond amusement that Cooper’s heart stutters in his chest.

"Only for you, Cowpoke," you say and curl your hand behind his head to tug him down for a quick kiss that Cooper melts into.

After paying Mick and Ralph, Cooper escorts you to the gate of the Strip where the securitrons let the two of you by after flashing the passports you'd paid the shop owners for. Inside, the flashing neon lights made you squint, and you did your best to take it all in at once.

"A lot's changed since the last time I've been here," Cooper comments and casts his gaze around. It's been over two hundred years, but the Vegas Strip still felt the same. The two of you bypass Gomorrah and the Ultra Lux, and instead, head for the Tops where a man with blonde, slicked-back hair greets them with a suave grin.

"Hey, hey cats. My name is Swank. Welcome to the Tops Casino. The floor is open, and Tommy's got some real class acts tonight on stage if you're interested."

The two of you hand over any weapons that couldn't be concealed and head upstairs to the theater. A live band is playing on stage, and a place has been cleared in the middle of the room for dancing. Cooper leads you to a corner booth and drops to kiss your brow before he lopes off to order you both a drink.

From there, the night goes off without a hitch. The two of you drink til you feel tipsy and brazen enough to tug the ghoul out to the dance floor where Cooper upstages you and everyone else there. He twirls and dips you, leaving you a giggling mess and eyes only for him.

At some point, Cooper gets the grand idea to spend some caps on some chips, and you stand beside him as he cleans the blackjack table, coming away with more chips that you have to help him carry back to the exchange desk. The two of you eventually stumble out of the Tops and mosied back down the road to Gomorrah.

Their weapons are confiscated once more, and Cooper pays the receptionist for a hotel room for later on. He doubted that they would be sober enough to leave this place later on.

His hunch was right hours later when the two of you stumbled to the elevator. Coop's arm is tight around your waist, holding you close to keep you from tipping over. You cling to him, giggling as you wind your arms around his neck, and he catches your eyes, glassy from the jet that one of the dancers had given you.

"Your eyes are so pretty, ya know that?" You slur, and Cooper snickers as he leads you out of the elevator and down the hall to the room he'd rented. He's not nearly as gone as you, but he chalks that up to being used to the substance abuse.

You plop on the bed and reach back for the zipper of your dress, feeling too constricted in the blue fabric, and get stuck with it halfway off. Cooper laughs at you and comes to help, tugging the dress away and tossing it behind him before he pounces.

His lips meet yours in a slow kiss, a gentle give and take that turns heated when you bite his lip hard enough to hurt. You sooth it with your tongue, and groan when Cooper curls his own around the slippery muscle, the kiss wet and sloppy. He looms over you, keeping himself propped up with his elbow, while his other hand grips your waist, and rocks his hips down.

Cooper groans into the kiss when his clothed cock meets the heat between your thighs. You buck against him, whining into the kiss and demanding he take his damn pants off already.

"Patience, young grasshopper," Cooper rumbles above you and slides off the bed to button his shirt and jeans. He folds them almost reverently before he turns back to the bed and crawls on top of you, "Great things come to those who wait."

You scoff at him, though your lips are tilted up in amusement, "I've been waiting forever, Coop."

Your legs fall open and wrap around his waist. You are so wet that the ghoul can see slick glistening in the low light of the room where it clings to your puffy folds. He swallows harshly when you reach down and spread them, giving him an excellent view of your clit and twitching hole.

"Now I want you to fuck me like you mean it."

Cooper doesn't need to be told twice and spits in his hand before wrapping it around his cock and stroking himself twice before he lines up and sinks down to his balls. Your cunt throbs around him, pulling him impossibly closer, and he falls forward, hips humping forward as you cling to him.

Coop fucks you like it's his last day on Earth. He shifts to his knees, and his cock slips even further, pressing against something inside you that makes stars shatter. You curse loudly, Cooper’s name falling from your lips like a mantra as he hooks your legs over his shoulders and bends you over. The new position makes it hard to breathe, but all you want is more.

"'M close," Cooper grunts in your ear, and you lock your knees around his head, meeting him thrust for thrust as you work for your release. He unlocks his jaw and bites into the hollow of your throat. The pain is enough to send you over the edge, your pussy fluttering and gushing around the ghoul's cock.

"Ah-fuck," He snarls and follows you right over the edge, pumping you full of seed until it dribbled out from your stuffed cunt. He finds your lips kissing you as he rides out his orgasm, hips jerking when you tighten around him.

Cooper lays there, breathing you in and curling his arms tight around your waist. He is far too tired to move, and you don't seem to mind the extra weight with how tightly you hold him back. The ghoul feels at peace as if a part of his life he'd been missing has slotted back into place. He raises his head just enough to catch your eyes, and you reward him with an adoration-filled smile, but it's your words that cause his heart to explode like an atomic bomb.

"I love you."

You don't expect Cooper to pull you in for another kiss, this one soft and slow. He rests his brow against yours and wonders how he ever made it this far without you.

"I love you, too."

Holy moly, that got way sweeter than I intended. I hope you enjoyed it!❤️

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #dear hears and gentle people #fallout x reader

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selene-writes · 1 month

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You-Me-Us

AHHHH Hey guys! There's lots of Logan craze on here thought I would try writing. Should this be a series? Its short and there's lot of places to go from here.

You had known Logan for fifteen years—technically, that had been your entire life, or at least as much of it as you could remember. Your earliest memory was of his face peering down at you with a mixture of concern and relief. You were in some sort of ruined laboratory, your body aching with a pain you couldn’t fully comprehend. You didn’t even know your own name at the time. Instead, you went by Artemis, a name you had chosen for yourself, though Logan often called you "bub."

Like Logan, you were a mutant, endowed with the gift of regeneration. This ability made it impossible to determine your exact age. In addition to your regenerative powers, you possessed the unique ability to manipulate atoms. This rare skill granted you control over all elements, a power that made you incredibly unique and powerful.

You had both decided to stick together, united in your quest to uncover the truth about who you were and why you had ended up there. It was evident that something significant had happened to both of you, something that had rendered you both invincible. Despite the mysteries that surrounded your origins, the bond between you and Logan only grew throughout time.

As time passed, the nature of your relationship evolved in ways neither of you had anticipated. Somehow, amidst the chaos and the search for answers, you had found yourselves tumbling into bed with each other. While the physical connection had become a part of your lives, nothing had fundamentally changed, and you never talked about it.

Even as you navigated your complicated relationship, your focus remained on the shared mission: to piece together the truth about your past and understand the full extent of your powers.

Everything happened so quickly. You and Logan were in the middle of your usual routine—hitting various bars and grifting people for money. It was a familiar pattern, one that had become almost comforting in its predictability. But that night, things took an unexpected turn.

A teenager—no older than seventeen—had sneaked into the back of your car. Her name was Rogue, and despite your initial reluctance, you and Logan ended up arguing about what to do with her. Logan, ever the soft-hearted one despite his gruff exterior, eventually agreed to give her a ride, though it was clear he would have done so regardless of your persuasion.

The situation quickly spiraled out of control. Out of nowhere—a caveman-like brute—attacked you. Logan was momentarily knocked out in the chaos, leaving you and Rogue vulnerable. The man’s strength was overwhelming, and before you could react, he hurled you against a tree. The impact was brutal, and you felt a jarring “crack” as your head struck the trunk.

You crumpled to the ground, falling into the snow. As the world around you dimmed, the last thing you saw was the silhouettes of the figures moving closer, their shapes growing more defined against the stark whiteness of the snow.

You woke with a groan, sitting up abruptly as if propelled by instinct. Your body felt as good as new, fully healed from the earlier impact. Instinctively, you scanned your surroundings, your mind racing with concern for Logan and his whereabouts.

As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you noticed a bald man sitting in a wheelchair across the room. Despite his lack of visible movement, his voice seemed to come from all around you, resonating in your mind as much as your ears.

“There is no need to panic,” he said, his lips remaining still, not in sync with his words.

You tensed, on high alert. “How are you doing that?” you demanded, your voice edged with suspicion.

The bald man responded aloud this time, “How do we do anything? We’re mutants.”

Your frustration boiled over. “Where am I? Where is Logan?”

The man’s calm demeanor didn’t waver. “He is safe… you both are.” He began to wheel closer; his movements deliberate and smooth. “As for where you are… You are at my academy, where we help those like you. You are with… the X-Men.”

#james logan howlett x reader #logan howlett angst #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x reader angst #logan howlett #hugh jackman #wolverine x reader #the wolverine #the wolverine angst #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine imagine #wolverine x you #wolverine

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xoluvx · 14 days

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fluff billie post maybe?? maybe billie and reader are in the living room, reader sitting on the floor back towards billie as she sits in between her legs while billie braids her hair and they bicker about something stupid but nothing serious just very cute fluffy domestic vibes💝💝

ugh yesssss so cute and domestic!! 💖

you lean back against the couch between her legs. her fingers massage your scalp and you sigh contently. then she's parting your hair and her fingers are moving smoothly weaving your hair.

"ouch," you exaggerate placing your hand on the place that she tugged.

"hold still," her voice in a sing-song as she concentrates.

"i don't want to be bald," you teased holding your hair again and she rolls her eyes pushing your back a little. you scoff and turn to her giving her a playfully angry look. scrunching your nose. she sticks her tongue out.

"that's very offensive. there are people without hair, you know?" she's still braiding your hair as you slump between her legs placing your hands on her knees. you dig into fingers into them softly and she giggles.

now you feel bad and after a while you fold your arms huffing. she tries to finish quickly tying your hair before wrapping her arms around you. you tumble back and she's peppering kisses on your cheek, your head, your forehead.

"i love you," she elongates every syllable and you can't help but smile melting into her arms. you hair half braided, but you're loving the attention and snuggles.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish fic #billie eilish request #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish headcannon #billie eilish fanfiction

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dreamescapeswriting · 1 year

Text

Stray Kids Reaction || How You Meet [Mafia Edition]

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

TW: Mentions of violence and guns

A/N: I had so much fun writing the next lot of reactions, you have no idea!!!

CHAN:

There was something in the air today, something that was fucking up your life and you weren't enjoying it. It was as if the world had looked at you today and decided that it was your turn to have the worst luck in the history of the universe. You'd gotten fired, fallen into the canal, and got an eviction letter all in one day and yet the universe was still throwing curve balls at you since you'd just almost gotten hit by a car.

"Are you okay?!" Your friend questioned as you stood against the brick wall your head resting against the brick as you did your best to calm down your racing heart. The car had been inches away from hitting you until she pulled you away and you would have been dead if she wasn't with you. Your hands were shaking as you tried to take in some deep breaths and steady yourself a little, Your eyes scanned the road as you saw the car that almost barrelled you down pulling into the layby next to you.

"Listen! Creep! If you're going to yell at her for being in the road maybe you should drive like a normal person!" Katarina said before you could stop her, the man stared at her before disregarding her entirely and staring you down. He was almost 6 foot tall, bald and had a giant scar running down the left side of his face,

"Don't stare her down! It might work on other people but Yn here isn't going to back down, we'll sue you! You were driving over the speed limit! We could have you arrested," You put your hand on Katarina's arm trying to get her to cool her jets,

"Leave it, Kat, he didn't hit me." You begged as you shook your head, as soon as this day was over the better. All you wanted to do was go home to bed and sleep it all off like nothing had happened but you wouldn't go back to a bed, you were going back to Kat's sofa bed,

"I won't leave it! He could have killed you!" She yelled out drawing attention from those around you when you heard another car door shut, you glanced in the direction of the car to see a man making his way toward you.

"What do you want?!" Katarina yelled out making a few of the women that were watching the exchange gasp out.

"Are you okay?" The question was directed at you by the man who spoke with an Australian accent, your eyes stuck on him as you took in a small intake of breath. The man was stunning to look at, his eyes felt as though they were piercing into your soul as you stared back at him, slowly nodding.

"Are you sure? It must have scared you." The man stated as he continued to look at you, searching for any sign that you might be lying to him.

"I've told him countless times to drive the speed limit around here but he never listens," He admitted to you, though it was only partially true. When Chan needed to get somewhere he would, he didn't care who was on the roads but after seeing you so scared there was something inside of him that scared him, the aching urge to want to protect you took over his body.

"Y-Yes, fine. Just shook up," You admitted as Kat stared at you, narrowing her eyes at the man and then at you before she smirked a little. It was obvious that you were attracted to the man, though it was lost on Kat as to why since his driver had almost hit you.

"She would be better if you took her for some tea, you know, to make up for your driving almost killing her." Your eyes shot in her direction but she refused to look at you, instead, she chose to stare at the man that was apologising to you,

"Kat!" You hissed out, was she out of her mind? One second she was ready to fist fight the person who had almost hit you and now she was attempting to set you up.

"She's right, I should take you for some tea to steady your nerves. It's the least I can do," Chan said as he watched you, his eyes hadn't left your face since the moment he got out of the car and you swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat.

"Text me when you're done," Kat winks at you, walking away so that you can't decline the offer of tea and you whimper a little.

"I'm Chan, it's lovely to meet you...?" He stated his name so that it wouldn't feel too weird going to get something to drink with a stranger.

"Yn." You told him as he took your hand in his and gently lifted it to his lips, kissing it gently as you felt your body warm at the whole interaction.

MINHO:

You would have to be stupid not to know who the man standing inside of the animal shelter was right now, you'd also have to be stupid to be the one serving him and yet here you were. In fairness, you'd been the only one brave enough to stay and see what Minho could have wanted in a place like this. It wasn't every day the local mafia leader walked into a cat shelter and began looking around for something.

"Could I help Mr Lee?" You quizzed walking toward him and trying to remain as calm as possible. He was alone here, no guards following him, none of his men looking out for him it was just him and it worried you. Was he going to put this place out of business? You hoped not, this was your favourite job ever and you didn't want the cats to have to suffer,

"I'm looking to adopt," He told you without looking at you, instead he was staring into the crate of a sleeping set of kittens.

"They were abandoned a few nights ago, I found them on my way home." You admitted,

"How could anyone ever abandon something as cute as a cat?" He sighed standing up straight and turning around to face you, you smiled up at him warmly and his breath was completely taken away from him. You were beautiful, there was no doubt about it as he stared down at you,

"I do have some older cats though, if you'd prefer some older cats." You suggested, pointing behind you at the countless cages that lined the walls all filled with at least one cat.

"Do you care for them all?" He questioned, taking out his phone and making sure he could have everything that needed to be done, done as soon as possible.

"Yep. I do it with the help of my workers, we want to make sure every cat has someone that would love them in their life," You smiled at yourself, it was something you'd stood by for years and always would stand by.

"What if they don't get adopted by a certain time frame?" You knew what he was asking and you hated it, you'd always hated shelters that took that option.

"They stay, as long as they need." You told him plainly, you stared him down waiting for him to ask you what he was trying to ask you properly.

"You don't..." He swallowed nervously, "You don't kill them?" He questioned and you shook your head, there was no way you could ever cause harm to another animal's life.

"I could never." He nods at you, smiling brightly as he thinks about it all.

