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thebigbiwolf · 11 months

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Spittle - Part 2/2 (Astarion/F!Reader)

Summary: The chocolate seems innocent enough - if you look past the Infernal writing on the wrapper, and with so few pleasures in the wilderness, you all but jump at the chance to sneak yourself a small treat.

Unbeknownst to you, the bar is infused with succubus spittle. Just one square is rumored to contain enough potency to send a mortal into the throes of ecstasy.

This is what happens when you eat half the bar.

Fic Tags: Sex Pollen (kinda), aphrodisiacs, a bit of dom!Astarion, unprotected piv, overstimulation, he talks you through it (iykyk),

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, No use of Y/N, magical influence

Read Part 1: Here

Read on AO3: Here

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Wow. I'll try to make this brief. First of all, I just want to say thank you all so much for your continued support. I know this took me forever to write, but I've been going through a lot of emotional turmoil with school and some health issues with my animals. Your patience means so much to me, and I can only hope this lives up to everyone's expectations! This is my first time writing smut, and ngl I feel a bit like Icarus, so let me know if y'all liked it. Last, but not least, thanks again to my bestie/beta @imaginarydromedary for holding my hand through the shame.

Astarion sits quietly beside the fire, absently picking the dirt from beneath his manicured nails. The night had unfolded like countless others before it: boring, mundane. Uneventful.

Perhaps he should retire early. The Realm According to Bumpo sits patiently atop the desk in his tent, and if he heads to bed now, he could potentially finish a chapter before his watch begins.

He stands, patting the dust off his trousers, just as Shadowheart emerges from your tent. He initially doesn’t pay her any mind - fails to notice the concern etched across her face.

“Astarion.”

He snaps to attention, recognizing the fear in her voice.

Astarion’s stomach sinks when their eyes meet. Shadowheart isn’t normally one to succumb to panic, but she looks as though she’s just stumbled out of a wolf’s den.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. She - I’ve never seen…” Shadowheart pauses, taking a steadying breath. “She’s feverish. She was fine only hours ago. I heard a cry from her tent and feared something was amiss. When I found her, she…” The cleric hesitates, eyes contemplative - as if weighing exactly how much she wants to reveal.

“Out with it, damn it!”

“Is there any chance she’s been poisoned? You two stayed behind, back in the village. Did she come into contact with anything that might have pierced her skin?”

“Poisoned? No, she -” Astarion retraces the events, turning over your brief conversations in his head before landing on the only noteworthy detail he can think of.

He taps a finger on his chin, a thoughtful smile creasing his face. “Unless, of course, the Infernal chocolates didn’t agree with her.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“The chocolate she found at the apothecary. I assumed she hid it away so she could enjoy her little treat, unbothered. There was Infernal text on the wrapper.”

She stares at him with wide eyes, jaw slack with disbelief. “And you didn’t think to mention this earlier?”

Astarion shrugs, unfazed.

“Where’s Wyll?”

He rolls his eyes. “How should I know? I’m not his keeper.”

“Astarion!”

“Oh, come on. That chocolate must have been at least a decade old. Are you certain this isn’t just some sort of stomach bug?”

The cleric shoves past him, groaning in exasperation. She shoots him a glare and mutters, “I’m certain,” before jogging in the direction of Wyll’s tent.

“Infused with succubus spittle. Just one bite will have you and that special someone rolling around for hours. Consume responsibly."

Astarion giggles boyishly. “An aphrodisiac? How fun.”

Wyll squints as he silently reads the next bit to himself, fingers tracing the text. He turns to Shadowheart, jaw tightening, "How much of this did you say she ingested?"

"I only found half the bar."

Wyll’s expression grows more serious. "This says the recommended serving size is one square… How many squares were left?"

“Oh, gods…” she breathes, "Six."

The three exchange silent, worried glances.

“Could she die from this?” Shadowheart asks, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Wyll’s lips press into a thin line. In truth, he doesn’t know the answer. He could ask Mizora for guidance, but the devil’s been awfully silent after his recent failures. He isn’t sure she'd be willing to answer him, let alone grant any favors. Still, it may be worth a call.

Just as Wyll’s about to suggest it, Astarion heaves a deep, dramatic sigh, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, I know what we’re all thinking. I’ll take care of this.”

The other two regard each other, thoroughly confused.

“Look," Astarion explains, I may not be well-versed in magic, or magical remedies, for that matter, but now that we know what’s causing this… I think it’s obvious what needs to be done.”

“You’re joking.” Shadowheart laughs, incredulously.

“No,” he continues, “We can’t just sit here and hope for the best. We need to act quickly, and let's just say, this fits into my... skill set.”

“So, you’re going to, what? Have sex with her? You think she’ll be capable of saying anything but yes, given the state she’s in?”

Astarion shoots her a glare. The mere thought that he’d ever so much as suggest doing something like that - bedding you when you’re too weak to reject him - the very idea of it makes him sick.

He isn’t that evil.

“Watch your tongue,” he spits at her, “before I do us all the favor of removing it.”

“Hang on, you two,” Wyll interjects, “Astarion, I think you might have a point. You would know better than anyone whether she’s in a right enough state of mind to… consent to this. You’re closest to her. She trusts you.”

He turns to Shadowheart, “It’s worth a try.”

Astarion notices two things as he pulls back the flap of your tent.

The first is that it is unseasonably warm. Scorching hot, like summer. A stark contrast from the welcoming cool of the early spring night behind him.

And second, that the air in the tent is heavy - heady with the scent of sweat and something else he can’t quite identify. It's clouding his senses, making his head swim. The taste of it settles on his tongue, like salt on the rim of an otherwise very sweet drink.

The moonlight at his back casts a dark shadow over your sleeping form. Astarion hesitates for a moment, taking in the sight of you, vulnerable and oblivious to his presence, feeling too much like a wolf looming over a snared rabbit.

You twitch, grimacing in pain.

He frowns. This wasn’t the way he wanted to go about seducing you. His plan was much more sophisticated: a carafe of wine, a few honeyed words leading to a night of passion, your endless thanks, all culminating in some well-earned release and his assured protection.

A mutual exchange.

But, this?

He’s roused from his thoughts by another grunt, escaping from between your clenched teeth.

Whatever you’re going through, it looks like hell.

Ugh. You know what? Fine. Maybe this isn’t the way he envisioned it, but when has life ever blessed him with a perfect scenario? He’ll offer his… services, and respect whatever answer you give him. If you refuse him now, he can always try again later. Under less perilous circumstances, provided you survive the night.

And if not, well, he's never been one to play the hero, but at least he tried.

He steps further inside, closing the entrance behind him. The moment he seals the tent shut, there is a palpable shift. The space feels infinitely heavier, laden with unnatural energy, reminiscent of anticipation, but just slightly… off.

He breathes, trying to focus on anything but that intoxicating scent. The haze of it is maddening.

The elf sits on his knees beside you, hands resting in his lap.

He clears his throat, hoping the sound would be enough to wake you.

There’s no response.

He whispers your name.

Nothing.

No choice, then.

He drums a finger against your bare arm.

The cleric was right. Your skin is so hot, it borders on scalding.

Finally, you begin to stir.

Again. It happened again.

As soon as you closed your eyes to rest, you saw him - That thing that wore his skin. You felt his hands and mouth as he ravaged you until you fell apart beneath him, above him, wrapped around him, like he was everywhere all at once.

He was demanding as he took pleasure from you. Ravenous. Mocking your cries, your begging.

The hours stretched into what felt like lifetimes, and you’d nearly given up hope, resigning yourself to the idea that this was your new, endless reality.

Until suddenly, you hear a voice that pulls you from the dark recesses of your subconscious-- the very voice being used to torture you

Your name, uttered quietly by Astarion. Just Astarion. No second, more sinister layer beneath it.

Your eyelids flutter, then widen as a chilling realization washes over you.

He’s touching you. The pads of his fingers are both a balm and an irritant, soothing and igniting the flames licking at the corners of your mind.

“You look like you’ve seen better days.” He teases.

You recoil from his touch, sitting upwards and crawling back away from him.

He can’t be here. He, of all people, can’t be here.

And yet, something within you is screeching in delight.

'That’s him, isn’t it? The object of your desires? How fun!’

You swallow. Hard.

“Astarion, I -”

He holds up a hand, silencing you. “I’m aware.”

“Shadowheart informed us of your… predicament,” he continues, “I can’t help but feel partly responsible, seeing as I was there when you found the chocolate -”

“The chocolate? Is that - wait, what?”

Shit. Your head is pounding.

You press your palms against your eyes and groan.

“I’ll spare you the details, but that chocolate was laced with succubus spittle - a highly potent aphrodisiac - and you, my dear, have consumed enough to bring an entire brothel to its knees.”

Your eyes snap open, meeting his own. There isn’t an ounce of humor in his tone. No sign of his usual mischief.

Gods, he’s being fucking serious.

“Now, as amusing as this might be if it were anyone else, I’d prefer it if our party’s leader made it out of this alive, and that leaves us with a choice."

You gaze at him silently, waiting as the candlelight paints his sharp features in warm hues of amber and honey.

'He’s quite handsome. I see why you like him.’

“You can ride this out alone,” Astarion explains, “Shadowheart will return with her best salves and more potions for the fever. We’ll hope this passes quickly, but Wyll’s translation suggests the amount you consumed could leave you in this state for up to a week.”

Your stomach churns. You’re going to be sick.

“And the alternative?” you manage to ask.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining with your own. Your skin prickles at the contact.

“The alternative is that you let me help you through this. Consider it a repayment, of sorts, for gifting me your blood. I’m somewhat of an expert on… well,” he lets out a humorless laugh, “let’s just say, I’m the best chance you’ve got.”

Maybe it's the blood roaring in your ears, or maybe you’re still dreaming, but it sounds like Astarion is offering to… fuck you?

“I’m sorry, what?”

He groans, visibly frustrated. “Sex, my dear. If the magic is compelling you to have it, I think we should listen.”

‘Handsome and smart.’

You hiss, “Would you please shut up?”

Astarion squints. “What was that?”

“Nothing, sorry.” You clear your throat. “Listen, I - I get what you’re trying to do. I appreciate it, really, but -”

Pain lances through your abdomen, a sharp, icy shard that interrupts your words. You clutch at your side, releasing Astarion’s hand before falling helplessly on your back, twisting in agony.

He inches closer, voice tinged with urgency. “We’re running out of time. If you want my help, it's best to ask now, because as much as I love the idea of you begging for me to bed you, I won’t be comfortable doing this unless you agree to this while you’ve still got your wits about you.”

Tears sting the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision at the edges. He’s right. You don’t think you can endure this alone, and as much as you fucking hate to admit it, the damned succubus magic - that thing - is right.

You do desire him. You’ve wanted him since the moment you met beside the nautiloid. Now here he is, offering to alleviate your suffering.

There’s just one part of his offer that you can’t quite come to terms with.

“I didn’t let you drink from me because I was hoping you’d repay me.” Your voice warbles, wet and stressed, “I can’t have sex with you if it’ll just be part of some ridiculous transaction. Not with anyone, and certainly not with you.”

His expression softens as your words sink in. It’s a confession, of sorts. The kind he’s wholly unfamiliar with. It stuns him almost to the point of speechlessness.

“My apologies. Believe me, it was more of an excuse than anything. I didn’t mean to suggest…” He lets his words trail off, shaking his head. You two can revisit this conversation later, when time isn’t of the essence. “It doesn’t matter. I want to do this. Let me help you.”

The sincerity in his voice sends a shiver up your spine.

It’s clear he means this.

He means every word.

You nod. “Okay.”

Astarion clears his throat, rolling the tension off his shoulders.

“Good. Now that we’ve got that taken care of,” he says as he throws one of his legs over your waist, straddling you, “Why don’t you lie back and let me take care of this, hm?”

His posture is relaxed. Confident. He regards you with hooded eyes and the faintest hint of a smirk. It’s quite the sight, one you’d enjoy significantly more if your body wasn’t busy screaming for his attention.

His deft hands make quick work of the laces of your shirt, and with every string that loosens, your composure unravels further. You squirm, unable to resist the heat that teases your skin and the growing itch beneath it.

As if Astarion can sense your rising panic, he places a cool palm against your burning cheek, his touch both gentle and practiced as he rubs smooth circles at the dip of your temple.

“Relax, dear,” he whispers, both a request and a command. The gentle lilt in his voice masks the underlying authority, but your body obeys all the same, tension releasing from your muscles. “I’ve got you.”

Astarion quickly rids you of the offending fabric, chest and stomach now bared to him. His eyes scan over your form with focused intensity, lips pinched between his teeth, like an artist deciding what to make of their blank canvas.

“Normally, I’d take my time with this,” he admits, “but given the circumstances…” He swiftly undoes the buttons of your trousers before yanking them off along with your smallclothes. One single, fluid motion.

He can’t hide the mild shock that follows when he sees the state of you - dripping wet, red and pulsing with need.

He dips the tip of his finger between your folds. It glides over velvet skin, coating the digit in warm, wet slick. A strangled, pitiful noise escapes from your throat.

For a moment, Astarion’s calculated expression falters, surprised by the rate at which your body opens itself up to him. A glint of hunger lurks beneath the surface.

“This may be easier than I thought.” He says with a smirk, more to himself than to you.

He presses two digits in, slow and intentional. There’s no resistance; A knife through warm butter. You’re dripping down his knuckles, gripping around him like a vice. He slides all the way in until the heel of his palm meets your clit.

“Breathe.”

Not even realizing you’d been holding your breath, you release it with a shutter.

“Very good.” He punctuates his words with the slow drag of his fingers. Long, languid movements. He’s taking his sweet time with you, pulling scandalous little cries from your lips. It’s like he’s toying with you - seeing how long you can hold out before breaking.

It doesn’t take much time at all.

“Astarion -”

“Yes?”

“Please.”

“Please, what? What do you need, darling?” His eyes are fixed on your own, grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. A cat playing with a cornered mouse.

“More. Anything.”

He hums in approval, then wets the pad of his thumb on his tongue before drawing circles exactly where you need. Heat coils at the base of your spine, forming a ball of tension that threatens to snap.

The sheer intensity of it is enough to scare you, caught between the urge to chase the sensation or flee from it. “Astarion, I -”

He ignores your warning as if he hadn’t heard it, plunging his fingers into your heat and curling them - expertly caressing a spot that threatens to shatter you. Your hands fly out, gripping the fabric of his shirt, the sheets beneath you, anything in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

“Go on, love. Let it out. I’ve got you.”

Your body seizes as your orgasm tears through you, igniting every one of your oversensitive nerves. Back arching off the bedroll, several strangled sounds - almost pained - rip from your throat. The pleasure threatens to tear you apart, but the thick fog of lust occupying your mind begins to subside, offering the slightest bit of clarity as you twitch beneath him.

Astarion grabs you by the jaw, tilting your head this way and that, admiring his handiwork. He's quite pleased with himself, with the mess he's made of you - jaw slack and brows pinched. He coaxes out the aftershocks, watching you squeeze around his fingers.

"There,” he gives you a playful pat on the cheek, "You're looking better already."

"You're - agh - enjoying this too much."

"I never said I wasn't going to enjoy it."

A beat of silence passes between the two of you as he allows you to catch your breath. For a moment, you think the coast is clear - that maybe, this was as far as things had to go. This was what the magic was compelling you to do, or at the very least - it was close enough. You fulfilled its wishes. Surely.

But then he pulls out of you, and the second you feel the vacuum of emptiness where his fingers once were, that voice in your head is screeching like some sort of petulant child. It pouts, waggling its non-existent finger in your direction. The demanding bitch.

Part of you, instinctually, realizes that this is just the beginning - that you’re simply at the edge of the shore watching the tides recede while a devastating wave builds somewhere in the distance.

“What is it? Does it still hurt?” Astarion asks, breaking the silence, and you realize that no, it doesn’t. Not like before, at least.

You shake your head.

“Good. I’d wager that means this is working.” He smiles triumphantly, working the laces of his own clothes, and ridding himself of the final layers between you, revealing an intricate network of muscle beneath. For a man who’d supposedly been starved for the last two centuries, he certainly doesn’t look the part.

Astarion nudges your legs apart with his thigh, then settles between your knees, dragging the head of his cock between your folds. He hums in approval, admiring the sight as he coats himself in your slick. It practically drools out of you.

There’s no resistance when he dips himself into your entrance.

His eyes scan over your face, searching for any discomfort, but all he finds is need.

So, he presses in further.

“Shit, you -”

He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath as he bottoms out, then takes a moment, eyes pinched shut, collecting himself.

He slides out, just an inch or so, before plunging back in, buried as deeply as he can reach. It’s so damn easy, the sinfully wet mess you’ve left all over his cock allowing him to glide in and out, tilting his hips with each thrust.

The stretch of him is perfect, like you were made for this - made to take him. His length rubbing and dragging against your walls acts like a balm, relaxing your body as you swallow and grip him in scorching heat.

He grabs one of your thighs, pressing it into your chest - the new angle allowing him to sink even deeper into your core.

It isn’t long before you’re begging him for more, digging your heels into the curve of his back.

Astarion starts pounding into you - a new, brutal pace spurred on by your encouragement and the wet, filthy slap of his skin against yours. The sounds reverberate off the canvas of your tent, blending with your choked sobs. You just know your companions are going to have something to say about this in the morning, but you honestly can’t bring yourself to care.

The only thing that matters now is the man above you - his nails digging into the flesh of your ass, whispering how good you feel. How well you’re taking him, “Like you were made for this - for me.” His grunts are like music to your ears, drowning out all other thoughts as his chest vibrates against your own.

It’s all too much.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you before you have a chance to warn him, but he feels the way you flutter around his cock and acts on instinct - snaking his fingers between your bodies and rubbing your clit in quick circles.

You throw your head back with a cry, shaking beneath him, and grip him like a vice as you come. The force of it slams into you, hot and devastating, tightening every muscle within its wake. You wind your limbs tightly around the hard planes of Astarion’s body as he rolls his hips into you, slow and deep.

You can feel him twitching inside you, his rhythm suddenly stuttering with each thrust. Something tells you he’d come now, if you’d allow him.

But where?

'Where else?'

The very idea of him not spilling every drop he has inside of you disturbs you nearly to the point of panic, and with that, you finally understand what this damned succubus has been demanding of you this entire time.

“Astarion, please. I need you.”

“Where?” he asks, voice muffled, panting hot and open-mouthed against the swell of your shoulder.

“Inside,” you beg, “Please. Please - It’s alright.”

He shudders, surging up into you one last time with a strangled grunt. Holding onto your hips, he pulses within you, the warmth of his release filling you to the brim, until a thick white ring of come forms at the base of his length. You can’t help but clench around him, moving to match his previous pace and trying desperately to wring as much out of him as you can, until it begins to seep out onto the sheets beneath you.

It isn’t until he stills inside of you that you release your hold on him. The two of you take a minute to collect yourselves, waiting for your heart to settle and listening to Astarion’s ragged breaths.

He lifts his weight off of you with a grunt, settling back on his knees.

“That was - agh,” he shivers as he pulls out of you. You don’t even want to look at the mess.

“I’m going to have to burn these sheets, aren’t I?” you ask, sitting up on your shoulders.

He throws his head back with a genuine, hearty laugh, and cards his fingers through his dampened hair.

This is the most relaxed you think you’ve ever seen him - not a scowl line in sight. He rolls his shoulders, and sighs at the subsequent pop before turning his focus back on you.

“I’ll have you know,” Astarion muses, “I’ve done this more times than I can count— but this, my dear,” he chuckles, “This was one for the books.”

“So, was sleeping with me everything you could have possibly imagined?” It’s an obvious joke, given your tone. An offer to squash any chance of this happening again, should he wish to. An exit.

He hums playfully. “Well, next time I think I’d prefer the subtle influence of wine over a mind-altering aphrodisiac, if it's all the same to you.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Did he just offer to do this again? Well, not exactly, but -

“And how are you feeling?” Astarion asks.

Better, is the honest answer. Slightly confused and deeply embarrassed, but better.

The apologies you’ll have to make after the night’s over seem endless, both to him and to Shadowheart for all the trouble you caused. Not to mention the others, who’ve probably had the sound of your squealing burned into their memories forever. The idea of it is daunting.

“Because if you’re still reeling from any nasty, lingering effects,” he continues, “I’m sure I could be… persuaded to help again.”

Oh.

Hm.

“Well, now that you mention it…”

Tag List (sorry if I missed anyone! I only added you if you explicitly asked to be tagged): @daedriclys @captain039 @sushiumex @sugasweettea @marauders-moon @starlightelegy @ablxssm @the-lake-is-calling

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion acunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #astarion x you #spittle

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ravcnism · 3 months

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STRIKEOUT. ( PART 2 ) — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER

Summary: An after-party. A conversation-turned-confrontation. Kenji finally meets the esteemed Toyo Bullet and struggles to define the difference between anger, terror, and infatuation.

# # TAGS: Even More Tension, Kenji Has a Good Relationship with His Team, Intense First Encounter, Domestic Sato Family Shenanigans

# # WARNINGS: Mature Language, Alcohol Consumption, Nothing Too Crazy, No Beta Again We Die Like Onda

Note: Okay, here we go: the actual second part. Again, I am so sorry for accidentally publishing my draft earlier — I am ill with embarrassment. But I’m very happy to know that people look forward to it! If you read the false-post, then you’ve only read half of the chapter. This one has over 3000 words more! Enjoy.

“It was a nail-biter of a game here at the New Tokyo stadium tonight, folks. Right off the bat, both teams were going neck and neck, toe-to-toe. And it seemed like neither one was willing to give an inch! Our home team managed to pull off a narrow victory in the end, and by narrow, I mean narrow, Kiba.”

“That is absolutely right, Sasaki. I truly have never seen anything like it in my entire career. And you know- you know I know a lot of baseball. You know I’ve been doing this for many years, but wow! Just- insane.”

“Truly a close call. Eight additional innings? To break the tie? I cannot believe it. Let me tell you, neither the Hiroshima Toyo Carp nor the Yomiuri Giants wanted to lose today.”

“If you look at the crowd, It looks like everyone’s been wanting to go home.”

Exhausted was an understatement. Kenji hadn’t felt this drained after a game since, well, only months ago: when he was still juggling the responsibilities of raising a baby Kaiju, carrying the weight of being Ultraman, and maintaining his reputation as a well-known baseball player. All of these, on top of the sleepless nights, no longer hindered him from his work. He usually left the stadium feeling brand new every single time — regardless of whether they won or lost. He had grown and learned to lean on people, to ask for help, accept defeat. Which was good and all that, but the point was: he was exhausted from this game. You had him panting for air like an overworked dog.

Shimura had Kenji on the field for longer than he should have been. While his younger, more egotistical self might have loved his moment in the spotlight, running base to base for six innings in a row was unsurprisingly really tiring. The teams had hit a clean tie by the ninth inning, and the tie-breaker lasted for eight more. You were eating their rookies alive and having their journeymen for dessert. When Shimura realized that Sato was the only one batting your pitches, he had him play for every round after the tie. The only times Kenji wasn’t on the field was when you weren’t either. Which wasn’t a lot. It scared him how you looked like you could throw that ball for days.

“Hiroshima’s L/n is just- an absolute unit, isn’t he?”

“He certainly is, Kiba. He certainly is. I mean his performance was near inhuman tonight. Each pitch was a gem and we- he really wanted us to know that he’s here, he’s ready, and he’s willing to change Japanese baseball. He was a major force out there on the field.”

“I cannot agree with you more. But credit where credit is due, we all know that the only reason the Giants are coming home with tonight’s win is because of none other than Ken Sato himself.”

“That’s right, Sato really put up a fight. L/n was throwing him off balance every time, but he always found his footing. I think tonight might have been the hardest I’ve seen him work. You know he- he usually makes his plays look effortless — disregarding last season’s slump.”

“I say he held his own very, very impressively. The team was right to rely on him. I know we’ve spoken a lot about their tension, but I’d say it’s their dynamic that really drove the point home. They were like- mirrors of each other out there. When you put two equal forces together, they deflect. You know what I’m saying?”

Kenji’s hand shook with a weakness he wasn’t familiar with. He stared at his calloused palm and noticed his fingers twitching. Shit. It really was some game. He might have been hitting the ball, but he was barely getting it through the field. Not only were your pitches fast, but there was weight to them, too. He was witnessing the caliber of your capabilities; understanding why you were the talk of every city.

The rest of the Giants came walking into the locker room, jeering and laughing amongst themselves. “That L/n is a real piece of work, ain't he?” Shirakumo, number 24, sat himself next to Kenji, unlacing his shoe. “Never seen anything like it.”

“Did you see the look on Tateoka’s face?” Yuki laughed, smacking his thigh. “Dude was scared shitless!”

“Hey!” Tateoka frowned in reply, tugging his jersey off his arms. “You try standing in front of that guy and telling me you don't feel a little threatened.” He shuddered, remembering the look in your eyes. Dark and pointed and menacing. “He was staring me down like he was gonna—”

“Eat you alive?” Kenji scoffed.

The team went silent, then erupted into a cluster of teasing ‘oooh’s. God. It reminded him of highschool.

“Oohh, yeah.” Yamada, number 21, slid over to him with a teasing tone. He wrapped an arm around Kenji’s shoulder and squeezed him closer. “I don't think I've ever seen Sato so shaken!”

He laughed, playfully pushing him away. He was also actually really sore on that shoulder. Hell, he could already feel the pain he’d need to go through just to get up tomorrow. He was going to need another ice bath. The rest of the boys jumped in on the jokes.

“Did you see the way he was looking at you Ken?” Tokuda opened his locker, grabbing a shirt from the top shelf. He whistled. “Like he wanted your head on a plate.”

Tanaka chuckled. “He wanted you dead, man!”

Kenji rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Let's not get carried away. I never said I was shaken.”

“But that last bat was sweet as hell.” Yuki nodded. “I doubt any of us would've gotten through the guy if it weren't for Sato.”

“Well, duh.” Shirakumo shrugged. None of the Giants denied it. Ken was their star player. And tonight proved it more than ever. “We owe you for drinks, bud. Give us a date and we'll treat ya’ to someplace you like.” He slapped Ken’s back affectionately, which elicited a pained groan. “Shit, sorry.”

Kenji’s watch started beeping. He flinched at the sound, eyes widening slightly. “Uh, see you in a sec, guys. I gotta take this.”

He was there a moment, then gone the next. Kenji rushed himself out the hallways and into an empty locker room to answer Mina’s call. “Hey!” he greeted, anxiously. A screen projected itself from his watch and lit up his face. “Hey. Hi. What's wrong? Everyone alright? I know I said I'd be home soon, but the game took way longer than–”

He was interrupted by cheering. His father clapped and whooped with excitement as Emi occupied the background, screeching with glee. Kenji could see the ground shaking as she was jumping around and doing her special dance. One of Mina’s arms was protruding from the wall and waving celebratory flags. It immediately put a smile on his face, easing the tension from his shoulders. He was always happy to see everyone alright, and even happier to see them as their silly selves.

“Kenji!” cheered Hayao. “That was an incredible game! You were unstoppable!” The professor chuckled. Emi picked him up into a hug, slightly toppling the camera over. His legs swung like a ragdoll’s. “Okay, okay girl-”

Ken laughed, slightly shaking his head. “Easy, Emi. Put Grandpa down.”

“It was a very impressive game, Ken. Perhaps one of your bests.” Mina’s calculative yet affectionate voice echoed from his watch.

Hayao fell to the floor with an ‘oof’. “You didn't tell me you were playing against THEE Mets’ Bullet!” He scrambled to stand up, barely leaning on his cane. “I wasn’t even aware that he was signed into the Carp!”

Kenji’s smile immediately faded. “Okay.” He rolled his eyes. “He was alright, I guess. And we don’t actually know if he signed into it or if he was traded. We barely heard anything about him from the press.”

“Alright?” Professor Sato gasped, appalled. “Kenji, he was spectacular! He’s a lot like you, you know. I’ve always suspected that the both of you equalled in skill, but to see it in action? Phew.” He wiped some pretend sweat off of his forehead. “What a show! Eight extra innings to break a tie? Unbelievable! I highly doubt that he was traded. Who in their right mind would purposely lose a player like that?”

Kenji scoffed. “He wasn’t that good.” His sore limbs would like to say otherwise.

“He had you chasing after his pitches like a dog!”

“I don’t like that analogy.”

“I ought’ to rewatch that documentary they made about him. You know they’ve done studies on the physics of his throws.”

“Dad.”

“And how fortunate for Hiroshima to have gotten him out of all teams! I can tell that this season is going to turn around really fast. Just today he’s already scored-”

“Dad!”

“Oh. Sorry.” Hayao chuckled. “I’m just very excited to see the both of you on the same field.” Kenji sighed, nodding his head. “Anyway, congratulations on the win, my boy. I’m so proud of you. I always am. Get home safe. It may be late, but we still have a lot of leftovers from dinner!” Emi made a noise that let him know she was waiting, too.

Going home sounded like heaven. Ken wanted nothing more but to rest. Maybe kick back and have a chocolate shake while he and his family watched cartoons to fall asleep. It was the perfect way to end his night. It had been an unexpectedly long day and he looked forward to tomorrow’s well-earned break. Eight extra innings might even win him a second day of rest. Or a third, if Shimura agreed not to schedule him for the next game. Which, he doubted, if it meant you’d be playing.

“I’m on my way.” He ended the call, and opted to take the fastest way out, desperate to avoid the press.

Ken collapsed onto the floor, snuggling into Emi’s arm. Having washed up and eaten his dinner, he felt the last remains of his adrenaline-fueled strength die out like a dwindling flame. He felt as if his limbs were about to fall off. “Ugh,” he groaned. “I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.” Emi didn’t much care. She seemed to be preoccupied by the new ( gigantic ) stacking blocks that Mina made for her. Ken sighed, sinking deeper into her arm. “She always smells so good after her baths.” The baby Kaiju’s warm and heavy grasp felt like a weighted blanket. It was a comfort that Ken would find nowhere else.

Professor Sato walked past them, chuckling into his coffee mug. “That, she does. You should have seen her earlier, you know. I’ve never seen her so invested in a game.”

Kenji hummed. “Is that right?” He rolled onto his stomach, facing Emi. “Hey. Baby.” He poked her cheek. “Is that true? Did you cheer for Daddy? I bet you did.” Giving into his cuteness aggression he rubbed at her cheeks. Emi expressed her annoyance through a small squeak. “God, that mean old Bullet had Daddy running laps, didn’t he? We hate him, don’t we?” Kenji pushed her cheeks up and down, leading her into a nod. “Yes we dooo.”

Professor Sato laughed. “Whatever happened to sportsmanship?”

“Whatever happened to loyalty?” He pouted. “My own father, rooting against me. I would never root against you, Emi.” Wanting to return to her blocks, Emi lifted Kenji up by his torso and placed him on her head. The batter laughed, laying on her with no protest.

“What!” The professor exclaimed. “I never said I was rooting against you. I was just— feeling enthusiastic, that’s all. For both teams.”

Mina entered the room, her mechanisms humming faintly. “Good evening, everyone.” The Sato’s greeted her accordingly. “I have a message for Ken.”

The mentioned Ken slumped into his daughter, rolling his eyes. “Here we go. I bet it’s the press.” He scoffed. “Let me guess, at least 30 emails asking for my statement. Or, better yet, it’s Shimura warning me not to miss the next game.” He raised his fist, mocking a reporter’s tone: “We’ve witnessed baseball history tonight, folks! Blah, blah, blah.”

“Actually, it’s an invitation for something else.” Mina hovered closer. “An event.”

This caught his attention. Kenji tilted his head. “For what?”

“A party, hosted by various sponsors.”

“Bit too early for an afterparty, don’t you think?” Ken sighed, resting his head on folded arms. “We’ve only won one game.”

“I suppose it’s to celebrate Mr. L/n as well.” Mina would shrug if she had the shoulders to do so. “His coming to Japan is quite a big deal.”

“Great.” Kenji was half-asleep by then, eyes already closed. “All the more reason for me not to go.” The professor had settled himself onto one of the desks, getting into some light reading. Emi had grown tired herself, and decided that she was not interested in the blocks anymore. Waddling to her spot, (with Kenji still on her head), she yawned, and opted for some much-needed sleep.

Mina’s light blinked. “I think you should go, Ken.”

The rightfielder cracked one eye open. “And why would I do that?”

“I think it would benefit you to interact with Mr. L/n more.”

“Mina, that’s literally the last thing I want.”

“Is it?”

Ken frowned. “What do you mean, ‘is it’? Of course it is.”

“Your vitals seemed to say otherwise earlier.”

Kenji scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I was keeping careful watch of your vitals, as I always do. I have your daily status tracked and recorded.”

Kenji couldn't get rid of Mina’s voice in his head. Even amidst the warm crowd, with chatter swaying smoothly atop of light r&b music, he felt as if he could still hear her words ringing in the back of his mind. It remained vivid, though she had told it to him days ago. It was as clear as day. Like a broken record.

“Believe it or not, the heart beats differently for every emotion. There is a difference between fear, anxiety, excitement, and—”

Kenji stared at you from across the room, watching as you conversed with your team, nursing a glass of cold, hard whiskey. He watched as you bowed your head and smiled, listening for the faint, muffled sound of your laughter. He wondered what you were talking about; what joke might have made you grin that hard. He wondered why you seemed to illuminate a room, and why everyone seemed so drawn. His eyes were caught in the way the colorful lights sank into your hair.

“—Infatuation.”

You looked up, and your eyes met his. Kenji flinched. He felt his heart skip a beat. Shit, he thought. Mina was definitely going to catch that. She had probably already marked it down to tease him for it later. You held his gaze for longer than he could have standed and greeted him with that same annoying wink. The same one you gave him on the field. Confident, snarky, playful. You lifted your glass and took a sip, eyes still trained on his.

“What you may perceive as frustration for him might just be the opposite.”

Kenji's jaw clenched. Mina had no idea what she was talking about.

And he would prove her wrong tonight.

Like a soldier marching into battle, he waded through the party to make his way towards you. Was he intimidated? Yes. Unfortunately, he was. But he knew his way around a crowd, and his weapon-of-a-tongue knew all the right talk to make a conversation work. He was sociable like that. He was a poet, a wordsmith. If you weren't careful, one little exchange could have you wrapped around his finger. Some people called it his charisma, some blamed it on his irresistible good looks. Either way, Ken took it. He wasn't going to deny the fact that people loved talking to him — though he, admittedly, didn't really like talking to them in return. But he could do it. He could make it work.

Besides, how bad could you be?

With a newfound confidence, Ken dared to get closer. The distance between you and him lessened, and– oh, fuck, was that your cologne? He blinked. You smelled so good. Why did you smell so good? “Hey. Hi.” Shit. Abort mission. No, it's too late. Too awkward to back out. You were already looking at him. “L/n, yeah?” He spoke your name like he only just remembered you upon seeing you. When in truth, he hadn't stopped thinking about you since that damn first pitch. “Some game, huh?” Ken held his hand out for you to shake. ‘Fuck, I hope he doesn't notice how clammy it is.’

“Ken Sato.” It was the first time he heard your voice, as well as the first time he heard you say his name. He didn't like how his body reacted. There was a small shiver down his spine, a tingling flutter in his chest. You took his hand. Yours was cold. So cold. Kenji concluded that the icy glass of whiskey you had placed on the counter was to blame. He could feel your callouses against his. Your hands mirrored one another, marked with the battlescars of your sport. He was oddly sensitive to every detail. Touching you was.. a sensation.

You gave him a firm shake before promptly letting go.

“That's me,” he said, miraculously. Ken was oscillating between panic and confidence at a speed that likely wasn't normal. He was holding his own, though. Like the real champ he was. It was surreal to be standing in front of you without a ball to keep you apart. No bat, no competition. Just you, and a few shots of alcohol. “You adjusting into Japan alright?”

“As well as I can.” You shrugged. You had a tone to you; an elegant air of grace and self-assurance. You had no need to raise your voice because you knew he'd do his best to listen. It was pissing him off. “It's definitely different from the States.”

“I gotta say, I'm pretty surprised to see you here.” Ken usually knew what to say when it came to conversations. He never blanked out at interviews, nor left dead air hanging at conferences. But speaking with you made him feel like his vocabulary was on a limit. “After a game like that?” He whistled. “A lesser man would've taken a week off.”

“But we're not lesser men, are we, Ken?” A waitress passed by. Without the need to look, you had grabbed two shots of vodka from her tray. You handed the other one to him. “That's why you're here, too.”

He stared at you, brows furrowed slightly. “Exactly.” He took the shot from your hand and bumped the rim against yours. “Cheers.”

You grinned. “Cheers.”

Kenji tilted his head back, downing his drink, tasting the fire run down his throat. His face screwed up a little, but not enough for you to notice. You did the same, sighing the heat out of your nose. You allowed a small laugh to slip past your lips. “Japan’s liquor is surprisingly stronger.”

Kenji chuckled. “Yeah. If you know where to look.” The music felt like it was growing louder. He leaned in to speak to you better. “You know, I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting.”

You nodded. “Neither can I.”

“The Mets and Dodgers have always been at each other's throats, and yet—”

“Our schedules just never lined up.” You scoffed. “What are the odds of that, huh?”

It really was such a coincidence. If Ken had known that your interactions would've fired the press up as much as it did now, he would've fought to face you sooner. “When was it?” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Playoffs. 2019, I think. The Mets were set to face the Dodgers.”

“2019,” you repeated, brows raised. “I was there.” Kenji took notice of the way your head slightly shifted to the side. Like you were trying to get a better look at him. He swallowed thickly. “I was there.” You shrugged. “You weren't.”

“I was overseas.” He was wanting another drink. But, speaking to you was surprisingly not horrible. “Didn't get back until 3 months in. And when I did—”

“I wasn't there,” you chuckled. “Alright. I remember. 2019, I was gone for half the season. Injury.”

“The world was in shambles.” Ken grinned at you. A second waiter passed by. He grabbed you another glass of whiskey. He took scotch for himself. “See what I mean? It's like– divine intervention.”

“Big word.” To say that fate had a hand to play in yours and his meeting was beyond your beliefs. You didn't place your trust in things like that. But to know that he had thought about it was charming.

“Hey.” Ken shrugged. “Ya’ never know.”

The music shifted, and so did the lights. There was a moment of quiet between the both of you, and in that time, you found a common interest in people-watching. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, nor the absence of something to talk about. The two of you merely agreed upon the minutes it took to watch the party unfold. A good number of the guests were already drunk. The dance floor was alight and occupied mostly by women. Ken rested his weight on one foot, sighing at his still-aching muscles. He wondered if you were any sore too.

“They love it, don't they?” You leaned your back against the counter, arms crossed over your chest. Ken took quick notice of the necklace worn loosely around your neck. A silver dogtag, similar to his. “The drama. The intensity. Even the things that go on beyond the field.”

Ken shrugged. “It's baseball. Who doesn't?”

“Exactly.” You smiled. “Which is why it's important to always let the home team win the first game.”

It took a moment for Kenji to process what you said. He was distracted by the colorful lights, his favorite song coming on, and a tray full of hors d'oeuvres. “Mhm.” He reached over to take one, before— “Wait.” His brows knitted together. “I'm sorry, what?”

“Hm?” You had your lips pressed together into a thin line. Your expression feigned innocence, a stark contrast to your bold statement. “I said it's important to let the home team win the first game.”

Kenji made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. He couldn't believe his ears. Had he been standing by the speakers for too long? “No, I heard what you said. What I'm asking is what you're saying.” It was a dare of a reply, with a tone that commanded: go on. Clarify.

Your smile refused to leave your face. Nearing the batter, ever so carefully, you whispered:

“I'm saying you won because I let you.”

Kenji blinked.

And there it was. He knew you were too good to be true. Goddammit, he knew it! Beneath your seemingly-perfect self was something cold and rotten and he called it. He fucking called it. How thrilled he was to be correct, and oh, how utterly terrified.

But this was good. This was absolutely good. He needed something to hold onto, something to keep himself afloat. The next time he found himself drowning in your eyes again, he'd only need to remember that you were a grade A asshole. That you had the audacity to claim that you were in full control of the game. Surely it would solve all his problems.

Kenji broke out into a laugh. It started out as a small cluster of sarcastic chuckles, but erupted into actual laughter. You were funny. So, so funny. Unbeknownst him, you were watching with amusement. “Because you let me!” Kenji repeated, smiling, but, exasperated. Two can play at that game. “Right. Of course. Totally not because you're an average pitcher and I can bat anything you throw.”

“If that helps you sleep at night.” You shrugged. Your attention wasn't on him anymore. You were watching the crowd, disinterested.

Kenji felt his eye twitch. “That's big talk coming from someone who got struck out by a rookie.” He was referring to the eighth inning, when Tateoka managed to bat your pitch into a homerun.

“That's right, Sato.” You laughed, low and sultry. “Batted by a rookie. How could I have struck you out at the last inning but be batted by a rookie?” You tilted your head at him, brows knitted together. You spoke in a sickeningly soft tone. Like you were helping a toddler understand something simple. “Doesn't seem to make a lot of sense, does it?”

Kenji was growing flustered. His face was warm and his fist was itching to meet your cheek. Nobody spoke to him this way. Sure guys had been mean to him before, but it was mostly because they were threatened by him. They'd tried to put him down and pick apart his flaws, but what you were doing was something different. You weren't claiming that he was weak, you were claiming that you were stronger. You didn't deny the amount of talent that Ken had in his body, but you were fully convinced that you had more. You were bigger, smarter, and better. And you had him under your control.

“Oh, c’mon. Seriously?” God, your voice. It infuriated him. It drove him insane. You leaned in, closer, whispering your words, as if hearing you through the party wasn't hard enough. He could smell the whiskey on your breath. It mingled with your cologne. It was intoxicating. “Are you blushing?”

He scoffed in disbelief. “No.” Except he totally was. He could feel the heat radiating off of his face. His breathing had gone shallow, his heartbeat rapid. “Why would I– Tch. You— You don't know what you're talking about.” Holy shit. He was a mess.

He wanted so desperately to blame it on the alcohol, but he knew damn well he wasn't drunk enough to be acting the way he was. He was stumbling over his words stone-cold sober.

You were smiling. He was dying, and you were smiling. “You amuse me, Sato.”

Ken took a cautious step back, knowing that being that close to you for too long was only going to make him worse. “Who the hell do you think you are, huh?” He had to retaliate somehow. Like a soldier fumbling for his sword, he had to get up and do something. “You don't think I don't know what this is? Where you're heading?”

You tilted your head. “Do enlighten me.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Sure. Celebrity-Athlete from America waltzes into Japan thinking he's the shit— that he can rule the world. He's a shiny new toy and everyone's just dying to catch a look. Nevermind that his old team traded him off, nevermind that he goes home to an empty penthouse. He's got the stats to prove his skills and he thinks he doesn't need anything else.” Ken dared to retake a step forward. He sort of regretted it when you didn't take a step back. “Well, guess what,” he continued. “I've been where you are. I know how you feel, what you're thinking.

Everything you're trying to be is a shadow of what I already was.”

There was a beat of silence. You weren't smiling anymore. You were staring at him, stone-faced, seemingly indifferent.

Kenji narrowed his eyes. “So don't go talking to me like you're any better.”

He didn't know what to expect. You were quiet for such a long time that he thought you were going to snap. He partially expected a punch to the chin. But you were calm. There wasn't a trace of irritation on your face. Instead, you set your glass of whiskey — now empty — on the counter behind you. With a sigh, you shoved a hand in your pocket. “Are you done?”

Kenji blinked.

“Let me tell you something, Sato.” You raised a brow at him. Ken felt his heartbeat pick up again. Your once-approachable gaze shifted into something cold and commanding. He swallowed thickly. “There is a difference between you and me. And that difference is the fact that I don't settle.”

Kenji was glaring at you, brows fixed together.

A teammate called you from the other side of the room. You nodded at him, once, then returned your focus to the Yomiuri Prince. You placed a hand on his shoulder, tauntingly, smiling at him as if you'd known him your whole life. “I hope last season’s slump accustomed you to the feeling of losing those points.”

Kenji wanted to say something, but his lips refused to move. Somehow, the blaring music in the background had faded into a muffled blur. All he could hear was your voice. Like a moth to a flame.

You winked at him. Again. And like before, his body reacted in ways he didn't like. You squeezed his shoulder once, before leaving to go to your friend. With your back turned against him, Kenji released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He clutched his chest, watching wide-eyed as you moved through the crowd. He could still smell your cologne. The last thing he heard from you was,

“I'll see you on the field.”

taglist: @fairy-lenaa @moonjellyfishie @witchygod — Thank you for your patience!

#kenji sato #ken sato x reader #x reader #ultraman rising #ken sato x male reader #kenji sato x male reader

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 6 months

Text

Take Care of You [10]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 5.7k

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[A/N: 🤡. I came back to life to immediately die off again i'm so sorry. here take this next part and all my love. speaking of my love, i already closed beta readers on tiktok but for anyone on here, if you wanna see why i've been so MIA, shoot me a message with your email if you wanna beta read my original work (i do ask that you do a questionnaire afterwards but that's just to help me out). But, imagine a scifi/fantasy where the book 'Six of Crows' meets 'The Last of Us', and I have good sources that y'all like TLOU👀]

[A/N pt.2: I did not edit this to the degree I should have and there is no tag list at the bottom i am so so so so sorry].

10: THE EVIDENCE IS PRETTY DAMNING

The ceiling wasn’t right.

That was your first, foggy thought when your eyes opened. Rather than the bumpy, plaster speckles collecting dust it was smooth and off white. You slowly sat up with a groan, head spinning and mouth dry, and you blinked three times before your situation dawned on you. This was not your bed, not your house. Fuck. You set your hands on the bed to lean back then winced. With a hiss, you pulled your hand up and saw the bandaged injury from last night.

You cradled the hand with your other and turned to hang your legs over the edge of the bed. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a note on the nightstand. You leaned over. There was a full water bottle and a bottle of tylenol resting on top of a piece of paper. On the paper, in scratchy, nearly illegible, writing was, ‘Come downstairs when you’re ready. Feel free to use the shower and change if you want. ⏤Joel’. You dragged your fingers to trace the words.

With a shaky breath, you grabbed the water bottle and took a couple pills in hopes to nurse the aches and pains you felt. You stared at the words again. Last night, Joel admitted to being married to Sarah’s mom and you had responded by passing the fuck out. You had tried to argue, demand more information, but your body fought against your curiosity. All the drinks you had prior and the fading adrenaline from the fight probably hadn’t helped.

You rose from the bed with a groan and crossed to use the bathroom adjoined to Joel’s bedroom. When you flicked the lights on, you took the first movement to glance around the space. The walls were beige with white tile floors. On one side was a large jacuzzi style tub next to an expansive walk in shower. On the other was ample counter space and drawers with matching him and her sinks. In the back was the small room where the toilet sat and beyond that a walk in closet. The space was lived in. A dirty clothes basket off to the side half full, toiletries on the counter and on the shelves in the shower, you spotted a pair of glasses you had never seen Joel wear resting by the sink on the right side of the counter. That must be the one Joel used most. A toothbrush sat by it and you noticed water by the rim like he hadn’t wiped up when finished.

Also on the counter were a stack of clothes, you stepped toward it and saw it was a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants that must have belonged to him. On top of it was a brand new toothbrush. Your gaze lifted to look at yourself in the mirror and you flinched. You looked a mess⏤ your hair, your clothes, everything. You rubbed at your face with a sigh and slipped into a morning time routine despite the unfamiliar setting.

Celina.

The name rang in your head over and over and over again. It didn’t matter that you had been only half with it last night. You remembered that clearly. As you cleaned up, your headache began to improve and by time you left the bathroom you at least felt human again. A new anger bubbled just under your skin. You couldn’t quite yet put your anger into words, but you knew it was there. After washing up, you traded the clothes you wore to the bar for the ones Joel left you. The shirt was worn out, like it was aged, and navy in color. It read ‘Miller’s Contracting’ with a number on it for contact. It reminded you of the kind of shirt a small company would make and not a multi-million dollar one. You tightened the waistband of Joel’s sweatpants. They were at least joggers so you didn’t have to worry about tripping over yourself.

You crossed the upstairs, open space to the stairs. Faintly, you heard the sound of someone moving around downstairs. A brief wave of nervousness had you hesitating at the top of the stairs, but it slipped away back to anger. It seemed that was where your heart was making camp this morning.

Slowly, you descended the stairs. The wooden floors under your feet didn’t creak or make noise as you padded into the living room first. A few couches were situated in front of a wall that held a large flat screen TV and a fireplace. The back wall was made of glass, a window and door all in one that revealed the back patio where a small pool and deck were, and the space beside it was the kitchen. Just as open as the rest of Joel’s house. The cabinets were made of dark wood with matching countertops and at the center was a large island with chairs.

On the island counter looked like to-go boxes of food. You stared at them a moment longer, but a door hidden just out of view on the wall in the kitchen opened. Joel stepped into the kitchen nonchalantly until he spotted you and did a double take. He froze and stared. The two of you were actually similarly dressed. He had on a t-shirt that looked tight on his broad shoulders and a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. Joel looked exhausted.

“Hey.” He said softly. “Mornin’, sug⏤” Joel stopped himself, it looked like he choked on his words, but he locked his jaw and changed direction. “Mornin’. How did you sleep?” You gave a small shrug and a tight lipped smile. “Right. How’s your…” Joel lifted his own hand. “Your hand?”

You lifted it up to stare down at it. The bandages had been pulled away when you washed up this morning. It didn’t look so bad. “It’s fine. Thanks for the⏤ the tylenol. And the toothbrush. And the,” You motioned to the clothes hanging off your frame, “You know.”

“Can I?” Joel nodded toward you.

“I said, it’s fine, Joel.”

“I…” He sighed and the look in his eyes was agonizing. “I know you’re pissed at me. Understandably so. But, please let me…”

You walked over to sit down at one of the tall chairs at the island counter and set your hand on the marble top. Joel mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ and disappeared for a quick second. He was back with a small first aid kit again. You twisted your lips when you felt his warm hand cautiously take yours. It was quiet as he reapplied a bit of medicine to the hand before wrapping it up again.

“You don’t…” Joel started then cleared his throat. You never would have used the word anxious to describe the Joel you had gotten to know thus far, but nervous energy seemed to radiate off him. The tension in his shoulders looked painful to keep hold of. “I had breakfast delivered. Some stuff I know you like.” Joel pulled his hand away from yours. “But you don’t have to stay if you don’t wanna.”

“No. I want to.” You replied. Joel looked briefly hopeful. “I want to talk about this. I want⏤ to know. I want answers.”

“Right. Of course.” Joel nodded quickly. “I owe you at least that.” You nodded in agreement. Joel straightened from where he stood and ran a hand over his chest and shoulder with a quiet cough. “Can I make you something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?”

You gave a small nod, mumbling a response, and watched as Joel put it all together. He poured himself a cup of coffee after serving you. Rather than take the seat beside you, he stood on the other side of the island counter across from you.

“You mentioned the girl from Vegas last night briefly, but how did you know…”

“Yo-yo told me you had a sugar baby before me. That you married her.”

“I did have a sugar baby before you, yes.” Joel sighed.

“Why did you lie to me?” You demanded.

Joel shook his head, “I never lied to you. I just⏤ I never told you, and you never asked.”

“Really?” You scoffed. “That’s what you wanna hang your hat on here? Semantics?” Joel hung his head then shook it a bit. “I didn’t want to believe her, but yesterday Nima texted someone she knows. A private investigator⏤”

Joel’s eyes widened, “You hired a private investigator??”

“I didn’t hire anybody! Nima just texted them and they confirmed⏤”

“You went to a PI before just asking me?” Joel replied sharply. You leaned back in your seat⏤ in shock at his audacity. He must have noticed how you felt because he held up a hand. “I just mean, that’s a huge invasion of privacy and all you had to do was call me⏤”

You pushed out of your seat and turned to leave. Joel called out after you before following. He grabbed your hand to tug you to a stop and you glared at him over your shoulder. You snapped, “If you’re just going to stand there and be defensive then there’s no reason for me to be here, Joel.” You pulled your hand out of his grip and spun to face him. “I understand that getting in contact with a fucking PI was a crazy move, but yesterday I felt a little crazy.” You scoffed. “I felt like an idiot. I felt like a naive, desperate idiot who got played. So, yeah, I let Nima text her cousin’s cousin’s cousin to find an answer because the thought of standing in front of you and asking⏤”

The rest of your words got caught in your throat. You didn’t want to get emotional in front of Joel. More than anything you wanted to keep your cool and be collected. Just in case he did break your heart, you could walk away with at least some of your dignity intact. Joel took a step closer. Thankfully, he didn’t try to touch you, but he did lift his hands slightly in surrender.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m being defensive. Hell, I'm being an ass.” You locked your jaw and let your eyes focus on something over his shoulder. Unable to stare into those deep, dark eyes. “This is… This isn’t an easy subject for me to talk about and I⏤ I panicked. I want you to hear me out. I want you to know the truth.” He shifted in his stance so your gaze was forced to meet his. The longing there made you suck in a sharp breath. “Please. Give me another chance to explain this. I’ll do better.”

You rubbed the back of your neck with your non-injured hand and gave a small nod.

“Thank you. Thank you.” Joel repeated himself. He took a step back but kept his shoulders facing you as if he thought you were a flight risk. Joel motioned to his couch. “Do you wanna sit? I’ll grab our drinks.” You sighed and meandered over to sit down on one end of his leather couch. Joel didn’t move back into the kitchen until after you were seated. He came back with both of your drinks and handed you your own before sitting on the other side of the couch. One cushion of space between the two of you.

You took a sip, trying to gather your thoughts, before nodding once. “I want to know about your wife first. Celina, you said? I want to know about her.”

“Yeah.” Joel swallowed thickly. “Do you remember anything I mentioned about Sarah’s mom before?”

“I didn’t know her name.” You replied. “You said the two of you had dated for, like, three months?” Joel nodded. “She got pregnant, and you worked it out. Things were fine, but two weeks after Sarah was born she left. You never said the two of you got married though.”

“Because we didn’t.” Joel replied softly. “I asked. Proposed to her when we found out she was pregnant with Sarah, and she said no.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he wasn’t meeting your gaze anymore. Joel stared down at the coffee mug in his hands. “I loved her. She was my first real love, actually. I knew our situation wasn’t ideal, but… I wanted it to work. I saw a future with her.” Joel ran his thumb back and forth on the edge of his mug’s rim where it reached. He chuckled, “When Sarah was born… Those two weeks? It was⏤ It was good. But, uh, then she left.” Joel shrugged in a way that attempted nonchalance but did not meet the mark. “Her leaving hurt for a lot of reasons. For one, in no way was I prepared to take care of a newborn.”

You set your drink on the coffee table before leaning back. Joel stayed silent, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and you recognized the look of someone getting stuck in their own memories. You spoke up, “What happened then? When did you get married?”

“Celina is…” Joel began. He rubbed his jawline. “I spent a lot of time being furious with her⏤ hating her. Not just for leaving me behind, but for leaving Sarah. Sarah deserved better.” He shook his head. “But she… she came to me, needing help, and I⏤ I couldn’t say no. Not to her. And not because I still had any sort of feelings for her, but because no matter how angry I was at her she gave me Sarah.” A vulnerable softness filled his features and he finally lifted his head to meet your gaze fully. “Without Celina, I wouldn’t have Sarah.”

You could understand that. You knew that his daughters meant absolutely everything to Joel. More so, despite all the shit going on between the two of you right now, despite Joel arguing otherwise, you knew he was a good man. You had a very hard time picturing him saying no to anyone who came to him for help.

“When did she come to you? And why? What problem is solved with marriage?”

“Three years ago. Just about.” Joel mumbled. “It’s… She was sick. Cancer. The only feasible treatment was going to bankrupt her because her insurance refused to cover the cost. Celina came back wanting to see Sarah. Get to know her before she died.” Your eyes widened in surprise at both the news and the confusion that came with trying to connect the dots. “I told her that was up to Sarah⏤ she was old enough to make that decision for herself and I was gonna support her with whatever she chose.”

You nodded slowly, “Okay…”

“Sarah decided she did want to meet her mom. And I…” Joel paused. He set his coffee mug down on the coffee table as well and laced his fingers together. He was fidgeting. Another nervous tick of his. Joel could never seem to keep his hands still when he was caught in his own mind. It was like his hands so desperately wanted to fix what stressed him out⏤ even if it wasn’t a physical problem they could fix. “I⏤ I couldn’t stop thinking… remembering…”

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, and the palpable pain had you shifting closer. It dawned on you. Words clicking in your mind. You set a hand on his forearm and gave it a small squeeze, “Your mom.” Joel had told you, ages ago, that he had lost his own mother to cancer. “You lost her. I remember you telling me.”

“Yes.” Joel unlaced his own fingers so he could settle one hand on top of yours⏤ still resting on his forearm. The tip of his thumb dragged back and forth against the knuckle of your index finger. Tracing the shape of it. “It wasn’t… It wasn’t the exact same, I know that, but… Sarah technically had already lost her once.”

“Joel…”

“I offered to pay. Pay for the treatment in full.” Joel’s thumb stilled to squeeze your hand once. “I’d cover all the costs, but⏤ but Celina refused. Said she didn’t want,” Joel scoffed with a humorless laugh, “Didn’t want to be a ‘charity case’. Said she didn’t come back for my money, or for me to fix the problem, she came back for Sarah.” Joel shook his head. “We argued in circles for God knows how long. We finally settled on this. If we got married, she’d have my insurance instead of her own. My insurance would cover most of the treatments and she’d pay what it didn’t.”

You understood that. It matched up with what you knew about Joel. “How is she? Now?”

“In remission. Since seven months ago, she’s been in remission.” A small smile flickered on his features. “She lives in Waco. Wanted to be closer to Sarah. One of the only reasons I could stomach all of us coming to LA while Sarah stayed in Texas for college. I knew she’d at least have her there in case of emergencies.”

Your face scrunched in question, “Then why… Why are you still married?”

“I don’t have a reason. Not a real one. Not beyond me just being lazy.” Joel said firmly. He held your hand tight, keeping it pinned to his arm, like it was a lifeline. “Up until now, it didn’t matter to me. It made no difference. That’s it. I swear to you, sugar.” The nickname fell out of his mouth like second nature. “And I’m working on changing that already. You can ask Tommy or⏤ or hell I’ll give you Celina’s number or our lawyer’s number. We started the official divorce paperwork the day you and I got back from Vegas. It was the first call I made after dropping you off at your place.”

You did believe him. As Joel held your gaze, all you could see in those soulful eyes was a deep desperation. An ache seeking the comfort that would come with reassurance. “I believe you.” You said softly and his eyes closed in relief. His entire body sagged as the tension seeped out of it. You really did believe him, and of all the ways this could’ve gone wrong technically you supposed this was the best case scenario. However, learning this made you realize what aspect of this bothered you more than most. You slid your hand out from under his. “Why… Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was… I was going to. After.”

“Why though? Why after?” You shook your head. “Why didn’t you trust me with this?” Joel’s face fell again. “I know we haven’t known one another for long, but…” You bit back your words before you admitted to the naive truth that you felt some sort of connection to him. That being with him was as easy as breathing and you foolishly let yourself get carried away. “I don’t…”

Joel quickly scooted closer, a hand held up in surrender, “Had nothing to do with⏤ with me not… I do trust you. I do.” Joel shook his head. “Me not mentioning this had nothing to do with you. It was me.” His words reminded you of Vegas. This excuse was sounding familiar and the more you heard it the harder it was to believe. He hung his head and winced. “I need to tell you about⏤ about Erina.”