"I wish I could take them all." He admitted and you instantly let out a giggle before slapping your hand over your mouth.

"What's so funny?" He arched a brow at you, you seemed so relaxed around him which was something he wasn't entirely used to and he was enjoying it.

"I just wouldn't expect someone of your...profession, to be so fond of cats." He eyed you up a little and let out a small chuckle. If there was anything this interaction was teaching him it was that he wanted to spend more time with you,

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

"I suppose." You shrugged, looking down at the clipboard as you thought about a cat that would be perfect for him. You would have preferred an elder cat go with him rather than kittens, Everyone wanted a kitten but not many people considered caring for older cats.

"Something you could get to know if you really wanted." He told you before your head shot up and you stared at him a little confused as he smirked at you.

"We'll discuss our date once the work is done," He told you before putting his phone away, once he got the confirmation that everything could be done he was ready.

"The work? Our date?" You questioned, completely shocked by both of the things he'd thrown at you.

"I'll take every cat," He said plainly as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"What? Where would you keep them all? I need to do some background checks, and house checks to make sure everything is okay for the cats." You told him but he shook his head and smiled warmly at you. He knew he would never pass a house inspection and the only answer was for them to stay here,

"They'll stay here and we'll have to make some changes."

"Changes?" You quizzed, following him as he walked through the small room you were single of.

"Yes, if we're going to let cats live here then we're going to turn this into a cattery. A huge place for them to explore, I can have my contractors here earliest by next week."

"But-" You tried to say something but he was already quick on the ball with it.

"I'll pay for everything."

"That's not what-" You were more worried about whether or not you could stay, or your workers. What did all of this even mean?

"You'll keep your job, anyone you want to stay will stay." He told you before you glared at him, he might have scared everyone else but not you.

"Do you have an answer for everything?" You asked snarkily, placing your hands on your hips,

"I don't have an answer about our date." He told you before you eyed him up,

"I won't date my employer."

"Good, because I'm not the employer. You work at the cattery where I just happen to own all of the cats," He smirked at you making your whole body burn,

"You won't give up...Will you?" He shook his head and you sighed, rolling your eyes before agreeing to the date with him. After all, it was just one date. Right?

CHANGBIN:

You clutched the strap on your bag pressing it against your chest, keeping your head down as you walked under the street lights and in plain view of the stores so that if you went missing, someone would see. You were doing everything right, you didn't have earphones in, and you kept yourself aware of your surroundings without looking anyone in the eyes. Living in a dangerous city you knew every rule that there was to keep yourself safe and you were following it all to the T.

"Hey, pretty lady!" Someone yelled from in front of you but you didn't even acknowledge it, you kept moving and ignored the way he called after you.

"Don't fucking ignore me! You're not better than me!" He slurred, clearly drunk and that terrified you even more. Drunk men didn't care about anything but themselves,

"Talk to me!" He yelled out, he was quickly gaining on you and you didn't want to run, if you ran it would ensure a chase and the last thing you wanted was to be sprinting and getting tired. So you headed in the direction of a local bar, the one you worked in and you knew you'd be safe there. It might have been owned by one of the scariest men in the city but it was also the safest place for women...well for everyone. Changbin would make sure everyone who worked there or even entered was protected it was one of the things you admired about the man. You were seconds away from reaching the door but none of the bouncers were on duty right now.

"Don't fucking run away from me!" A hand was clasped around your wrist and you were shoved roughly against the wall, you let out a small high-pitched groan and the man smirked.

"You can't go anywhere now." He told you, leaning down and looking at you as you glared at him. All you had to do was buy some time, you could eventually kick him in the dick and slide into the bar but right now it was a waiting game. Waiting for him to fuck up.

"I suggest you leave her alone before you lose your hand," A voice said from the left of you, your head turned to see Changbin staring at you with a very unimpressed look on his face.

"Leave me and my girlfriend alone," He grumbled but you looked at Changbin with pleading eyes. It was obvious this wasn't your boyfriend,

"Last I checked, Miss Yn here didn't have a boyfriend. In fact, she's due to be on stage in a few minutes." You were a little taken aback. Did he know you? You worked for him sure but that didn't mean he knew the details of your life.

"Who do you think you are?!" The man slurred, and you stared at the side of his head. How did he not know Changbin? That was neither here nor there, you took your opportunity while he was distracted to draw your knee in between his legs as he grunted letting go of you so you sprinted toward Changbin who was smirking at you impressed by you.

"Good move, beautiful." Your body flamed at the compliment coming from Changbin. This was the first time you were officially meeting him, you worked for him but the two of you had never actually spoken until tonight.

"I'll fucking kill you!" The man grunted, standing up straight as he made his way toward you but Changbin grabbed his wrist and within seconds the man's chest was pressed against the wall with his arm pinned between his shoulder blades.

"You owe the lady an apology. You already tested my patience enough tonight." Changbin told him with a small growl in his throat, the thought of someone hurting you drove him wild.

"Fuck. You." The man was released and Changbin let out a cocky smile, looking at you,

"Turn away princess, I don't want you to have to see this." You did as you were told and heard the familiar sound of a gun going off before two men moved to go to Changbin. When it was finally clear for you to turn around Changbin was smiling,

"You have tonight off, let me drive you home." You nodded as he wrapped his jacket around your shoulders and made his way over to the black bently that was waiting for him.

"I'll come and get you every night from now on. I don't want anything to happen to you," He suggested as you got into the car, your eyes on him as you smiled warmly.

"Thank you, Mr. Seo," You sat down and did up the belt as Changbin smiled at you, he was going to woo you and he didn't care how long it was going to take.

"Call me Changbin, please." You nodded and smiled a little, the two of you heading in the direction of your apartment.

HYUNJIN:

Your hands graced along the paint brushes in front of you, You were trying to find some new painting supplies and the brushes you'd purchased last week weren't good for you. The bristles were falling out and staying on your paintings and you needed something better, which was how you'd ended up in one of the most expensive painting supplies shops in the city. From the moment you walked in you could feel eyes on you and it was making you completely uncomfortable, did they think you were going to try and steal from them or something?

"I recommend these." A voice said as he reached out for a boxed set of brushes, your eyes slowly looked up at him and you let out a small gasp. This man was beautiful, truly, You could barely believe your eyes as you stared at him. Seriously, was this man from a painting? You could have sworn people this beautiful only existed in paintings or fictional works.

"They're by my favourite painter and they're perfect for everything. The bristles have minimal fallout, if any, I've never seen any in my work." He told you as you continued to stare at him with your mouth hanging open a little, it was incredible just to look at him. You must have looked insane to anyone watching you so you quickly snapped from your trance,

"Thanks." You smiled looking at the price tag and your face fell a little, there was no way you'd be able to pay for these today or maybe if ever,

"I think I should look somewhere more in my price range though, ₩2M is a little out of my sights." You laughed a little awkwardly and he chuckled a little, they were a little bit on the expensive side but they were certainly worth it.

"How about I get them for you?" He suggested making you laugh a little until you realise he was serious about it.

"Why would you do that? I couldn't pay you back."

"You could, by letting me take you to dinner." You were a little shaken up, a man was offering to buy you expensive brushes and take you out to dinner? Where were the cameras? Because you were pretty sure this was some kind of prank.

"That's very sweet but you don't know me, I don't know you." You shrugged at him, you weren't going to accept a date from someone you didn't know.

"I'm Hyunjin, there...Now you know me." He smiled warmly at you as if this was something he did all of the time and maybe it was, but this wasn't your thing. You didn't date random men from paint stores, nor did you accept gifts from them.

"For all you know, I could be some kind of serial killer." You told him making him laugh as he looked at you,

"Oh, I think I'd know about that," After all, he knew everything and everyone who lived in his city. If there was a killer on the loose he would know about it and you certainly didn't look like the type.

"Mr Hwang, your car is ready." Hyunjin nodded and smiled at the worker,

"Thank you. Please make sure my friend's paintbrushes and anything else she touches, or looks at is paid for by me." The women behind the tills nodded and you shook your head, there was no way.

"What? No." You laughed a little but it was clear he wasn't going to take no as an answer to this,

"I'll see you around," He winks at you smirking as he heads out of the small store and you look at the other workers that were glaring in your direction clearly not happy with how that had transpired.

"Do you even know who that was?" It was obvious by her tone that she was annoyed by you,

"N-No." You stuttered, watching as the man got into the back of a car and disappeared from your sight.

"Hwang Hyunjin. Good luck, he's relentless when he sees something he wants." Before you could ask what she meant she was going toward the back of the store while you looked around nervously.

JISUNG:

The storm wasn't supposed to come for hours yet, you thought you had time to quickly head out and get everything you were going to need for the power cut but clearly not. You were practically Olympic sprinting through the streets trying to find somewhere you could hide out from the lightening. You pushed yourself into a bar and the group of men all stood up and stared at you, your eyes scanned over them all as you waited for them to say something,

"S-Sorry." You coughed out, looking at them all as they all had their hands placed on the waistbands of their pants where there were guns sitting, and your eyes widened. What the fuck had you just walked into?

"Stand down. It's clear the girl is cold and wet." A voice said as you looked around at the men who slowly sat back down and their hands removed from their guns.

"Come in, can I get you a hot drink?" Your eyes landed on the man sitting at the head of the table, dressed in a sharp suit and smiling warmly at you. You knew who he was instantly and now you were starting to regret walking into this bar, you should have braved the storm. There was no way you were going to stay with Han Jisung and his men, you knew better than to try and brave out a mafia leader.

"I'll just head out-" Before you could finish your sentence you let out a scream as the thunder boomed above the bar and the lights shut off.

"Someone put the battery generators on. Make her a hot chocolate," Jisung ordered as he made his way over to you, taking your jacket off and handing it to one of his men who left with it.

"You're soaking, we should get you in some warm clothes," You looked at him as he smiled down at you, you knew who he was and you knew he was a man that wasn't meant to be trusted. A man who you'd heard horror stories about and yet he was being so kind and caring toward you right now.

"I'll be okay," You shook your head, you had no idea why he was being so nice to you and you didn't want to stick around and find out.

"Nonsense. Get her some of my clothes!" He snapped at his men and you stared at him as he sat you down in a booth, the two of you pressed close together and he smiled down at you again.

"I'm Jisung, but judging by your hasty attempt at an exit you knew that," You nodded at him and he chuckled a little shaking his head, he hated that you seemed so scared of him. The rumours about him were harsh and hardly any of them were true.

"I'm Yn...I-I heard you didn't like people bothering you so I didn't want to get into trouble." You stuttered out and a hot chocolate was placed in front of you, Jisung took your hands and placed them around the cup trying to warm you up.

"You could never get in trouble with me, drink up." He told you as you smiled a little, relaxing as he sat back in the seat and waited for his men to come with some warmer clothes for you.

"We'll get you dressed nice and warm and we can have another talk," He suggested as you nodded, thanking him for the drink in front of you and trying not to get too nervous about him or the storm that was still happening.

FELIX:

Your eyes scanned around the room as you tried to figure out why you'd been called into the office of your CEO and why you were left alone without someone watching you. All you knew was that there was a very huge man waiting at your desk this morning asking for you to follow him and now you were inside of the CEO's office bouncing your leg nervously. There was no escape, Goliath was manning the door from outside and even if you somehow got passed him there were over 50 flights of stairs to get down.

"Ah! Miss YLN, lovely to see you." Your eyes landed on your boss who had a giant smile on his face and it made you more nervous. You did everything within your power to stay hidden inside of your job, you did everything mediocre so there was no chance of getting noticed, no chance of being seen and brought up to the office. Clearly, that plan had failed you.

"Mr Russo, it's nice to see you. But, could I please ask why I'm here?" You swallowed the lump in your throat but before Dante Russo could answer you the door opened and shut again,

"Good luck," Dante whispered before practically sprinting out of the room and leaving you alone with the man who had just walked in and you knew exactly why you were there.

"Yn, I've heard a lot about you," Felix said as he smiled at you, your whole body was suddenly burning as you stared at him.

"Mr Lee." You said as you got up from the chair and shuffled your back toward the desk. If you weren't nervous before you certainly were now and with good reason. Last week you broke into Felix's bank account and you thought you'd done it successfully and undetected but you were wrong.

"Don't look so scared. I just want to talk to you." He suggested as he walked around the desk and took a seat in your boss's chair, you were quick to sit back down and watch him. Maybe it was possible he didn't know about the money. There was so much of it in the account you could be sure he wouldn't know the exact amount anyway,

"What can I do for you?" You quizzed as he looked at you, smirking a little. He enjoyed that you were trying your best to stay confident given the situation,

"What did you do with the money? I assume you didn't keep it since you still work here," Your breath caught in your throat and you eyed him up. He looked back at you, giving you no indication that he was angry or even annoyed at you for it and there was no use lying to him.

"I gave it to people more in need of it." You shrugged trying to play it off as though your heart wasn't ready to leap from your chest and run away.

"Hmm, smart." He smiled a little and let out a small sigh, something had to be done but he wasn't here to punish you. Far from it, he knew that the hacking into his system was easy and you'd been one of the best hackers so far. Hardly left a trace, the only reason you were even caught was because of the pattern of hacking, Every hacker had a signature and yours was all over his bank account.

"I don't regret it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, your security system sucks." If you were going to get killed for breaking in you were at least going to tell him the truth.

"Which is why I'm hiring you to fix it." He said plainly,

"And another thing- What?" You stared at him completely dumbfounded and he let out a laugh,

"You're one of the best, I want to get you to fix it. Fix every computer issue I have and we'll forgive this little...impass." He told you as your mouth fell open a little.

"Work for you?" You weren't sure if this was some kind of trap to lure you into a false sense of security so he could kill you or not.

"You'll be handsomely paid." He shrugged but you were still a little confused as to why he would hire someone that stole from him.

"You're offering me a job? I thought you'd kill me."

"You took less than most would have and not for selfish reasons...I'll hire you, but if anything else goes missing I won't be so lenient. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir." You nodded as his smile grew larger, it was going to be a pleasure doing business with you.

"Perfect, let's head to my car then," He smiled as he waited for you to stand and leave with him.

SEUNGMIN:

"Everyone out!" Someone bellowed before a gunshot sounded making people scream out. You clutched onto the dress you'd been trying on inside of the changing room and slid down the wall. What the fuck was going on?

"Now!" Another voice screamed, you grabbed your bag trying to search through it for your phone when the curtain was pulled back and a gun was aimed at you. Your phone dropped to the floor, shattering instantly as you bit down on your lip,

"Didn't you hear me? Out!" You looked at the man who continued to aim a gun at you, there was no way you could leave. The dress wasn't done up meaning your back was bare for everyone and if you tried to go outside there was a chance your breasts would be out for anyone to see.

"I'm barely dressed, p-please...Just let me get changed." You hated that you were begging but you weren't about to walk into the streets in a dress that wasn't done up and showed off your cleavage.

"No." He grumbled at you before a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"John!" A voice screamed from behind the man in front of you,

"Allow the lady to get dressed." Your eyes looked behind the giant man in front of you to see Kim Seungmin standing there. You'd heard stories about him, but you'd never seen him in person.