“That’s…” You began. “Is that your sugar baby?

“Yeah.” Joel nodded. “But it was more complicated than that.”

“So, I’m gathering.” You mumbled. The words of frustration left your lips before you could filter them. In this situation, you felt you had every right to be upset and bitter, but the look of pained guilt that filled Joel’s features made every cell in your body vibrate with regret. It felt like you had just kicked a puppy, and those sad, brown eyes were heart wrenching. “Sorry.”

Joel shook his head quickly. “No. Don’t. You don’t need to be sorry. I do.”

“You’re talking to me⏤ answering my questions.” You replied with a small shrug. “The least I can do is not be petty.” You twisted your lips. “So? Tell me about her.”

“She wasn’t my sugar baby to begin with.” Joel started softly. He turned his head to keep his gaze on the mug sitting on the coffee table, and you found the story easier to stomach without those powerful eyes focused on you. “My company got hired for a job. It was a big one, which is why it came across my desk. Some summer project. A finance guy wanted his vacation house completely renovated in Malibu. I decided to take a more hands on position for the entire thing. Stayed on site to work.” It wasn’t a shock to hear. You were plenty aware that Joel spent most of his work time on site if he could. Joel only donned a tie for the board room when Tess wrestled him into it. “The guy who hired us wasn’t there, but his wife was. At least, I thought it was his wife.”

“But it wasn’t.”

Joel gave out a sad chuckle, “No. She wasn’t. Erina was… lively and energetic. She was fun, and I… It had been a long time since I experienced that kind of light hearted fun. Plus, the client, when he did come around, was such an asshole to her and I⏤” Joel sighed. “She left him midway through the project, but we didn’t get involved with one another until after it was over. When it started, it was great. The honeymoon phase was…” His voice trailed off as a small, sad smile crossed his face. You found your stomach churn in jealousy at him talking about this other woman. It was damn near nonsensical, but the emotion rose up regardless. “The issues started a while in. I realized that we saw the relationship differently. I thought… I thought what we had was real, and she only saw me as her new sugar daddy.”

For a while, we just went on. I didn’t think the difference in how we viewed things would matter. Stupid, I know, but… I thought I was happy.” Joel mumbled the last bit. He lifted a hand to rub at his jawline. “As you’ve probably figured out, I’m not⏤ I’m not good at this. Relationships and…” He tensed. “Some people are just better off alone, but I’ve been too hard headed to accept that.”

“Joel.” You interrupted the flow of his story at his claim. You didn’t believe that and you especially refused to believe it about Joel. “That’s not⏤”

“Things were still working until I…” Joel shook his head. “I told her about Celina. Tried to explain the situation to her, but when she told me to get divorced and I couldn’t⏤ that’s when it all started to crumble. I didn’t actually end the relationship until after I found out she was seeing a few other guys.” You opened your mouth the speak, the beginnings of a sentence you didn’t know how to end slipping from your tongue, but Joel suddenly turned in his seat to face you and the look in his eyes silenced any attempt at speech. He hesitantly reached out and let his hand settle on top of yours. When you didn’t pull away, he squeezed his grip tighter. “You and Erina are not the same. It wasn’t until after we stopped seeing one another that I realized how terrible our relationship had been. So please, please, don’t think I’m comparing you to her because I’m not. I know how she reacted is not some⏤ some default and you wouldn’t necessarily react the same, but… but every time I considered telling you about Celina, all I could imagine was you leaving. And I, selfishly, stopped myself from admitting the truth to you because I didn’t want to ruin this the way I ruin everything else.”

You murmured his name. Early on, you recognized Joel had trust issues, but you had never realized it stretched this far. Joel didn’t trust even himself. It broke your heart that he thought so poorly of himself. No matter how upset you were at the man you knew deep down he was a good. His mistake had hurt you, but it hadn’t been born of malice. You saw that now. Fear and self doubt had brought the two of you to this crossroads.

“Joel, that isn’t true.” You said softly. “You don’t ruin everything.”

“The evidence is pretty damning.” Joel chuckled sadly. You opened your mouth to argue, but he shook his head quickly and held out a hand to stop you. “That’s not the point of… I should’ve told you. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I should’ve told you, been up front about it all, and I’m sorry.” Joel sighed. “I’m sorry, sugar.”

He had answered a number of your questions and with the truth came the relief of knowing. Plus, the answer technically hadn’t been your worst case scenario. God knew your brain was plenty capable of thinking up some nightmare-ish situations. So in comparison, it would be worse. Still, there was an itch that hadn’t quite yet been scratched.

“Why… Why seek out a new sugar baby?” You asked. His experience with Erina had obviously been less than ideal so why try again? You shook your head, “Why me?”

“Those are two very different questions.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I …” Joel began hesitantly. You could see his thoughts jumbling in his mind as he struggled to string one along. Conversations like this were hardly considered Joel’s comfort zone so you did appreciate that he was trying. That went a long way as well. “Erina came back into my life not so long ago.” You felt your stomach drop and your heart clench painfully. The emotional response was so physical that it nearly made you sick. Joel must have noticed because he quickly reached out and settled a hand on your shoulder. “No. Not like that. She means nothing to me. She came to me wanting to get back together, harassing me about it, but I’ve made it crystal clear to her and everyone around us that I have no interest in restarting something with her. Especially now.”

“Okay…”

“The idea was…” Joel winced sheepishly. “The idea was to hire a sugar baby as a way to show her that I was serious. We were done and I was moving on.” It was ridiculous enough that from anyone’s else mouth you wouldn’t have believed them, but they had been said in Joel’s sincerity. “I know how that sounds.”

“Not good. It sounds not good.”

“I know. Everyone told me it was a bad idea. Tess, Sarah, Ellie.” You found it interesting that his daughters knew about their father’s love life to that degree. It spoke to how close they were and his stance on honesty. Joel chuckled. “Actually, the only person who agreed with me on the plan was Tommy, but I suppose that should’ve been a sign to give it up.” Your lips twitched up mildly in amusement. “But, deep down I knew it would hurt Erina, and I… I wanted to be petty.”

You shrugged, “And I’m apart of this… how? To annoy Erina?”

“No.” Joel said firmly, almost roughly. “Absolutely not. Remember the day you bought me that coffee? I said I had been meeting with some other, um, women?” You nodded and let him continue. “By time I made it to the that coffee shop, I had already half decided to give up the idea. It was obviously going poorly. I was literally just looking for someone I wouldn’t mind spending time with and I couldn’t even do that. But you were… God, meeting you felt like a breath of fresh air.” He messily ran a hand through his hair while his other continued to fidget. “You stayed on my mind and when I spotted you again…”

“I…” You tried to find the right words. The ones he would want to hear. It felt odd to give forgiveness for a misunderstanding, but you knew that’s what he was seeking. Validation. “I forgive you.”

The relief on Joel’s face was staggering and when he held a hand out to you, you knew exactly what he was asking for. You closed the space and let him pull you into a hug. His warm, large hands enveloped you as he craddled the back of your head to hold you as closely to him as you could. You wrapped your own arms around him and lazily dragged your thumb up and down where it rested.

You did forgive him for this. That was the truth and you meant it with your whole heart, but this entire experience was eye opening. You had fallen for Joel so dangerously fast. It made you realize that if this had been a different scenario, one of the nightmare-ish ones you imagined, it would’ve destroyed you. With the speed you were moving in, you would’ve hit the ground at a million miles per hour and shattered. You forgave Joel, but you needed to figure out a way to better guard your heart.

“I’m sorry for reaching out to a PI.”

“No. Don’t be.” Joel pulled back and the hand at the back of your head dragged forward to cup the side of your face. He sighed, “You were right. I should’ve handled this better, but I… I do appreciate you saying so.” The two of you sat in a moment of silence and for the first time since you met him that silence felt awkward. Joel must have felt it as well based on the clearing of his throat and fidgeting. “So… Are we— Are we okay?”

You nodded, “I think so.” The tension left Joel’s shoulders and you quickly stood. “I should… I should go.”

“You’re off today though, aren’t you?” Joel stood as well.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Stay. Please.” Joel motioned back to the kitchen. “Have breakfast. I called Tommy and he’s gonna bring over your stuff.” Your eyes widened in surprise and he shrugged. “Tommy is gonna bring over your friend who has your stuff I should say.”

You hesitated, nervous after this heart to heart, but Joel held out a hand to you. Equally a peace offering and lifeline. You just weren’t sure if it was a lifeline for you or him. You set your hand in his and he gave it a small squeeze. The smile on his face was soft and open. Two words you knew not many people were able to claim as a description with him.

Joel led you back toward the kitchen and when you turned to try and go back for your mug he stopped you. He settled you on one of the bar stools, hands lingering on your hips briefly, before going back to the living room for both your mugs.

“You know, when I pictured you spending the night here this wasn’t quite how I thought it’d go.” Joel chuckled and grabbed a plate. You leaned on the counter and waited since you knew that plate he was making was meant for you. It took a second for his words to dawn on you. Joel pictures you spending the night in his home with him? Your face and neck warmed at the thought. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had those kinds of ideas, but hearing it from him still made your heart flutter. Even with the disaster miscommunication still lingering in your rear view mirror. “Here. Lemme know if you want anything else.” Joel set the plate in front of you and handed you a fork. After making his own plate, he pulled the barstool beside you closer and sat down. He sat sideways to face you and his knee pressed against your stool. “We could, uh, we could have a day in.”

“Hm?” You took a bite of your food.

“We’re both in pajamas and neither of us have work.”

“You don’t have work?” You asked in surprise.

Joel shook his head. “I already called Tess and told her I wasn’t coming in today. Told her I was feeling sick.”

“Did she actually believe you?” You smirked.

“No.” Joel chuckled. “She didn’t. But she also didn’t call me out on my shit, so…”

He gave you a charming smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood, and you found you appreciated it. Things weren't perfect, but for the sake of what had been you were willing to try.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #sugar daddy!joel miller x reader #sugardaddy!joel miller #i forgot what tags i used to use #oh lord #uh #reader insert #joel miller

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mermaidgirl30 · 3 months

Text

✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 4: Meet Me In the Library✨

Club owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to @joelmillerisapunk and @mountainsandmayhem for being my betas 🩷 I hope you guys enjoy this part!

Chapter Summary: Joel shows up at your job unexpectedly and asks you to help him find a book.

Rating: Explicit 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.3k

Chapter Tags: Allusions to smut, flirting, pining, Joel asks you to help him find a book, sexual tension

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s Tuesday, and you still can’t stop thinking about the aftermath of Saturday night. The way Joel took you on the pool table, the way his filthy words rushed through your body and pulled heat to your core, the way he fucked you relentlessly until you were liquid beneath him. But what you really can’t stop thinking about is how soft he was with you after. The way he held you against his chest while his calloused fingers ran softly through your locks, the way he made you feel so… safe.

He’s… incredible.

You don’t really pay attention with the stack of books you’re carrying to the back until you run straight into Jane, your coworker who skates circles around you day after day.

She huffs as you collide into her, and she grabs them out of your hands and gives you a displeased snarl. “Will you just watch where you’re going for once? Honestly, it’s like you’re in a fog lately,” she mutters as she rolls her eyes.

“Sorry, Jane. Really, I didn’t see you there,” you apologize.

“You don’t see a lot of things lately,” she mumbles out while holding the books close to her chest. “Just go help some customers, you’re getting on my last nerves.”

She whispers curses under her breath as she disappears through the double doors, and you can’t help but giggle as her glasses fall from her head.

You guess you should make some use of the rest of your shift. Not like you can pay attention. The only thing you want to think about right now is being underneath Joel again.

You pick up a copy of an old history book about Greece that was left on the front counter and decide to take it back to where it belongs. As you start to walk past the first wooden bookshelf, you turn the corner and run straight into a broad chest that feels like a thick brick wall. When you look up and see who it is, you freeze.

Joel.

“Joel! What are you doing here?” you gasp as the library book goes tumbling from your shaky hands. Joel quickly catches it with ease before it lands flat on the marble floor.

“Thought I’d drop by. Was in the neighborhood,” he shrugs. He quickly flips through the white pages of the large book with interest, and you stand and gawk as his calloused thumb glides with ease over the worn pages.

“A book about Greece, huh?” he asks as if it’s got your name written all over it.

“Was just taking it back to the section it belongs in.” You reach out and grab it nicely out of his large hands, but before you can slide your hand away, his calloused skin connects with yours and heat burns automatically through your body like he just set your skin on complete fire.

You clear your throat and smooth a lock of hair nervously back in place before you give away how ecstatic and nervous you are to see him.

“You ever been?” he asks as he nods to the book that’s now in your clutch.

“What?”

“To Greece,” he chuckles.

“Oh, right.” You shake your head out of a trance and pull yourself together. “No, it’s on my bucket list,” you sigh.

“My, uhhh… my daughter’s actually over there right now studying abroad,” he smiles with pride shining in his chocolate eyes.

Your eyes go wide as you take in the new information. “You have a daughter?” you ask slowly.

“Mhm. Her name’s Sarah.”

“Is she your only one?” you ask curiously, shifting your weight onto your left hip as you hug the history book closer to your chest.

“Yeah, she’s my only one.” He smiles, and suddenly you’re smiling right back at him with warmth in your cheeks.

He’s a dad? He’s probably such a good dad, too. How could he not be? Just look at him. He’s soft, sweet, and just so very perfect.

“What is she studying?” you ask as you let some customers slip past you and Joel by the lit entryway.

“Architecture,” he states with a small smile edging his beautiful eyes.

“Architecture?” you ask with a raised brow. “Well then, that’s the perfect place to study,” you smile.

“Figured the same.”

“Do you have any pictures?” you ask as you take a step closer to him, letting the book drop in your grasp as you slide next to him.

He nods as he traces thick fingers through his tousled curls, his eyes sparkling almost onyx as he pulls the iPhone out of the pocket of his dark jeans. His thumb flips through his pictures carefully, and you tense as you see his biceps flex as his fingers work the phone, practically shredding the green flannel that threads around his broad shoulders. You can barely breathe standing this close to him, and he hasn’t even done anything to you today.

Fuck. You’ve got it so bad.

He decides on one, stopping his thumb from flipping any further in the photo album, and then he holds it out to show you. You walk straight up to his side, just like a magnet being pulled by gravity, and when you brush against his green flannel you shake inside.

You smile as you take in the picturesque image on the glow of the screen. Soft ocean waves lap in the back as the sun sets high on the coast. In the middle of the picture stands a young girl that definitely resembles Joel. Long, winding strands of hair fall over her shoulders, a grin as wide as a mile long, and bright eyes flash up to the camera.

Joel has a daughter.

“Wow. It’s so beautiful there. And Sarah? She’s so pretty,” you beam as your eyes lift up to his crinkled, mesmerizing hazel flecks.

“Yeah, she’s a beauty. And smart as hell. Don’t know where she gets it,” he chuckles as he flips through more photos.

“I’m sure she gets it from you,” you giggle.

“Nah. Don’t think so, darlin’,” he laughs.

He flicks through a few more pictures, showing you the scenery of the glorious country, the architecture, the absolute beauty of it all. And you stand there and hold your breath, clinging to every picture, every word that rolls off his tongue, every flit of his caramel eyes. He’s got your full attention.

When he finishes and shoves the phone deep in the pocket of his jeans, he stands back and looks at you. Really takes a good look at you and smiles as he turns his body and brushes his calloused fingertips across your skin. The room is suddenly ten degrees hotter.

“So, you gonna help me find a good book to read or what?” he smiles, brushing a strand of grey off his tanned forehead.

You gulp as you watch him, nearly drooling at the sight of his tousled curls and crooked smile. Something about this man just makes you want to follow him anywhere he goes. “You want me to help you find a book?” you laugh as you cling the book about Greece to your chest.

“Ain’t that what I said?” he asks with a raised brow.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Okay then. Follow me,” you smile, feeling his large presence burn behind your back.

You slip the book about Greece back into its proper spot in the history section and let your hand slide against the dark wood of the shelf, the sunshine flooding in through the large, cascading windows that surround the back wall.

You turn around and place your fingers close to your smooth lips, arching an eyebrow as you look him up and down slowly, trying to conjure up the perfect book for him to read.

You take in his dark denim jeans, the leather boots that are always laced up perfectly, the soft flannel that hugs his large biceps, his messy grey curls that sometimes fall over his tanned skin, mindlessly gawking at the perfect man that he is. Tall, dark, handsome, just like you always read about in your favorite romance books.

He smirks your way, catching you staring as he clears his throat. “You jus’ gonna stare or are you gonna give me some recommendations?” he asks playfully with the tick of his jaw.

You shake your head out of the cloudy fog and nod your head. “Just trying to get a feel for you,” you mumble.

“Think you’ve already got a pretty good feel of me, wouldn’t you say, angel?” He smirks your way, eyes darkening as you imagine yourself back under his strong body, taking him hard and fast against the pool table, ragged breaths uncontrolled as he takes you over the edge time and time again.

Fuck. Now is not the time to get all flustered and heated. You’re working.

“Stop teasing me,” you blush.

“Didn’t know I was,” he winks. He fucking knew what he was doing.

“Well, we’re never going to get a book picked out for you at this rate,” you laugh.

He shifts his weight and leans on one of the shelves that’s stacked high with literature and history books, looking over you slowly as he says, “Let’s change it up a bit. What’s your favorite book besides Pride and Prejudice?”

“Mine? I thought we were trying to find something for you,” you say dismantled.

He shrugs. “Asked you a question,” he states bluntly.

“This isn’t about me,” you say as you shake your head.

“No? I’m askin’ because I want to know what you would read. Give me a recommendation off that list, any book you’d read regularly, and I’ll pick that one.”

“You want to read one of my books?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “If it’s important to you then I’ll give it a shot. Even if it’s somethin’ I’d never even think to pick up. This’ll jus’… let me inside your mind a bit more.”

You gawk at him, staring as you curl your fingers around the fabric of your dress, trying to piece together exactly what you just heard. He wants to see inside your mind, wants to read what you would? God, this man will be the death of you.

“What’s the last book you read?” he asks casually as he follows you through the large library, the bookshelves turning into mazes as you take him further into the back. The area where fantasy and romance are. Your favorite.

“Oh, you wouldn’t like…”

“Try me,” he challenges, eyes darkening and narrowing with the hint of a playful smirk on his lips.

Oh. He really is serious.

“Okay then, Miller. Follow me,” you grin as you lead him straight to the fantasy section where the books are spread wide and far, encapsulated by an arch that blocks out half the sunlight, where nobody else is currently standing.

“Fantasy section, huh? I knew it,” he chuckles under his breath as he leans back against one of the sky high shelves stacked with some of your favorite fantasy books.

“Yeah, what gave me away?” you ask, fluttering your long eyelashes as your fingertip skates across the various colored hardback covers.

“Ain’t that what all the pretty girls are readin’ these days?” he smirks, his brown eyes glinting almost gold as he smiles at you from just a few feet away.

You shake your head as you search for the book you’re looking for. “Think charm is going to get you far, Joel?”

“I’d like to think so, angel,” he mutters huskily. Your cheeks burn hot at the way he says that, like he wants to keep going with whatever this is. The thought makes you a bit dizzy, if you’re being honest with yourself.

You thumb through the section, searching through stacks of colorful books, looking and looking until you find exactly what you want. You pull out the hardcover book and tap the cover, nodding your head as you hand it over to Joel. “Here it is. The last book I read.”

He takes it from you slowly, opening the cover of the book to read the summary while he hums under his breath, like he’s assessing your choice very carefully. He closes it shortly after and flips it over. “Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros?” he asks with one eyebrow raised in question.

“Mhm,” you hum. “That’s the one.”

He presses his tongue into the middle of his cheek, flicking his brown doe eyes up to yours as he taps the edge of the book to his side. “Dragons, romance, war?” he asks as he takes a step closer, making you almost drop a book from the shelf as you study his expressive features.

“Yeah, it’s amazing. In case you haven’t heard, you’re really missing out,” you giggle, twirling the end of a lock of hair around your index finger as nerves pull down your spine.

“Guess I’ll jus’ have to read it and tell you what I think then,” he smiles as he tucks the book close to his side.

“Really?” you ask with wide eyes. “You’re not going to say no?”

“Like I said, let me inside that pretty mind of yours. I wanna read what you’ve read,” he murmurs as he takes another step forward, making your back go flush against the heavy bookshelf as a book slips from your hand and falls to the floor.

Your breathing goes ragged as he takes two more steps, each one making your heartbeat frantic as he cages you in. He places the book down and then his strong arms brush against your shoulders as his hands land on each side of the bookshelf, his hot breath blowing down your neck as the room suddenly turns scorching hot.

He leans his head down low and breathes warm air against the shell of your ear as he pushes back a lock of your hair, lingering his calloused fingers on your skin. “You know, I’ve never met a librarian quite as easy on the eyes before,” he whispers. “Especially one that’s so… adventurous as yourself.”

You suck in a breath, and your cheeks burn crimson red at the compliment. You shake your head and laugh. “Think you might have something to do with that.”

He chuckles and runs the tip of his thumb against your jawline, making you incredibly frazzled as his chest leans into yours. “Maybe so, little daredevil,” he smirks.

Your mouth parts open as he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, making tingles run through your bloodstream as your chest tightens. His deep brown eyes pierce into yours, and they’re so magnetic you feel like you could collide with him at any second.

His eyes gaze down to your glossy lips and that stare, that achingly painful, yearning stare shoots absolute want into your body. His plush lips look so soft, soft enough to caress and brush over your own lips.

The room feels like a sauna now as his body meets yours, hands buzzing on your skin, your mind reeling at the thought of kissing him. Kissing is intimate, kissing leads to more, kissing is dangerous. But yet for the moment you don’t care. The only thing you want, need right now is his lips on yours.

Your fingers clutch around the fabric of his flannel, pulling him flush to your chest as your breathing rapidly spirals into a full on panic attack. You’re at work, you should be helping customers, should be anywhere but in the back fantasy section with Joel where the lighting is dim and where practically no one can see you.

He leans further into you, taking his hand through your hair, curling his thick fingers under your chin so you’re staring straight into those honey glazed eyes that make you want to melt. And he’s telling you with his body language, with his starry eyes, with that longing stare that he wants to kiss. And you want to. God, you want to.

He leans in further, tipping your head back till all you see is him, that flash of grey in his curls, his honey eyes searing into you, that longing ache that pulls deep in your gut. You want him, you want him so fucking bad, so why can’t you get up the nerve to kiss him? Why does that stop you when all you can even think about is him?

“Joel,” you whisper, locking your fingers around his flannel as he pushes you further into the bookshelf, nearly toppling books over as one hand presses hard into your hip.

“Hm?” he hums as he leans his forehead down against yours, curling his fingers tighter into the cotton material of your dress, pressing his weight into you as you feel every brush of his sculpted body.

This is too much, you’re a fucking panting mess. God, you want him to touch you, to take you back to one of the large tables, lay you down and spread your legs wide so he can indulge you in all your wants and desires.

You need his touch, need his lips like you need air to breathe, but then it’d get complicated. Hell, it’s already complicated. You’re treading into dark water, but you don’t mind the darkness. Not really. Not with him where you think it’s safe.

He dips down lower, his lips barely an inch from yours as you groan with desire. He’s going to fucking kiss you, and you want him to. You really do, but something snaps hard in your throat, and suddenly you can’t even breathe normally.

You turn your head before he can connect with his lips, and you swear you hear a disappointed sign come from his mouth. Goddamn it. He moves a step back and runs his hand through his tousled curls, looking up at you with hopeful brown eyes.

“I ummm… I should get back to work. You’ll have to tell me how you like that book,” you reply, pinning one hand behind your back as you dig your long nails into your flesh to keep you from cursing yourself.

He chuckles and nods, tapping his finger on the hardback cover. “I’ll be sure to update you every few chapters.”

“Looking forward to it,” you smile.

There’s a long pause between the two of you as you sway your hips nervously and bite your bottom lip out of habit. Joel looks back up at you with a spark in his onyx eyes like he has something to ask you. “Hey, are you doin’ anything Thursday night?” he asks with longing eyes.

Your eyes meet his with a surprising stare. “Thursday? I thought you played pool with the boys on Thursdays?”

He shrugs his broad shoulders and smiles. “They won’t miss me for one night. Besides, thought I might take a pretty girl out to dinner instead.”

Your eyes gloss over at the statement. Dinner. He wants to take you to dinner. Was this a… date?

“Oh, you mean you want to take me out to eat?” you ask as you gulp nerves down.

He chuckles. “Yeah, that I do. I know this really great diner called Sal’s. Ain’t ever too busy. Really great burgers. Old fashioned. It’s uhh one of my favorites,” he smiles.

Your gaze softens, and you feel as if your legs are weak like jello. “Okay,” you smile, feeling your cheeks burn crimson.

He smiles back, a dizzying crooked smile that makes you just want to sing. “Okay then. Around 7:00 okay? I can pick you up.”

You nod your head and smile. “Sounds perfect.”

“Great. Guess I’ll see you Thursday, pretty girl,” he smiles, brushing his knuckles over your cheek ever so softly.

“Guess you will,” you smile.

You don’t know what it is, but something shifts inside your body. A longing, yearning feeling that feels a lot like need and infatuation. You’re falling for him and fast, and you don’t know if you want anyone to catch you but him.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #Joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel x female reader #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #no outbreak au #joel miller fluff #joel miller pedro pascal

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dancingtotuyo · 4 months

Text

13. with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: you adjust to life with a newborn. Joel finally gets to tell you something

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed. Spoilerish for TLOU 2

Chapter Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, smidges of angst

Notes: And thus we enter the third and final part of this beloved story. This chapter starts to play with some of the canon of TLOU II as will the rest of Part III

As always, a huge shout out to@janaispunk for beta reading.

If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3642

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

Three Years Later

Willa sits at the kitchen table, chin resting in her palms as she stares out the window. It’s cracked open, allowing the chilly fall breeze in as it plays with the dark curls on her head. She’s been there since breakfast, kicking her legs in thoughtful silence with a stack of untouched art supplies at her side.

You’ve never seen her so still or quiet, keeping an eye on her as you bustle around the house, cleaning and preparing for Joel’s birthday dinner. This is the first year he’s really allowed you to celebrate it. You’ve done small things in the past. A cake after dinner. A small wrapped gift. It’s a hard day for everyone. It’s the day that life as everyone knew it ended, but you have reason to celebrate. He’s growing older, an accomplishment in its own right, the gray in his hair beginning to take over the brown. You like it. It means he’s still here.

Willa is still kicking her feet at the table when your stomach growls. The clock on the wall reads just after twelve. Carter is at school. Joel has assignments until dinner time. You fix two sandwiches and slice some veggies. You set a plate in front of Willa and then slide into the chair across from her.

She lets out a deep sigh that seems too big for her small frame to hold. A smile edges at your lips. “What’s wrong, Sweetpea?”

“I don’t know what to make daddy.”

“For his birthday?”

She nods.

“That’s what you’ve been thinking about all day?”

“Yeah.”

You smile assuringly at her. “You should eat. It always helps me when I can’t think.”

She lets out another sigh, but picks up the jelly sandwich you made her. Her lips smack as the jelly oozes out of the sides, sticking to her fingers and leaving pink smudges along her cheeks. Willa appears unbothered by it, head nodding back and forth as she eats.

You manage through most of the meal without intervening until she goes to push back her hair with a jelly soaked hand. “Whoah Whoah Whoah!” You’re out of your seat, grabbing her wrist in the nick of time. She looks almost startled. “Your hand is covered in jelly. I don’t want it to get into your hair.”

“Oops,” she smiles. “Sorry, Mommy.”

“It’s okay,” You sigh, reaching for the dish cloth in the kitchen sink. The last thing you need to do is work jelly out of a three year old’s hair. “What kind of cake should I bake for Daddy’s birthday?”

“Chocolate,” Willa grins as you wipe down her hands and mouth.

“That’s your favorite,” you chuckle.

“Daddy likes it too.”

“Chocolate it is then.” You kiss her cheek.

She beams up at you and then a light bulb goes off in her eyes and she quickly digs into the meager art supplies you’ve collected over the last several years. You watch her for a few short moments as she bustles forth with clear determination. Then, you bake a birthday cake.

Midway through, you exit to the living room, only to set the needle on the record player. When you return, Willa’s head bounces back and forth in time as she hums the words she’s already memorized.

As she finishes her project, Willa jumps down, scurrying out of the room in a flash. You smile to yourself.

Carter bustles in, throwing his backpack onto the floor with a thud. “Are you denting the walls again?”

His face appears around the corner with a lopsided grin you’d seen on Gabe a thousand times. The ache is dull in comparison to the joy it brings you. “That only happened once.”

You wink at him, tossing him an apple. He catches it with ease, the product of countless hours he and Joel spent outside with a baseball and tattered gloves.

“How was school?” You smile.

“Good.” He bites into the apple with a satisfying crunch, before standing on his tiptoes to kiss your cheek. You lean over to close the gap, but it’s admittedly not as large of a gap as it used to be. He’s growing faster than you like.

“Just good?”

He nods, mouth full of apple, but chooses to speak anyway. “I saw Ellie. I invited her tonight.”

You keep your face neutral, far experienced now in keeping the war between Ellie and Joel from your younger children. “What did she say?”

“Maybe.”

Your eyebrow raises. You can’t keep the hints of surprise from your face, but you’re saved from having to make a response.

“Carter!” Willa rushes in, out of breath and in a flutter like the world might stop at any second. She pushes her hair out of her face. You really wish she’d keep the hair ties in, but she says it pulls her head. Your daughter meets her brother’s eyes with a serious weight in her eyes. “I need your help.”

“With what?”

She glances at you, like she's not sure you can keep the secret swirling in her little mind. “Daddy’s birthday present.”

“Okay,” Carter shrugs. Willa rushes out in the same flurry with Carter following.

“Don’t leave the apple core in your sister’s room!” You call after them with only the slam of Willa’s door in response.

As far as baking cakes, well, it wasn’t your strong suit before the world ended, but you manage. You’ve never received a complaint from the kids, but you know they prefer Maria’s cake to yours. You should have asked her. You slide the iced cake into the fridge just as Joel arrives home.

“There’s the birthday boy.”

There’s a deep chuckle in response. “The house is suspiciously quiet.”

“Your children are up to no good. I’m sure.”

“My children, you say?” His sturdy arms wrap around your middle and you lean back. “What they do?” His lips play behind your ear.

“Not sure. They’ve been shut up in Willa’s room for over an hour.”

Joel chuckles. “Perhaps they’re forming a mutiny.”

“I hope not. We’re getting too old for that.”

“Might just let them take over. Then we could live out our days in peace. Prop our feet up while they get to work.”

You hum softly. “Doesn’t sound half bad.”

“That’s what happens when you get old,” he kisses your cheek.

“Are you calling me old, Joel Miller?”

“You’re almost 50, Sweetheart. You’re about to join the ranks. I’m just preparing you.”

“I’ve already got the achy back and creaking knees.”

Joel chuckles. “Guess I got to throw you a birthday party too.”

“I think we can just skip that.”

Joel clicks his tongue. “No, we’re gonna celebrate. We’re gonna start doing alot more celebratin.”

“We haven’t even had your birthday party and you want more?” you can’t contain the laughter rising in your chest.

There’s a deep sense of rightness in this moment. The fears you harbored for so long, melting away with each year that is passed. It’s not completely gone by any means, but it doesn’t keep you from living anymore, embracing what you have.

He nuzzles into your neck, his scruff scratching softly against your skin. You’ve both aged these past couple of years, be it biology or the two young kids you’re raising, but you see it in yourself now too when you look in the mirror, the way the wrinkles cut deeper into your forehead and around your eyes. And maybe, you’d had a harder time accepting the gray hairs that seemed to multiply each day than you wanted to admit, but you embrace it now. You embrace all signs of aging. Aging is a good thing.

“I think we should start celebrating everything.”

“Are you having a midlife crisis?”

“Think it’s a little late for midlife… What’s after that?”

You shift a bit in his arms, trying not to dwell on the first thought that that pops into your mind. “I think midlife works.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Joel grins. “It’s not a midlife crisis.”

You hum, a look on your face that says, yeah, sure, okay.

He laughs in response. “I’m gonna go shower. Doesn’t sound like the kids will let me in to say hi.”

“The door is probably barricaded.”

“Shower it is,” Joel smiles, giving you one last kiss before the stairs creak with his weight.

Dinner is all but ready, and the kids are still locked in Willa’s room when Joel comes down the stairs. His hair hangs in damp ringlets, longer than he’s let it get before. You have to admit that you’re liking the extra length.

“Can you go tell the kids they need to come set the table?”

“Time to bring down the barricades, got it.” Joel winks at you.

You can hear the commotion down the hall, Willa yelling that Joel is not to come in. The back and forth of getting the kids to agree on coming out. Joel’s grunt as Willa inevitably jumps into his arms with zero warning. It’s all familiar and warming. It fills your home with love.

The kids scurry out. Joel aids Willa in fishing out the silverware while Carter grabs out the plates. Another well rehearsed dance. A slice of normalcy Joel never imagined he’d get again in this lifetime.

He’s pulling glasses out of the cabinet Carter can’t reach yet when there’s a knock on the door. Joel looks at you questioningly. Tommy and Maria never knock. You shrug.

Ellie’s nervous face and Dina’s smile greet him when he opens the first door. Joel’s heart leaps in his chest as his jaw drops slightly. “Ellie… hi.”

“Hi.”

“Happy Birthday, Joel,” Dina smiles.

“Thanks, Dina.” Joel nods but quickly returns his eyes to Ellie. “Thanks for coming.”

She forces her lips into a tight line. “Carter invited me.”

“Still glad you came.” Joel still seems a little bit stunned. “Why don’t the two of you come on in?” He steps aside. Ellie refuses to meet his eyes. Dina pulls her inside.

He stays by the door, overhearing the surprise in your voice when you spot Ellie. Carter and Willa’s joy at having her here. His heart aches. It always does when he thinks about the distance between them, but she came. That has to be a good sign.

“I see we got the welcoming committee tonight,” Tommy says as he walks into view, hand in hand with Maria. Elias darts forward, narrowly brushing past Joel.

“Happy birthday, Uncle Joel!” He says without stopping, more focused on finding his cousins than bothering with his uncle.

Joel chuckles, accepting Tommy’s hug as he approaches. “I see where I fall on his list of priorities.”

“You’d think he didn’t just see Carter at school.” Maria laughs, offering her own greeting to Joel.

“Thank you for coming.”

“When do we not show up?” Tommy grins as the three of them make their way inside.

Carter and Willa have already added the extra place settings for Ellie and Dina. Carter slides right next to Ellie, making conversation about the moon and constellations. Joel slides into his chair at the end of the table. You catch the way he looks at Ellie. The way she expertly avoids him. You’re not sure how she does it, seemingly present but expertly able to avoid any and all conversation with Joel. Tommy and Maria’s presence seems to make it easier.

You knew what he did hurt, you just never expected the two of them to go this long in limbo, orbiting each other round in round, never coming to a resolution. As much as Joel looks like someone totaled his pickup and shot his dog when he glances her way, he still manages to enjoy the night. Ellie being here, whether she talks to him or not, is the greatest gift he could have asked for.

You take his hand, squeezing it gently. He presses it to his lips, winking at you playfully. The balancing act can be tiring, but he’s simply happy tonight.

You’re not offended when the cake on the plate of the adults remains mostly uneaten. The cake is dense and dried out. The kids don’t seem to mind.

“Can we do presents now?” Willa asks, frosting sticking to her face in multiple places. You can only imagine how sticky her fingers are.

“Wash your hands first,” you say.

Willa nods, sliding out of her seat and rushing out of the room.

“Can I get anyone anything to drink? Water? Tea?”

“Coffee?” Joel grins. You have been able to rangle up beans each year for his birthday, except for this year.

You shake your head. “Unfortunately, not this year.”

“No coffee? That’s it, party’s over folks.” He playfully hits the table with his palms, winking at you.

He receives a smack to the back of the head, and a deep chuckle greets your ears. You smile, setting the kettle on the stove. He’s happy and relaxed, bubbling over with a calm joy, pure and untarnished. You like this side of him. It’s like a piece of the first version of Joel you knew. The same laughter and smile Sarah pulled from him long before the world dug its ugly claws into either of you. It’s only become more common in your home over the years.

Maria joins you as you start to wash up a few dishes while you wait for the kettle to boil. Both of you watch the table with keen eyes as your family sits around it, complete for once. Joel and Tommy chat about their patrols. There’s been an uptick in infected. They’re worried about a colony coming in. Dina and Ellie engage with the boys at the other end of the table, some debate about what happened at kickball last week.

“You better not be washing dishes, Sweetheart. That’s my job,” Joel says.

“It’s your birthday.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at you. “You cooked, and baked a cake.”

“More like attempted,” Tommy teases. You stick your tongue out at him like the mature 49 year old woman you are.

Once the team is ready, you set a mug in front of Joel. He thanks you before his brow furrows. “That’s not my mug.”

You know he’s talking about the owl mug, the one you push to the back of the cabinet because you think it looks at you funny. “No, it’s your new mug,” You smile. “Happy birthday.”

Joel picks it up, inspecting it closer. It’s slightly faded but otherwise in pristine condition. Two fawns frolic against the picturesque forest that’s delicately painted along the outside. His eyes narrow slightly at you, a playful volley of looks and unspoken words passing between you.

Joel chuckles, stealing a chaste kiss from your lips. “Thank you.”

“You can use the owl one when I’m not around.”

“So never then?”

“I mean, ideally, yes.”

“As sweet as this is,” Tommy says, interrupting the two of you. “I’m afraid we came empty handed.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t expect anything less. Besides, I’ve got everything I need right here.” He looks around the table that includes everyone in the world he loves, aside from Willa who is still busy cleaning herself up.

“You’re going soft in your old age,” Tommy smacks his brother on the back.

Joel shrugs. “Happens to the best of us I guess.”

“Daddy! I’m ready!” Willa calls, bursting into the room, small package clutched in her hands as she rushes to his side.

Joel picks her up with a slight groan, setting her on his lap. “I’m ready, Wildflower.”

She laughs, handing him the box as she pushes her curls from her face. “Carter helped too.”

“I’m excited to see what it is,” Joel smiles, attention solely split between his children as he carefully opens the box.

He’s confused at first, pulling the delicate construction from its box, some combination of paper and old cardboard carefully put together. It takes a second, but then he registers the small arrows fastened into a minute and hour hand against the background. Carter’s oversized numbers unevenly circled around in one to twelve.

“It’s a new watch,” Willa grins brightly. “Cause yours is broken.” She lifts his wrist as if to show him the broken watch for the first time.

You catch the shine in Joel’s eyes and the bobble of his throat. “Thank you. It’s a very nice watch.”

“It latches too,” Carter chimes. “So you can actually wear it.”

Joel inspects it further, seeing where the kids had carefully cut holes in the band and managed to create a fasten.

“Mommy can help you,” Willa says.

You smile, leaning forward to fasten it to Joel’s wrist, right above his first watch, the one Sarah fixed for him. You’re careful not to break it. It’s not the most secure thing in the world, but Joel beams with pride as he shows it to Tommy and Maria.

“Do you like it?” Willa asks.

“I love it.” Joel smiles, squeezing his daughter tight.

Joel falls beside you on the couch with a content sigh, letting his head fall back and his arm across your shoulders as he does. You smile, leaning into him. “You enjoy your birthday?”

“I’m getting too old. Reading that book about put me to sleep.”

You laugh, pulling a blanket around your shoulders to stave off the cool air that drifts in through the cracked window behind you. “It’s a good thing I like you old.”

Joel hums, kissing your forehead softly. “Thank you for doing so much today.”

“It’s not like I don’t cook dinner most nights.”

“You baked a cake.”

You snort. “Attempted to make a cake.”

“Wouldn’t be the first birthday where you messed up the cake.”

You groan, images of the cake you and Sarah attempted to bake for Joel’s 30th birthday flashing in your memory. It had looked nice enough, but tasted like baking soda. Joel chuckles.

“Well,” You let out a soft sigh, holding back the smile that bites at your lips. “Guess it’s a good thing I have a back up plan.”

Joel’s brow creases. “Back up plan?”

“You are getting old,” you tease, your own mouth watering at the subtle cinnamon tinged air. “I thought you would have smelled it by now.”

Joel stops a second, paying extra attention to his senses. His lips tip up almost immediately as he clocks it. “Is that…”

“My mom’s peach pie.” You grin. Her peach pie filling had been legendary on the block and she’d passed along the recipe early on in your life. You made it each year as the peaches ripened, but you had taken care to freeze extra filling for Joel’s birthday this year. “You really expect me to bake a cake without a back up plan?”

Joel laughs again. “I love you.”

“Only for the peach pie.”

“Well duh.” He pulls you closer, leaving a sweet kiss on your lips.

You laugh, returning the kiss. “It’ll be ready in about 20 minutes.”

“Perfect… enough time for me to give you something.” Joel reaches down, grabbing a flat package, wrapping in a cloth from under the couch.

“But it’s your birthday.”

“And I like seeing you happy.”

You roll your eyes as he places the thin, square gift in your hands. Your brow knits together as you pull the wrap from it. White corners catch your eye and with two men standing in a doorway. Fleetwood Mac reads centered above them. A small gasp leaves your mouth. You haven’t heard this album in years. Your grandma’s copy had been badly scratched and warped before the outbreak and no one in Jackson seemed to own a copy.

“Finally found that the other day. I haven’t played it yet, so I’m not sure about the condition- but it looked like it hadn’t warped too badly.”

“Turn it on.” You grin brightly, eagerly putting it back into Joel’s hands. Your body thrums with excitement. The songs you haven't heard in so long play in the back of your mind as Joel pulls the vinyl record from the sleeve and places it on the old record player in the corner of your living room.

Static fills the speakers at the needle drops. You both wait with baited breath for the music to start. Monday Morning plays starts without warning, causing you to both jump slightly. A laugh tumbles from your mouth, eyes sparkling with joy as they meet Joel’s. He’s got a similiar joyful expression.

“It’s much more lively than your version,” you say. You haven’t heard the recorded version in over two decades though Joel’s rendition is still a constant in your home. Willa calls it her song.

Joel laughs, walking back over to you. “I doubt Willa will even recognize it.” He holds out his hand. “Come on.”

Your brow knits together as you take his hand. He tugs you to your feet. You secure the blanket around your shoulders as Joel leads you toward the front door and onto the porch. The cool September air greets you. The music filters through the open windows as the opening track fades into the smooth opening of Warm Ways.

“What are you doing?”

”Dancin.” He grins wrapping his arms around you as he begins to sway.

You lean into his embrace, warm between the blanket on your shoulders and his torso against yours, head resting on his shoulder. You sway to the music, eyes closed. Joel’s head rests against yours, his chest rumbles gently as he hums along to the melody, lulling you as close to bliss as you think you’ve ever been.

You nuzzle further into his neck. “I love you, Joel.”

He smiles, kissing your cheek. Both your eyes stay shut, relishing in the touch of the other. “Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that, Sweetheart.”

“Good.”

Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa @tobethlehem

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #woman (joel miller)#joel miller fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro stories #pedrostories #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal

149 notes · View notes

syd-djarin · 11 months

Text

Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice (neighbor!joel AU)

chapter two: sex and candy

*18+ minors DNI*

tags: mentions of anxiety, religious shame/guilt, reader being insecure, mentions of (negative) past sexual experiences and partners, brief mention of alcohol consumption, v fingering, oral (f receiving) joel is a cunnilinguist, 2000’s nostalgia, mentions of the patriarchy (booooo) squirting (sue me), Joel-Land™️™️™️

reader has hair that she fidgets with, "grows warm" /"cheeks burning" but not necessarily blushing, with embarrassment - minor edits to make this more inclusive for my readers <3

word count: ~4.5k

Author/s notes: Sorry it took longer to get ch. 2 out than I anticipated. I've had a lot going on in my personal life (I got a new job!) But I promise it won't be as long for ch. 3 hehe. this is a lengthy chapter, hope y'all enjoy!!

had to name reader's bestie after my dear friend @katiexpunk <3 thanks for always letting me run ideas by you and being a peach in general.

and thank you to @softiedingo for being a beta reader as well <333

It has been two weeks since you introduced yourself to Joel and Sarah. You hate to admit it, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about Joel. Your mind will stay preoccupied temporarily, then they circle back to him.

Throwing clothes in the washer? Joel.

Boiling water for pasta? Joel.

Doing the dishes? Joel.

In the shower? Yep, definitely Joel.

And this morning is no different.

You’re staring at yourself in your bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth, mind deep into Joel-Land, then your thoughts take a sharp turn - for the worst. You’re thinking about all of your past sexual encounters.

How unsatisfying and selfish your past partners were. You hadn’t been romantically involved with any of your past partners, all of them casual-no-strings-attached type of arrangements.

Even if the sex was casual, did that mean the pleasure had to be one-sided? Of course not.

However, after each encounter you found yourself feeling disappointed, and truthfully, it made you feel…..icky. Was it religious shame? Even though you don’t participate or believe in any religion anymore, your formative years were spent in a conservative, Christian church; where sex is bad, and sin is bad. And you don’t want to be bad, because you will go to hell. You don’t even believe in hell, yet, there is a small voice in your head that still worries about eternal damnation. Jeez, I should really see a therapist about that.

Perhaps it’s the misogyny and sexism, rampant and hard-wired into society and into mind’s since the beginning of time.

Your internal theological and philosophical debate gives you a throbbing headache.

+++

It’s Friday. Halloween falls on a Tuesday this year, so most Halloween celebrations would occur this weekend.

If you were still in college, you’d most likely attend a costume party at a frat party and drink until the sun came up. These days, you don’t recover from hangovers as easily and find the anxiety spiral that follows a night of drinking to be too debilitating so you’re planning on keeping it chill this year.

You’re pouring out a bag of candy into a bowl, so candy is easily accessible for your sweet tooth cravings when you hear a strong, loud cluster of knocks at your front door.

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock.

Shaking off your initial startling from the sudden knocks, you open your front door to find Joel. He’s leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, one half of his body bears all his weight. He swiftly straightens upright again when you greet him. He looks even more handsome from the last time you saw him. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that accentuate his body in the most delectable way and a black t-shirt with a faded MILLER CONSTRUCTION graphic that is just barely legible.

You have the urge to steal the well-worn shirt so you can sleep in it, relish his scent, and let it become a metaphorical embrace of Joel.

Fuck, I really am down bad, you internally scold yourself to come back to the present moment.

“Joel! Ho-how are you?” you manage to creak out through nerves and surprise.

His beautiful, dark brown eyes are staring right into yours. His eyes could compel you to do anything.

“I’m doin’ alright, you?” The word ‘alright’ is drawn out making it sound like “awllll-right”

“Can’t complain. Y’all settling in okay?” tilting your head unconsciously, as if to convey genuinity.

“Oh yeah, ‘s a nice neighborhood. Sarah seems to be enjoyin’ her new school, I was a lil worried she’d have a hard time but she’s a smart kid and gets along with pretty much everyone. Awful silly of me to worry in the first place…” he’s rambling, hands moving at the same pace as his speech.

You find his rambling to be cute, it’s a bit of a juxtaposition from his strong, demanding presence.

Joel realizes he’s nervous after he concludes his tangent. When’s the last time he felt nervous around women? Especially a sweet, non-threatening woman like you?

“Anywho, I came over to uh- ask you somethin’... Sarah liked your cookies so much she wants to learn how to make them herself and was wondering if you’d teach her?”

“I’d love to!” You shoot him a flattered smile, learning that Sarah wanted you to teach her to bake makes your heart sing.

Joel is amazed at you. You agreed to teach a twelve year old, one who you hardly know, to bake. He shouldn’t be surprised given your sweet demeanor and generous heart, but he’s in awe of you.

“You sure? I mean, you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“Joel, I’d be honored to. Send her over in an hour,” you cut him off, hoping to convey your delight in teaching someone else to bake, the same way your grandma did for you.

Joel can’t stop the shit-eating grin that appears on his face.

“Sounds good. I’ll send her your way, sweetheart,” he lingers just for a moment to watch your reaction to the nickname, the one he’s used twice.

You desperately try to keep your composure cool and collected, but you’ve never had a good poker face. You wear your emotions like an accessory. And right now, you are flustered. You divert your attention to the ground as if looking into his eyes would expose your every thought.

“O-okay!” You can barely stammer out a response before he is pivoting off your porch, back to his own house.

You can’t see it with his back turned to you, but Joel is smirking to himself and feeling amused at his effect on you.

+++

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“Yes, dad. I don’t need a chaperone to bake cookies. I’m a big girl now, remember?”

Yes, he is acutely aware that she is a big girl now. Well, not really, to him she will always be his baby girl, but that doesn’t stop her from growing up. Too fast for his liking. The idea of her becoming a teenager almost gives him a coronary. It won’t be long before she’s driving, then graduating, and college. What if she wants to attend a school in another state? Across the country?

He feels queasy at that thought, afraid that she will grow out of thinking her dad is the coolest, afraid that she doesn’t want to spend time with her old man anymore.

He wills himself to think about something else. Anything else. Inevitably his thoughts wander to you.

Joel hates to admit it, but he was hoping to join Sarah for the baking lesson. He wants an excuse to be in your radiant, sweet, beautiful presence again.

While you can’t stop thinking about him, he can’t stop thinking about you.

Driving home from work? You.

Making dinner? You.

Making his morning coffee? You.

Laying in bed? Oh, yeah. Definitely you.

Exactly one hour passes when Sarah arrives at your house. You’ve already set up in your kitchen in preparation; already pre-measured the ingredients, setting out all the necessary baking equipment and you even found a spare apron for Sarah to wear. Ya know, to give her the full experience.

“Oooh, this apron makes me feel like a professional!” Sarah exclaims after tying the strings on her designated apron.

“Well, after this, you will be.”

You can’t remember the last time you felt this much joy. Sharing a passion of yours with someone who is eager to learn from you delights your heart and soul in a way you didn’t know you needed until now.

“So first, we’ll need to combine the butter and sugar,” Sarah dumps the butter and sugar into the mixing bowl. “Great, now we want to beat the mixture until it looks fluffy.”

She is completely engrossed in watching for the desired texture, furrowing her brows together in a way that mimics Joel. You find it adorable.

“Excellent, now we are going to add in the eggs and vanilla extract.”

She follows your instructions to a T, meticulous and concentrated as if she were mixing hazardous chemicals in a lab.

“You’re doing great. Now let’s add our dry ingredients, half of it at a time.”

Her eyes light up when it’s time to fold in the chocolate chips. You both agree it’s the best part, both of you indulging in a few before adding them to the dough.

You assist Sarah in rolling the dough into little balls and placing them onto the baking sheet.

While waiting for the cookies to bake, you learn more about Sarah and Joel. She tells you about their old house, the camping trip they went on this past summer, the catchy pop songs on the radio that Joel will pretend to hate but she catches him humming the tune later, how Joel makes a big breakfast for the two of them every Sunday, a ritual they started when Sarah started school - he makes pancakes just for her.

Getting a snapshot of Joel and Sarah’s lives and their dynamic makes your mega crush on Joel that much bigger. From what Sarah has shared with you, he seems like a caring, protective yet fun dad. You’re aching to learn everything about him.

“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” Sarah asks as you’re pulling the baking sheet out of the oven.

“Oh um, I usually just hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Nothing super exciting. What about you?”

“We always order pizza and watch a scary movie - nothing super scary though. We dress up too. Well, I dress up but dad thinks he is too cool to do that so he wears the same boring mask every year,” she has a mischievous grin on her face, concocting a plan when she asks, “do you want to come over and join us?”

On one hand you’d love nothing more than to spend more time with your new friend and Joel, but on the other hand the thought of being in the same room as Joel, in his house, makes you both anxious and aroused. Dizzy, nervous, and horny makes for an unpleasant combination.

Gaining a sliver of bravery, you swallow your apprehension and say yes.

“Sure, yeah, what time should I come over?”

“6:30. And you better wear a costume!”

+++

You’ve spent the past hour trying to put a costume together. Not making any progress, you decide to seek external advice - your best friend Katie.

You both met as freshman and have been close friends ever since, even rooming together in your first off-campus apartment. She moved to the West Coast shortly after graduation, though you still keep in touch via email and phone. You give her the scoop on Joel - him moving into the neighborhood, your gigantic crush on him, how you baked cookies with Sarah yesterday. She’s impatiently waiting for you to bone your hot neighbor. Girl, I’m waiting too.

“Do you still have that bunny costume you wore junior year?”

You rummage through your tote of seasonal clothing in search of said costume. Pulling it out, you now realize just how skimpy the costume really is. Bunny ears and a tail paired with a skin tight black bodysuit leaves virtually nothing to the imagination and definitely too much skin for this occasion.

“Dude, I can’t wear this! His daughter will be there! I can’t believe I wore this out in public. This is X-Rated,” you’re growing agitated in having no success in your costume, to the point that you are tempted to tell Sarah you came down with something so you don’t have to go.

“Okay, okay, the ears and tail are still salvageable. Do you have something besides the bodysuit?”

“Ummm…” you trail off into the phone, frantically searching for something to replace the risque bodysuit. You find a plain white baby tee amongst the sea of clothing, deciding you can pair it with your favorite jeans, the ones that accentuate your body in all the right places.

“This could work..” muttering to yourself when a devious thought pops into your head. White shirt, no bra.

“Found it! Gotta go, loveyoubye!” You hang up the call before Katie has a chance to respond, tossing your pink Razr on your bed. Your body hums in anticipation and jitters, feeling emboldened by your no bra plot.

After throwing on your outfit, you style your hair differently than you normally do. You add several coats of mascara to your lashes, sweep on some blush that complements your skin and add a sparkly lip gloss to your lips, making them appear extra plump and juicy.

You grab a bag of Halloween candy and you practically skip across the street. Reaching the front door of your new bestie and her gorgeous dad, your confidence is replaced with a furious ball of anxiety. Your heart is palpitating and you feel your stomach churn.

Would Joel think you looked stupid? Or worse, childish? Fuck, you should’ve stayed home.

Joel opening the door snaps you out of your thought spiral but only briefly, because he’s staring at you like you’ve started growing extra limbs. He looks both puzzled and pissed?

“What uh-what’re you doing here?”

His voice has a sharpness you haven’t heard before and it stings.

You have a moment of realization.

Sarah didn’t run the invitation by her dad.

You deduct that he isn’t a fan of surprises.

Before you can formulate a response, Sarah saves you from having to do so.

“You dressed up! I’m glad you came,” she squeals while wrapping her arms around your middle in an embrace.

She looks up at Joel from where she’s latched onto you and gives her confused dad an explanation.

“Dad, it’s okay, I invited her.”

That seems to alleviate his confusion. You, on the other hand, not so much. You’re internally screaming at yourself. It’s obvious to you that Joel wasn’t expecting you, and in conclusion, doesn’t want you here.

“I didn’t mean to impose, I—I’m sorry, I’ll uh— just go back home,” fighting back tears of embarrassment, looking everywhere except at Joel. You think now is a superb time to move across the country, change your name, dye your hair, somewhere far away from this humiliation.

Joel senses you’re feeling rejected in some way.

“No, no, come on in. Jus’ wasn’t expectin’ you s’all,” he gives you his most reassuring smile.

You swallow the lump of emotions in your throat.

He didn’t expect you to come over, nor did he expect you’d show up as his personal version of a Playboy bunny. He almost busted in his jeans when he could see your nipples through your very thin white t-shirt. He thinks you’re trying to kill him.

+++

You’re starting to relax once you three settle on the couch, Sarah nestling between you and Joel, Alien on the TV. Turns out, you and Joel share a love for the film. You may or may not have gotten into a heated (playful) debate about the other films in the franchise.

Joel gets an influx of trick-or-treaters, more than you usually get, residents of the neighborhood taking advantage of this opportunity to be nosy. Again.

In between costume clad visitors, you sneak glances at Joel, who looks absolutely scrumptious tonight. His hair had been damp and combed back when you arrived, his curls now almost dry and in all their glory. He’s wearing an obviously well-loved, faded Pearl Jam concert tee that clings to his arms and grey sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips. You wonder if all his shirts fit like that. When he stands, you can see the outline of his dick through his sweatpants. You have to manually restrain yourself from pouncing on him. You’re soaking through your panties and you’re a little worried that if you stand, the seat beneath you will be soaked too.

The scent of his body wash invades your nostrils, a heavenly mix of sandalwood and cinnamon. You’re imagining yourself running your hands through his hair and burying your nose into his neck, alternating between kissing and sucking on the skin there. You want to taste every inch of his skin, taking your time to savor him.

Joel’s stealing glances at you, too. He’s never seen someone look so sweet and seductive, divine even. You smell warm and sweet, amber and vanilla. Not the artificial, manufactured type vanilla scent, it’s like vanilla straight from the bean. When you readjust your position on the couch to get more comfortable, your tits lightly bounce, unrestrained by a bra. He has to stifle a groan, disguising it as a cough. He wonders how much they’d bounce if you were riding his cock. Your lips are absolutely sinful. Pouty and plump, juicy from the lip gloss. The bunny ears are the nail in his coffin. He’s picturing you bent over on his couch, still wearing the bunny ears as he devours your pussy from behind.

Only a quarter of the way through the movie, a few of Sarah’s friends from her old school pop in to invite her over for an impromptu sleepover to which Joel agrees to, since they no longer go to school together.

Which means you and Joel are left alone. Together. Your body is aching to close space between you and the man you’re enamored with. You don’t know that Joel is itching to do the same.

“Sarah couldn’t stop talkin’ bout yesterday. She loved hangin’ out with ya, thanks again for doin’ that.”

“She’s welcome to come over anytime. She’s a sweet kid,” you’re beaming at the fact she enjoyed baking with you. Joel notices the way your eyes gleam, overflowing with delight.

You finally have the courage to meet his eyes. The way his eyes are raking over your entire body makes your clit throb in anticipation. Your heartbeat is erratic, thumping loudly in your ears.

The energy in the room is magnetic, pulling you and Joel closer together.

“You can uh-scoot closer t’me if ya want,” he gruffs out, beckoning you to scoot closer to him. Joel wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you make him feel like a flustered teenage boy about to kiss a girl for the first time.

You scoot closer to Joel, hoping he doesn’t notice your body trembling from nerves.

With your body flush next to his, he stretches one of his toned arms behind your head, resting it on the back of the couch. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body and it sends a shiver down your spine, straight to your aching core.

The tension in the air is palpable, both of your bodies buzzing in arousal. You’re both pretending to watch the movie in front of you, but your minds are elsewhere. He gently removes his arm from the couch and rests it across your shoulders. It’s a seemingly innocuous gesture, but its impact makes you clench around nothing, more arousal dripping into your panties.

He leans his head down close to yours, his mouth behind your ear.

“No bra? You’re a naughty lil bunny aren’t ya?” His hot breath tickles your ear, your eyes clamp shut involuntarily and you whimper. A high-pitched, whiny whimper, and Joel’s never heard anything sweeter.