"Are you okay? Did he scare you?" He questioned, pushing the man out of the way and holding out a hand for you to take, you carefully took it and stood up. Your eyes stared into Seungmins as you tried to find the words to speak but you couldn't, you were too stunned by how handsome he was. The photos didn't do him any justice.

"Miss?" He questioned again once he realised you hadn't answered him.

"O-Oh...I'm okay," You stuttered looking down at the floor, kicking yourself for looking like a fool in front of him.

"You look very beautiful. Did you finish trying the dress on before you were interrupted?" Your eyes met with his once more and you shook your head,

"Spin for me," He spoke softly and you nodded, holding the fabric tightly against your chest as you turned around. One of Seungmin's hands came to rest on your hip while the other did the zip on the back of the dress until it was completely secure. Your whole body tingled and you could have sworn every hair on your body stood to attention as you caught his gaze in the mirror.

"It's stunning, this colour suits your skin tone beautifully." He told you as you nodded at him a little shy about what to say in response to him,

"Where will you be wearing this?" He quizzed, interested to know if it was a date you were preparing for or if he had a chance to take you out on it himself.

"Erm...I have a charity event I'm attending this week." He nods at you,

"Perfect, you'll be the most beautiful woman there." He told you before looking at the cashier,

"I'll be buying this for the young lady and anything else she'd tried on before."

"But-" You couldn't protest him as he smiled, holding your hand in his.

"Please, it's my way of saying sorry for our rude interruption. There was no need for my men to burst inside," You nodded at him and he ran his hand over your cheek a little.

"Save me a dance at the event," He whispered before leaving you staring at the place where he had once been standing, your mouth falling open again as you thought about it all.

JEONGIN:

"This is outrageous! I demand to know who thinks they can just walk in here and buy this place right from under me!" You slammed your hands on your desk and stared at the two brutes who had walked into your office carrying three briefcases and telling you that they were buying you out.

"Our boss would like to remain private." The shortest one said as you smirked cockily at him, There was no way you were going to lose this place. You weren't in any money troubles, the hotel was doing better than you could have expected it to after you bought it from your uncle.

"And I like to have my hotel remain in my ownership. Either you bring your pussy of a boss in here or you leave with bullet holes in your head." You took the gun from your top drawer and placed it on the desk to let them know that you were serious. You weren't a killer, but it was always nice to put on a front to anyone who thought that they could mess with you.

"I'm not a pussy, they just like to screen my business opportunities before I come in." Your eyes landed on the man standing in the doorway and you instantly regretted getting the gun out. Yang Jeongin. Never in a million years did you think he would be standing in your office.

"Mr Yang." You didn't let yourself stutter, you weren't going to show weakness in front of him.

"Out. Both of you." He snapped as the two men left the room leaving you and Jeongin alone, he made his way over to your mini bar and poured himself a drink,

"Your hotel is lovely and what my two men didn't explain is that I won't be buying it out from under you. I want to go into business with you," You eyed him up, why would someone who owns half of the city want your hotel. It was a skipping stone in his ocean,

"This place isn't worth that much. It's nothing."

"Ah, but it's everything. It's my favourite place to stay," You looked at him, you'd never have him stay with you. You would have known about it since you checked almost every standing account that you have on record. The only time you knew Jeongin had stayed was years and years ago,

"My father stayed when your uncle owned this, I remember playing in the foyer as a child. If I recall I played with a lovely young lady too and we were the best of friends."

"You remember that?" You were a little stunned. You hadn't expected him to remember someone as small on the scale as you. The two of you had been allowed to play together since his father stayed so often and you always hung out together since you were always here.

"I remember everything," He sat down in the chair that was in front of your desk and smiled.

"Now I would be happy to negotiate the price and details with you." He told you as he relaxed in the seat, taking a sip of the bourbon he'd poured for himself.

"Lovely, let's start." You took out a pen and a pad of paper ready to hash this all out with him but he chuckled and shook his head. He wasn't going to do business here, he wanted to wine and dine you first.

"Over dinner. Let me take you out."

"Jeognin." You rolled your eyes, ever since you were kids he'd had a crush on you and it was obvious it had stayed with him growing up.

"I do business better with food." You sighed at him but nodded your head, you knew he would only continue to ask until you agreed and free food was harmless.

"Fine. I'm free tonight. You can pick me up from here."

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @taestannie @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio @halesandy @aerastus @laylasbunbunny @critssq @lenfilms @btsiguess-kpop @meowmeowisdaname @imafivestarkpopstan @lost-leopard-beanie @djeniryuu @backintomykpopphaseagain @choisoorin

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macfrog · 9 months

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the sweetest con cowboy like me chapter fifteen

well. this is it. we made it, kids. thank you so, so much for reading for all this time. for all your patience, and kindness, and loyalty. i will carry this pair, their story, and all of your love for them with me forever. love you guys. xx

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: every cowboy deserves his ride off into the sunset.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), lotsa guilt from reader, dreamy love sequence & mention of unprotected piv/creampie, more greys anatomy spoilers, reader's dad is either Bald or has a Receding Hairline (you choose), more sex - this time reader and joel sixty-nine, face sitting, oral (f and m receiving), more (inferred) unprotected piv, making dirty, hot love ALLAT, cursing, a little smut n a lotta fluff n a droplet of angst at the end

word count: 10.8k

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“How the fuck did this take you three minutes? Three?”

“I’m telling you. I’m a genius.”

You snort. “Shut up. You only passed Math ‘cause you were fooling around with that nerd – Thomas? Was it Thomas?”

“Timothy. And you don’t need math to do a sudoku puzzle, loser. You just need brains. Logic.” Anna taps two fingers against her temple, tilting her head.

“Logic,” you murmur, shaking your head.

Sal’s is quiet today. He’s out of town for his father-in-law’s funeral and made the genius decision to leave the two of you in charge. Since opening at nine, you’ve had four customers. The to-do list left for you was completed by ten, and since then, you’ve been hunched over your phone at the cash register, messing around on some puzzle app Anna made you download.

It's a Wednesday. Nothing exciting ever happens on Wednesdays.

Anna’s behind you, tearing apart and flattening the cardboard boxes you spent all morning emptying. “That level,” she clicks her chewing gum wetly between her teeth, scent of mint over your shoulder, “that ain’t even the hardest one. Ooh, no, babe. Three goes –”

“Shh!” You bat her arm away, curving your hand over your phone screen. She snorts and wanders off through the back, wad of cardboard under her arm.

Anna wasn’t your closest friend in high school, and you sure didn’t stay much in touch past the odd Facebook post update when you left. But working with her, and her dad being your dad’s buddy – she’s sort of become one of those people you just can’t shake.

Like a stray puppy. Or…an annoying hangnail.

She’s nice enough – talks a lot of crap sometimes, but she cares for you. You’d go as far as saying you two have grown pretty close since you came home. Still, the acidic sting of resentment sits on your tongue, anytime you think of her involvement in the unravelling of your little lie. Think of your dad calling hers, Hank asking her where you were.

Think of the fact that, if she hadn’t been honest with him – I don’t know where she is, Dad – nothing would’ve gone wrong.

That’s not fair. If you’d never touched Joel in the first place, nothing would’ve gone wrong.

It’s just – she had a hand in pushing the first domino.

The bell above the door jingles and you lift your eyes from tiny numbers and blank squares to meet a familiar pair of hazel. An Alanis Morissette T-shirt under a denim jacket. She tucks her thick, soft hair behind her ears and smiles, then skips around the counter and links her hands at your tummy; her ear flat against the nape of your neck.

“Why so clingy?” you ask, and Sarah straightens up.

“Just excited to spend some time with my favorite person. That allowed?”

Your eyes scan her up and down as she leans against the counter, stealing a gummy from a jar beside the register. “Been staying with you for nearly three weeks now, you ain’t sick of me yet?”

She shakes her head, jaw chewing, cheeks swollen with a grin. “Are you done yet? I wanna make sure we get good seats.”

“We will,” you assure her. “It’s only, like, three p.m.”

“But it’s Barbie,” she says, “and I wanna get some snacks before we head in.” She holds the decapitated gummy worm up, eyebrows high, before pulling it between her teeth until it snaps. She drags the withered red tail over her tongue.

“That thing you just mauled,” you gesture to the masticated shape in her fingers, “candy. Snacks. Just take some of that.”

“You won’t even buy your date movie theater candy? Damn. Mom’s a cheapskate. Wish I could say my dad’s a lucky guy.”

You shove her off, disguising your laugh with a shake of your head. “You are on thin ice, I’m not even kidding.”

Sarah’s laughing, reaching for another worm. “You know what that sounds like?”

“Hm?”

“What you just said.”

“What’s it sound like, Sarah Miller?”

“Something a mom would say.”

“Alright,” you stand, “get out. Get outta my store.”

The door opens when you point to it, Texan heat sweeping in to swarm the one rickety fan you have in here. The brass bell trembles, and beneath it, a man in a tucked shirt and jeans, glum face and tired eyes.

You blink at him and he blinks back, and no words are spoken between you, but your dad understands to move, to keep walking – and you understand to let him.

“Shoot,” Sarah whispers, twisting her gummy around her finger. “That was awkward.”

Three weeks of staying with them – Sarah and Joel – also means three weeks of zero contact with your dad. The most you’ve heard from – or, rather, about him is that, last week, Joel bumped into Hank at the gas station, and the old man mentioned that he and your dad had grabbed a beer the night before.

What’d he say? you asked Joel, dragging a dish towel around the rim of a glass.

He shrugged, flicking his hands dry over the sink. Said the Rangers aren’t doin’ too good. I said, Yeah, that’s cause a’ –

No, Joel. What did he say about me ‘n my dad?

He waited a second to let the offense of your interruption soak in. Took the towel from your hand, replaced the glass on the draining board. Nothing, he said, I don’t think he knows.

It sat with you the entire night. The three of you watched a movie, occupying either side of Joel’s couch, though you’re sure you don’t remember a word of it. The image of him sat center-stage in your mind until you pulled yourself against Joel’s body in bed that night. Sat in his recliner, flicking through TV channels, the only sounds in the house that of Ice Road Truckers, the ticking of the kitchen clock, and his own fucking breathing.

Alone. Not even Hank to talk to about – well.

You’ve done your best not to think about him. And it works, most days, when you’re with Joel. Helps to go do stuff: ride shotgun while he picks up supplies for work or grabs groceries. Helps to play pretend like his house is yours, too. Tidying when he’s not home, lighting candles and sinking into a bubble bath for him to find you in when he finishes. Helps to be at Sal’s, with Anna. Sudoku and her fucking Tinder account to keep you both occupied.

Most days, you forget to consider the lonely shape of your dad at all – but that seems to hurt all the more. Like forgetting to tend to an open wound; instead, letting the infection blister and bubble so that, when you do bump it again, the pain feels sharper. Hissing at you, poison seeping from flesh.

His showing up, waltzing straight into the store – feels less like a bump, and more like a pair of hands diving straight into the gash, tearing it wide open again. Blood and poison gushing all over the checkered floor.

Anna materializes between two aisles, hands on her hips when she stands behind you. “Y’all still not really talkin’?” she asks.

You and Sarah shake your heads. The three of you watch the shape of your dad’s skull over the shelves, bobbing from bay to bay. Door hinges to fence paint. He painted the fence last summer. He doesn’t need fucking fence paint.

“Nope,” you reply. “’s been, what, two and a half weeks now?”

“Yeah,” Anna mutters, the slope of sympathy in her voice. “My dad’s been talkin’ to him about it. They’ve spoken, like, almost every night on the phone.”

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss, head falling into your hands. “Are you serious?”

“Not about you and Joel. Just about the fight.”

Your jaw slowly slackens, eyes thinning as your gaze slides over to your friend, a saddened expression on her face.

Sarah nods, like an accessory sat on the dash of a car. Bobbing bobbing bobbing, until her brows drop and she turns to you, finally realizing. “Wait, what?”

Anna blinks between the two of you. “What?” she asks, lips pressing together.

“You know?” Sarah asks, glaring at her.

Anna snorts. Neither of you break. She quickly quietens and clears her throat, bending to stuff more cardboard under her arm. “Well…” She sucks in a deep breath. “At rodeo night, when you left your phone on the table, me ‘n Kara wanted to leave a bunch of selfies for you to find later. But when I went to grab your phone, you had a text from him. Joel. Something about someone winning you over like he did, or something. I can’t remember. But that was the first thing.”

Sarah’s face sours at the mention of her dad’s flirty text, scoffing as she swipes another gummy from the jar. “Real fuckin’ subtle, Dad,” she murmurs.

You sharpen your gaze at Anna, blurring the brown curls and low brows from your peripheral. “Uhuh…?”

“Then, there was the lying to your dad about where you were. That Monday – you said you were at mine. You weren’t. Your dad called my dad to ask, ‘n my dad asked me why the hell you’d lie. I figured, What a weird coincidence, right?”

You slip off your stool, legs feeling more liquid than bone. “Oh, Jesus…”

“But then…then, I saw how you were when he called on the way to Frank’s. In the car. You were…fucking weird. And then Joel punched that dude – that basically confirmed it. I don’t think either of your dads would do that for me. It felt…it felt personal. He took your hand ‘n dragged you outta there, and it felt like…somethin’ else.”

You’re leaning against the counter, head in your hands. Struggling to even listen to her piece it all together. Were you this fucking obvious, the whole time?

Anna answers for you. “Yeah,” she says, nodding, “I didn’t catch two fucking boyfriends cheating on me, and not pick up some detective skills, babe.”

You stand straight, composure slowly building over shame. “And your dad doesn’t know? My –” you flick your head across the store, lowering your voice, “– my dad hasn’t told him?”

A laugh spurts from somewhere deep in her chest. “Hell, no. Are you tryna give him a second heart attack? No. He just thinks you were somewhere you didn’t want your dad to know – a boy’s or something. Which – well, I guess you were.”

You nod, half-appreciation, half-resignation. Alright. Now shut up about it, would you?

“But listen,” Anna says, apparently not as good at mindreading as she is at secret-revealing, “y’all gotta work on being sneaky. You’re, like, really bad at it.”

“Yeah,” you sniff, “thanks, Anna.”

You grip the edge of the counter and try to draw your eye away from your dad; a little angry that he’s here, and yet, a little more thankful that you’ve had at least a tiny glimpse of him. Desperate for him to come over, to acknowledge your mutual existence in the same room, and yet – petrified that he does.

He keeps his back to you, though you notice him turning every so often, looking at you from his peripheral. Nope – your black shirt and blue jeans are still behind the counter. He turns back to the shelf.

“Hi, sweetie.” A woman in a pink blouse approaches the counter. She lays down a couple pairs of plyers and you ring her up, asking if she found everything okay. Choking a little when you inhale the scent of her perfume.

“Beautiful day for you to be in here workin’, huh?” Her rosy cheeks fill as she hands you the cash.

Oh, yeah. It’s a beautiful day to be stuck selling plyers to pink women in pink blouses smelling of pink perfume, while my dad – still reeling from the revelation that I’ve been sleeping with his best friend, by the way – pretends to peruse the store.

“I’m almost done,” you reply, blunt enough to deflate her expression only a little, sliding the paper bag stamped Sal’s back across the counter.

She nods in thanks and slinks off, suffocating aroma following her. And like a magician, when she disappears off to the side, your dad stands in her wake. A few feet from you, keeping his distance, watching carefully before he dares to move. Waiting for your go-ahead.

When you lift your chin, beckoning him forward, Anna takes Sarah’s arm and yanks her away, shoving some shredded boxes into her arms. “You wanna help me?” she asks the nosy Miller, tossing something of an alarmed glance back at you and your dad.

There’s a funny feeling behind your eyes when he steps up, empty hand resting hesitantly on the counter. “She coverin’ up the smell of a dead body or som’?” he asks.

The air pushes from your lungs, a laugh barreling with it. Your hands clasp on the surface opposite his. A scorch of white heat at the nape of your neck. “Very vibrant, huh?”

“Very.” He clears his throat, shakes his head a little, and takes a deep breath. “I figured this might be as good a place as any to find you. I didn’t want you to think I was…cornering you, or anything, if I showed up at Joel’s.”

“I wouldn’t – I mean, maybe. But, y’know…this is fine.” Your arms cross defensively, the baggy material of Joel’s shirt wrapping snug around you.

Your dad seems to know. Evidence being that it’s you, in a shirt all too big – a shirt he’d likely see his best friend in, too. It forces your arms tighter, sucking in the scent of Joel to combat the dizzying feeling of nerves.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” he says eventually, fingers drumming awkwardly. “I just wanted to know you were fine.”

“I am fine. I promise. Just – working a lot.”

He nods, looking down to his feet. Twists the toe of his boot into the linoleum.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright, too,” you offer, the words fluid and spilling from one to the next – something forceful in their nature.

Your dad’s eyes lift at the same time that his cheeks do. Relief. “Thanks, kiddo. I actually – I was hopin’ that maybe we could talk. If you’re free. I don’t know what time you get off today.”

“I finish in ten minutes,” you say, and hope seems to paint across his face – washing away instantly when you add, “but I’m going to the movies with Sarah.”

He’s nodding again, eyes fixed back on his boots. “Right, right.”

“…But maybe once we’re done I can swing by?”

“Oh, well – I’m workin’ late again. I’ll be out by the time…Yeah. Sorry, hon.”

“That’s okay.”

“Late one again tonight.”

“This, uh – what’s his name again? Kel–?”

“Kelman, yeah. Yeah. How ‘bout I call you tomorrow ‘n we can work somethin’ out? You and Sarah, you enjoy your night.”

You lean back from the counter, slowly more confident in your ability to hold yourself upright. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

His lips press together in a flat attempt at a smile. “I’ll leave you to it. You mind if I…give you a hug?”

And then you’re the one awkwardly, forcedly smiling. Your teeth gritting behind taut lips. “Not at all,” you whisper, and wander carefully around the counter to where he stands.

He opens his arms and pulls you against his chest, your head tilting to rest your ear on his shoulder. You hook your arms under his, feeling his wrists crossing at your spine. Like two statues, two figures of stone fixing their crumbling bodies in an embrace, suddenly disjointed and ill-fitting. Your heart hurts beneath layers of rock, swelling in attempt to reach for his, shrinking back crestfallen when he feels too far.

He kisses the side of your head, pulls away, and taps your cheek once. “You know,” he says, letting you withdraw from his grasp, “I really miss you.”

You nod. “Miss you, too.”

“Let’s talk soon, alright?”

“Yeah.”

And then he’s leaving, drifting back out into the summer sun, rock disintegrating as the light catches him again. More human, less monster-under-your-bed. He’s just your dad again, just that swaying, bumbling man who used to sprinkle rainbow flakes over your ice cream and double-knot your laces.

The shadows of Sarah and Anna appear at your elbows, the three of you watching your dad sink into his car. You still feel made of rock, splitting somewhere down the middle as you stare at his figure.

“Well?” Sarah asks.

He turns right out of the parking lot, disappears behind a hedgerow.

“Yeah,” you reply, turning in a daze. “We’re gonna…gonna talk.”

“That’s good, right? That sounds…promising.”

You shrug. “I guess.”

Sarah places a gentle hand on your arm, drawing your attention to her kind eyes and infectious smile. “We should probably get goin’,” she says, and you agree.

“What movie are you seeing?” Anna asks, filling your spot behind the counter as you turn, making for the back of the store.

“Barbie,” Sarah tells her.

“Nice. She paying?”

“Obviously. Mom duties.”

You kick the door closed on their giggles.

Two days pass without a word from your dad. No text, no call, no visit to Sal’s when you’re on shift the following day. By Monday, you’ve convinced yourself that the entire thing was a dream, a hallucination conjured up by your imagination in attempt to rid you of some of the guilt still chewing at your heart. Bat it out of your brain, like swatting the rear end of a wild animal let loose indoors.

Guilt which is only remedied, only soothed by Joel. By the feeling which overcomes your chest when you look at him – lungs faltering, heart leaping. The peace of falling asleep in his safe embrace, the heat from his body enough to keep you comfortable all night, and then waking up tangled in his sheets – the smell of bacon and eggs twirling through the house, the distant sound of his humming drawing you downstairs to his side.

Late nights on the porch, watching the sun bleed heavily into the sky. Your ankles in his lap, a guitar over his thigh. Thumb gentle on the strings, soft timbre of song lulling you to some place far from reality: the same rosy, dreamlike state you’ve mostly occupied since he dragged you through his front door, kicked your shoes and all of your worries to the side, and made you forget that anything bad had ever happened.

The most comfortable you’ve ever felt in your life, the most loved – a world where your every word is heard and weighed, rolling around Joel’s palms and slotting carefully into his back pocket. A world where his lips on your neck as you make dinner, where the crook of his arm catching you as you pass by, is all normal. Where I love you and I love you, too become the last words your sleepy ears hear at night, right before you sink into a shared sleep.

All of it becoming as natural as the pale moon switching for her golden sister at dawn. As instinctive as breathing.

“Have you ever made love to anyone?” you ask him one night, the aftershock of an orgasm still soaking into your skin.

Joel pauses, hips slowing between yours. “Yeah,” after a couple beats, “sure.”

“What’s it feel like?” you ask, honestly. Combing his dark hair through your fingers. “I’ve never…No one’s ever…”

“Baby,” he says. “We’ve done it. I’ve done it to you.”

Your body tenses and then melts around him. One blink and suddenly the world softens, seems to bow into the background – the only sharp object Joel, the twinkle in his eye piercing through the haze like blinking white stars in thick, dark clouds.

You whisper, “Can you do it again? So I can feel what it’s like?”

He pushes himself up, one elbow planted by your ear, the other hand lifting your thigh. Hooking it over his waist, lowering his arm again to cage you under his body. He nudges your chin with his nose, lifting it to line your lips with his, hold every part of your body as close to his as he can.

Deeper, in every sense of the word. Slow, hard. Eyes on you the entire time, watching the way your face contorts and your jaw slackens, holding the shape of your head in his hands, swallowing his own moans and grunts to make space between you for yours.

“Look at me, baby, eyes on me,” he says, and by instinct, your eyes roll forward, focusing or half-focusing on the slick hair at his forehead, the red flush climbing his neck, seeping into the skin under his beard. “You feel it? Feel where I’m goin’?”

And yeah, you whine, you do feel it. Feel him dragging you further away from this world and into the next – somewhere a plain away, somewhere new and different to anything you’ve ever known before. Where physicality is a language, a fluid conversation between the melding of his body and yours; where there are a million words swirling around his pupils, hypnotizing and entrancing and drawing you in until you’re tumbling headfirst into the inky pools.

Where I love you sounds like the groan Joel can’t hold back, feels like the pulsing flood as he snaps between your legs. Where making love is as simple as the squeeze of his hand around yours; the shove of his plate over the kitchen table, offering you the last bite of grilled cheese or simply admitting that it was yours before he’d even taken the first. That addictive laugh of his when you stall the fucking truck for the fifth time: You asked me to teach you, baby, I’m tryna teach you. Foot on the gas, c’mon. You got it. That’s it – now, slow. Slower. Try to feel it. No, really feel it.

Feel it. Really, try to feel it. Can you feel it? Do you know the difference yet? The difference between everyone who was before, and the one who is now? Do you finally get it?

“I feel it,” you cry out, and his frame holds yours together as you fall apart.

It feels like – you.

How did I ever know anything before I knew you?

“That one’s nice,” Joel says, his voice jumping the short distance between his lips and your ear.

You tilt your head, body moving with his when he lifts his hand to swipe through some more of the images. The spacious living room, newly refurbed kitchen, the view of downtown Los Angeles.

He adjusts the blanket draped over your legs. “Washer dryer, walk-in closet,” and then, leaning in closer, whispers, “a balcony. That’s cool.”

“Hm,” you turn to face him, your body shelled by his in the corner of his couch, “I bet you like the balcony, cowboy.”

He smiles plainly in response, squeezing your nose between two knuckles. Yeah. Lots you can do with a balcony.

A sharp gasp from across the room pierces the sweet moment. You and Joel turn in its direction, its owner wide-eyed and blinking at the TV.

“Wait a second,” Sarah yelps. “George is the John Doe?” She gasps again when Meredith announces the same news to her friends onscreen. “Shut – the fuck – up!”

“Language,” Joel clips, chest rumbling between your shoulder blades.

“Oh, like you didn’t have the exact same reaction. George is the…Oh, that sucks. Are you kidding me?” She fishes her phone from the waves of blanket surrounding her, thumbs rapidly typing, eyes shooting from screen to screen.

You snort, turning back to your own phone in your hand, when a text appears at the top of the screen.

Dad: Hey kiddo. Sorry to keep you waiting, work been hectic. Off the rest of today if you’re free to come over.

Your thumb latches onto the message, holding it for Joel to read, too, before letting it disappear off into your notifications.

He tightens his hold on you, burying his nose into the cotton of his own hoodie over your shoulders. His breath pushes heavy and thoughtful across the material. “Still seems as calm as the other day.”

“Too calm,” you admit, “it’s freaking me out.”

“What can he do, you know? You’re here, he’s there. Your dad ain’t an idiot, baby. He knows stayin’ angry about it’s only gonna push you further away.”

“Sure made ‘im feel like an idiot…”

Joel catches the comment and pockets it before it gathers enough weight to bruise. “Well,” he clears his throat, “it’s up to you. I ain’t letting you do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Mhm,” you reply, and wait for more words to fall to your tongue. An answer, a response. A decision that you know you don’t feel equipped or even rightful to make.

“Do you want to go talk to him?” Joel asks.

“I…I want to make things right. I wanna fix it.”

“Okay. And will talking to him do that?”

You turn to face him, frowning. “I don’t fucking know,” you mutter. “Will it?”

He smiles sympathetically. “Wish I knew, darlin’. Would it help if I came? Sat outside in the truck, waited for you? It gets too much, you decide you wanna leave – we leave.”

“You ain’t scared to be near him again?”

He gulps back a laugh, Adam’s apple bobbing awkwardly before he allows himself to answer. “Only thing scary about your dad is the sunlight reflectin’ off his damn head. No, I ain’t scared.”

You study him a minute longer, eyes roaming from the lips you could sketch every score of from memory, the beard you’re sure has forever altered your prints from the number of times you’ve run your fingers over the bristles. The eyes which know every secret, every whisper, every thought behind your own.

You sigh, smiling dumbly as he wraps his arms tighter around you. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Joel pulls up by the curb, parking politely at the end of your driveway rather than alongside your dad’s car, like he usually would. Like he used to.

You crane your head, looking past the shape of him to survey the unassuming house. Quiet, still. No sign of hurricane or earthquake, no tremors of rage or words like rocks raining down on the truck roof. Your thumb plunges into the buckle of your seatbelt, the webbing whipping over your shoulder.

“Sure you’re okay?” Joel asks, watching your fingers lift to the door handle.

“Mhm,” you reply, distant. “’s just my dad, right? What’s the worst that could happen?”

His eyebrows lift, agreeing. He takes your hand in his and holds it to his lips. “Whatever it is,” he mumbles into your fingers, “if it happens, you come straight back out here, you hear? I ain’t moving.”

The urge to stay exactly where you are and let him carry you off back to his place overwhelms you for a brief second. To stay in the safety of the truck cabin, stay within touching distance of Joel. And as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone. Overcome by the memory of that stony hug in Sal’s, the vacant, lonely eyes boring into late-night TV.

A sharp chap over your shoulder shocks you back to life. You twist in your seat, looking down at a face wrinkled by curiosity and wisdom, sheen of lipstick curved in a mischievous grin. You roll the window down, mirroring her smile.

“Joel Miller,” Rita calls, lowering her ring-adorned fist and pointing over to her car. “Help me with these groceries.”

“Afternoon to you, too, Rita,” he calls back, and she raises two thin, penciled eyebrows. His sigh trickles into a chuckle as he snaps the door open, leaning into you. “I ain’t moving,” he mutters, swinging out of the truck.

“Sure looks like you’re movin’,” you call back, letting Rita pull on your door to let you out.

“How are you, darlin’?” she asks. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

You hop down beside her, helping her tug the shawl around her arms back over her shoulders. “Yeah, I’ve, uh…I’ve been busy.”

She nods, and then her eyes drift to somewhere behind you. “They go in the kitchen, son.” She points to her house. “I’ll come help you unpack ‘em.”

Joel’s face twists, eyes wide, hands outstretched. You swallow back a laugh when he looks to you, an almost teenage expression which asks, You seein’ this? as he turns back to the Nissan.

“I better go,” Rita says then, giving your arms one last squeeze. “You take care, now. Tell your dad I’m askin’ after ‘im.”

“I will, Rita.” You turn on your heel and saunter around Joel’s truck, giving him one last twirl as he hoists two bags under his muscled arms, rolling his eyes as you spin.

You pull the weight of yourself up your drive, passing past versions of yourself as you near the front door. She’s stumbling towards her dad’s car, a bucket of soapy water sloshing around between her knees. She’s sat on the curb, waiting for Joel’s truck to roll up, praying she never hears another Marty Robbins song again.

She’s naïve, still. Knows no better, knows no worse. Chasing a high, chasing the thrill of being caught and the thrill of nobody ever knowing. A relationship built entirely on lies and deceit. A love woven with dark threads of shame and anger, a tattered mess in one corner where the edges fray and loosen.

And you think: you’ve never felt more jealous of anybody your whole life.

The front door clicks open easily, like the building welcomes you home with a relieved sigh. You follow sunlight into the hallway, feeling it easier to walk through than before – less dense, less suffocating. Less guilty. An honest thief, back to return the bleeding heart she dragged out the door with her.

Secrets like shards of broken glass on the floor, debris from that day. And as if he hears the crunch of your footsteps, your dad appears at the bottom of the hall.

“Hi, hon.”

Eyes wide with a misplaced shock, you say, “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“’m good.”

“Good. Come in, come through.” He beckons you forward, a smile only half-forced on his lips. “You want a drink or anything?”

You follow him into the kitchen, politely accepting a glass of water when he offers it.