He places his other large palm on your thigh, gently squeezing it. Your skin prickling in goosebumps and your nipples are hard enough to cut glass. The wetness pooled in your panties is beyond the point of comfort.

Joel presses a chaste kiss behind your ear, eliciting another whimper from you. He peppers kisses from your neck all the way to your collarbones.

“This okay?”

“Mhmmm…” You’re already so keyed up you feel hazy. Your whole body feels hot, lit aflame by Joel’s lips on your skin.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he rasps while his hand is caressing your thigh, intentionally not too close to where you want him. Need him.

“Mhmmm,” you moan, still unable to form words, arousal taking over all of your bodily functions.

“Need you to use your words, honey.” He squeezes your thigh again.

He pulls his face back from your neck to look you in the eyes, and slows his movements on your thigh so you can tell him to back off or give him the green light to continue. You grab his hand on your thigh and squeeze it, to keep him from removing it.

“Joel, pleeease. Want it so bad. Need you so fuckin’ bad.”

You beg in the most sultry voice you can muster, emphasizing every syllable.

Your lust laden eyes and the way you mewl for him ignites something ravenous, primal, carnal in him. He hasn’t heard you cuss before and it sounds so filthy in your honeyed voice. His rock hard cock twitches in his pants.

He presses his plush lips against yours. It’s hesitant at first, but his apprehension dissipates when you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back with fervor. Joel deepens the kiss, one hand gripping your hip, the other hand splayed between your shoulder blades, pressing your body further into his. You tangle one of your hands in his luscious curls. He tastes like sweet peppermint and a hint of black coffee. You feel dizzy, tasting him, finally feeling him.

He breaks the kiss, guiding you to lie down on your back and props your head up on one of the couch armrests.

He’s looking down at you and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. You’re always pretty, effortlessly so. But seeing you underneath him, sweet and desperate for him? He’d do anything you ask him to.

“You’re the prettiest lil bunny. So fuckin’ pretty.”

You’re bashful under his gaze and his compliment, cheeks burning.

Joel notices you trying to shy away and he places a thumb under your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him.

Now you feel embarrassed for trying to shy away in the first place.

“Sorry I’m—”

“Nothing to ‘pologize for, sweetheart,” he’s caressing your chin with his thumb, alleviating all of the embarrassment from you.

“Wanna taste you. You’ve no idea how bad I’ve wanted to taste you. Needed to know if you were as sweet as your cookies.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out, “yes - yes please, taste me, Joel”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm and promptly rids you of your jeans, making the leather of the couch feel cool to the back of your thighs.

Joel lets out a guttural moan when he sees your sky blue satin panties soaked through. He runs a finger over the damp spot, making you quiver. His touch is featherlight and it’s maddening. You’re squirming, hips lifting off the couch, chasing for more.

He obliges, running a finger over your clit with added pressure.

“Joel, please–” You’re a whiny mess under him, and he’s just getting started. He’s rubbing gentle circles over your bud, still-panty clad.

He presses a kiss on your belly, just below your navel. The tenderness makes your body shudder.

He finally removes your panties and you gasp when the cool air hits your throbbing pussy.

“Pretty girl with a pretty pussy to match.” Joel’s admiring the way your pussy is glistening for him, begging to be touched.

He runs a finger through your drenched seam, your juices dripping onto his thick digit. He licks his finger, then shoves it into his mouth so he can taste every drop. His eyes clamp shut, groaning at how you taste. You commit the image to memory, not wanting to forget how he looks and sounds when he tastes you for the first time.

“Knew you’d taste sweet. So fuckin’ sweet.”

Your brain short circuits when you realize that means he’s thought about this before. That he’s imagined how you’d taste. Picturing him fantasizing about you makes you light-headed.

Joel spreads your legs wider, giving him full access to your pussy. He dives in without warning, licking from entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Joel!” You hoarsely shout with one hand gripping the couch cushion and one tugging onto Joel’s messy curls. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your pussy as you grind your hips into his mouth, desperate for release.

You see stars while he expertly alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking on your clit. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, on the slower side, taking his time pleasuring you. He’s enjoying this.

Obscene sounds fill the room; Joel devouring your pussy like it’s the Last Supper and your chorus of moans and expletives.

“Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop!”

“Shitshitshit–”

“Joelllll-”

He picks up the pace, your fingers cramping from their deathgrip on the couch. You feel your peak approaching - sweat beading on your forehead, chest heaving, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Joel senses your approaching release and pushes one of his thick, dexterous fingers into your weeping hole.

He reaches for your hand that’s tangled in his hair and intertwines your fingers with his, resting your connected hands on your inner thigh. It’s overwhelming; the intimacy of your interlocked fingers paired with the filthy onslaught of his mouth.

He speeds up as he adds another finger, hitting the spot that no one except you has reached before. You never knew it could feel this amazing. You thought you were doomed to a life of bad sex.

Apparently, you just needed Joel to show you differently. And you are so glad he proved you wrong.

Joel hooks his fingers inside you bringing you closer and closer to that peak you’ve been dying to reach. You’re squeezing his fingers, both the ones inside you and the ones interlaced with yours.

“Joel I-I’m close,” you manage to choke out, mind foggy from the intense pleasure.

He sucks on your clit, hard and you’re coming, entering a euphoric plane of existence. You’re floating, body trembling, coming harder than you’ve ever come before.

Joel slows his fingers and removes his mouth from your pussy, beard glistening with your release, gently bringing you back to reality. He keeps your fingers locked with his, grounding you in the present.

The orgasmic fog clears from your brain, regaining awareness of your surroundings when you feel how drenched your lower half is. Like, really drenched. You lift your head from the armrest and look down and you’re appalled by the scene.

You fucking squirted. Everywhere.

On yourself, on the couch, on Joel. His beard is soaked completely, to the point it’s dripping down his chin. He’s just as stunned as you are.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, fuck I-” you’re scrambling to get off the couch and Joel grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“What’re you sorry for? That was so fuckin’ hot, sweetheart.”

“I-I didn’t know I could do that…”

“Oh yeah? First time ever squirtin’?

“Yeah, the first time anyone else has made me come… like, ever.”

His gaze goes dark.

You get the feeling that he’s just getting started with you.

And just like your cookies, he’d never have enough.

THE END

#joel miller #joel fic #joel x f!reader #fanfic #first fanfic #joel miller is babygirl #joel miller smut

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lily-fics-11 · 4 months

Text

The Girl Next Door: Chapter 7 (Hazel Callahan, Bottoms)

Fic master post here

Tag list: @avocifera, @academiareid, @fictionalgap @dynsdiary @sndixz @athenalive @lamoobsessions @eloud12

(feel free to comment to be added to taglist)

Sorry this took so long, I just graduated college, was briefly dating a new girl that I hung out with like 5 times in one week, and this chapter is longer than usual. Def not my best work either, but I hope you guys still like it!

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The Girl Next Door

You hadn't been close with your neighbor Hazel for years. But you find her beat up in the locker room after fight club and all of that changes

Chapter 7

You have some intimate moments with Hazel when you do her makeup, and even go on your first date.

Word count: 5.3k

CW: Profanities, a little suggestive kind of? Changing clothes in front of each other and sitting on her lap to do her makeup, mentions of counting calories (nothing compared to negative body talk in the movie), not beta read

A few days after your movie night you start teasing Hazel on the car ride home. “You still haven’t given me one of your sweatshirts like you said you would.”

“Shit, you’re right. You can come over whenever and pick one out.”

“I can pick it out?” You question with curiosity.

“I’d give you everything you’ve ever wanted if I could.” She murmurs.

You tuck your hair behind your ear and clear your throat. “Well I will keep that in mind, but for now I think I’m okay with getting to steal one of your sweatshirts.”

You pause for a moment and it’s silent.

“Wait, remember you said we would dress eachother up in our clothes? We should do that, tomorrow.”

Hazel peers over, looking you up and down. “Alright, I’ll come over to your house before school tomorrow so we can get each other ready.”

“Come over at 6:30.”

“6:30?” She groans, “You seriously take that long to get ready in the morning?”

You jokingly roll your eyes. “I’m going to need extra time if I’m going to do my makeup and yours.”

“You can’t wear makeup if you are trying to fully embody Hazel Callahan.”

You gasp dramatically, purely to be dramatic. “How could you do that to me Haze? I don’t want to look like a zombie!”

Hazel punches your arm softly. “Are you saying that I look like a zombie, because I don’t wear makeup?”

“God no, the way you look, it’s literally perfect. I, on the other hand, need it to look like a normal human being.” You bite your lip when you realize what you said.

“Would you please shut up? If I’m perfect, that makes you extraordinarily flawless. There’s not a single girl at our school that could even try to compare to you. I can’t even think of any girl on this planet that is more beautiful than you are. I just wish that you could see yourself the way that I see you.” She takes a shaky breath, looking straight ahead.

“I, uh, thank you.” It’s like all the thoughts in your head have been picked up and thrown around by a tornado.

Hazel clears her throat. “I’ll still come over at 6:30, that way we can spend some extra time together.”

“You are going to wake up that early just to hang out with me?”

“I’ve already lost so much sleep thinking about… well I haven’t been sleeping well anyways. Might as well make the most of that extra time.”

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The next morning Hazel arrives at your house with your go to coffee order and favorite doughnut from Dunkin’.

“Hazel, you didn’t have to do that.” You could almost cry because she remembered this little detail and went out of her way to do something special for you.

“I wanted to,” she assures you.

“You treat me so well,” you murmur, gazing longingly at the girl you are in love with.

Hazel puts her hands on your shoulders and her blue eyes bear into your soul. “You deserve the best, never settle for anything less than princess treatment.”

Your lip quivers when you whisper, “I hope I don’t have to.”

Hazel pulls away and crosses her arms without breaking eye contact. “I would never treat you… I mean I would never let anyone treat you badly ever again. As long as I’m around no one is going to hurt you.”

Having maintained a cautious mindset for so long, your brain refuses to process what she has said. Responding is completely off the table. “Well I guess we better get started, yeah? Put on whatever music you want. My phone is already connected to the speaker. My passcode is 3900.”

Hazel picks up your phone and scrolls through your music. “You got a text from Isabel, in a group chat with her and Brittany, do you want me to check it for you?”

You are about to say yes, but remember that you were telling them about how excited you were to get to wear Hazel’s clothes today. How it almost makes you feel like you are her girlfriend.

“No!” You shout at her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to..” she stutters, her voice sounding weak and wounded.

“No no no, that’s not it at all.” You explain more tenderly. “It’s just that- Isabel has been talking about something personal. Just want to respect her privacy.”

Hazel lets out a long breath that she must have been holding in. “Of course.”

She selects a playlist and locks your phone, placing it face down on the.

“Which one do you want to wear?” You ask her, gesturing to the 3 different ensembles laid out on your bed. Hazel looks over the options and goes for the outfit you assumed that she would. It was the least girly of the 3, and the closest to something she would normally wear. A simple white tank top and some casual khaki shorts. Though the shorts are much shorter than anything she owns, and the tank top is rather tight, the outfit is overall within her comfort zone. You knew she would wear whatever you chose for her without complaint, but you wanted to make sure she was comfortable, while still making it clear that she isn’t in her normal clothes. That she is wearing your clothes, that she is yours.

Hazel pulls a few articles of clothing out of her backpack. “I didn’t think to bring you options, I hope that’s ok.”

You giggle, “I trust you Haze.”

You turn away and start to pull off your pajama shorts, fully aware of what you are doing.

Hazel coughs in a way that sounds like she is choking. “Do you want me to leave while you change?”

“Doesn’t matter to me. We used to change in front of each other all the time. If you want to leave though you can.”

“You’re right, I’ll just change here.” Her voice trembles.

You continue to change, but you hear nothing, which means that Hazel has not moved to start changing. Most likely because she was watching you change, just as you had intended. You allow your long t-shirt to cover up just enough while changing the clothes on your bottom half.

When you pull off your top, exposing your bare back, you hear Hazel start to shuffle around and pick up the clothes off your bed. However, you can feel her eyes on you and the thick tension in the air.

When you finish changing and turn around Hazel is already in her clothes and her eyes are glued to you.

“Haze, you look great!” You smirk at her. She looks down at the clothes she is wearing and laughs. “Yeah I do look good. But not as good as you do.”

You glance at your reflection in the mirror and sigh. A white short sleeve button down under a tan argyle cardigan, paired with some loose fitting jeans. You two wear the same size clothes, but everything Hazel wears is oversized. Your clothes are mostly tight, and you know she is only wearing them because they are yours. “I do not look good, I look like somebody’s grandpa.”

Hazel pretends to be insulted. “Do I look like a grandpa to you?”

“You look good in this stuff, it just works. But me, not so much.”

“You would look good in a paper bag,” she casually throws out and then you watch her wince at what she just said.

“You need to get your eyes checked.” You giggle, “sit down so I can do your makeup.” You gesture to your desk chair, and Hazel makes herself comfortable while you pick items out of the drawers and off the shelves.

You stand slightly bent over, hovering above her when you promise her “I am not going to go crazy.”

The first step is sculpting out Hazel’s dark eyebrows. They are already nice on their own so it wasn’t too difficult.

“For your face I’m going to use blush and highlight, is that ok?” You hum switching out the products in your hands.

Hazel’s head turns to the side and concentrates for a moment. “I have no idea what that means.”

You smile as you cup her chin in your hand and she stares back in wonder. “The pink stuff and the shiny stuff. I’ll make it look as natural as possible.”

“I trust your judgment,” she mumbles, lost in your eyes.

The brush delicately adds a sweep of color to her already perfect face. She looks unbearably adorable after dabbing a hint of pink on her nose. When switching out the blush in your hand for highlight you notice a twinge of pain in your lower back from hunching over. You stand straight up and place a hand where you feel the pain as you flex and stretch.

Hazel’s delectable lips curve into a frown. “Are you ok?”

“Bending over, it's just a little uncomfortable. I would move the chair and sit on my bed but i don't want to accidentally get something on my blanket.”

“Sitting down would be better?” Hazel inquires, looking around the room for a solution.

“Yeah but it's probably easier to just stay over here.”

“You could just sit on my lap, right? Would that help?” She bites her lip, eyes wide and expectant.

Help. Most definitely. In more ways than she knows.

You nod casually, trying to hide your excitement and play it cool. “That would actually help a lot, are you sure you don't mind?”

The way she looks you up and down hungrily makes you want to check your pulse because it can’t be at a safe level. “Mind? Of course not. It's ideal actually. I prefer to keep you as close as I can.” You nearly pass out when she says that. Scratch that, you nearly drop dead and ascend into another plane of existence. This isn’t a side of Hazel you are used to but damn, you are loving it.

You sit down on Hazel's lap facing her with one leg on each side of her and the chair. You shift a little to balance yourself properly and she puts her hands on your waist to help steady you. “Don’t worry, I’ve got ya,” she chuckles.

You bite your lip as your head spins and Hazel just smiles patiently until you tell her “I’m going to to do eyeliner now.” She nods her head along to the music.

You catch her chin in your hand to stop her from moving her head. Hazel’s eyes go soft and flicker between your eyes and lips. Or are you just imagining it?

“Close your eyes,” you tell her and she does. You needed her to do so in order to apply the eyeliner, but not having her beautiful blue eyes looking at you temporarily minimizes the urge to kiss her.

“I’m just going to do a tiny little wing. I don’t want to bother with your waterline, it’ll be uncomfortable since you’re not used to it. Your eyes don’t really need any help standing out anyways.” Before switching from one eye to the other you stop to admire her divine features. As if she knows that you are watching her, and is trying to make you squirm, she licks her alluring lips. You feel like she’s inviting you into them but that’s not a signal you can risk misreading. You are so shocked that you drop the eyeliner on the floor. Hazel’s eyes open when she hears it hit the ground. You go to reach for it, but Hazel stops you. “I got it.”

She wraps one arm around you while her other reaches to the ground. She passes you the eyeliner and you mumble a thank you. Hazel then wraps her other arm around you and holds you tight around your waist. She closes her eyes again and you draw on the other wing.

In preparation for her opening her eyes again, you take a deep breath before instructing her to do so. Hazel’s eyes flutter and they are looking right in yours, as if she knew where they were, through the power of your connection. You tell her to look up, so you can apply mascara, but she doesn’t do it right away. Her gaze lingers on your face, like she is studying your features before she has to look away.

“I know that staying still isn’t usually your thing but I’m going to need you to for about a minute, is that ok?”

She looks over your face one last time before saying, “anything for you.” Then she looks up.

“I’m going to be super careful. I promise I won’t poke your eye out.”

She runs her hand up and down your back before holding you tighter. “I know, I trust you more than anyone else.”

You carefully apply the mascara, leaving Hazel's dreamy eyes unscathed and well defined.

“Do you have a lipstick color preference?” You ask, looking over at the vast collection.

She looks over at the array of colors and she points at one. “That one that you had on that day, with the coffee cup.” Did she remember the color from looking at your lips or her own?

You are extremely familiar with the shape of Hazel’s lips, you spend enough time looking at them, though you wish to become acquainted with them in other ways. You effortlessly trace their shape with lip liner and then swipe the lipstick over top. The addition of color only draws attention to her lips and you hope that they don’t catch anyone else’s eyes.

Wishing you could ignore it, every queer girl in school notices Hazel in the tight, low cut, tank top. PJ eyes Hazel like a predator stares down its prey. Fortunately, you get the chance to pick first at that afternoon’s meeting.

“I think I’m finally ready for a rematch, princess,” you coo at PJ. And that was true, this wasn’t an impulsive decision driven by jealousy, though you aren’t above that. It’s been a long time coming.

However, your rage has you quickly taking the offense. PJ dodges your first punch but your second one hits her square in the jaw and sends her stumbling backwards. Her eyes squint and her lip curls as she regains her balance. You just smile at her and it makes her even more angry.

PJ charges at you and is met with much more force than she was expecting. Your hands are on each other's shoulders, trying to push down your opponent. You head butt her instead of continuing the power struggle. It hurts, but it’s obvious that it hurt PJ more when she looks dizzy, holding her hand to her head and says “fuck!”

You don’t show her any mercy, she’s pushed to the hard gym floor before she knows what hit her. PJ sits up on her hands like she is about to continue, but she just shakes her head in defeat. You have to bite back a smile as you pull her to her feet and she sneers at you.

PJ spends the rest of the meeting glaring in your direction and in all honesty, it makes you feel great.

At the end of the meeting Josie announced that tomorrow is going to be a bonding day.

“You looked so pissed at PJ today,” Hazel laughs on the car ride home.

You tuck your hair behind your ear. “I might have been.”

“Did she do something?” She sounds protective and ready to fight.

Yes. “No. It’s just that she… she’s just PJ.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Hazel laughs, sounding relieved.

“How do you feel about having a bonding day tomorrow?” You wonder out loud, the question for the both of you.

“It was actually my idea,” she announces confidently.

“Josie made it sound like it was her idea. Her and PJ are starting to get popular, well less unpopular, and it’s really starting to go to their heads. Like I get it, they are the ugly, untalented, gays, and never got any positive attention before now, but they need to get their egos in check.”

“I hadn’t really noticed it until you pointed it out,” Hazel mumbles.

“They also don’t appreciate you enough,” you spat, disgusted by the thought of someone mistreating Hazel.

“Maybe,” she whispers.

“You deserve better, Hazel, the best.” The reminder is stern. “You should stay away from people like them. Stay close to the ones who treat you like the special person you are.”

“Well you do,” her puppy dog eyes are looking at you like you make the world turn.

“Of course!” You put your hand on her thigh. “No one is more important to me than you are.”

“You really know how to make a girl feel like she’s the only one in the world,” Hazel laughs shyly.

“That’s because you are.”

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

The members of the fight club sit in a circle. You are sitting next to Hazel, and when she isn’t looking Brittany gestures for you to get closer to her.

You slide closer to Hazel and when she notices she moves her knee so that it's touching yours. She smiles at you and you return it, but you know you must be blushing hard.

The discussion starts off a bit awkward, but it’s not too long before everyone gets comfortable and begins sharing. After Brittany vents, Hazel starts to share. She talks about what she has been going through with her mom and you are surprised, why hasn’t she talked about this with you? As sad as you are to hear about it, she is so cute when she talks about how happy she is to have made a bunch of new friends. Then PJ, being the dick she always is, cuts Hazel off. You keep your anger contained but you will not be forgetting about this. You put your hand on Hazel's leg to show her that you are listening and that you care about what she has to say.

The meeting gets cut pretty short after an interesting story from Josie about juvie, that for some reason sounded vaguely familiar. You, along with several other girls, didn’t even get to share.

When you go over to your backpack you pull out your water bottle to take a drink. You notice that PJ’s bag is right next to yours. So you ‘accidentally’ dropped the bottle, spilling out the full contents on PJ’s bag. You quickly grab your own bag and go to find Hazel. By the time you are standing next to her you hear PJ yell “What the hell! My fucking bag is all fucking wet!”

Everybody turns to look and Hazel notices the shit eating grin on your face. “Did you…” she questions and you just laugh. She starts to laugh too, but covers her mouth with her hand so that it isn’t obvious. You can still see it in her eyes though and it’s adorable.

“We should probably get out of here, right?” You ask her and she just grabs your arm to pull you away, the two of you stifling laughter.

As you walk towards your car in the parking lot you hear Isabel yell “Hazel! I have something for you!”

She tries to run after you and Hazel, but she ends up shuffling with little steps because of her high heels.

Isabel hands something small to Hazel and it’s a… Chili’s gift card?

“You mentioned craving chips and salsa the other day and I figured I would get-give this to you. Someone, um, gave it to me, but ya know, I’m watching my calories,” Isabel explains.

There is no way that anyone who has ever met Isabel would give her a gift card to a restaurant that didn’t have at least 1 Michelin star. And watching her calories? Yeah her mother was constantly pestering her about it, but she literally just had ice cream the other day.

Hazel is so endearingly gullible that she buys it all.“Thanks Isabel, that’s so nice of you.”

Isabel can hardly contain herself. “You two should go together, wouldn’t that be like, so fun?”

“That’s a great idea. I think it would be a very fun d-“ Hazel pauses for a moment, “a lot of fun.”

After thanking Isabel again, you and Hazel get into the car. She starts fidgeting with her rings. “Would you maybe want to go out to eat tonight? I know it’s Friday so you might have plans or something but if you’re free…”

Isabel had said she had something fun planned for tonight, but you know now that she must have been referring to this.

“I would love to.”

“How does 7 sound? I can drive.”

You nod with a shy smile, though bubbling with excitement.

You don’t want to assume anything, but this might actually be a date, so you are treating it like one. Preparing the way you would for any other date, you get started early to make sure everything looks perfect. You lay out a go to date outfit, one that you know you look hot in, and you do your hair and makeup the same way you always do, it looks good but also like you didn’t put too much effort into it.

You are buzzing with excitement when you walk outside to meet Hazel. She’s already sitting in her car. Her expression makes it look like she feels absolutely defeated, but it melts away into a dreamy daze as soon as she lays eyes on you.

Hazel puts on a playlist that she says she made just for the two of you, and it makes your heart flutter.

As Hazel drives you notice her glancing over at you every chance she gets. It makes you wonder if something is wrong with your hair and makeup.

“What?” You ask her nervously.

Hazel raises one eyebrow and tilts her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you keep looking at me like that? Did I forget to brush part of my hair or something?” You anxiously bite your lip.

“No!” she yells and it makes you jump a little.

“Not at all!” She says in a softer tone, trying to recover. “You just… you just look, like, amazing.”

You play with your hair to distract from the warm blush you feel creeping across your face. “Awe, thanks Haze. I just wanted to look nice I guess.”

“It’s just Chilli’s.” God, this girl is so oblivious.

“I know, it’s just that…” you huff and decide maybe you shouldn’t say anything. “Never mind.”

“Cmon, just tell me,” Hazel groans dramatically to make you laugh. Then she pokes your arm. “You can tell me anything.”

“I just wasn’t sure if this was like, I don’t know, this is going to sound absolutely ridiculous, a date?” You cover your face with your hands because you are so embarrassed.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” Hazel’s comforting voice reassures you.”I was scared to call it a date, but I really really want it to be a date.” You uncover your face as your jaw drops all the way to the floor. The anticipation is killing you until she finally says “so if you want this to be… it’s definitely a date.”

“For real?” You are practically bouncing up and down in your seat.

“Yeah of course babe,” she smiles looking over at you, putting her hand on your leg. It makes you so happy that you aren’t even concerned about how that might make her bad driving even worse.

You put your hand on top of hers for a reality check, to know that this is actually happening, and not a dream. “I can’t believe this is really a date.”

“Me either. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” Hazel really should be looking at the road more but you are enjoying her attention too much.

“Probably not as long as I have.”

Her face is lit up by her smiling and laughing, she is shining like the sun. “I doubt it. Let’s just say it’s been a really long time. But no need to compete here, right? I know I’m winning either way.”

You nod in agreement. “Very true.”

The rest of the car ride isn't awkward per say, but you're both very nervous, in a cute way. Instead of trying to force a conversation while processing everything, you take the time to appreciate the playlist that Hazel made, and sing along to the familiar songs. The songs that you don’t know are poetically sweet.

This is actually happening. You absolutely wanted this to be a date, and you prepared by looking good. But emotionally? You never bothered to hype yourself up for this, like a FOOL. You start nervously picking at your cuticles.

When the car comes to a stop you finally have the nerve to look back over at Hazel. She’s already looking over at you, her face is excited more than anything else, but she still has a death grip on the steering wheel.

“Are- are you ready to go inside?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady, looking at Hazel's white knuckles. She finally realizes what she’s doing and quickly places her hands in her lap and nods enthusiastically. “I’ve been ready for this for a long time.”

Hazel walks a few steps ahead so she can hold the door open for you, and when the hostess brings you to your table she pulls out your chair.

You start looking down at the menu to see what you want. When looking up at Hazel to ask if she has any ideas, she hasn’t even picked up her menu yet, she’s just watching you, starry eyed.

You giggle and point to the menu “aren’t you going to look at that?”

“I’d rather look at you,” she mumbles and leans her head on her hand.

You put down your own menu. “Oh come on Hazel, really?”

“I’m totally serious. I’m finally on a date with the most amazing, beautiful, girl in the world. How am I supposed to focus on anything else?”

You study her face, making sure that you can picture her like this from now on and forever. “You really are just the cutest human to ever exist.”

Hazel sits back up and drops both her hands to the table. “Me?”

“Yes you! Just look at you! You are so sweet and funny and compassionate and empathetic, just anything you could ever want in a...” The waitress cuts you off. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” She asks and sets down a bowl of chips and salsa.

It’s very difficult to even think about what you want to drink. You almost called Hazel your girlfriend. No matter how bad you want her to be, you are happy that you didn’t. It’s too scary to say out loud, even though you’ve been married for years in your head. Verbalizing it would make it real, and real things hurt much worse if they don’t work out.

Hazel is looking at you, clearly hanging on to every word you say, wondering how that sentence was supposed to end.

“I’ll have a, uh, lemonade,” you tell the waitress without looking away from Hazel, your eyes wide and your lips slightly parted, dying to utter one last word that would change your life forever.

“And for you?” It doesn’t even seem like Hazel heard that.

You smile awkwardly at the waitress and tell her “sprite.” She nods at you confused, “I’ll have that right out for you.”

When she is walking away Hazel finally notices that the waitress was there at all, and she looks a little embarrassed.

She starts adjusting the collar of her shirt, even though it looks fine, so you ask, “do you uh, want an appetizer?”

You can tell she is still longing to continue your previous conversation, but you just aren’t ready for that right now. She doesn’t even bother to look at the menu. “I’m good with chips and salsa. But if you want something I’ll share it.”

“I don’t think I’m that hungry right now.” That’s because nerves are fluttering in your stomach.

“Me neither,” Hazel smiles shyly.

You shift around the way you are sitting to try and expel some of the nerves. Hazel mirrors you, moving around as well, settling with one knee tucked under her. You start to eat some chips and salsa, trying to collect your thoughts, before looking back at the menu.

“I can’t decide between the honey chipotle chicken tenders and the chicken bacon ranch quesadilla,” you sigh.

“Why don’t you just get both?”

“I’m not hungry enough for an appetizer Haze,” you giggle, “I’m definitely not hungry enough to eat two dinners.”

“I don’t know what I want so we can just get what you want and share it.”

“Hazeeeeee,” you drag out, sounding almost a bit whiny. “Don’t be silly, just order what you want, I can flip a coin or something.”

Hazel slides her menu over towards you and looks away from it. “I just want you to have what you want. Besides, we always like the same things anyways.”

You place your menu on top of hers. “Fine, but you have to pick next time so that we are even.”

“Works for me,” she hums in approval. The two of you are just staring at each other, wondering where to take the conversation from here.

Next thing you know the waitress is putting down your drinks and taking your dinner order.

Hazel finally looks like she’s gotten herself together after your earlier conversation.

“I can’t believe you dumped water on PJ’s bag,” she laughs after the waitress takes the order and walks away.

“That bitch had it coming. I hate the way her and Josie brush you off, like they are better than you. They take you for granted, who do they think they are?”

Hazel bites her lip and looks down glumly. “I guess I’m just used to being treated that way.”

You cross your arms over your chest and sneer, “Well anyone that treats you like that has to answer to me now.”

Hazel laughs, even though you are very serious. “Are you going to beat up everyone that doesn’t treat me right?”

“Yes, actually.”

“If that’s the case I will punch your ex in the face if I ever get the chance.”

“That’s a deal.”

You wouldn’t call it gossiping, it’s more like discussing, when you start talking about the unfortunate relationship circumstances of other girls in the club. Like how does Isabelle put up with Jeff? Is Brittany single because she is too attached to Isabelle?

The rest of dinner goes well, and you listen to the playlist Hazel made on the car ride home.