He turns with two steady palms on the island, watching as you drag a chair free and sit at the table. “How’s Joel?” he asks, swallowing roughly.

The words come delayed, your open mouth lying in wait. Your body selfishly trying to hoard the information, protective the second the image of that six-foot, two-hundred-pound man crosses your mind. “He’s fine. He’s out front.”

It sounds like a warning, though you don’t mean for it to. Just conversation. He’s helping Rita with her groceries. She’s asking after you, by the way. But your dad seems to sense the natural amber tone of it – the sparking of a flame, daring to catch. He’s waiting for this to go south.

He nods, accepting the fact of it. His own failed attempt to separate the two of you only drove you closer together. Only made you want Joel more.

But then he’s nearing you again, pulling out the chair opposite yours. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says, settling with a sigh. “Glad we’re…we’re talkin’ again, at least.”

Your head angles. “Are we?”

His body jerks, flinching from the sting of the question. “Well,” his head wobbles, jowls quivering, “I sure hope so. I was takin’ it as a good sign that you’re here.”

“I’m here,” you repeat, “but that doesn’t mean I’m staying.”

“No, I know. I know. Joel’s out front, ‘n all that.” He looks down at his hands, clasped in his lap. Holds his tongue behind his front teeth, waiting for the next turn of conversation.

You lean forward, elbows on the table, softening your voice. “Dad?” you say, and he looks up. “This whole entire thing – I think…I think we oughta try and understand each other, a little better. Hear each other out.”

“I am tryin’, hon. I’m really tryin’. You dealt me an awful lot to hear out ‘n understand.”

You rock back, sinking against the hard chair. Tracing the wood grains in the table, nails digging between. Shame coiling like a snake beneath your tongue, taking up too much space in your mouth. Its venom dripping between your teeth, acrid and sour; tendons in your neck jumping with the bitterness of your dad’s tone.

He sighs. “Be honest with me a second.”

“Huh?”

He waits a beat, watching you carefully. Opens his mouth, pauses, and then speaks. “Who instigated it?”

Your finger pushes harder into the surface. Digging new divots. “Um…kinda both of us. Was sort of a two-way thing from the get-go.”

His lips twist, almost imperceptible. He looks behind you to the patio outside. You can’t read what’s in his eyes. It makes you say more, say things you reckon you’ll regret later – but something to fill the silence between you. Something to let him sink his teeth into.

“There was flirting. Lotta flirting. And then it…it just sort of snowballed.”

“Snowballed.” He looks uncomfortable, lifting his hands to cup over his face. “I just didn’t take him as the type,” he says, muffled into his palms.

“As what type?”

He drops his hands, hitting his thighs with a slap, and looks you dead in the eye. Sad, almost. “Arthur Kennedy type.”

“He’s not.”

You say it instinctively. Your ears hear it at the same time your dad does. He looks at you blankly.

“He’s not,” you repeat, a little looser. Less hasty. “Look,” you sigh, “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but…everything that we ever did, I wanted to do. I already told you. There ain’t nothing we did that I didn’t ask him to. I swear to you.”

You think back to the cookout, how angry Joel was at the thought of Arthur Kennedy hanging over you. How pissed he’d be, hearing your dad line him up against that old leather boot of a man. Comparing, contrasting. Here’s how you measure up, son. How much of a phantom Arthur Kennedy has been, your whole life, and how much of a sanctuary Joel is in comparison.

Your stomach twists at the thought. A tight knot, wound by a desperation to clear the name of a man whose worst offense was doing exactly what your dad would’ve told him to: leave.

“This whole thing,” you go on, “it’s a mess, alright? It’s – totally fucked. And we shouldn’t’ve lied, shouldn’t’ve been keeping things from you, but then…what did you expect?”

Your dad cuts in like a bullet: “I expect the two of you not to do what you were doin’.”

“No, I know that. But we did it, right? It’s done now. I meant, did you really want us to sit you down in the living room ‘n say, Hey, Dad – guess what?”

He grimaces at the thought.

“Didn’t think so. We didn’t even know what it was. We had no idea what it’d turn into. But you gotta hear me out: it wasn’t just…some fling, or whatever you’re thinkin’. I swear, Dad, it wasn’t.”

He still doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t lift his stare from the table. You feel like a little kid, desperate to make him love you again. Desperate to make him listen. The space between you fills with the bored tick tick tick of the kitchen clock. Each second hurting a little more than the last.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry I let you down, but…I’m not sorry that I did it. If I could go back, knowing everything I know – I’d do it all over again.”

The words roll across the table to him like billiards. You lean back again, watching them as they rattle from his side to yours – your sentence delivered back into your ears. You nod, a sure thought in your mind.

I’d do it all over again. All the covering, all the hiding. The aching, the wishing and wanting. Staring at Joel’s empty hand, dying to slot yours into it. Dying to put any part of yourself near him; your head under his chin, your arms linked around his waist. Knowing you two would feel, knowing everyone else would see, just how perfectly you fit together.

The chasing your own tails: Did you lie well enough? Do they suspect anything? Did we leave any evidence? Disturbed sheets, a collar still upturned. Can they hear us? Have they noticed we’re missing? We’re always fucking missing.

You’d do it all over again. You know what it cost, now, sat directly opposite the price. His polite smiles like veneers over rotten teeth. The tremble in his lip when he opens his mouth to speak.

And it was worth it. Joel. He was worth it all, in the end.

All over again.

“Do you know that every time I look at you, there are…probably four versions that I see?”

You frown. Did he hear what you just said? All ov–? “What?”

Your dad laughs to himself. “When you walk outta that door, I see a little pink backpack over your shoulders. Gym bag in your hand, maybe. I see missin’ front teeth, I see those little clip-on earrings you used to love so much.

“And – and when you’re mad at me, when we fight, I see you at fourteen. Growing pains, y’know? I still remember you slamming your bedroom door in my face, all ‘cause I wouldn’t let you go to that girl Molly’s birthday party.” He looks up, smiling at your perplexed expression.

“I don’t even…remember that, hardly.”

“Long time ago now. My point is,” he continues, “you’re twenty-three. You’re grown. And I just can’t figure out how to make those other versions…grow with you. You still feel like my kid. Still that little girl with the pink backpack.”

“But,” you clear your throat, trying to swipe her from your own memory, “I’m not. I’m not her anymore, Dad. And I think maybe you gotta give me the space to be someone different, now.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, nodding. “I know, I know. I just didn’t think this new version of you would…y’know. Be with Joel, ‘n all. That is something I did not see comin’.”

“You think I did?” You spit a laugh. “If you told me when I came home that this is what was waiting for me…that I was gonna fall…”

Your teeth close around the sentence, dropping your dad’s eye. But it’s too late.

He stares back at you like the sun. “…Fall in love with ‘im?”

And you cower. You wince, almost. The last secret. The last thing he doesn’t know. “I don’t…I don’t know, I –”

“You love him. You do, don’t you?”

Your thumbs run circles around one another, fingers locking until your knuckles hurt. “I don’t know,” you mumble, wishing for the tenth time since you sat down that Joel was beside you, in front of you, around you.

“’s what Anna seems to reckon.”

Your eyes flit up. “Anna?”

He hums. “She is her father’s daughter. A damn meddler. She called here, last night.”

“Oh, Jesus,” you groan, head falling into your hands. “Ignore her, please. Ignore all of it. She doesn’t –”

He holds a palm up. “Now, hold on. You don’t even know what it was she said.”

You huff a sigh, twisting your hand in the air. Go on.

“She reckons you do love him. Reckons he loves you back. More, if that’s even possible, she said. Told me all about the way he stepped in front a’ that boy at Frank’s. About your face when he picked you up from rodeo night, how ecstatic you were. The difference she sees in you.”

“Difference,” you scoff, glancing out to the backyard. “What difference?”

“Same difference I see, probably. Same difference Bill said he saw, too: you’re happier. Even I can’t deny it, hon. It’s damn hard – you never make nothin’ easy on your old man – but…but I am willing to try.”

The hurt begins to slowly fizzle away. Cooling, washing from your skin like foamy waves. Curiosity left to shine through.

“You may not understand this ‘til you have kids of your own – if you have kids of your own – but there ain’t a thing in this world that I love more than I love you. And when you love somethin’ that much, you’ll do anything to stop it from getting hurt. Anything. That’s all I want you to know.”

A silence falls between you, thoughtful and waiting. The clock’s ticking grows sharper again. It seems to consider the same as you: there should be more to this. More to be said, to be convinced. More yelling, even.

But you arrive at the same conclusion, at near enough the same time: there is nothing more. Cards flat on the table, eyes pouring all over them. To question it, to second-guess any of it, would be to tempt fate.

“Anyway,” your dad sits forward, clasping his hands on the table, “tell me what’s goin’ on. What’s been happening in your world?”

You shrug. A little, shy thing. “Work. Been hanging with Sarah a lot. And I, uh, I had a job interview last week.”

“Oh, yeah? Where?”

You shift awkwardly in your chair. “For, uh…that one in LA. They called to offer it a couple days ago.”

A smile pulls across his lips. Growing, growing, growing until he’s grinning back at you. Pride, little bit of surprise. Whole lot of amusement and joy. “You take it?” he asks, figuring he knows the answer already.

“Not yet,” you reply. “Think I’m going to, though. ‘s too good to say no.”

He lifts his eyebrows in agreement, looking down at his hands. Shoulders lurch some under the weight of your news. “There goes that little backpack,” he mutters to himself, and you smirk.

“Can’t hold her back forever.”

“I never had a hold on her in the first place. You were walkin’ on outta that door the minute you found your own two feet.”

You snort. “Good! Good for me. Let me go out into the big ol’ world; let me go fuck it all up ‘n come home for dinner once I’m done.”

“I intend to,” your dad says, nodding along to every passionate word you say. And then he asks, “How’s Joel feelin’ about it all? About LA?”

Your shoulder jerks in a half-shrug. “He’s fine, I guess. Says he’ll miss me, but then – we haven’t exactly had the most typical relationship up until now. Survived a lot I reckon would break any normal couple…”

It’s the first time you think you’ve ever said it. Couple. You’ve thought of it – flicked through the words you might use to describe him. Your boyfriend, your partner. None of them seem to fit exactly who he is to you. None of them strong enough to carry the weight of what’s shared between you. He’s Joel. He’s your Joel. Nothing will ever come close.

Your dad hears it, too. The newness of it. The crisp shape of the word, not yet thawed to this new world. Your tongue still learning how to pronounce it, how to pair it with the image of Joel.

“Guess he can fly out ‘n visit whenever, right?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, “and I’ll be back here, too. Christmas ‘n all.”

Your dad smiles. Relieved, assured. Light slowly returning to his eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” your chest swells, “so Joel says. I trust ‘im.”

You both quieten, sitting back in your chairs. What once felt like a room ablaze, flames tearing the skin from your body as you dragged your heels through it – now feels like a gentle warmth. Waves wrought with enough power and force to destroy you, now seeping off with the change of the tide. Bumps on the horizon.

“Speaking of,” you say, making to stand, “I should probably get goin’.”

“Yeah. Yeah, hon.” Your dad follows, arm on your shoulder as he walks you down the hall.

The sun intrudes, tosses herself into your arms as you pull the front door open. In her golden-rayed wake sits that dark truck, same as always. The same dark tee, the same dark-speckled-gray hair. Arms folded, stood against the body, waiting. Eyes on the house, on your figure as you step down onto the doormat. Joel straightens when your dad follows you out, chest sucking in a ragged breath.

They look at one another, and that’s about it. Something of a nod from Joel – not quite returned by your dad. You figure that might take some time to come back around. And that’s okay. You can make peace with it.

You turn back. Your dad’s looking down at you, hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

“You know,” you take a deep breath, “the only times he’s ever hurt me, are the times he’s left. The times I haven’t had him around.”

And then you step back, the magnet in your chest telling you it’s time to return to its partner.

In high school, your English teacher tasked the class with writing a short story. Any genre you wanted, any word count up to two thousand. The boys mostly dicked around, wrote action-packed, blood-and-guts garbage. One girl wrote something you’re sure you’d seen in a Hallmark movie before.

But you – you spent two weeks straight, writing. Awake until all hours of the night, hunched over your laptop, sunbathing in the blue hue of an open document. Fingers hammering rapidly into your keyboard.

A man and a woman meet in Central Park. She – hair the color of rust, spilling down her shoulders and lifting at the ends, twisting around the fingers of the blustery wind. A red glow around her third finger where gold once lived. Sat on a bench, alone. Hiding, perhaps. And he – sharp suit and tie, clean-shaven, a steel-blue gaze that might cut glass. Missing the city traffic by taking a walk through the park on his way home. Fleeing, perhaps.

He notices her trench coat first. Bright red, a poppy swaying in the breeze. A little hopeless, a solemn wilt to it. The quickly dampening fire of her hair in the rain, the opaque sheen of polish chipping from her nails. And he thinks he recognizes the constellation of freckles painted across her cheeks. Thinks he might’ve mapped them, once, in some kind of past-life.

She looks up and realizes she recognizes the cut of his gaze. Piercing through her, splitting her in two. Thinks she might’ve felt it before, the opening of her soul to someone who looked just like him – a little more baby-faced, a little more spirited. In some kind of past-life, too.

She stands, and he slows, and they meet somewhere in the middle. Words exchanged; body heat transferred through hugs. Is that really you? You look so different. It’s been years. He doesn’t ask about the lack of jewelry on her third finger. She doesn’t ask about the gray circles beneath his eyes. Just, You wanna grab a coffee? and, Yeah. Yeah, I do.

They sit at the window, watch the yellow taxis and the black umbrellas and the trembling traffic lights. They talk about life then, life now, and silently agree to forget about the part in the middle. They look at each other the same way they must have before they lost one another, before life and love and everything else got between them.

They agree to meet again in a week. They swear that they will not fall back in love.

They know as well as each other that they’re really promising to do just that.

Love – twisted and turned over and over, until it’s a different shape altogether. We started as one thing, and we watched it shift into something completely different. Clay in the potter’s hands. Didn’t you think it might fall apart? There was a moment I thought the heat of the kiln might break us. I’m glad it didn’t. I’m glad we’re made of tough stuff.

I’m glad I found you again, in that park. The pissing rain and the wind so strong I felt it lifting the sense from my mind. In that hardware store, in that bar filled with weed and bad intentions. I’m glad you split me open, glad you could see the good that was still inside. I thought I’d lost her for a minute. Thought she’d forgotten her way home.

Let’s go get a coffee. Let’s pretend it’s always been this way.

Let’s fall in love. The rest will take care of itself.

It takes three weeks in total to properly pack up your things. Two days after you accepted the job, you bought boxes and tape, and began to dismantle the identity you’d spent twenty-three years creating for yourself, a little bit at a time. Taking apart the pink-walled museum of your life, artefact by artefact.

Joel has helped as much as you’ve let him. Laid back on your bed when you’ve dismissed him one too many times, raised his eyebrows and laughed with you whenever you come across some old, forgotten piece of memorabilia. Something ceremonial to it, something innocent and fun. Like a little graduation for all the parts of yourself.

Soon, as the last of the summer sun dampens outside, your room lies vacant. Empty of any real evidence of your being here. Bedsheets and pillows folded, packed away; framed photos and posters unpinned from the wall and wrapped up safely. Drawers and closets barren, left with a selection of your less-loved, less-worn clothes. A wardrobe built from stuff you’ll only ever wear when you come back home to visit, if even then.

Joel’s sat on the bare mattress, looking around your room. You’re stood opposite, leaning against your half-empty dresser. The sun filters feebly through your turned shades, averting her eyes.

You look over at him. Golden, like the sunlight outside. Warm, like the breeze through the trees. Yours. Yours yours yours.

“What?” Joel asks, his eyes having finally found their way back to you. He smiles at your focused expression.

“Nothing. I don’t know. Just…”

“Talk to me. Tell me.”

“You are – this is…” You sigh. “This is good. I think it’s good. Not just all the stuff we did. But you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you tell him. “You’re good for me.” You grip the wooden lip tighter, swaying nervously when you add, “But I think it was always gonna go this way, wasn’t it?”

He sniffs. Shoulders jerk in a weak shrug. “Yeah, I think so, baby.”

Your eyelashes flutter, soothing the prickling feeling of tears forming. “I don’t – I don’t know if I want it to.”

“Yeah,” Joel says through a groan, pushing himself up, “you do.”

You shake your head as he approaches, and his hands cup your cheeks.

“Hey,” he whispers, pulling your body tight against his. Your face buries in his chest; your tears wet on his shirt. He shushes you, rocks you gently back and forth with a hand on the back of your head. “Listen to me.”

“Joel –”

“Listen to me.” He pulls you back, swipes the tears from your cheeks as quickly as they fall. “We’re fine. We are going to be fine.”

“I don’t want to leave you –”

“I know, I know. But you want to go do this. And that’s okay. Both of ‘em, at once.”

Your head shakes again. Like an instinctive reaction to the thought of being separated from him.

Joel smiles softly. “I am going to miss you like hell. You got no idea. But,” he pulls your head back to face his, tucks your hair behind your ear, “I want you to go. You gotta go after this. Right?”

“I know,” you whisper, lungs lurching for breath. “I just – wish it didn’t mean leavin’ you.”

“Darlin’…” Joel coos, pulling you in again. “You know how much I love you? What do I keep tellin’ you? We’ll be alright. It’s you ‘n me, right?”

You nod, salty tears slipping between your lips onto your tongue. When you look up, you notice the same expression on Joel’s face. He blinks his own away before they fall.

“’s you ‘n me,” you repeat, and he pulls your lips together.

You roll your tongue onto his, letting him taste you – all of you. Your mouth, and your thoughts, and your tears, and your pain. You let him take it all, let him hold it for this moment as you breathe him in, let his body fill yours in every way.

Your hands are in his hair, your chest pressed against his; he’s every thought on your mind and every beat in your heart. He’s the blood thrumming through your veins, he’s the oxygen filling your lungs; he’s the words between your teeth and the flesh around your bones.

And he pulls you, and you follow, his shirt in your fist, over to the bed where he lays you gently and falls on top.

“When’s he get back?” he asks, taking your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Later,” you mumble, your fingers picking at the hem of his shirt.

He pushes back, letting you tug it up up up over his shoulders at the same rate he peels your tee from yours, both tossing each other’s clothes to somewhere else in the room. Jeans undone, shorts dragged from your hips, underwear discarded until you’re naked under him, and he’s naked over you, and there’s nothing and no one between.

Joel cradles you, holds you close as he presses a palm roughly against the underside of your thigh, opening your body to him in a way only he’s mastered. In a way you only would, for him.

His hand cups your sex, fingers nudging between your folds, pushing in when your jaw slackens and a wanton moan echoes from your throat across Joel’s tongue.

“Yeah,” he coos, wrist jacking between your legs, “’s my girl. Gotta get you warmed up, huh? Get you nice ‘n wet.”

Your back arches, arms linking around his neck to pull him closer, pull him deeper. Hold him tight enough to you that your bodies feel one, feel connected at the meeting of Joel’s hand and the most intimate part of you; the meeting of your tongues between teeth.

And you gasp, the nudging of his fingers against the deepest part of your body, the messy circles of his thumb on your clit. The shape of him, solid and warm against the seam of your thigh.

You reach down for him, wrapping your fingers around his cock, and his breath hitches. Teeth bump into yours. You’re fucking irresistible to him.

“Darlin’,” his voice is low, daring you to keep going, “you wanna cut this short ‘fore we’re even started?”

You breathe a laugh into his jaw, hot and needy. “You get to play with me,” you whine, “I wanna play with you, too.”

Joel growls, seizing his movements, leaning back in what you take as him granting full access to his body. But then he says, “Turn around,” in a strict voice you’ve come to know as meaning one thing, and you pause.

You peel your eyes from his dick to blink up at him. “Turn –?”

“– around, now.” He takes your waist, hoisting you up until you’re straddling him, holding you inches above his body. “Turn.”

“What the fuck are you –?”

“Many times do I gotta tell you? You said you wanted to play.” He twists your waist until you follow his movements, swinging one leg over the other. He grabs your hips, tugging you back towards his face. “So, play,” he mutters, lowering your cunt down to his lips.

You gasp, falling forward and hitting the mattress between his legs. “J– fuck me. Are you s-serious?” You moan, hips rocking against the feeling of his bearded chin at your clit. “You’re like – a fucking – horny teenager. Oh, fuck.”

Your head falls forward, hands splaying out over his thighs, before your eyes refocus and you notice the hardened shape of him, tip oozing precome all over the hair-spattered plain of his groin. Your hand lifts, shakily taking hold of him again, and you lean down.

Elbows hooked over his thighs, you bring his tip to your lips, letting a thick bead of saliva fall and drip down the length of him, meeting your closed fist to be dragged up and down.

Joel’s hips almost buck. He holds it, manages to catch it, but you spot it. You’ve done this too many fucking times not to notice the reaction you draw from him.

“’s good,” you whisper, circling your hips on his face, tongue slipping across his cherry-red tip. “Feels so good.”

He responds in the form of a deep groan, rattling from his chest through your clit, shocking like lightning up your spine until the very same noise is thrown from your lips. You push down, tongue molding around every vein and the slow curve of his cock until your lips meet the thick brush of hair at his base, his tip kissing the very back of your throat.

Your throat which jumps, jolts at the feeling of something intruding – before you’re retreating again, pulling him from your body, warm, wet spit linking the two of you when you come up for air. And then you sink back down, head moving up down up down up down as his stomach tenses beneath your chest.

Joel’s palms keep a heavy hold on your ass, his tongue lapping between your folds like they’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted – like he might die if he doesn’t get his fix of you. And you think, they are, and he might, as your cheeks hollow and you bow down over him again.

You establish a rhythm, two waves swirling between one another: your hips rocking, Joel’s lifting ever so slightly as you suckle on one another. Your hand fisting the parts of him you can’t quite reach, not without choking; Joel holding you fixed to his jaw, letting the tip of his tongue hook around your swollen clit, then dragging it down until he’s letting you ride the wet muscle.

The approach of your first orgasm, a tiny spark catching to life in the pit of your belly, incites you with a need to open up further for him. Your throat taking more of him, your thighs slackening as you drive your cunt harder against his mouth.

“’m so close,” you whimper, lips curving around his cock. “So – fucking – ah, keep doin’ that. Right th-there.”

His hands hook around your thighs, tongue darting across your clit. His nose nudges somewhere between your folds, quickly becoming coated in the slick you’re leaking all over him.

“Joel,” you say, fists pumping his cock. Your voice a warning: it’s coming. You’re gonna – Fuck, you’re gonna come.

His voice is looser, more of a shrug of the shoulders when he pulls away from you. He inserts two fingers, curls them like before, like he knows drives you fucking insane. “Let go, babygirl,” he murmurs, lips immediately returning to position. And then, muffled and rough: “Come all over me.”

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, hands squeezing around his cock, feeling that same spark ignite into flame, your entire body bursting with heat.

Your high rips through you, battering through each vein in your system, each nerve electrified. You collapse between his legs, his rough pubic hair sticking to the sweat on your chest, hips rutting wildly against the sharp cut of his jaw.

The mattress absorbs most of the desperate moan which streaks across your tongue, nails digging hard into the flesh of Joel’s thighs. And you hear the deep sound of his voice, the thud thud thud of a chuckle against your clit: the cocky fucker laughing to himself as he unravels you for what feels like the thousandth time.

“Alright,” Joel says, more to himself than to the fucked-out shape of you between his legs. He sits up and shifts you carefully down the bed, settling you face-down on the mattress and lifting your ass to meet his hips. “Okay?” he asks, kneeling behind you.

You feel his tip between your legs, slotting happily somewhere in your opening. Waiting for your response. A response you don’t feel able to give, as much as you’d like to; your lips puffy and confused, words jumbling behind them in a tangle of bliss and love.

“Baby,” Joel says, hand slinking down your back, pressing gentle circles into the nape of your neck. “You okay?”

Your head lifts, glancing over your shoulder to see his hairy torso, his thick arms caging over you. He lifts your chin with two fingers, cranes your neck up until you’re looking into his eyes, heavy lids blinking dumbly.

“Just fuck me,” you whisper, and Joel slips his tongue into your mouth.

You used to dream of coming back home. A few years away, doing whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted. Dreaming things up and then chasing them until they happened. Tiring yourself out, lungs gasping for breath and eyes always searching, always looking for a new target to pin up. But always coming back.

Austin, Texas. Its jagged skyline, the streets lined with a vibrant glow and star-spangled bunting. The river like a silver-bellied snake slithering through. Home.

You dreamt of living out your days here, once your blood had slowed and your mind settled. A quiet life in the country, a big wooden house with a wraparound porch. Two little rocking chairs, so you and whoever your husband turned out to be could sit and watch the sky fade from red into orange into white and then dull gray into deep blue.

Breeze kissing your cheek, his lips kissing your knuckles.

Joel.

Home.

You tell him, and he smirks. “That so?” he asks, wrapping his arms a little tighter around your naked body.

You nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand, breathing in the sweet scent of sweat and sex sitting in the air. “Mhm. You could play guitar until the stars come out.”

He hums in agreement. “Sounds like a pretty good dream. Tell you what: you go to LA, do what you gotta do. By the time you come back, there’ll be a big ol’ farmhouse, wraparound porch, rollin’ fields for the dogs. Coffee ‘n sunsets. How’s that sound?”

“And you’ll be there?”

He smiles. Scoops you in one arm and rolls you onto your front, chest to chest with him. His fingers ghost down the curve of your shoulder. “Baby,” he whispers, “I built the damn thing.”

It forces a laugh from your chest, something you’ve gotten used to by now. Joel and his ability to steal a giggle from you, the dumbest moments seeming the funniest. “You’re gonna build me a damn house?” you ask, chin resting between his pecs.

“That what you want?”

Your head rocks left to right, considering. “I just want you. That’s all.”

“Then you got me. I’m all yours.”

In his hazel eyes lives every moment you’ve ever shared. Every conversation, every kiss, every fight. Every minute he’s spent looking for you or at you, every minute you’ve spent looking back at him. It’s all in there. You see it like a movie reel, frame by frame.

It lands like a slot machine on that first night. Cleaning up after pizza. Shoulder to shoulder by your kitchen sink. You wish you’d just kissed him. Even with your dad right there. Wish you’d lifted your heels and put your lips on his, just for the fucking hell of it. Just to condense all of it, every second of longing and hurt and pain into one fleeting moment.

Wish you’d pulled him into you, against you, the weight of his body like an old friend. Welcomed it with open arms, like you’d spent your entire life missing it, waiting for it to come back to you. Let yourself feel your own heart, peeling between the cage of your ribs, reaching out for his. Always reaching for him.

Wish you’d looked him in the eye, tears softening the tufts of graying hair, vignetting the smirk only you can tell is there. Looked at him in that knowing way, that language only you two know; the glint in your eyes translating a thousand messy words into three. Just three – the simplest, lightest words you’ve ever known.

I love you. Let’s skip to the good part.

#welp i didn't cry when i hit post. me? no. no way #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #fic: cowboy like me

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kasagia · 3 months

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Dancing with the devil III

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: You learn about your friend's terrifying future and promise yourself to somehow help her avoid her terrible fate. Na-Baron and you have a little... argument and a new, intriguing lord appears in society—a man who made a huge impression on you. Everyone is jealous. Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; I listened to High Infidelity and new Gracies Abrams album while writing this one; quote from High Infidelity by Taylor; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~ PART IV ~•♤♤♤•~

"Even on Arrakis it's not that hot." You're grumbling, walking with your friend in a group of other ladies. You fan yourself with your white feather fan, trying to cool yourself down a bit, but Giedi Prime's black sun doesn't make it any easier for you.

"I don't know. I've never been there. Or anywhere. It's amazing how Harkonnens can go out all dressed in black and not have a single drop of sweat on their skin."

"Nothing about the Harkonnens is fascinating." You say as you reach the training field. You look for Lord Luwael, but you can't see your almost-fiance anywhere. But your eyes immediately fall on Feyd-Rautha.

It was irritating how quickly you recognised his bald head among the Harkonnens he surrounded himself with. The generals fought with him and each other, putting on quite a show for the ladies passing by. However, the real show began when Na-Baron started fighting with his older brother.

People began to gather, watching the sparring of the two heirs of the Harkonnen legacy. You flinched as Rabban let out an almost animalistic, warlike roar, just like your friend. You glanced in her direction and frowned, seeing her paling as their fight became more and more brutal.

"Y/F/N, are you alright?" Your friend opens her mouth to say something back at your question, but just then Lord Luwael appears next to you and steals all your attention.

"Brutes. They behave like animals. They have no sense of respect for human life and health. I don't want to spread rumours, but I heard that they mutilate... their wives and take pleasure in their pain. This is how they express their love. Sick nation."

You nod, watching the fighting display in front of you. You might think that the Rabban beast, as a scary brother more trained and familiar with fighting, would win against Na-Baron, but this is not the case. The men fight evenly until Count Rabban loses his guard in favour of stronger attacks.

Na-Baron takes advantage of this immediately. Just a few of his dodges are enough for Count Rabban to get irritated. He storms at his younger brother mindlessly, giving Na-Baron a chance to attack. He makes a few tactical moves that require more common sense than strength, and he stabs his brother in the shoulder. Rabban screams as he tries to wriggle out of his brother's blade, and Feyd helps him by kicking him in the back and sending him to his knees. You shiver as he glances at you briefly before turning his attention back to the fight with his brother.

The fight is in full swing when suddenly one of Count Rabban's daggers, instead of hitting his brother, hits one of the Harkonnen soldiers. The man is stabbed in the stomach, his insides spilling out from the sloppily inflicted wound.

It doesn't bother you. In fact, you don't react at all to this act of brutality except for wrinkling your nose as the smell of Harkonnen's black blood and entrails hits you. You feel a chill only when you catch Na-Baron's careful gaze on you.

And then, suddenly, your friend faints next to you at the sight of a dying man.