She walks you to your front door and gives you a hug. With her arms still wrapped around your waist she pulls the upper part of her body away from you to take a good look at your face. Hey eyes wander over you dreamily until they stop on your lips. As she leans in you close your eyes, only for her to press her soft lips to your cheek.

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melodygatesauthor · 8 months

Text

The Dark Side of the Moon - Chapter 10: A Beaten Stone

Vampire Marc Spector X f!Reader

Beta Read by @xbellaxcarolinax - Masterlist - AO3

Chapter Summary

The trip back to Khonshu's mansion is painfully long. You learn more about who you are, and why Marc couldn't turn you.

Tags/Warnings (for entire fic)

Major Tags/Warnings Major Character Death - Non-con - Dub-con - Violence Minor Tags/WarningsNSFW, smut, Khonshu is human turned vampire, Ammit is human turned vampire, sex with characters other than the main pairing (Marc X f!Unnamed Character - Khonshu X f!Reader), p in v creampie, furniture grinding, scent kink, blood kink, vampire/human relationship, blood drinking, rough sex, oral sex, coming untouched, coming in pants, panty sniffing, angst, fluff, smut, forbidden relationship, secret relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, Marc does NOT have DID Dead Dove Do Not Eat - This means that what you see in the tags is what you get in the fic. If you read the tags and see "non-con" and then see non-con in the fic, don't be surprised!

Word Count: 2.2k

It was a long trip back to the mansion.

The return journey took no more time than the trip there, but it felt longer. Marc had been bound in enchanted chains, not unlike the ones Khonshu made you wear back at his home. You recalled seeing him getting into the back of one of the vans just before you were shoved haphazardly into Khonshu’s black luxury sedan.

You’d been blindfolded for the duration of the trip, but now with only an hour remaining – or so the driver reported to Khonshu – he removed the cloth over your eyes. You blinked, the light piercing your retina for a moment before you adjusted to the sight around you. There was a long coast visible through the trees. Waves crashed against stone, beating them down until they were nothing.

“I thought that you and I could talk, sweet one,” he said in a soft tone, one that you knew he used when trying to appeal to you.

You were all out of care for his facade. This, Khonshu, the mansion, his promises, you didn’t want any of it anymore. You’d rather die than remain under his command, especially now that the truth was unfurling.

—

“Please don’t hurt him! I won’t see him anymore! I promise! I’m sorry!” You’d yelled in your room in Ammit’s house, the same night Khonshu had caught you with Marc.

Khonshu had laughed at you, as though your emotional agony brought him nothing but pure bliss. If there was ever a moment you’d seen Khonshu for the monster he was, it was then. He tsked, walking over to you and sitting on the edge of your bed. His hand reached out to rub your calf, a soft gesture for a horrid creature.

“I’m sorry, little dove,” he’d whispered to you, “I know this hurts, but it’s for the best. I can’t have Marc interfering with my plans more than he already has.”

When you asked him what ‘plans’ he spoke of, he dodged the question.

“I don’t want you to worry about him at all, okay? By the time he’s allowed out of the thirst room, you’ll be long gone and it won’t be your concern anymore.”

You wondered if he genuinely thought that was supposed to comfort you, or if he just wanted to torment you further by telling you that you would never see Marc again.

—

You remained silent as the car drove along the winding road. You’d hoped your silence would provide a sufficient enough answer. You didn’t want to fucking talk to Khonshu if he was the only thing left on Earth with the ability to speak.

“Fine, then perhaps you care to listen?”

No.

A thousand times, you did not care to listen, but being trapped in a moving car with two vampires and no way to fight, you were left with no other choice.

“You should know that what I said was true, I did save Marc Spector,” he started. You kept your eyes trained at the window. “It was 1935, and he was at an archaeological dig site in Cairo. Did you know he used to be in the marines?”

You didn’t know that. There were a lot of things you didn’t know about Marc Spector, but you’d fallen for him regardless. His past wasn’t particularly important to you. At this point, you both were trapped in the same living hell, and all you had was each other to get through it.

“Well, after he was discharged, he started working for some mercenaries.”

You felt a hand snake around your waist and pull you back against Khonshu’s chest. His large hand rested casually over your stomach. The rise and fall of his chest against your back felt comforting, despite your desire to kill him the moment you figured out how. You relaxed, body going pliant against his while the car continued along the quiet road.

He continued, “When Marc refused to gun down some innocent archeologists, the other mercenaries turned on him, and he managed to drag himself into my temple.” Khonshu laughed, “I’d felt a disturbance at my statue, so I went there at once.”

“What were you searching for?” You asked quietly.

“That’s not important right now. What’s important is that I gave Marc a choice, and he chose this life,” Khonshu’s tone grew very serious. “He would have you think that I tricked him, but I did no such thing. I offered him life, and in exchange, he would serve me. He chose to live so I–”

“Enslaved him,” you interrupted, feeling your body shaking with frustration.

You could hear Khonshu sigh in aggravation, “I. Saved. Him.”

The car became silent for another beat, the two of you rocking in each other's arms every time the driver rolled over a bump in the asphalt. You didn’t know why he was telling you this story, and you didn’t quite care to listen any longer, but you still didn’t have a choice.

“My point is, that as much as you both seem to think that I am hurting you, I encourage you to remember where you came from,” he hissed in your ear.

You cursed the tear that trickled down your cheek. “Why didn’t it work, Marc’s blood?” You asked through clenched teeth.

Khonshu laughed, “I was going to wait until a more opportune time to tell you, but Marc changed a lot of my plans with his…primal behavior.” His hand rubbed your stomach and you felt uneasy. “You, my little dove, are special. Though I’m sure you already know this. Your smell attracts vampires like a moth to a flame and your blood…well, imagine if vampires had a drug for performance enhancement.”

“Like a steroid?”

“Precisely. Your blood is not unlike a steroid for us. You’re able to heal rather quickly as well, have you noticed that?” He trailed a finger up your arm. “I’m sure when you were a child your bumps and bruises would mend faster than your peers, hm?”

You didn’t respond, though you knew his words to be true.

“There used to be several other humanoid species on Earth besides humans. Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, etcetera. Many of them have been eradicated at this point for too many reasons to list, but you, sweet one, your species was plucked from the Earth for being both too dangerous and too advantageous to my species.”

You moved to sit, and to your surprise, he didn’t insist on you staying cradled against him. You looked at him incredulously. If what he was saying was true, and based on the evidence, you didn’t see how it could be a lie.You really weren’t human.

“What am I then?” You asked, furrowing your brow.

“Relax, you’re more of a sub-species of human than a different species altogether.” He chuckled, looking out the window with his cold, dark eyes. “You’re what’s called a hunter.” Your mind was racing, but you didn’t know what to say. “It may shock you to know, but I don’t know who the first vampire was, nor do I know the origins of my kind, butthe other ancient ones and I saw to it that the hunters were removed from existence.”

The realization hit you right away. Your parents…

“My…”

“That’s right, dove,” Khonshu cooed, brushing a finger over your cheek. “I had my knights kill your parents, and anyone else you may have called kin.”

You didn’t feel emotional pain around the people you never knew, rather you felt pain for the girl who spent her life trying to understand why they would abandon her; why she was deemed so unworthy of their affections. You felt a simultaneous relief and ache that you couldn’t shake. It was comforting to know that they hadn’t discarded you carelessly, but Khonshu just told you that his knights had hunted down and killed your parents.

“Marc and Arthur?” You looked into his emotionless eyes.

“Who else?”

“You’re lying.”

“Think what you must for your mental comfort, sweet one, but I assure you, I sent my men on a private mission to kill the last two hunters alive around twenty-one years ago.”

The car was silent again, and you felt like your breath was stolen from your lungs. It was all too much at once, learning that you’re a human subspecies, your parents are deceased, and Marc may have been the one to do it. No doubt he would’ve remembered killing them though, right?

“I told them to kill you too, but you were already gone. It was when I heard that Ammit was searching for the little huntress that my interest was piqued.” Khonshu looked at his nails as though you were discussing the weather or the price of milk. “The blood of a hunter is…” He snatched your hand and pressed his nose against your wrist, inhaling deeply, “intoxicating, but simultaneously it’s invigorating. There’s nothing else like it in the entire world.”

With a gentle kiss on the inside of your wrist, he let go, snickering wickedly when you scowled at him.

“Why have you kept this from me? What benefit is there of keeping this a secret? If my smell is so potent then surely the others would know that you have a hunter with you.”

Khonshu’s large hand reached out and touched your stomach. He rubbed over the fabric of your dress, thumb caressing you affectionately. His lips parted and his breath trembled as if he were heady with arousal.

“It was always forbidden for blood hunters to exist in our world. Some thousand years ago they were spreading like wildfire, vampires and hunters fucking like rabbits, spitting out the little cretins left and right.” He smirked at you, his eyes twinkling with cruel mischief. “You wouldn’t believe how many people and children burned when we decided to kill them all.”

“We?” You asked, feeling a wave of terror wash over your skin, making your hairs stand out straight.

“Myself, Ammit, Osiris, Horus, Isis, the majority of your ‘gods’ are supernatural beings that have been around for, well, a long, long time.” He sighed. “The blood hunter genocide was a dark time, but it had to be done. Hunters were already dangerous on their own, well-trained supernatural killers that couldn’t be turned into lycan, vampire, or any other sort of unnatural creature. Your blood is immune to the diseases that plague us with our cursed lives.”

“That’s why Marc couldn’t make me like him…” you looked down at your palms, realizing what this meant.

“You’re missing my point here, my little dove,” he said to you in a patronizing tone you despised. “Blood hunters are the children born of a vampire and a hunter, and they’re dangerous because they cannot die as easily as man. They age remarkably slowly, and they can still lure in a vampire the same as you can, with your delicious scent.”

“Why are you telling me this,” you asked, despite already knowing the answer.

He chuckled, “I’m done with this impasse between myself and Ammit. I’m tired of living in this mansion tucked away at the edge of the world.”

As he said that, the place you called home, Khonshu’s mansion came into view over the hill in the distance.

“I was going to take you myself. Plant my seed so deep in your belly you couldn’t walk for weeks, but I wanted to give her the chance to submit before I create a creature as vile as a blood hunter…but it would seem Marc couldn’t contain himself for that long.”

You touched your stomach. You didn’t feel any different, though it had only been a few days, so you shouldn’t feel different. As if he could read your mind, Khonshu answered your burning questions.

“We have an incredible sense of smell, dove, and you have a scent that is designed to draw my kind in. When you’re pregnant that smell changes, and because your scent is so pungent already, even the slightest change is easy enough for us to sense.”

You felt your palms start to sweat, your heart rate rose and the car felt like it was getting smaller. Everything felt loud, the sound of the car rolling over the dirt road as the driver turned onto the final stretch of the journey, your breath coming out of your mouth, and the way Khonshu chuckled at your distress. You wanted to jump out of the vehicle, and for a moment you fantasized about it, opening the door and throwing yourself into one of the trees that you passed, but you couldn’t do that. You didn’t really want that.

“What are you going to do to Marc?” You asked, finally finding the ability to speak once more.

“My sweet girl,” he said just above a whisper, tipping your chin up so you were forced to look him in the eye. “Marc is going to stay in the thirst room until he withers away, and you’ll be dead long before that day comes, so don’t worry your little head.”

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moonlitinks · 1 year

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What Fate Decides [Taehyung x Reader] [Part 3]

join tag list for future works | masterlist of all works previous | next drabble

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 become a member on my ko-fi page! or buy me a coffee 💞

summary: You're a beta in love with your best friend, alpha Kim Taehyung. Except you know that you can never fulfill his dominating urges, so you draw a line between the two of you. Cherish his small kisses and embraces until an omega has to come along.

Until one day, you're not a beta anymore. Now, it's nearly impossible to resist the protective, endearing alpha in front of you.

pairing: taehyung x reader

chapter tags/warnings: angst, fluff, alpha/omega, a/b/o dynamics, best friends to lovers, slow burn ish, smut, mature, swearing

note: sorry for the wait all <3 last part coming in a bit! thank you for being here and reading my works (I am forever grateful). If you want to hang out with me, check out my insta, and if you'd like to donate me a coffee, check out my kofi page!

The accident turned you into an omega.

Okay, that’s kind of a lie. You were a dormant omega, apparently, but now you’re a real one. Or something like that. In truth, your face had been pale, and though the doctor’s mouth was moving, nothing seemed to register. Finally, you had been comfortable with being a Beta. And then suddenly, the world shifts it’s axis, it being Wacky Wednesday or something, and you’re an Omega.

You release a wry laugh. What a joke.

A joke, because you lost your best friend.

A joke, because you lost your freedom.

A joke, because you feel as if you just lost everything.

The door swings open to your studio, and you watch as Taehyung is fumbling outside your doorway, hands in his pockets, peeking up from you from under his bangs. Though you normally wouldn’t think anything of it as a beta, the omega side suddenly sees it as groveling. An alpha hunching over and submitting to his omega.

Ha. Like you’re his omega. There are thousands of them lined up already, begging for his attention no doubt. Adding yourself to the list among the more experienced, and beautiful, ones is a waste of heartbreak.

“Do you want to come in?” You hesitate, and his mouth twists as he straightens. He’s tall.

No surprise there. The only surprise should be that your omega is reacting to his height.

“You’re not on suppressants,” he starts, forming into a mother hen. “You have to be on suppressants.”

God, you can’t even tell how much time has passed since the accident and he’s already making a list, throwing you into the omega life. And besides, it’s been like a week after you discharged? He was there every day at the hospital, but now that you could walk without any issues, he disappeared?

“I don’t want to be,” you protest. “Why do I have to? I’ve never—”

Oh. Right. Because you’re different now. You sigh at the thought of the mundane life escaping further from your grasp. “Do I have to, though? Is there no other option around it?”

That makes Taehyung pause from the doorway, and he turns around.

“There’s this thing,” he starts, swallowing. “Called scenting. And you have a scent that can draw Alphas—”

“But you smell, too,” you wrinkle your nose. “And nobody attacks you or anything—”

“It’s not safe,” he repeats, but there’s a layer underneath it. Dangerous. Possessive. Raw. He growls, and you melt in his arms. Into a puddle of arousal, with the slick gushing out of you and the way your gut is aching.

“Omega,” he thunders, and something shifts. He’s inching closer, and in the next moment, Taehyung’s kissing your jaw. Groaning. Murmuring, Omega. Let me scent you.

And you tell him—Yes. And when his mouth covers your gland and sucks, you cry out and clutch his arms.

“Fuck,” Taehyung groans once more. His teeth scrape the back of your neck, where your gland is located, and you babble incoherent words. “Omega. You smell so good. Taste fucking delicious.”

This is not a good idea.

But it’s one that your heart wants.

Taehyung knows he should contain himself. He has to be the alpha that helps his best friend find a suitable companion. But he can’t help but think that you’re his omega, no matter how much he attempts to think otherwise. He doesn’t want to ruin the dynamic he has with you, but goddamn, he’s attuned to every one of your movements. Like the way you’re curled up against him as the movie plays, legs on top of his own, and head leaning against his chest. There are small, barely audible throaty sounds coming from you as you watch the couple fight, clearly disliking it. And he can’t help but wonder how it feels to suck on your gland again until you’re smothered in his scent.

Then he can’t help but imagine you under him, knotted and preening. He already knows you’re vocal with your whimpers and sighs—and if you can’t stop squirming, he’ll pin you to the bed and bite your glands on your wrists… and rut into you. Fuck, he might not even be able to pull out to thrust back in.

“Taehyung?” You murmur, eyes wide and innocent, most likely catching the way he stared at you. Like he wanted to devour you.

In return, the alpha mumbles your name and rests his forehead on your shoulder. It’s hell, he thinks, jaw clenching. You’re wearing his hoodie and no shorts under it, and he’s breathing in your lavender scent, mind repeating: this is hell, but also what content is like.

It’s insane, how much comfort you bring. You brought it as a beta, but you’re also bringing it as an omega. Taehyung kisses your cheek and embraces you, closing his eyes for a second. The fact that you’re alive and breathing under him—that is enough. It’s all he can ever ask of you, to just keep smiling at him.

There are some things that changed about him. He started—and he knows that you noticed—calling you love, or baby. He buries his head in the crook of your neck constantly, making sure you smell like him and he you. Satisfaction thrums through Taehyung’s veins when he can smell himself on you.

Knowing that scenting you earlier meant that you belonged to him. That all his members could smell who you belonged to. His Alpha loves it, too, instead of thrashing around and causing anxiety. Finally, his head quiets. No thoughts about coming home, taking care of you, making sure you’re well fed, rings through his mind.

“I have something to tell you,” he blurts, and you glance up.

Fuck. He can’t take it anymore. Screw company guidelines. Screw what people thinks. He wants you. All of you.

You’re his happiness; there’s no doubt in his mind that fate put you together.

“I love you,” he murmurs, placing your hand over his chest, directly where your heartbeat is. “You’re everything to me. My whole world. My—”

“Your omega?”

“My omega. Just like I’m yours, too.”

tags: @theblueslytherin @tatyhend @tinyoonsblog @vsmith0099 @midnightsora @cupcakesxdomjoon @likeshatteredrainbowglass @scuzmunkie @kookiwu @xjiminsthighsx @dreadity @lovelytaes-blog @noooodlllleeee @ggukkieland @namjoonshug @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hesmyphenominiall @hollyweird0

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bubuslutty · 1 year

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Day 6: you wanna be the Queencard?

this is part 6, all parts

pairing: angel/demon!fem reader x 141

word count: 2.5k

tags: fluff, poor attempt at humour (help), no use of y/n, 3rd person pov, proofread by me so sorry for any mistakes

warnings: none

summary: Price notices changes + Angel invites Soap to hang out <3

a/n: special thanks to my first ever beta reader @whore4dilfs! Feedback means lots to me and gives me boosts of motivation <3

Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed this chapter/serie, means lots 💖

the title of this part is taken from this song.

Price wasn't stupid. He has eyes and can notice when people slowly start to change.

Since they have moved into the little home in London for work under Laswell’s watchful eyes, their new neighbour has been nothing but a pleasant surprise. At first, it was fun you know? Oh look, we have a hot neighbour and she’s nice! Angel would sometimes be talked about when they were having dinner, the men casually talking about how her cat almost ruined her flowers and she shouted at her. Or how last Saturday she almost tripped and fell face first when taking out the trash, or how she gets her laundry from the garden wearing nothing but a stupid t-shirt and pair of underwear.

Price is a gentleman, he tries his best not to stare, not to let his eyes linger on her when she’s out and about or greets him when he’s smoking in the garden. But she’s so fucking pretty, it’s frustrating at this point, how she manages to make his breath stutter every time he sees her. She could be wearing an old Minnie Mouse t-shirt, a pair of shorts and yellow Crocs with gardening gloves, dirty and sweating under the sun and digging up weeds and Price would always get caught staring at her, his cigar forgotten between his fingers.

He feels like a teenager all over again. He’s not a virgin for fuck sake. And he had his fair share of hookups here and there along with (failed) relationships. But he still catches himself staring at her lips when she’s laughing at something Soap said, throwing her head back and screeching with laughter. And she seems to not mind his men’s antics, either.

She doesn’t ask about their scars, doesn’t comment on Ghost's clothing choices or how he wears a mask 24/7 and never asks why she should call him Ghost either. She never asked them intrusive questions, not even when they were comfortable, bellies full of wine and warm under the sun on random afternoons. Angel hasn’t made any of his men or himself uncomfortable, not even once, and that’s terrifying because it’s so easy to get comfortable and open with her. It makes him want to talk about things he only keeps to himself. She makes him want to sit and ramble about what he’d do once he’s old and retired, maybe he’ll buy a boat, or a house up north, or move to Spain or to Morocco.

One fine Tuesday, Price was sitting on the sofa, scrolling on his phone while Gaz was curled up next to him, reading a random webcomic on his phone when their doorbell rang.

Gaz frowned, looking up at Price, "Are we expecting someone, today?"

"No." Price shook his head.

"I'll get it!" Soap exclaimed, skipping 3 steps and jumping down the stairs, wearing a tank top and a pair of comfortable shorts with little dog-printed socks. Initially, Soap thought it must be one of his packages that came earlier than expected, but once he opened the door he realised it wasn't the mailman but their hot neighbour.

And she was absolutely soaked from head to toe, it was raining so hard outside that Soap accidentally got rain inside their house, wetting the floor under his feet

"I locked myself out. Can I please come in until the rain stops?" Angel asked, embarrassed and hair sticking to her neck and face.

"Holy shit, yeah, of course!" Soap quickly moved to the side, allowing her to step inside their warm house and locked the door behind her.

Angel stood there awkwardly, her clothes sticking to her skin as she shivered and looked at Soap with her wet eyelashes clumped together.

"What the hell happened to you?" Price said as soon as he saw her, sitting up properly.

"Got rained on, and uhm, I locked myself out," Angel said, squirming with embarrassment, her hands clutching the ends of her short skirt.

"Jesus…" He sighed and stood up, "Gaz, get her something to change into, and Soap, give her a towel and show her to the bathroom."

"You don't have to!" Angel quickly said, still dripping water next to their door, refusing to take a step in any direction.

Price gave her an unimpressed look, "Really? You're dripping water all over the floor and you'll get sick."

Angel pursed her lips and watched Price walk to the kitchen, turning on the kettle and preparing ginger tea for her.

Soap brought her a big towel, to wrap herself into and get to the bathroom, where Gaz handed her the smallest t-shirt he could find, a zip-up hoodie and a pair of shorts.

"I tried my best, I know none of this will fit but yeah-" Gaz mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and Angel smiled, shivering under the towel.

"Thank you, Gaz."

"No worries." He smiled and left her to change and dry up in the bathroom.

"Oh yeah," He stopped in his tracks and walked up to the bathroom's door, knocking twice, "Take a hot shower, you'll get warmer that way!"

"Okay!" Angel said behind the door, wrestling with her wet skirt to pull it down.

"Are you sure I need all of this?..." Angel asked, blowing on the mug containing the tea Price made her.

"Angel, shut up." Price sighed, sitting next to her on the sofa.

Angel was wrapped in a giant fluffy blanket, wearing military-grade warm socks, with a warm water bottle placed behind her back and a big mug of tea in her hands.

"Damn, alright…" Angel rolled her eyes and took a sip of her tea, feeling it warm her body from the inside out.

Gaz sat down next to Price, curling up next to him and this time grabbing the remote control, looking for something to put in as background noise.

Soap also came back down, but with Ghost this time, literally dragging him by the sleeve and making him sit down, curling next to him and throwing a leg over one of his ridiculously thick and strong thighs.

Angel noticed all of this but didn't say anything.

"So, how did ya lock yourself out?" Soap finally asked.

"I was rushing and forgot my keys," Angel said, already annoyed at how she would need to call someone to unlock her door for her.

"Went somewhere special? You looked nice." Soap said, making her smile.

"Yeah, I went for coffee with a friend. And I bought a new ring!" She said and stuck out her hand to show him.

Soap's eyes immediately sparkled with interest at the ring she showed him. Ghost glanced at him and at the silver ring she was showing him, and knew Johnny liked jewellery, especially silver.

Soap grabbed her hand and he leaned forward, "That's beautiful, where did you get it from?"

The ring was silver with small pink and purple rocks on it, forming a little skull, obviously mimicking the tag on Kuromi's collar.

"This store is 20 minutes away from here by train! They have so many things and almost everything is unisex! I'll send you the address if you want?" Angel said, excited to be sharing something she found with him.

"I dinnae have your number though?" Soap realised.

"Oh yeah," Angel was confused, with the number of times they've spoken and hung out, how come they don't have each other's numbers already?

"Alright, give me your number and I'll add you to our group chat so you can save their numbers as well, okay?" Soap said, taking out his phone and handing it to her.

Angel typed in her number and saved her contact under 'Angel 👹'

When she handed him back his phone he snorted, "What type of emoji is that?"

"It's a demon!" She said with a grin and he laughed, shrugging it off.

The conversation was light and easy, they talked about random mundane things until Angel’s attention was stolen by the TV, she stared at the big screen with her mouth open and forgot to finish her sentence.

She snorted, and Gaz tilted his side to the side, “What’s up?”

“That’s you, John.” Angel pointed at the screen, where a big brown bear was napping under a tree on its back. Gaz and Soap started giggling like school girls at Price’s expression. Ghost on the other hand let out a small snort and pulled at the strings of his hoodie, trying to hide himself from his captain.

Price leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees and squinting at the screen like an old man, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s literally exactly how you nap in the garden sometimes, and it’s cute!” Angel said, still laughing at his face.

“That’s not true, I literally have no idea what you’re talking about, the sun must’ve messed up with your head.” He said, shrugging and refusing to meet her eyes.

“John, stop playing, it’s you!” Angel whined, shaking his arm and making Gaz laugh harder.

“If I’m that bear, you’re that one.” He said, pointing at the TV. Angel glanced at the TV and saw a small cub falling on its face and getting a mouthful of dirt. She gasped at his audacity, “No, I’m not!”

“I have seen you almost trip outside when taking out the trash, 3 times already.” Price teased her, looking at her with a small smirk.

“And you laugh at a lady instead of preserving her reputation? How dare you, John!” Angel said with a hand on her chest and falling back on Soap with a hand against her forehead.

“That is not a way to treat a proper lady, John. Apologise!” Soap said, lower lip dramatically wobbling and cradling her head in his arms.

“I’ll think about it.” Price chuckled at their antics and Gaz gasped, “Oh my days, you’re actually the worst.”

“And yet, you still love me.” Price sighed.

“Unfortunately.” Gaz rolled his eyes and placed a kiss on the Captain’s temple before standing up and walking to the kitchen, to get himself a snack.

“I think your clothes should be dry now,” Soap said, opening the tumble dryer’s door and watching Angel bend down to inspect her clothes.

“They are, thanks.” She grabbed the clothes and placed them on top of the dryer, closing the door with one hand.

Soap watched Angel fold her clothes in a neat pile and her skirt caught his attention. It was a pretty short brown pleated skirt, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to run his hand on the soft fabric. Angel stopped and stared at Soap’s entranced and focused face.

“Nice, isn’t it?” She smiled and he snapped back into reality, retrieving his hand to himself.

“What fabric is that?” He asked and Angel just stared at him, “I actually don’t know…”

“Wait, maybe it says on the tag inside.” She exclaimed and quickly grabbed the skirt, flipping it inside out and frowning, when it was nowhere to be seen, “Oh shit, I must’ve removed it and forgot, sorry Soap.”

If there’s one thing Soap can tell you he likes about the woman, is that she dresses well. Her personal style is so cool and unique to him, every time she’s about to leave for work, he stops and admires her choice of clothes for the day. At first, it embarrassed him, how much he enjoys clothes and colours and fashion, but then it took years of working through internalised self-hatred for him to enjoy ‘womanly’ things without feeling like utter shit about it in the comfort of his own room. Thanks, Dad for the trauma <3

“If you want, I can try to figure out where I bought it from and buy you one? So we can match?” Angel asked, grinning and holding the skirt up in her hands.

Soap’s eyes widened a bit and he quickly spluttered, “No, you dinnae have to! Please, don’t bother.”

“You don’t like the skirt?” Angel’s smile fell.

“No, I do! It's just you dinnae have to bother buying me one, It won’t suit me.” He said, laughing and scratching his arm, no humour behind his laugh, if anything it was tainted with embarrassment and a hint of shame.

Angel’s eyes softened, “Soap, what makes you think it won’t suit you? Have you seen your thighs and tiny -excuse my language- slutty waist?”

Soap blushed bright red and barked out a laugh, “What the shite, Angel?!”

“It’s true! Don’t tell me Ghost has never told you this before?” Angel asked, tilting her head to the side.

Soap took a sharp inhale through his nose and slammed the door of the kitchen shut, “What makes you think he-”

“The man’s practically obsessed with your thighs, every time you sit next to him his hands glue themselves to them, especially when you’re wearing shorts. And I don’t even blame him, you have killer thighs. In my opinion, it’s a crime you have to wear trousers-” Angel said, waving her hands and the skirt around, and Soap almost died and closed her mouth with his palm before he could stop himself.

“Alright!”

“Hmm??” Angel hummed behind his palm, eyes wide.

“You want to buy me a skirt? Okay, just- just don’t–” Soap said, letting out a shaky breath and slowly removing his hand from her mouth.

Angel blinked up at him with big shiny eyes, feeling the borrowed shorts slowly slide down her hips. “Are you free next Wednesday?” She asked and quickly reached down the tie the short’s strings tighter to stop them from sliding down.

“Yeah, why?”

“Let’s play dress up at mine,” Angel said, grinning up at Soap.

“You want to-”

“Let’s hang out, and I’ll show you my jewellery collection,” Angel added with a small smirk, raising her brows.

Soap gaped at her like a fish, his mouth agape, and groaned, throwing his head back, “Fine, At what time?”

“How about 3 in the afternoon?”

“I’ll bring snacks.” Soap nodded, feeling an odd soup of excitement and anxiety brew in his stomach.

“Perfect, see you then, Soap.” Angel winked and grabbed the collar of his shirt, dragging him down to place a kiss on his cheek and happily skipped out of the kitchen.

“PRICE, CAN YOU UNLOCK MY DOOR NOW, PLEASE?” He heard Angel call out in the living room and leaned against the tumble dryer, glancing down at his thighs in his shorts. He chuckled and shrugged, “I do have killer thighs.”

Outside in front of Angel’s front door, Price was squatting in front of the lock, picking at it with some tool Angel has never seen before she gasped when a small click was heard and Price pulled the doorknob down, opening it.

Price stood up and turned to her, “Here we go, now go look for those keys, to make sure they’re actually inside.”

Angel raised a brow, “Should I be worried you can unlock my doors?...”

“No, why? Are you hiding something?” Price asked, with a hand on his hip, wearing a small smirk.