"Y/F/N!" You scream, catching her before she hits the ground. Lord Luwael helps you lay her down gently, and you fan her, pushing the man away from your unconscious friend as you try to provide her with more air and space.

You're too busy fanning your friend to notice how the crowd shifts its attention to the two of you. Even more so to notice one of the Harkonnens approaching you.

"Step aside." Rabban's voice reaches you as he tries to make his way through the crowd. He stands over you and your friend, watching you carefully before he speaks again. "I will take care of my fiancée." He tells you coldly, suggesting you leave. Your eyes widen as you realise who he's talking about. Your gaze shifts from your friend to the man next to you. Rabban was her fiancé. Poor Y/F/N.

"I am more than capable of taking care of my friend, Count Rabban. Besides, I doubt that the sight and smell of blood will help her recover." You tell him with an equally cold tone of voice, not moving away from your friend's side. You turn your gaze towards her, ignoring Rabban's furious look.

"I said..."

"Thank you for your concern, but I assure you she will be fine in a minute. Today's weather must have overwhelmed her." You interrupt him, giving him an equally determined look, not moving an inch from your spot or reacting to Harkonnen's obvious attempt to intimidate you.

The man moves furiously towards you, but before he can even lay a pinky finger on you, his wrist is caught in a tight grip by his younger brother. The men stared furiously at each other for several moments, challenging each other.

"Rabban. You heard Lady Y/N. Your help is not needed. You should go to a medic to have your wound treated." Na-Baron growls, never taking his stern glare off of him. And as much as you despise the Harkonnen heir, you can't deny that right now you're grateful to him for keeping his brother away from you and Y/F/N.

The older brother gives you one last hostile glare before pushing his brother's hand away from him. He retreats and walks away from you, barking at the crowd of onlookers to disperse.

Na-Baron kneels on the other side of your friend and lifts her a little higher into a sitting position. You notice that she actually starts to take deeper breaths due to the change in position. You sit there next to her for a few minutes before you muster up the courage to speak.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, little swan." He replies with a small smirk, showing you his array of black teeth. Which, surprisingly, bothers you much less than previously.

You stare at him for a moment, much longer than you would usually allow yourself, and he notices. You lean towards him and, for some reason you can't explain, reach up to wipe the blood from his cheek.

Feyd flinches as your gloved hand touches his skin. He curses the fact that the small, lacy material prevents him from feeling your skin against his.

And he decides to do something with it.

He turns his head, grabs your glove with his teeth, and removes the fabric from your hand. You shiver when you see him put the glove in his pocket before taking your hand in his.

He traces a streak of blood from one of his soldiers with your finger, collecting the blood on your finger. His full lips wrap around your finger, sucking out the black liquid. You bite your lip, feeling his tongue wrap around your fingers as he sucks on it like the most delicious candy. You hold your breath and close your eyes, breaking eye contact with him as you remember how wonderful that tongue felt inside your core.

You only dared to open your eyes when he left your finger alone, and you felt his full lips press against the skin of your hand.

And that was your undoing.

His white irises, under the influence of the Giedi Prime sun, gave way to his black pupils, which were staring at you all the time, like at a sacred image. However, you both knew very well that you were far from saintly. Just like him.

And just when Feyd thinks you're going to lean in to press your lips against his, to be the one to initiate the kiss for the first time, you suddenly pull away from him as if scalded.

Feyd furrows his hairless eyebrows, not knowing what's going on, but everything becomes clear when he hears the hated voice of Lord Luwael.

“I brought some water. And sobering salts from one of the ladies." The man says, walking over to the two of you. You give him a beautiful smile, and Feyd's heart shrinks with jealousy.

He instinctively wants to reach for his sword and plunge it straight into Lord Luwael's heart. But he can't do it because he knows that the moment he kills... the obstacle, Feyd will lose any chance of gaining your favour and heart. And all he wanted was for you to smile at him as beautifully (and more sincerely) as you would at that flea not worthy of your attention.

"Thank you, my lord." Feyd notices the difference in how you thank this man.

You're telling him this because it's appropriate, because it's polite of you. Not that you really needed his help, because Feyd was the first to calm you down and take care of your friend. It was Feyd who you thanked sincerely, not that toad in the emperor's crown.

"Na-Baron, it's... very noble of you to help in this situation." Lord Luwael says, and Feyd clenches his jaw slightly at the mockery in the man's voice.

"It's my duty to take care of my guests." Feyd replies in a neutral tone of voice, taking the salts from you and helping you wake up your friend.

"We won't disturb you anymore and distract you from… more important duties."

"Believe me, lord, I have no more important matters on my mind than this." Feyd replies firmly, not moving away from his place for an inch.

The men stared at each other for a long moment, giving each other deadly looks. You roll your eyes and try to quickly think of something to keep their attention. And quickly, before the pseudo-alpha male fight breaks out.

"Could one of you gentlemen help me carry her to her room? I believe she will be better off there than here." You ask, giving them a worried, pleading look.

"Of course, my lady." They both answered at the same time. They look at each other furiously for a moment, but Feyd wins the battle of speed and reflexes and grabs your friend in wedding style. You ignore the uncomfortable tickle in your chest and the lump in your throat and nod to Lord Luwael.

You and Na-Baron walk through the halls of the palace in silence. Without a word, he follows you into your friend's room and places her on her bed.

"Thank you." You say, expecting him to leave as soon as possible. But he has other plans for you.

"Do you really think you can be happy with him? Your little lord?" He asks you mockingly, leaning against the dresser and crossing his arms.

"My happiness is definitely not your concern." You reply furiously, not caring about titles, being polite, or anything else.

He had no right to question your decisions, decisions on which your entire future life depended. He didn't even know you! He had no right to judge what was better for you. And it definitely wasn't him.

"So you voluntarily force yourself to spend time with this weak little man? Why? Because maybe one day in the distant future he will become emperor?" He asks incredulously, laughing at your stupidity. You feel your anger bubble up inside you the longer you look at the bastard's smug face. And this time, you're not going to hold back or even pretend to be nice.

"He will become emperor. There are no ifs or maybes. He is the emperor's cousin and the first male descendant in his bloodline. As soon as Irulan's father dies, he will ascend to the throne. And I will become empress!" You speak with complete conviction and stomp your foot in anger at the last sentence, emphasising your rage.

"Is that all you want? Is that your ambition? Become an empress? Because I promise you, little swan, if your weak lord, fainting at the sight of the blood and fighting of REAL MEN, becomes emperor, I will gather my troops and overthrow him. What will you do then, little swan? Will you try to seduce me to keep the crown? Maybe then the idea of becoming my wife won't be so repulsive to you, hm? Maybe then you can allow yourself to fully enjoy my touch without running away from me every time I make you cum and scream my name? Maybe then you will realise that you belong only to me, and not to any Atreides or Luwael?"

You shiver as he presses you against the wall. He's so close to you that you feel his chest brush against yours with every fast, furious breath he takes. You glance at your friend, making sure she's still unaware of your conversation, and shift your gaze back to his icy-blue irises.

"That's not your damn business." You snap at him angrily, hoping you can stop yourself from punching him in the face, but it seems like a more and more difficult task with every second you talk to him. As well as refraining from silencing him by kissing those stupid, beautiful, tempting lips of his.

"It is my damn business. From that night in the garden, everything that's involving you is my damn business. And even earlier.

You are everything I want, everything I desire. I think day and night about that sweet pussy of yours, about how perfectly you would welcome me inside you, how beautiful you would look on the throne by my side. What about you, Y/N? How many times have you screamed my name into your pillow in the middle of the night? How many times have you wished that your fingers playing with that needy clit were mine? How many times have you imagined riding me on the emperor's throne?" He asks in that hoarse, sinful voice of his, sending an electric shiver right through you to your needy core. You shiver when he nuzzles against your temple, inhaling your scent. You close your eyes and sigh shakily as his hand goes to your neck, forcing you to look into his eyes. "How many times have you wished that I was your fiancé instead of Atreides?"

For a moment, you freeze, only able to look into his eyes as he hits your sweet spot with every question. Fortunately, the moment he leans in to capture your lips in a kiss, you push him away from you and take a few steps back. You take a few calming breaths and shoot him an angry, exasperated look.

"Let's make it perfectly clear." You say it firmly, taking a step closer to him with each sentence you say. "We are not engaged. We are not courting each other. We are not even friends or have the same group of friends. We have nothing in common with each other anymore besides that one mistake, so live your life and leave me alone. Just as you wanted."

You stare at each other for a few long moments, both of you breathing heavily with anger. His bright blue eyes are agitated. Like the ocean in a storm. You see how he clenches his fists, how the vein in his arm trembles, and for a moment you are tempted to cross the distance between you and the feeling of his hands on you.

But you couldn't.

He was a Harkonnen. Your mother would kill you for rejecting such an honourable suitor as Lord Luwael for… one of those bald brutes.

"Is that what you want?" He asks in that husky voice that should make you feel repulsed, but all you feel is a shiver of excitement as you remember all the things he whispered in your ear in the darkness of Giedi Prime.

"Yes. It is." You answer stubbornly, still sticking to your opinion. This will be best for you. You must focus on maintaining Lord Luwael by your side. Maybe later, when you're married, you can somehow have an affair with Feyd, and that way you'll keep him away from Irulan.

But one thing was certain: You will end this season as a wife. No matter what.

"Well then." He replies coldly and turns on his heel. He closes the door behind him with a loud bang, not even giving you a second glance.

You try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in your chest and forget about this whole conversation. You didn't lose anything. You just got rid of an unwanted suitor. Right? Then why do you feel… so strange? Like doing something you shouldn't do…

"Y/N?" Your friend's voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Oh, thank God, you finally woke up." You say and sit on the edge of her bed. "Why didn't you tell me you were engaged to… to Rabban?" The girl tenses at your question. You see her become more nervous and start playing with the edge of the blanket in frustration.

"I... I hoped that since nobody knows it wasn't true. But... I..." She pauses, and your heart clenches when you see her on the verge of tears.

"Come here, my girl." You say and lean in to hug her tightly. She buries her head in the crook of your neck and shivers as she tries to calm down. "I promise you, I will get you out of this marriage."

"You can't. The Harkonnen took over my home planet. It was destroying my nation, family, or marriage between me and Rabban."

"Oh, my poor girl. There must be a way..."

"There is not!" She interrupts you furiously and pulls away from your embrace. Her eyes are red, and unshed tears remain in her eyes. "Not everyone has a life as perfect and beautiful as you, Y/N. But don't you dare judge me! Or pity me! I do it for my people, for my family. I... it's noble... and maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all..."

You look at her with great compassion. You reach over and place a hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture, but before you can say anything, there's a knock on the door.

Before you can speak, several Harkonnen servants enter. Most of them have some small crates and boxes that they put on the dresser.

"The Na-Baron sent us with this, my lady. We are here to ensure that the Giedi Prime sun will not pose a threat to your health, Lady Y/F/N."

Without knowing why, you feel a sudden wave of anger at their words. How dare he do such a thing? You try not to worry so much; you even tell yourself that your reaction is absurd, but your mood worsens even more when you see your friend's eyes become a little brighter and a genuine smile appear on her face.

You stare blankly at the maids leaving, wondering why the hell you are jealous of such a meaningless gesture from a man you don't even want.

"Na-Baron seems completely different from his brother. At least he's honorable. And he is not brutal towards his concubines. It is true that servants and soldiers die at his hands, but he only kills the incompetent ones. I feel like he's just doing it to preserve his reputation in his uncle's eyes. Oh. If only he could become my husband and not this... beast."

"Concubines?" You ask confusedly, not remembering seeing him with anyone else... not since then.

"Haven't you seen them? The whole society is talking about them. Lately, he seems to keep himself out of their company. It makes sense since he's looking for a wife, but still, they said that these women were created for his pleasure. They're kind of living robots. I don't know how much of this is true, and even if it were, Na-Baron seems to care about them."

You become even more mad, even though you shouldn't. You're almost engaged to Lord Luwael, and less than half an hour ago, you told Feyd that there would be nothing between you two and that you wanted him to leave you alone. If Y/F/N took care of Feyd, you wouldn't have to worry about Irulan marrying him. So why did you feel sick just thinking about this turn of events? Or that he has concubines?

You had no idea. And it bothered you greatly.

"Why didn't he propose?" Your mother asks you, preparing you for the last ball on Giedi Prime.

A week has passed since your last conversation with Na-Baron, and since then, you have only seen him from a distance on ceremonial occasions. As you wished, he left you alone. And you fucking hated it that his attention was taken away from you like that.

"I have no idea." You snap at her in frustration as she fixes your makeup.

During this week, you have been eagerly awaiting Lord Luwael's proposal. And it was a pointless wait. You smiled at him, flirted, tempted, and seduced him, and you did everything in your power to get him to pull himself together and propose. But he didn't. He didn't even come close to doing this once.

And honestly, you were fucking fed up with it.

You were tired of pretending to be his sweet little princess who needed a man to defend herself. You were tired of pretending to be disgusted by the violence, tired of agreeing with him, and constantly admiring things that didn't really matter. This week spent solely in Lord Luwael's presence has taken a toll on your psyche, and even more so was the fact that Feyr-fucking-Rautha Harkonnen was right. You toiled alongside Lord Luwael. But you'll be damned if you give up now and are left with no suitor.

Your mother lets you go to the ball alone while she busies herself with packing your things, or rather, drinking wine in your rooms and making sure the maids take everything you need with you. So you walk alone through the corridors of Giedi Prime and end up in the ballroom.

The Harkonnen palace is as empty to you as their entire planet. You can see enormous wealth in the city, but apart from that, there is absolutely nothing here. Not counting military bases, training rooms, and laboratories, of course. Emphasis on the development of the army and the economy. So you don't wonder why Na-Baron mainly shows interest in all kinds of weapons and bloodshed.

You look at the people around you, carefully observing the men and women flirting with each other. With a disturbing feeling of anger and jealousy, you notice Y/F/N dancing with Feyd. And as much as you shouldn't care, you want to go up to your friend and claw her eyes out when you notice how she makes Feyd laugh at something she says.

"An interesting couple, isn't it?" You tense as Irulan's voice echoes behind you. You nod at her and take the champagne from a passing servant.

"Rather unexpected. Besides, it won't last long. She is marrying his brother. And they don't match each other at all. You don't have to be jealous of your future fiancé, princess." You banter with her, sipping your champagne as you both watch the dancing couple intently.

At some point, Na-Baron's gaze falls on the two of you. And while Princess Irulan looks away, embarrassed, you raise an eyebrow at the man, giving him a defiant look. A small smile appears on his face before he turns his full attention back to your friend, and suddenly you need something much stronger than this champagne to survive this evening.

"Lady Y/N, I believe that of the two of us, I'm not the jealous one here." She says this with a mischievous smirk, watching you in your wordless exchange with Na-Baron.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at this little insinuation, afraid of what this viper could learn about the relationship between you and Na-Baron. After all, it wasn't like you two had your... encounters in private places.

The mere thought of being seen with Na-Baron in this compromising situation by none other than the witch you once considered your friend makes you lust for murder and bloodshed. You think you've spent way too much time on Giedi Prime.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, princess. I already have my lord and suitor, and I assure you, it is not Feyd-Rautha or any other Harkonnen."

"And yet, your finger is not adorned with a ring." She replies mockingly, with a cynical smile, staring at your fingers, which unfortunately are only decorated with your family's signet ring. You hide your hand in the fabric of your golden, sparkly dress and give her a forced smile.

"Matter of time."

"Probably."

"Definitely." You answer confidently and finish your champagne. The woman next to you chuckles and shakes her head.

"I hope you find what you are looking for. But it definitely won't be my cousin. Maybe Na-Baron? You always had a soft spot for him. As you can see, this childish infatuation is not one-sided and still burns wide."

This comment makes you clench your fists in anger. Irulan knew perfectly well what happened between Na-Baron and you. Or rather, what didn't happen but could have happened. However, you are no longer the naive girl you were a few years ago. You knew better. You've witnessed too many of his acts of cruelty and ruthlessness to continue to believe that somewhere inside him is still that boy from Lankivieil who charmed you. Or at least, that's what you thought until you met years later.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, but if you're that interested, I've never been more indifferent towards him than I am now." You say, not hiding the reproach and resentment in your voice or look.

"Interesting." She responds, unfazed by your gaze, as if she had nothing to reproach herself with. You smile and shake your head in disbelief. Of course. What else could you expect from her? Your eyes involuntarily land on your friend, who is having a drink with Feyd while they are laughing about something. "Lord Luwael! I believe you promised me a dance." Lord Luwael actually decided to finally show up at the party. He gives you an apologetic smile before taking Princess Irulan's hand and leading her to the dance floor.

You feel defeated when you are alone, against the wall. You close your eyes and sigh before going back to watching the rest of the people at the party. You try as hard as you can to swallow the unpleasant lump of jealousy, rage, and grief in your throat, but just when you think you've managed to calm down and tame your emotions, you feel a familiar presence next to you.

"Where's your prince charming?" Feyd's mocking voice makes your anger bubble up again. You turn your back on him and walk in the opposite direction, trying to get through the sea of people to get to the table with drinks. "Rude." He comments as he follows you.

He watches you carefully as you drink down the entire champagne in your glass in one gulp, grimacing as you do so. You refrain from making a snide comment, but his lips involuntarily twist into a malicious smirk.

"Fuck off." You growl, not even looking at him.

"You should speak to me more politely. Your lovely friend asked me to come over to you. You looked rather miserable, standing there all alone while your future emperor was having fun with a real princess."

"You know what? They say a lot of terrible, frightening things about you, and maybe some of them aren't true at all, but nothing—absolutely nothing—no fucking mask or artificial acts of politeness and kindness on your part can hide your nasty nature. Since I've been here, I've seen all sides of you, each of them riddled with rot and corruption. And yes, I'm a naive idiot who deserves sympathy, but only because I truly believed you could be something more than a Harkonnen. And I may not be a good person, but I'm not as rotten to the core as you are. I'd rather die than ever have anything to do with you. Have a pleasant evening with your concubines, my lord." You growl, pushing past him as he continues to look at you in shock.

He's calling after you, but you walk quickly through the crowd of people, wanting to get away from him and everyone in the room as quickly as possible. You put your hand over your mouth and run out into the hall, looking for a place where you can cry freely.

Without paying much attention to where you're going, you land on one of the balconies. You gasp, seeing the man there, leaning against the railings and staring at the dark Giedi Prime night sky.

You want to get out of there as quickly as possible, but you accidentally hit a glass decoration on the wall, causing it to shatter into pieces on the floor. The man quickly turns around in alarm and sighs, relaxing when he sees that there wasn't any... attack or threat to his life.

"My apologises. I thought I'd find some solitude here." You reply shakily, unable to control your voice yet. But the man doesn't seem to care. You shiver as you meet his gaze as he carefully examines you for any injuries. He carefully avoids the broken glass and sweeps it aside as he walks closer to you.

"That's all right. You can stay here if you want. Well… maybe not on these pieces of glass. I myself am looking for a bit of peace in this… lively place. Are you alright? You didn't hurt yourself?" He asks, and you quickly nod your head. You take a few breaths and run a hand through your hair, brushing any stray strands of hair from your eyes.

When you look at him, you have the irresistible impression that you know him from somewhere. But you can't remember meeting this man or even understand why he seems oddly familiar to you. In a good way.

"Excuse me, have we met before?" You can't help but ask him about it. It seems downright strange that you don't know him when you feel… strangely drawn to him. Because how could you forget a man with such white hair and the piercing look in his black irises?

"I highly doubt it. Michael." He replies, shaking your hand with a mysterious smirk. You tentatively reach for his hand, as dark as his irises. Or at least one of them. The second one was white. You shiver as he returns his full attention to you, his two-toned eyes practically hypnotising you.

"Just Michael?"

"Only Michael. And you? Mysterious star?" You can't help but laugh. Genuine laughter, which has turned out to be a great rarity for you lately. He smiles, showing you his array of white teeth.

"Y/N. And before you laugh at me, my lord, my mother told me to put this on. I had no right to object." You say, pointing to your golden dress that reflected the light coming from the corridor of the Harkonnen stronghold.

"Oh yeah. Mothers and their regime. Believe me, I have a similar one myself. It's hard to say no without fear of being disinherited, right?"

"Yes. Definitely." You say, unable to stop smiling. Something about his presence seemed calming, even ethereal. Just a moment of conversation with him was enough for you to completely forget about the ball and everything that happened a few minutes ago. Talking with him and being in his presence brought you unexpected, strange relief. "So what are you hiding from? Crazy mother? You didn't wear the suit she wanted?"

"Let's say. I'm not really… familiar with the surroundings and people here. I've just arrived yesterday."

"Yesterday? But soon the nobles are leaving Giedi Prime. Why did you arrive at the very end of this event?"

"Most of them. Some stay for a few more days due to political matters. This is the reason why I am here."

"So you're not looking for a wife?" You ask, slightly teasingly. He chuckles at your remark and shakes his head.

"Not necessarily. At least now. I want to achieve something first." This answer makes your opinion of him grow even more.

He was absolutely perfect. Starting with appearance and ending with personality. Or at least that's what he appeared to be doing. You need to find out more about him. Hook your claws into it. If not the heir to the Emperor's throne, perhaps an ambitious, power-hungry man would be enough for you to reach for it with him. But first, you had to find out more about him—for example, what family he came from.

"An ambitious man with a plan. Beware of mothers; they will tear you to pieces for their daughters. Especially Lady Whistledown, if she finds out about you and decides to put you on the front page of her gossip rags. A mysterious man named Michael is the new, most desired suitor of this season."

"The first woman who doesn't like these rumours—did she tarnish your reputation, or are you just above the high society and their ridiculous sensations to care about things they care about?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't want to talk to me anymore." You whisper conspiratorially, making him laugh.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Possible. Care to join?" You ask teasingly and shake his hand. He raises an eyebrow at you and licks his lips. His bi-colour irises stare intently at you as he considers your offer.

"Are you asking me to dance?" He replies with an equally mischievous smirk, responding positively to your flirtatious teasing.

"Feeling offended? Should I wait until you ask me, so I can politely smile and bow, my lord? Maybe even blush?"

The man in front of you laughs. He adjusts the necklace around your neck, gently brushing his fingertips against your skin. A shiver runs down your spine as you feel his electric touch on you.

"I like your current attitude better. If you care about it…"

"Well then." You mumble as he suddenly grabs your hand and presses a kiss on it. You shiver, feeling his lips through the diamond mesh that was supposed to be a replacement for your gloves.

"I'm very curious if you dance as gracefully as you destroy things in this palace." He says, casting a pointed glance at the pieces of glass on the floor beneath your feet. You give him a mock-offended look, at which he chuckles. You find his laughter quite pleasant.

He leads you to the ballroom floor. You mingle with the crowd without drawing too much attention to yourselves. And even though you had written this evening off as a waste a few hours ago, thanks to Michael, it became... very nice. And pleasant. Refreshing.

You laugh heartily, and you feel butterflies in your stomach every time he leans towards you. You're completely enchanted by him, like a stupid teenager in love. You ignore the looks the people around you give you. For example, the stern look in your mother's eyes, the surprise in Irulan and Y/F/N's eyes, or the jealousy that Lord Luwael tries to hide when talking to Irulan. One particular pair of blue irises never leaves your side. But you don't care.

All you see is black and white—the irises of your evening companion. Surprisingly enough, you don't have to pretend to be either a damsel in distress or a strong woman who doesn't need anyone. You can be yourself. And as strange as it is, it's so nice to let go of control and vigilance sometimes. Even though the voice in the back of your head and your intuition tell you that you shouldn't break down the steel walls of your defences.

You don't even care about the whispers and rumours that spread about you in the ballroom—about your high infidelity and instability of feelings when people comment on how you rejected Lord Luwael's advances and jumped into another man's arms. You dance around with this charming man, not worrying that you just lost two potential suitors. All that mattered was that Michael made you feel like he had brought you back to life.

And you decided to remain blissfully unaware tonight and deal with the storm you had unleashed some other time. Tonight, your only activity was counting the constellations in Lord Michael's eyes, revelling in his scent and presence.

Meanwhile, Na-Baron leaves the party earlier than he should. With his hands gripped tightly around the handles of his blades.

However, this night proves something to you—something that you learned and experienced on your own skin a long time ago and Na-Baron learned tonight.

There's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, and the slowest way is never loving them enough.

Feyd's heart beats madly as he crosses the familiar halls of Giedi Prime. He avoids any guards or any living soul who might acknowledge his presence in the guest quarters. He slips silently into a specific chamber, careful not to make any sound.

He looks around the room and silently rummages through open crates, suitcases, and objects that have not yet been packed by the servants. He smiles to himself as a small vial with a familiar scent finally falls into his hands.

The poison that killed his harpies.

He turns around slowly, letting his eyes land on your sleeping figure. He silently approaches your bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he tries hard to sharpen his vision in the darkness of the room to get a good look at your facial features.

You sleep so peacefully in your bed. Feyd is downright unaccustomed to seeing you… not annoyed or insanely angry at him. In your relaxed state, you look almost like an angel.

And Feyd finds himself wanting to lie down behind you, take you in his arms, and just bury his nose in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent while he falls asleep. Which he thinks is absurd, considering that a few hours ago he found out that his darlings died of poisoning.

He should be mad at you. He should slit your throat right now, choke you, break all your bones, rip out all your muscles, and take your heart, which was as festering and selfish as his, especially after all the insults you said to him.

He takes the dagger with practiced ease. He presses the tip of it against your neck, gentle enough that you don't feel it in your sleep but close enough to feel the tip of the blade against your skin. He breathes heavily, staring at your sleeping figure. His anger rises as he thinks about how you danced with this new, strange man a few hours ago. How you smiled at him, how you flirted with him, how you ran your hands over his muscular arms and chest, how you brazenly did things that you should have done with no one else but Feyd.

And when he raises the dagger to swing and cut the skin of your delicate neck, he hesitates. Keeps steel in the air longer than necessary. Feyd closes his eyes, makes a fist, and bites it as he swings.

A strand of your hair falls onto your pillow. Feyd leans down and gathers the hair he cut off, wraps it in your shawl, and puts it on his nose. He inhales the delicate floral scent of your perfume, allowing himself a moment of weakness. He hides the dagger and his prized possessions in his pocket.

And just as he turns to leave, to accept that you will always see him as a monster, something in your jewellery box catches his attention.

He walks over to her and tenderly reaches for his old Lord of Lankiveil ring. He remembers many years ago when his uncle told him to throw away all the mementos from his old house. He kept two things. The ring and the shell that the oceans of his planet often washed ashore. He gave both of these things to you. For safekeeping.

He frowns, searching for a shell in your glass. He sighs in frustration when he can't find it. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and puts his old ring back in its place, wondering what you did with that little shell.

This discovery gives him the courage to approach your bed again. He lightly strokes your cheek with his fingertips, wondering if the fact that you kept the ring means that he wasn't as lost in the game for your hand as he thought.

But he still can't get the words you told him earlier out of his head—how much you hurt him today. And not only today. He sighs quietly, not knowing what to do. Just as he's about to remove his hand from your cheek, you roll over and nuzzle your face in his hand. Feyd's heart stops at this small gesture. He feels the warmth radiating from you as you press your cheek into his hand. His heart flutters, and his mouth goes dry at the contact as you instinctively reach for him.

And this somehow gives him hope that your anger, disgust, and resentment towards him may not have been as sincere and passionate as they seemed. He just had to approach you in the right way. And he knew exactly what he had to do next time to make sure you weren't just glaring madly at him across the ballroom or killing the women he was close to in your acts of jealousy.

He wanted all of your passionate anger directed at him. Not at any other women. And then he will do everything in his power to ensure that your quarrel goes the way he wants it to go—with you under him... or on top of him.

Either way, he will make you his. He will make you look at him the way you used to, the way now you look at those idiots you meet. And this time, nothing will stop him. Even you.

Dearest, gentle readers…

This author is completely disappointed with the lack of exciting news from Giedi Prime.

This author's curiosity has not been satisfied to any extent, and although we have learned more about the Na-Baron, his customs, his fighting skills, his dealings with his servants, and the concubines who are his constant companions in the dark nights of Giedi Prime, this author is hungry for more.

Those who have ears and eyes will probably not be surprised that Lady Y/F/N was promised to Count Rabban in marriage, which is to reconcile the countries at war. But those who are able to observe more may notice that this lady had a much better time with Harkonnen's younger brother than with her fiancé. Could it be that the brothers need to learn how to share their new bride-to-be? Or maybe this is not such a strange situation for them, considering how light and free the inhabitants of Giedi Prime are towards intimate matters. Let's not even mention the possible arranged marriage between Princess Irulan and the infamous Na-Baron.

This author, as closely as watched the affairs of the Harkonens, is watching what is happening between Lady Y/N and Lord Luwael. The young heiress of the family decided not to wait for the young lord to ask her such an important question for every woman and decided to move on with her search for a husband.

Surprisingly, Lady Y/N's attention was taken over by a certain Duke. Mchael Sahohton. And although the young Duke is not first in line to succeed to the Emperor's throne, his influence and ambition are so great that he can be considered a pretender to the throne more than Lord Luwael ever could ever be.

Is it a calculated move that Lady Y/N goes from one heir to the emperor's throne to another? Probably. Can we blame her? Of course not. After all, in the pursuit of a good match, a woman will do anything to end up with the best man possible. However, this young woman must remember to maintain her good, clean reputation in all this, which is extremely difficult to do when you have such an exciting and tempting goal in front of you.

Only one question remains: Which of these gentlemen is the diamond of this season? Which one is the most worthy of attention and pursuit by ladies

This author will try to answer this question, eagerly waiting for the continuation of this season, on the Kaitain - the homeland of the house Corrino and the breeding ground of the Bene Gesserit.

Taglist for Feyd: @avidreader73

Taglist for DWTD: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran @hueanhdang @barnes70stark

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