“Of course not.”

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @loveyhoneydovey @cutiecusp @pinkwigonmytv @mandythemint @itsberrydreemurstuff @tapioca-marzipan @fruitymoonbeams-blog @poohkie90 @chaoticevilbakugo @anubis-reed @thefairybird @skytacvia @marytvirgin @cynicalmnm @maechanexe @t0jis-worm @1800imgay @4ndjelij4 @multitargaryen @lilpothoscuttings @mysticalpandabear @silviafantin15 @marvel-ness @bobastayhigh @originalsimp @h-leighh @gxldyjess @msdrpreist @whore4dilfs

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breyito · 1 month

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Fear your sins, not your monsters: Part Three: Paths Converging

Continuation of Day 1 and 2 of @painlandweek

Part 1 Part 2 Chapters: 3/5 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU) Additional Tags: Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin PayneUnhinged Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Violence, Torture, Hurt Charles Rowland (DCU), Sickfic, love language: acts of service, painlandweek, BAMF Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Angst with a Happy Ending

Here on AO3

A/N: Hello! I'm so, so sorry about the delay! My ADHD has been kicking my ass for the last couple of weeks and istg i feel like i can't do anything. Anyways. I had to split this chapter in half, cause it was getting ridiculously long again, and I wasnt going to finish the rest of it today. (I have this new app on my phone that is voice-to-text and it changed my life! All the dialogues i keep forgetting bc of lack of energy to write i can just *dictate* and it feels so good lol. It also lenghtened this quite a bit, tho.) No moodboard for this one either, not yet. I'll try to make one tomorrow (or in a few hours, as it is, once again, 5am). No beta and English is not my native language, so any mistakes please point them out. I hope you enjoy this one! I'm very curious about what you'll think of this one ;P Oh, WARNING:This contains violence, threats of rape towards Charles and other children's souls, etc.

Part Three: Paths Converging

They headed back to the office. On the way, Crystal with her phone in her ear, Edwin had explained the general gist of things to her. Mainly that the other ghost hadn’t known the location of the lair of the witch, but had visited a few times. To allow him to travel there via mirror, she had given him a token attuned to him and his energy. They could use the token, but not to travel with it more than once; and definitely not to escape the place. (Not to mention that Crystal would have never let Edwin go on his own alone, without even the possibility of helping him. She was glad, still, that the ghost boy had not even suggested that.)

“So how can we use it?” she asked, looking right at him, as she plopped down on the couch. They were inside the office now and nosy taxi drivers couldn’t watch her suspiciously anymore. Also, she was exhausted and couldn’t bother with more acting for a couple of hours.

Edwin had gone straight to the massive pile of books on top of every single flat surface, including boxes full of files. He had looked at the books covering the desk for a full thirty seconds and then sent a wave of the black smoke at them, and they actually began moving on their own towards the floor. Crystal was…ignoring that for now, for the sake of her sanity. (How many things was she already ignoring?)

“I think I can combine a couple of rituals to create a sort of…tether, between Charles and myself.” he replied to her, as he removed his outer layers. “This would, basically, allow us to communicate with him and follow his energy to the place where the witch has absconded him.”

“Don’t tethers usually need something more physical to work?” she questioned, curious. At least that’s what the book she had been reading before their last case went wildly off course had said. Maybe the black smoke allowed him to tweak the limits?

“I have something more physical of his.” Edwin said, touching Charles’ necklace still around his neck. ”And for me, well, some blood or the ghost equivalent should work.” His eyes showed his mind went far, far away for a couple of moments. She said nothing, remembering the sudden rush of cold, dark, wet she had felt the last time she touched it. Edwin eventually shook off the melancholy and straightened his posture.

“I will need to compile the different arrays and rites I need to build this ritual. It will take me at least a few hours, so I suggest you rest up.”

“Are you sure I can’t help you…?” she asked, despite knowing he probably wouldn’t let her. Building rituals from scratch was a whole new area and she had exactly zero experience with that.

“Crystal.” He sighed, already spreading an alarming amount of books on the now clean desk. “I don’t mean to be rude, but unless you have a working knowledge of any of the Celtic languages, Aramaic, Latin or Fuþorc Runes I’ll ask you to keep out of it.”

“Okay, okay.” she rolled her eyes. Kicking her shoes off, she got comfortable on the couch and covered herself with the blanket. “But wake me up if you need to leave, alright?” she mumbled, half asleep already. “I don’t wanna panic if you’re not there when I wake up…”

Several hours later, Edwin shook her awake. Still woozy from sleep, she understood he needed a specific kind of knife he didn’t have but knew where to get. And that he had to travel by mirror to the place. She mumbled her understanding to him, and he left.

It was only when she was about to drop back into a deep sleep that her brain actually zoned in to the important part. She sat up on the couch so suddenly she felt dizzy.

“ Esther Finch’s fucking house!?” she yelled at the flat mirror, frustrated beyond belief. “Are you shitting me , Edwin!?” she cursed at the empty office. She creamed into the pillow a bit more, then got up. At least this should give her time to shower.

—-- —-- —--

Edwin really doesn’t want to go back to Port Townsend. The place was bleak, damp and filled with memories of suffering. Whether it is mental, emotional or physical; he’d experienced more pain in that little town in a single month than in the rest of the world in the last fifteen years.

But Charles was missing. Taken by another witch with a penchant for sick, twisted games and children’s pain. The ritual he came up with was novel and needed every single element to work. The dagger was fundamental. Edwin could not risk wasting more time looking for another knife with the same qualities when he already knew the location of one.

So he travelled to Port Townsend via mirror. He landed in Crystal’s old room above Jenny’s shop, and walked up to the house in a disguise. It was better than trying to travel directly inside Finch’s house, which surely had enchantments against ghosts using her mirrors that way.

As soon as his feet landed inside a ten metre radius, he could feel the repellent wards telling him to go away. This magic felt different than Finch’s. Probably the Cat King, then. Or maybe Tragic Mick? He ignored the compulsion, and kept walking up the path into the porch.

He took off his glasses before reaching the stairs, and became his true self again. A loud caw immediately greeted him. He paused and looked back, and saw Monty in his true form on a tree branch. The pause allowed the crow to land in the handrail of the porch, exuding an air of disapproval. Edwin sighed.

“I need to get something from inside this house.” he said, focusing on one of the crows’ eyes. “I’m not going to-” he paused before he promised something he couldn’t keep. Because he couldn’t promise not to hurt someone with what he took from inside. “I’m going to get something from inside this house.” He said instead. “And you are not going to stop me.”

Monty lifted into the air, agitated, cowing. His wings produced so much wind that Edwin took a step back, but then straightened up and pulled his notebook and held it open with one hand.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Monty.” he stated. “But I will if you try to stop me.” His other hand opened and a bright orange flame erupted, tinged with wisps of black. An alarmed cry made Edwin feel like garbage, but he held the flame on his palm. In control, but ready to attack.

The crow flew off then, shrill caws on his way. Edwin took a deep breath and extinguished the fire, wiping his hand on his coat. He pocketed his notebook and climbed the stairs. Fortunately, he went in as easily as he had done for Becky.

By the time Edwin had found the dagger, and snatched a book that looked like it had been involved in the creation of the ghastly machine that so much pain it had caused him; it was already too late. He felt a pulse of energy from outside, and cursed under his breath. He could try to undo the spells on the mirrors of the house, but that would take too long. So he sighed and marched outside.

“Edwin, Edwin, Edwin. You don't write, you don't call…” the Cat King said with a fake moue. Edwin looked up and saw Monty flying in circles above their heads. Little snitch , he thought, resentful.

“Cat King.” he said, nodding in respect, trying to walk around him. “I'm just leaving.” But diplomacy never worked on him.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The other man clicked his tongue, stepping in Edwin’s path. The ghost boy stopped where he was, not willing to get closer.

“What do you think you are doing, entering the house of the Wicked Witch of the West?” The shapeshifter asked, sauntering around him. He was wearing heeled boots, and it added a little height difference that irked Edwin.

“I already have what I came here looking for. Now, if you please, I'm in a hurry.” Edwin tried to give another step, but the Cat King walked closer again, forcing him to step back. He was not putting himself in reach again. Monty cowed, flying faster, agitated.

“No. I don't think I please.” he tilted his head. “Knowledge like Esther's is dangerous. And I just can't let you leave with something dangerous.” The trickster’s tone was still playful, and it was grating on Edwin’s nerves.

“Knowledge is just knowledge.” the detective said, exasperated. “And I'm not asking you for permission.” he countered, snappish, head held high. “You're wasting my time .” The Cat King’s eyes shone.

“You should always have time for me, dear.” he said, smile cutting. “I can always just trap you here again, Edwin.” He offered, the smile still on.

“...And I can always start killing your subjects until you let me leave. But we are not doing that, are we, Thomas? ” he smirked back, biting. There was something cold in those green eyes that made the shifter want to shiver. The faint wisps of black coming up from the ground were certainly unnerving. Monty screeched in alarm and abruptly landed on a branch several metres down.

“You know my name.” the Cat King realised, stepping back.

“I do. I know a lot of things about you now.” the ghost added, taking a step forward. “You like to play games . But I already knew that, from last time.” Edwin took another step closer. “The difference is, Charles is not with me right now. And I don't have a lot of patience for games when he is in danger.” he snarled.

“So that is why you're doing this? For him? You came all the way to America, to the house where you were tortured in, just for him ?” Thomas asked, indignant.

“I would do many more things for him.” Edwin stated, staring right into those yellow eyes, daring. The shifter scoffed, leaning closer, looking down at the ghost.

“Like threatening me?” The man asked, incredulous.

“I'm not threatening you. I'm warning you.” Edwin said, looking up, teeth bared. It looked more like a show of aggression from a cornered animal than a smile. “You're either on my side, or standing in my fucking way. And I'll get through anything standing in my way to get to him.” Their faces were only a few centimetres apart now, noses almost touching.

Thomas knew, in that moment, that Edwin was being completely honest. He seemed not to care a single bit what could happen to him as long as he could leave to go help his little friend. Nor what enemies he could leave behind. The Cat King felt a bit peeved about it, quite hot under the collar, and a lot jealous. That kind of loyalty to another person, to the point of detriment to yourself? He’d never felt it nor had he had it. It was alluring , damn it.

“Deathly little thing, aren’t you?” he whispered to this mysterious boy, unwillingly feeling more attracted to him still. The tension between them finally broke when Edwin’s lips formed a teasing smile and his eyes softened a little.

“Only when I have to.” he whispered back, before breaking his gaze and pressing the faintest of kisses on Thomas’ jaw, surprising him. He then sidestepped him and walked out of the yard.

By the time the Cat King turned around, Edwin was already jumping into a puddle, travelling to where he needed to be. Monty cowed twice and Thomas felt the hidden amusement.

“Oh, shut it, bird-boy. Like you didn’t defy your witch for him, even after he rejected you.” he snapped.

—-- —-- —--

Charles woke up all at once, gasping. He was sopping wet and chained to the ceiling. The metal of the chains was iron, and they were burning every part of his body that touched them. He was still only wearing his trousers, felt his extremities numb with cold and some of his curls had crusted over with ice.

When his eyes got used to the dim room, he could see it was the same basement he had been trapped in since the beginning. The only real difference was that he wasn’t alone this time. There was a woman on the corner, deep in the shadows. For what he could see, she was pretty fit. Charles might have looked twice if he had seen her on the street. But with her wild blonde hair, tight red dress and tall boots; she looked like she was wearing a halloween costume that couldn’t decide if it was vampire or witch. A large white spider, with its eyes closed, peacefully placed inside her hair didn’t help matters. He had almost missed it.

“You’re finally awake!” she cheered, getting closer. “Now we can finally get started .” her grin was dangerous and the boy felt a shiver go down his spine.

Taking advantage of the fact that his feet barely touch the ground, she spun him around, making him lose balance. His knee buckled under him and his whole weight was left suspended from his shoulders until he managed to find his footing again. He was trembling even worse after that, and tears of frustration began leaking from his eyes.

“Are you crying? How cute .” she cooed, grabbing his face and licking the trail the drop had left on his cheek. ”I’d give you a comfort kiss, but I don’t snog anyone that’s not my man.”

“You. Are. Crazy.” Charles said, leaning away from her. The spider opened its eyes and winked with half of them, waving two of its legs. The shivers got worse.

“Don’t be like that, poppet. Everything I’m doing is for love.”

“ Love ?” he repeated, sceptical.

“Yes! I’m gonna get the love of my life back, and you’re gonna help me.”

“I don’t know anything about love potions or spells; we don’t mess with that shite.” Charles explained, weary. The witch snorted, the spider wiggled, like it was laughing too. (Was this her familiar? Did it share the same amount of sentience as Monty? Somehow, that thought was terrifying).

“Pffff, I don’t mean like that . My boo and I were tragically separated when he was killed by the police and then he got dragged to Hell! ” she huffed. “Like, what even? I just want him back .”

Usually, Charles was willing to give everyone a chance to explain themselves. It’s not like the system was flawless. Good souls could be sent to Hell, like it had happened with Edwin.

However, since he was still shivering from the literal torture this woman had put him through (torture she implied her ‘boo’ would enjoy); he would go out on a limb an bet the bloke completely deserved his tenure in Hell.

“And why was he killed by the police?” he asked anyway, already tired of dealing with this. The chat was a step up from the freezing water, but the talk itself so far was three steps down from the earlier solitude.

“Because his stupid best friend and he decided to rob a bank!” she exclaimed, clearly miffed. This time, when she grabbed him to spin him around, her nails left deep scratches, burning and bleeding. This bitch had iron in her nail polish, apparently. “They were caught doing that. I mean, you have to give it to the pigs. They really messed up on that one.”she laughed. “They were caught and got done in as fucking robbers. They didn't even search their flat! They just killed them and left them at the morgue. They never found out that we were the ones dropping the mangled bodies everywhere.”

“You're sick.” Charles said, swallowing, as he found his rooting again.

“Oh, baby, of course I am. Didn't I tell you already? I love making people break, playing with them.” She licked her lips, seductive. The ghost boy just felt nauseous. “What I love even more is watching my man do it for me. And that's why you're going to help me bring him back.”

“From Hell ?” He asked, incredulous. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn't help you. Edwin is the one with the knowledge of Hell and its paths, not me. You chose the wrong one of us to kidnap.”

“I don’t think I did. Word is, you are the one that I saved him from hell this time.” she smiled. She put her extended arm on his shoulder and placed her weight on the claw-like nails sinking in the muscle there. He felt blood dripping down his back. The spider began walking down her shoulder and onto her arm. Leaning in until their faces almost touched, she looked him dead in the eyes, despite his efforts to keep the blasted thing in his line of sight.

“I did, yeah.” He admitted. “But I had help. I had someone else, much more powerful than I or you ever could be. They opened a portal down to Hell and they kept it open until we got back. You can't do that.” He swallowed. “Can you?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking, now looking at the spider.

Cursing, she pushed him back and started roaming the room, hands wildly gesturing. The spider had quickly climbed up to her head again. Charles had lost his balance and was spinning again, but at least that beast was not near him. He took her cursing as a negative to his question. Charles wanted to believe this was good news (he dreaded the thought of that man anywhere but Hell), but you never knew how others were going to react when you didn’t give them the information they wanted. This woman? Completely bonkers. Hopefully she would just let him in here, until Edwin rescued him. Suddenly, she stopped in the middle of the basement.

“Hmm, maybe I can't open up a portal. But I can make a deal with a demon so that I can get into hell.” She was smiling again. “And you will help me find my way out.”

“A deal with a demon is a terrible idea. Besides, lady, even if I tell you all I know about hell, which I won’t do. The level Edwin was at? It was terrible, but it wasn't that deep. The level your boo must be in… it has to be one of the deepest and darkest ones, just based on what you describe me you two did, to people.”

“I can think of a few things I can offer the demon so that he helps me.” she countered, now pensive instead of agitated.

“Like what?”

“Like you, your soul. Essence, whatever. Or one of the others’.” Charles was almost afraid to ask.

“Others?”

“Oh, yeah. I've been collecting little souls as gifts for my boyfriend when he comes back. Since, you know, he won't be able to interact with the living now he is dead and will become a ghost.”

“... Little souls?” he asked again, disgusted. He tried leaning away, but she plunged her nails into his face to keep his eyes on her.

“Yeah, the souls of little ones!” she smiled, and it was a terrible smile. A wild hunger seemed to seep from her feverish eyes. “He's not that much into kids. He prefers young people, teenagers, you know.” she winked at him, suggestive.

“So he's a paedophile, but not that much of a paedophile?” Charles mocked, deciding to ignore the implications.

She let go of his face only to slap him hard, hard enough to leave deep gouges from the iron on the nails she wore.

“He hates that word!” she screamed, offended. “He just… really loves young people.” The sheer incredulity must have shown on his face, because she just continued. “Anyways, I was collecting these souls so he could play with them when he comes back, you know? I bet he will be in a foul mood, and I just thought 'well what better way to cheer him up than letting him blow off some steam on a couple souls he will find pleasing?’ ' I took great care in ensuring they were innocent, as well. The responses to all the pain and the bit of little pleasure here and there that we can teach them are always the best .” she sighed, dreamy. “And ghosts are so much more resilient! We can play with you and play with you and play with you until you break.” She said, eyes evaluating him up and down. “And then we can start all over again!” she laughed.

Charles puked all over the floor.

"You truly are," he said in disgusted awe " the most despicable person I've ever met. And a few months ago I was at the mercy of a witch that cannibalised little girls. "

“Oh, cannibalism.” she hummed. “That sounds fun, doesn’t it, Ari?” she cooed at her familiar, reaching for the thing. “You have to get me her number.” she said to him.

Charles spat at her. It barely touched her face before she shrieked and sent him crashing to the back of the room. The chains had fallen from the ceiling and onto his torso, burning him terribly.

“And you need to learn some manners." She said as he screamed from the sudden agony. Then she turned her back on him and walked towards the door. "I guess I will just leave you to repeat the cycle until you have had enough."

Charles’ last coherent thought before he was dropped under the thick frozen layer of water of the lake instead of through the ice as always, was that Edwin and he would absolutely need to save those poor spirits.

—-- —-- —--

“That took longer than you said it would.” Crystal said as soon as he stepped through the mirror into the office. “Did the house not let you in?” she asked, remembering how they had just phased through the walls last time.

“The house gave me no problem at all.” Edwin answered, placing the knife on the desk. “It was Monty, actually.” he explained, with a grimace. “I had an encounter with the Cat king,” Crystal’s eyebrow went up “but not much came out of it. He was very insistent about not letting any kind of knowledge leave that witch's house.” He took off his coat and his gloves and, uncharacteristically, threw them onto the couch. It was the only free surface, she supposed. “Which would normally be a good thing, but in these circumstances, I could not abide by it.”

“And did he give you any trouble?” she questioned, sceptical.

“He tried to threaten me, so I just…threatened him back.” Edwin said, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, trying to play it off as unimpressive. Yeah, Crystal was not gonna let that one slide.

“ You threatened the Cat King?” she said, incredulous. “He left you trapped in Port Townsend for weeks!”

“Ah, but I didn't know anything about him back then.” He countered. “And I wasn't dabbling in anything more dangerous than usual. And perhaps the most important thing of all…” Edwin started, leafing through his notes.

“...It was you in danger, not Charles.” Crystal interrupted, finishing the idea.

“Exactly.” He said, pleased that she understood this about him by now.

As they began prepping the materials for this massive ritual, she managed to corroborate that it was far beyond anything they had shown her so far. The ritual seemed so complicated. Beyond the dagger that he had to pick up from the other side of the world, it required them to move every single piece of furniture against the walls, then grabbing the bathroom mirror for a later use.

After that, they placed a bedsheet on the floor, drawing a big circle on it with black chalk, and drew a set of runes inside it, near the centre. Then Edwin grabbed Charles' backpack, and took out a bottle full of a viscous dark liquid. He then lit a dozen candles inside the marked circle, each one in its specific place. A wave of different smells assaulted Crystal’s nose. She supposed that ghosts weren’t bothered by it since they couldn't smell much. She tried very hard not to sneeze.

Edwin retrieved two different cups from a cupboard, one made from silver and one from crystal, and poured the liquid from the bottle inside the silver one. For the other, he took out Esther’s knife from his pocket and sliced his forearm with it. Blood tinted with ectoplasm began to pour inside the empty cup, and once it was three quarters full he removed the wound from it to avoid overspilling. He slid two fingers over the wound and the black smoke that was becoming familiar to Crystal ate up the blood and sealed the wound. Then, he reached for Charles' chain around his neck and took it off. Gently, he let it fall inside the cup that had his blood. He took a big piece of parchment paper, those old ones that you see only in movies, yellowed with age, thick, and coarse to the touch.

With a grimace, he sank his fingers into the first cup. A low hum came from his throat, sounding almost like words but not really. He began writing symbols with the blood onto the parchment. With the other hand, he began tracing the same symbols again, on another blank sheet of parchment, on top of the first one. These symbols were mirrored, and written with his own blood from the second cup. Once he was done, a string of Latin came out of his lips, and the second set of symbols lifted up in the air, glowing golden light, and fused into the first set, on the first sheet of parchment. The other parchment disintegrated as soon as the last trace of blood left the paper.

Edwin let out a breath Crystal hadn't noticed he was holding. Done, he took the parchment, and began ripping it in pieces, keeping each symbol inside its own square of paper, and placed the symbols inside the circle according to the instructions written down by his own hand. The bloody symbols then sank through the paper and sealed themselves to the linen fabric. Edwin waved his hand and all the blank pieces of paper flew from the array. Then he took the necklace from inside the second cup and put it into the first cup.

He took the bathroom mirror, and placed it in the middle of the circle array spell, then took the necklace out of the cup and flicked it in the air where it remained still, frozen in place at about two metres high. The symbols on the bedsheet and the blood on the necklace pulsed with golden energy every couple of heartbeats.

“I need you,” he started to say, very clearly, “to not, for any reason, enter the circle.”

“All right” she said, heart beating like crazy.

“Whatever I ask you to bring me, you will put it inside the circle without touching inside it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Edwin repeated, breathing deep. He knelt beside the foggy mirror on the floor and began writing on it with his finger. At the same time, he spoke up, to keep her in the loop. “Charles? Are you there?”

Charles

are you there?

#fear your sins not your monsters #payneland #painland week #edwin payne #charles rowland #edwin x charles #dead boy detectives #dbda

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sidekick-hero · 3 months

Text

Here it is, the next chapter of my entry for the @steddiesummerexchange. This is a gift for my dear friend @starryeyedjanai 💜💜💜 Her prompt was 'Steve can't get his inheritance until he marries someone'. Shout out to @acasualcrossfade for being the best beta reader there is!

Pairings: Steve/Eddie, Robin/Chrissy Characters: Steve, Eddie, Robin, Chrissy, Max, Dustin, Wayne Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake Marriage, Platonic Stobin, Platonic Hellcheer, idiot4idiot, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, Humor and Fluff and a smudge Angst

Summary:

When Steve's grandmother dies, he finds out that he can only get his inheritance - half a million dollars - if he marries someone. It's her way of forcing Steve to live a heterosexual life. Sucks for her that gay marriage has been legalized since she wrote her will. Sucks for Steve that he doesn't have a man or woman in his life to marry. Cue Eddie Munson, roommate and best friend of Robin's girlfriend Chrissy and the guy Steve has had a crush on for years. What could possibly go wrong?

Read on AO3 - the fic is finished and has 4 chapters, the last one will drop June 24

Chapter 1| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 3 (4.7k) under the cut

Luck is on his side because Eddie is home. He looks like Steve just woke him up—pillow crease on his cheek, hair a mess, and his face softer than usual, making him look younger.

It's a sweet sight, one Steve might get used to if they actually move in together. For the first time, the thought doesn't fill him with dread and sadness about losing Robin as a roommate.

"Steve?" Eddie asks, blinking in confusion. "Birdie's not here, sorry." He sounds half-asleep, his words slightly slurred.

Of course, Eddie would think he was looking for Robin. Despite what Chrissy and Robin say, Steve and Eddie getting married will change things. Like, Steve will start seeking Eddie's company and they'll spend time alone without their friends as buffers.

"No, I know she's at work. I wanted to talk to you. I texted you that I was coming over."

Eddie’s face lights up with understanding. "Oh, sorry, my phone's in sleep mode. Had a late shift at the bar and only got home around 2. Then I had to open the garage because Bernie sprained his ankle, so I was catching up on some sleep."

"Ah, shit, I'm so sorry, man," Steve apologizes quickly, wincing. "I didn't mean to wake you. It's not that important, go back to sleep, we can talk tomorrow or—"

Eddie cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. "No, no, it's okay, really. Come on in. You couldn't have known, and I should get up anyway if I don't wanna mess up my sleep rhythm."

Steve snorts. "From what I hear, you have as much of a sleep rhythm as Robin has a brain-mouth filter."

"You wound me, Harrington. Just because it's eclectic doesn't mean there's no rhythm. My sleep schedule is more jazz than pop."

Steve chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Eddie steps aside with a playful swat to Steve’s shoulder. “I feel like you’re not taking me seriously here.”

Steve only hums in response, so Eddie changes the topic. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

They move into the kitchen, and Steve takes a seat at the highbar Chrissy and Eddie installed two years ago. Steve remembers helping with that project, along with Eddie’s friend Jeff. It was a fun afternoon—just them chatting, sharing a big pizza, and working with their hands. It shouldn’t have surprised Steve that Eddie was good with his hands. After all, he’s seen him play guitar and mix drinks expertly when he bartends. He also knows Eddie makes most of his money fixing cars and motorbikes at a friend’s garage.

Still, seeing Eddie aptly handling tools and oiling up the wood had been… an experience. One he had revisited in his mind more than once when he couldn’t sleep and was too weak to fight off the urge any longer to jack off to thoughts of his friend.

“Earth to Steve, do you copy?”

Eddie’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he realizes Eddie is now standing much closer than before.

“Uh… sorry, I zoned out. What did you say?”

“I,” Eddie starts, speaking slowly and deliberately, “asked if you wanted a coffee. And before that, I asked what you wanted to talk about. You haven’t answered either question, so here’s a third: Is everything alright?”

Eddie's probably joking, but he sounds a bit worried, so Steve musters a mostly sincere smile.

“Yeah, man. I’m good. Just… it’s been a long day. Long days. Coffee sounds good, I haven’t slept much.”

“Sure, coming right up.”

Steve watches as Eddie prepares their coffees, his thoughts drifting again as he watches Eddie’s surprisingly broad back move under his worn t-shirt. It looks soft and thin, sporting a couple of holes, and looking incredibly comfy. He idly wonders how it would feel to wrap his arms around Eddie’s tiny waist from behind, pressing his front against Eddie’s back, with his chin hooked over Eddie’s bony shoulder and his cheek against Eddie’s.

It’s a nice thought.

“Your coffee, my liege.”

A cup of coffee appears in front of Steve, startling him out of his daydreams about Eddie. It's the second time he's drifted off today, and he really needs to get his act together.

“Thanks, man. Do you have some milk?”

“Already added it. Two sips, no sugar, right?”

And, yeah, that’s exactly how Steve takes his coffee. He just had no idea Eddie knew that too.

His surprise must be obvious because Eddie's ears turn red. He hides his mouth behind a strand of hair and mumbles, “Just noticed you always make it like that.”

Steve's heart skips a beat. It's a small thing, but it means a lot to know that Eddie is paying so much attention to him, even if it's just as confusing as the time Eddie decided to fall on his own ass to save Steve's birthday cake. Or the time he drove over to Steve and Robin's apartment to make sure Steve had actually turned off the stove that morning because everyone else was at work.

It doesn't fit with the way he rebuffed every attempt by Steve to get to know him better when they first met. Or this conversation he overheard between him and Chrissy about two months after Robin and Chrissy started dating. The one where Eddie had asked why Robin was always bringing that rich asshole jock over.

Everything about Eddie keeps confusing him, making the conversation he needs to have with him even harder, so he takes a sip of coffee to buy some time.

It's good, strong but not bitter, and just the right amount of milk. He hums appreciatively. "Thanks, Eddie. It’s perfect."

Eddie smiles shyly and sits across from Steve, cradling his own mug. "So, what's up, man? It seemed pretty urgent when you knocked on my door."

Steve takes a deep breath, knowing he has to get this right. "I, uh, told Max and Dustin about us. You know, the whole fake engagement thing. Only, I didn’t tell them it’s fake, obviously."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? And how'd they take it?"

"Well, they believed it. Max was cool about it," Steve lies, remembering how serious Max got about his issues, something he doesn't want to unpack right now. "And Dustin... well, he was a little hurt we didn't tell him sooner, but he's on board. He'll be a groomsman, just FYI." Steve pauses, rubbing his neck nervously. "The thing is, I kind of told them a story about how we got together. And I'm not sure it matches what you've been telling people.”

Eddie's eyes widen in amusement. "You made up a story? This I gotta hear."

Steve groans but feels a bit relieved that Eddie seems cool about it. “Okay, so… it had to be convincing. Max and Dustin have known me forever, so they know that I’m someone who,” Steve pauses, feeling vulnerable admitting he falls fast and hard, an incurable romantic at heart.

“Someone who…” Eddie prompts.

“Someone who usually rushes headfirst into relationships. I hook up a lot, but when I date, I fall pretty fast. Robin says I have a trigger-happy heart, whatever that means.” He knows what it means, and that Robin’s right, but Eddie doesn’t need to know that. “So I told them I had a crush on you but wasn’t sure how you felt until a movie night, where we both reached for the chips and our fingers touched, then we kissed, and the rest is history. I proposed pretty fast after that, too, because I wanted to put a ring on the guy I had been crushing on for so long. They ate the story right up.” Steve adds the last part hastily, realizing how cliché it sounds.

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. "I can't believe they just bought it like that, it sounds like something straight out of a romcom. But you know what? I kinda love it."

Steve feels almost dizzy with relief. "You do?"

"Yeah, it's cute. And I haven't told anyone yet, so we can stick to your story."

Steve lets out a sigh of gratitude for Eddie’s easy acceptance before the implications of what Eddie just said sink in.

"You haven't told anyone yet?"

The hurt in his voice is more obvious than he wants it to be, but he can't help but wonder why Eddie wouldn't tell anyone. Sure, it's not like they're in a real relationship, but it still feels like Eddie's ashamed of him or something. Deep down he knows that he's way too invested, but it's hard not to get caught up in it all.

Eddie must have heard it too, because his eyes soften as they search his face. "No, not yet. I... wasn't sure you wouldn't take it back, to be honest. And I didn't want to have to explain to people why I told them I was getting married and then had to say 'oops, my bad, never mind', y'know?"

There's some color in Eddie's cheeks and he's fiddling with his rings, his eyes darting away from Steve's. He grabs Eddie's hand and stops him from twisting his thumb ring.

"You really thought that? But - why? I mean, if anyone was going to take it back, I thought it would be you. You're doing me a huge favor here, in case you've forgotten."

Eddie's hand feels warm in his, the skin under his palm softer than he expected. He squeezes it to emphasize his words and desperately wants to give in to the urge to caress his knuckles with his thumb, too.

He doesn't, figuring it's a line he shouldn't cross.

"I told you, I don't mind. And I get something out of it too, so it's not like you're twisting my arm or anything. I guess it's just hard for me to believe that someone like you would want to marry someone like me. Even if it's a scam."

"You mean someone who's a rich asshole jock?" Steve asks, his voice bitter as he remembers Eddie's words to Chrissy.

Eddie's eyes widen in obvious surprise. "What? No! What makes you..." Eddie begins, but trails off, the color draining from his face as he curses at the realization. "You heard that, huh?"

He looks pained as he asks, his hand twitching under Steve's as if he wants to pull it away but doesn't dare.

"Yeah, I did. Sorry for eavesdropping, but you and Chrissy were discussing it right in front of the bathroom I was going to use."

Eddie groans, finally pulling his hand away so he can bury his face in his hands. His voice is muffled when he speaks.

"No. Fuck, no. I'm sorry, Steve. That was... That was before."

"Before?"

"Before! Before I got to know you. Before I realized that I might be a complete idiot who prides himself on going against the grain and being open-minded and all that shit, only to go around judging people by their appearances instead of giving them a fair chance. The only asshole in this room is me." He groans again, a sound of pain and despair. "God, I can't believe you heard that crap and went on thinking that's how I fe - that's how I see you."

"Isn't it?" Steve couldn't help but ask, stunned by the sudden turn of events. He thought that Eddie had gotten over some of his resentment over the last few years, but it's hard to believe that he sees Steve so differently.

"It isn't!" Eddie almost yells, clearly wanting Steve to believe him. Then his voice softens again, "It's not. It didn't take me long to realize that you're a really good dude, Steve.”

And that is... a lot to take in. While he may need some time to let Eddie's words sink in, his heart doesn't seem to have any trouble taking this new realization and running with it, judging by the warmth spreading through his chest.

Eddie likes him. Has for some time, it seems. Maybe not in the same way that Steve likes him, but it's nice. Really nice.

"I won't," he tells Eddie.

"You won't what?"

"Take it back. I'm still all in. That is, if you are too."

A slow smile spreads across Eddie's face, the first hint of dimples adorning his cheeks. He returns it with one of his own, and for a long moment they just look at each other, the air around them thick with something. Something he dares not name, but that makes the hairs on his arms stand up.

Then Eddie breaks the moment by shaking his head with a small chuckle. "Looks like I have to make some phone calls today and share the great news."

"Great news? Did I miss something?" Steve jokes and Eddie rolls his eyes with a scoff.

"Had a clown for breakfast, Harrington?"

Right on cue, his stomach growls loudly. "Actually, I skipped breakfast."

Their eyes meet again and they both burst out laughing. When they calm down a bit, Eddie gets up from the table and claps his hand.

"Okay, this won't do. I can't let my future husband starve before he makes me an honest man. Let's go get something to eat, on me."

Steve gets up as well, still grinning happily. "You don't have to, I can pay."

"I know I don't and I know you can. But I want to. Sometimes people want to do nice things for you too, Stevie, and you have to let them. It's rude not to, y'know. Besides," Eddie adds, his voice getting serious, "I want to make it up to you. The shit I said, I mean."

He looks so earnest that it makes Steve melt a little. It's not that he needs it, he forgave Eddie long before they ever talked about it, but it feels like Eddie does.

"Okay. Thanks, Eds. I could go for some blueberry pancakes."

"Good choice, good choice. Lou's Diner?" Eddie's smile brightens again, both cheeks now dimpled, and Steve is glad he gave in, if it means he's the one causing that look on Eddie's face.

"You know how to treat a guy."

"I try."

Eddie disappears into his room to get his wallet, then rushes back, grabs his hands and drags him toward the door.

He doesn't let go until they're both on the sidewalk, walking side by side to the diner, their fingers brushing with almost every step.

"Okay, so I'm calling my uncle and the boys today, you already told Max and Dustin. Chrissy and Robin obviously know as well. Anyone else we need to tell?"

The question makes Steve falter in his steps and Eddie, who didn't notice at first and kept walking, rushes back to him when he realizes that Steve is no longer next to him.

"What is it? Is everything okay?"

Steve shakes his head. "No. I mean, yeah, I'm fine. Everything is fine. I just remembered I have to tell my boss. And my team."

"You think they'll react badly?"

With a sigh, Steve nudges Eddie's shoulder with his own and starts walking again. It's easier to talk about it when he doesn't have to look at Eddie's face.

"I don't know," he admits. "I want to say, no, they're good people. I mean, they are. But... back in high school, I thought my friends were good people, too. That they cared about me. Turns out they didn't. My best friend, Tommy... We used to fool around sometimes. He always said it didn't mean anything, that friends help each other out sometimes, no big deal. That's bullshit, of course. I just didn't want to admit that I liked guys as much as I liked girls. Then, the first semester of senior year, I had a girlfriend that I really liked. Loved, actually. Tommy didn't take it well. I guess he was jealous because I stopped making out with him and he told everyone how I liked dick. That I was trying to touch his.” Here Steve rolls his eyes at the irony of it all. It was Tommy who had always been so eager to get his hands on Steve. “Everything changed. My teammates on the basketball team refused to change in front of me, my friends started talking about me behind my back. Even my girlfriend looked at me differently after I admitted to her that I 'kind of like boys, too'."

It's like a dam has broken, all these words coming out of him. Eddie doesn't say a word, just walks beside him and lets him get it all out. He reaches for Steve's hand again, though, holding it in his own in silent support, his thumb stroking his knuckles in much the same way Steve had dreamed of doing to Eddie earlier.

When Steve is finished, Eddie squeezes his hand.

"Did you know that about 600,000 people go missing every year in the U.S.? Who knows, maybe this Tommy will join them soon. Wouldn't that be a shame?"

Steve can't help but burst out laughing. The grin Eddie throws his way tells him that's exactly what he hoped would happen, obviously proud of himself for making Steve laugh.

"I appreciate the...offer? Threat? Fun fact? But it's okay, I'm over it. It sucked big time, but it also made me realize that they were all rich asshole jocks and I didn't want to be one of them anymore." He winks to take some of the heat out of his words.

"Okay, fine. The offer's on the table, though. But seriously, I get it. You're afraid your team will let you down like those assholes did."

"I guess. Which is probably unfair, but -"

"Once burned, twice shy."

"Exactly. Is that stupid?"

"No, it's not." Eddie reassures him. "I think it's perfectly normal to be cautious after what you've been through. But maybe your teammates are surprising you. Every time you talk about them, they sound pretty awesome and like you have a great relationship with them."

Steve didn't even realize he was talking about his teammates so much, or that Eddie was paying attention when he did.

"So how about this: Our apartment has this common area out back. We could have a little barbecue out there with Max and Dustin and the girls on the day you tell your team. That way, we can take your mind off of it if it doesn't go well, or, my personal favorite, we can celebrate that they took it well with a couple of burgers and some beer."

Eddie sounds sincere, his hand around Steve's as firm and sure as his voice.

"That... that would be great. You really think that would be okay?"

They reach Lou's Diner and Eddie turns to face him, his big brown eyes full of an emotion Steve can't name. "Yeah, I'm sure. All in, remember?"

On impulse, Steve rushes forward and wraps his arms around Eddie, pressing his face into his neck. After a moment of surprised hesitation, Eddie's arms wrap around him in return. He squeezes Steve tightly, his hand gently rubbing his back.

Steve doesn't let go for a long time.

Eddie is so screwed. He's not known for making particularly smart decisions, but this has to take the cake. Offering to fake marry the guy he's been head over heels for years.

Stupidity of epic proportions, your name is Eddie Munson.

In his defense, he didn't come up with the idea. No, that honor goes to Chrissy and Buckley. But Eddie could have said no when they pitched him their idea on how to help Steve get his inheritance and at the same time flip that horrible woman he's unfortunate enough to call Grandmother the bird.

As if Eddie has that much sense of self-preservation. It's like they never even met him. So of course he said yes, and when Steve told him, all earnest puppy eyes, that Eddie didn't have to do this, he made up a story about needing a loan for the record store he and Jeff were in the process of buying anyway. He's not looking forward to that awkward conversation when that particular truth comes out, but that's a problem for future Eddie.

Present Eddie is freaking out because past Eddie offered to throw a barbecue for Steve to make him feel better after coming out to his team at the firehouse. He invited Steve's little sister Max and made sure that Dustin came all the way from Boston to join them, with Robin, Chrissy, and Eddie there as backup in case Steve's team reacts badly and he needs his favorite people to cheer him up.

"Could you please stop freaking out, Edward? Robin and Steve are going to be here any minute and you looking like you're seconds away from bolting is not going to help anyone."

"I really don't like this tough love thing you've got going, Chris. Where's the sweet, innocent girl who ambushed me in the woods to buy weed from me and then never left?"

"She became friends with you," Chrissy quips back and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, still grinning.

Eddie, unable to keep up the fake annoyance any longer, cracks and, with a cackle of laughter, grabs his best friend and spins her around until her pearly laugh echoes through their apartment.

That's how Steve and Robin find them, clearly amused by the antics they've just seen.

"Did we miss something?" Steve asks with a smile and Eddie's heart flutters at the sight.

"Nope," he answers, popping the 'p'. "Just the usual occurrence of Chrissy being a menace to me."

"Watch it, Munson. That's my girlfriend you're talking about." Robin chimes in and walks over to greet Chrissy with a sweet kiss.

"Stevie, it is your sacred duty as my future husband to defend me!" Eddie cries out as Steve just stands there watching them with amusement.

"Oh no, no, no. I refuse to be dragged into this."

Robin actually cackles like some kind of supervillain. "Damn right. Steve knows I have access to his hair products and I have no qualms about using that knowledge against him."

Eddie throws up his arms and stalks off to the kitchen to get the things they need for the barbecue.

Later, he stands by the grill, watching Steve flip burgers with the ease of someone who’s done it a thousand times. The backyard is filled with the people closest to Steve and him, their laughter and conversation filling the common area. Eddie's heart feels incredibly full at the sight.

He nudges Steve gently. "You okay? You haven't said a word about how it went. Has me a bit worried, to be honest."

Steve nods, though Eddie can see the pensiveness in his eyes. "Yeah, I'm good. I guess it went better than I thought it would. They hated that I didn't tell them sooner, but Jim talked some sense into them. He said I didn't owe them anything and that he was sure I had my reasons."

Eddie gives him a reassuring smile. "They'll understand when you tell them what you told me. And even if you don't, it sounds like they care a great deal about you. They'll get over it."

Steve takes a deep breath and nods. "I hope you're right." Then he looks at Eddie through his lashes, a wry twist to his mouth indicating Steve thinks Eddie won't like what's coming next. "I might have invited them all to our wedding. Y'know, to make it up to them. But I'm sure I could tell them -"

"That's fine, Steve. Really. In fact, I didn't expect anything else. I was hoping Uncle Wayne would have someone his age at the wedding to talk to, and your captain sounds like the perfect guy for the job."

Eddie quickly begins to realize that he would do anything for Steve, as long as it meant Steve would look at him the way he does now. His hazel eyes are all soft and warm, the little smile that curls the corners of his mouth almost intimate. They lean in close, both gazing at each other, lost in their own little orbit. So close, Eddie can see the freckles on the bridge of Steve's nose and the swirls of gold and green in his eyes. It wouldn't take much to bridge the gap between them, just a slight tilt of his head, a few inches of space he'd need to push forward. Just a few teeny-tiny inches...

"Ew, gross! Get a room, you two. There are children present." Max's voice cuts through the thickening tension between them, startling them apart.

Steve looks at her sternly, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. "Excuse me?"

Eddie, on the other hand, just sticks his tongue out at her.

Dustin, who had been talking with Robin, also turns toward them, adding his own two cents. "I can't believe I didn't call this. You two are so obvious, it's embarrassing."

Usually, Eddie would tell Dustin off for his tone, maybe even tease him about missing all the clues with that genius brain of his, but that would be risky. Sure, maybe there had been clues from his side, but he sure as hell doesn’t want Steve to know that. So instead of doing one of his favorite things in the world—teasing Dustin—he keeps quiet and just rolls his eyes at him.

Steve, however, chooses a different approach. He ignores both his little sister and Dustin in favor of continuing their conversation.

"So, how did your uncle take the news of your betrothal?"

The phrasing makes Eddie laugh. "Stevie, you sound like Birdie and Chrissy made you watch Pride and Prejudice with them." When Steve doesn’t respond, only his cheeks slightly reddening, Eddie can’t help but cackle. "They did, didn’t they? Don’t worry, I’ve been swooning over Mr. Darcy since I was a teenager. I'm happy to be your Elizabeth Bennet."

For a moment, Eddie's afraid he said too much, revealed too much. But Steve’s just smiling at him like the thought amuses him, so Eddie thinks they’re good. He really hopes so, because now that Steve mentioned his talk with Wayne, he remembers the old man’s words.

When Eddie had told him about the wedding, asking if he’d come, his uncle had been surprisingly unsurprised.

"It’s that Steve fella you’re always going on about, isn’t it?" he had asked, like he’d been waiting for something like that to happen. It had made Eddie cringe. Seems like he had talked a lot more about Steve than he thought he had.

"How’d you know?" Eddie still had to ask.

"Because you’ve been smitten with that boy for years and he would be stupid not to want you back. And my nephew doesn’t fall for stupid."

It was then that Eddie had wished more than ever that he could tell Wayne the truth, ask his advice. But just like Steve, he didn’t want to pull his only family that mattered to him into his mess. Besides, Wayne sounded so happy that Eddie finally got to have the love he deserves that Eddie couldn’t bring himself to tell him that no, Steve just needed him. Liked him, maybe, from the looks of it, but not love. Never love, not for Eddie.

"Hello, Earth to Eddie. Do you copy?" Steve asks, sounding once again like the nerd Eddie knows he secretly is after years of hanging out with Dustin Henderson.

"Yeah, sorry, just remembered that I have to put the garbage bin out tomorrow."

Steve looks a bit doubtful but lets it drop. "So, your talk with your uncle, how did it go?"

"It went well. He’s excited to meet you."

Another of those soft smiles graces Steve’s face, and Eddie learns that he’s quickly becoming addicted to causing them. "Good, that’s good. Me too. He sounds great."

Only two more weeks until the most important person in his life and the guy he’s secretly in love with, whom he’s fake marrying, will meet. What could possibly go wrong?

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddiesummerexchange #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #my writing

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quaithe-seastar · 3 months

Text

The Dragon's Gold

Chapter Eight

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Aerys Reyne (male oc)

Summary: Aerys Reyne, son of Naerys Targaryen, the second-born daughter of King Viserys and Queen Aemma, has been best friends with Aegon since childhood. As boys, they had been inseparable. Many said that it reminded them of the early days of King Jaehaerys reign. When the princes Aemon and Baelon were still children. Wherever one boy was, it wasn't long before the other came running behind him. That was until forbidden desires of the heart forced a wedge between them. After the death of his grandsire, King Viserys, Aerys finds himself torn between two sides: stand by his oldest friend or stand by the only mother he has ever known.

Warning: NSFW, dub-con, angst, mentions of sh scars

a/n: This chapter is very long, so I apologize for that. Also, there will be smut in the chapter. Smut has never been my strong suit, so I apologize for any and all cringe inaccuracies. No beta, so I apologize for any and all grammar and spelling mistakes. Also, if anyone wishes to be tagged in future updates, just let me know!

Aerys

The full moon sat high in the sky, covering everything below with a slight blue hue. Aerys returned to his chambers after he finished saying his goodbyes. His feet were growing tired of standing. His elbows ached from resting against the wooden windowsill. The wind blew his hair behind him. His eyes watched as the dark red liquid swirled around the glass in his hand. Aerys sighed as he leaned his head back. He closed his eyes, basking in the muffled sounds of the city.

“Can’t sleep?” A voice asked behind him.

Aerys stiffened, quickly turning his head to find the intruder. Aegon stood behind him, fiddling with his fingers.

“How did you get in here?”

“The door...?” Aegon tilted his head slightly to the side. “Sorry, I thought you heard me knock...”

Aerys cleared his throat, turning his whole body to face the prince. “Why are you here?”

The two grimaced at the tone in his voice. It was harsher than he meant it to be.

“I-” the prince cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize for what happened... at supper.”

The young lord stayed silent. His dark eyes glanced over the prince, his oldest friend who stood before him. It hurt... how distant they had become. As boys, they had been inseparable. Many said it reminded them of the early days of King Jaehaerys’ reign when the princes Aemon and Baelon were children. Wherever one boy was, it wasn't long before the other came running behind him. But they were no longer boys now. It seemed like they were no longer even friends. Just two strangers staring back at each other, mourning over their lost childhood.

“I don’t believe I’m the one you need to apologize to.”

Aegon dropped his eyes down at his black boots. “I know, but I still felt like I should. The way I acted was-”

“Disgraceful? Childish?” Aerys offered, raising his brows.

Aegon pursed his lips, nodding his head. “I suppose both of those would suffice.”

Aerys breathed deeply through his nose before walking towards the circular table in his room. He placed his glass on the table and reached for another, filling it with wine. Aerys lifted the new glass, holding it out for the prince to take. Aerys flinched when he felt Aegon’s skin graze against his fingers.

“Thank you,” the prince raised his glass.

“Should we sit?” Aerys asked, pointing to the table.

Aegon nodded, taking a seat at the opposite end. Aerys placed his glass on the table, shifting in his chair to get comfortable. A blanket of silence covered the room. They glanced at each other, eyes meeting only for a moment before they both turned their heads.

“What have-”

“How’s life-”

Both men paused, and their eyes widened slightly. They shared a glance before lowering their heads to chuckle.

“You go first,” Aerys said with a small smile.

Aegon nodded as he placed his glass on the table.

“I was simply going to ask how your life has been on Dragonstone.”

“Oh,” Aerys hummed, pondering the question. “Well, it’s not too thrilling. Just living day by day, I suppose.”

“Oh, come on,” Aegon scoffed. “Surely, you must have gotten into some trouble over the years.”

“No, I’ve never been much of a troublemaker.”

“What?! What about that time you pushed that woman into the garden fountain? What was her name... Elinda? Elenor?”

“Lady Elise Stokeworth,” Aerys mumbled.

“Yes! That’s it!” Aegon guffawed at the memory. “You pushed Lady Elise into one of the garden fountains at that party Father had thrown years ago.”

“That is not what happened,” Aerys grumbled.

“Oh, the look on your face after you did it! You were about to burst into tears.”

“It was your fault! You pushed me, and I bumped into her.” Aerys defended himself.

“Of course, blame me for your actions.” Aegon tsked, shaking his head with a disapproving smile.

“As I said, it was your fault.” Aerys shrugged, taking a sip of his wine.

Aegon looked at him and laughed. The prince raised his glass, bringing it up to his lips. Aerys’ dark eyes trailed down the prince’s face to his neck. His mouth watered as he watched the apple of his throat bob with each swallow. Aerys quickly cleared his throat and dropped his eyes to the table.

“So it’s safe to assume you’ve been getting into quite a bit of trouble here in the capital?”

“Enough for the both of us,” Aegon answered.

“I believe it,” Aerys snickered.

The prince leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

“So, has any special lady caught your eye?” Aegon questioned.

The question had caught Aerys by surprise.

“No,” Aerys scoffed, shaking his head. “Though not for the lack of trying. I’ve received many proposals over the years.”

“And you haven’t accepted any? Why?” Aegon leaned forward, sitting up straight.

“I don’t know,” Aerys shrugged. “Marriage just seems so... Enervating?”

Aerys felt his stomach churn at the woeful expression that fell on the prince. He had hoped that the marriage between Aegon and Helaena would prosper in his absence. That with him gone, Aegon could better himself.

“But pay no mind to my fatuous beliefs. I’m sure it’s not so bad.” Aerys smiled, hoping to ease some of the tension his words had caused.

The corners of Aegon’s lips turn upwards in a tight smile. The prince raised his glass to his mouth, finishing what wine remained. Aegon tapped his hands on the table before standing to his feet.

“Come on.” He smiled, holding a hand out for Aerys to hold.

“Where are we going?” Aerys tilted his head with a catlike curiosity.

“You’re one and twenty now. I wish to help you celebrate.”

“My name day was nearly two months ago.”

“Yes, well, I was unable to attend. I wish to rectify that. Now come on,” Aegon replied, shaking his hand.

Aerys stared at the prince’s hand apprehensively. He shouldn’t take it. He knows he shouldn’t. The last time he did, the night ended in nothing but misery. Yet when he glanced up to find that stupid little smile on the prince’s face, how could he resist? The short time they had spent here at this table, laughing like nothing had changed, filled Aerys’ heart with hope. It was a small childish hope, but a hope nonetheless.

“The hour is late. Perhaps it is best if I get some rest.”

The prince’s smile dropped for a moment before it was replaced with a sly smirk. “Surely you do not intend for me to journey off alone. How would you live with yourself if something happened to me? Something that you could have prevented if you came with me.”

The memory of the night Rhaenyra first left for Dragonstone came to mind. Aegon was using the exact words to weaken his resolve. Aerys raised his hand hesitantly. He curled his fingers slightly before releasing them, allowing the prince to grab his hand. His stomach fluttered as Aegon’s cold hand squeezed his own, pulling him behind him. Perhaps tonight could be the fresh start that they needed.

—

The city's streets seemed less pleasant than they had been years ago. Perhaps it was because his childlike wonderment was gone, replaced by a more mature worldview. Aegon stayed close to Aerys as they walked side by side. The city still smelled of smoke, wine, piss, and sex, just as he remembered.

“We’ll go this way,” Aegon nodded to the right, pulling Aerys down a dark, unfamiliar alleyway.

They walked through the alley before coming out to a different street that Aerys had no knowledge of. His grip tightened around Aegon’s hand as he tried to stay as close as possible. The hordes of people were more dispersed than they had been before. Groups of men clustered together as they drank and yelled crude remarks to the women who passed by. Other men were pulling women into their laps to paw at their breasts. Younger women and girls wore scandalous dresses and skirts that left little unseen. No mummers and musicians were performing on this street.

The thrill he had felt as a boy did not return to him now. As they turned the corner, an old man leaned against a stone wall, stroking himself for all to see. Aerys averted his gaze, instead focusing on the stone path ahead of them. The old man laughed, waving out his tongue as they passed. The sight was appalling. Suddenly, Aerys felt regret about his decision to join the prince.

The two finally came to a stop.

“What is this place?” Aerys asked, leaning closer to Aegon.

“I’m treating you to a night of fun. Just trust me. I come here all the time.”

Aerys turned his head, looking over the building. It was a simple stone structure, unlike the brothel they had visited before. It was a much smaller, cheaper-looking whore house. The blue paint on the wooden door was chipping, and a badly painted red lantern was hanging above it. The smell coming from this place was even worse. The scent of ale and human waste overwhelmed his poor nose. Why would Aegon wish to spend his time in a place like this?

Aerys took a few steps back, turning his head both ways to look at the street. Aegon cocked his head to the side as he turned around to face Aerys.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I think I should be getting back,” Aerys replied with a small smile, hoping his words would not anger the prince.

“What? We just got here.” The prince shook his head.

“I know, and I am sorry, but I would like to return now.”

Aegon’s brows knitted together, and his nostrils flared. He was angry, or at the very least annoyed. Aerys shifted on his feet uncomfortably as if he were a small child awaiting his punishment. This was stupid. He was stupid. Why had he agreed to come? Why does he always give in to him so easily? Aerys could feel his heart thudding in his chest. His fingers began to tremble. Quickly, he started fiddling with the ring on his little finger. The young lord lowered his eyes, unable to face the prince.

“Hey,” the prince called, taking Aerys’ hands into his own.

Anxiously, Aerys turned his gaze upward. Aegon’s eyes had softened, and he flashed Aerys a half-smile.

“We can go back. But... at least have another drink with me first. There’s a place not far from here.”

Aerys sighed and dropped his eyes again. “Aegon-”

“Please!” The prince pleaded.

Aerys winced slightly from how tight the prince's grip on his hands had become. Aegon muttered a soft apology as he pulled away. The sadness clouding his features made Aerys’ chest feel heavy and his throat tight.

“Just. . .one drink?” Aerys asked apprehensively.

The corners of the prince’s mouth turned upwards. His eyes brightened up like stars as he pulled Aerys along. Aerys struggled to keep up as Aegon dragged him down the street. They crossed two more alleys before loud cheering and laughter caught his attention. He could see they were making their way to an inn. A group of men sat outside of the inn’s doorway, toasting to something. It was a plain-looking two-story inn made of stone. Two black lanterns sat above the entrance, lighting up the front of the building.

Aerys sat at the bar inside the crowded inn. He fiddled with his ring while waiting for his companion to return with their drinks. Aegon pushed past two men, placing a large wooden cup before him. Aerys thanked him loudly before he took a drink. The taste nearly made him gag. Aegon laughed at the look of disgust on his face.

“What is that?”

“It’s beer. Not as good as the fine wine you’re used to, but it does the trick.” He laughed.

Men and women in the tavern began to shout as the music picked up. Aerys watched as couples began to dance. He jumped when a drunken man fell over, sending a table crashing down with him.

“Come on,” Aegon grabbed his hand, pulling him up from his seat.

“Where are we going?” Aerys asked as they slipped through the crowded inn.

“It’s too noisy down here. I got us a room,” Aegon explained as they started up the stairs.

—

The room was decent for a cheap inn. It was a simple square room. A bed was placed against the wall in the corner of the right side. Above the bed was a small window with bars on it. The floor was wooden, with no rug to cover it. There were no tapestries to decorate the boring stone walls. A small table with two chairs sat against the wall on the left side of the room. Two thick candles sat on the table for lighting.

Aerys paced back and forth, fiddling with the ring on his finger. He sighed before pulling it off and tucking it away in the hidden breast pocket of his cloak. The young lord stilled as the door swung open, but he calmed down once he saw that Aegon had returned. The prince had left him to fetch some wine.

“Sorry, I took so long. It’s quite rowdy down there.” Aegon smiled as he moved to place the large wineskin on the table.

Aerys watched as the prince poured the wine. He walked forward to accept the wooden goblet from the prince’s hand. Aerys took a sip, watching Aegon move to sit at the edge of the bed, kicking off his boots. The young lord quickly sat at the table, ignoring how Aegon patted the bed beside him. Aerys took slow sips of his wine. His mind began to cloud slightly from all he had consumed this evening. The two sat in silence. Only the muffled sounds of the crowd below them could be heard.

“Aerys?”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember that day in the garden? When you fell asleep on my lap under the shade tree.”

Aerys' breath hitched as the memory popped into his mind. The same memory he had seen earlier before the petitions. He swirled his wine in the goblet, clearing his throat.

“I believe we spent many days like that.”

Aegon hummed with a content smile. “Yes, we did. How simpler things were then...”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say simple... we had problems then too.” Aerys shrugged, staring into the dark red liquid.

“We did,” the prince agreed. “But those problems were nothing but childish nonsense. I often find myself craving the benign problems of my youth.”

Aerys sighed. “I believe many people feel the same. What are the insignificant worries of children compared to the overwhelming plights of adulthood?”

“Well, you’re certainly as jovial as I remembered you to be.” The prince quipped, finishing the last of his wine.

The loud clacking echoed as his goblet fell to the floor. Aerys stilled as sniffling reached his ears. Nervously, he shifted his eyes to the prince. The man still sat at the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped and his head hanging low.

“Aegon?” He called out softly.

The prince lifts his head to look at Aerys. His messy hair clings to his tear-stained face. Almost immediately, Aerys finds himself on his feet, moving to sit at Aegon’s side. He pushed the man’s hair away, tucking it behind the prince’s ears. Gently, he began wiping the tears off his face. The action only seemed to make the man cry even more. Aegon grabbed Aerys’ hands, pressing them against the sides of his face. The prince closed his eyes as he nuzzled into the young lord’s palms.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology makes Aerys freeze. His dark eyes trailed over every inch of the prince’s face. Aegon moves a hand to Aerys’ wrist and squeezes.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Aerys shook his head.

“No. I ruined everything.” Aegon cried.

“What are you-? No, Aegon, you didn’t-”

“I did. I ruined everything.” The prince whimpered.

Aerys wrapped his arms around him, pulling the crying man into his chest. Aegon quickly sank into Aerys’ embrace, wrapping his arms around the young lord as he released a sharp but shaky breath. Aerys didn’t know what he should say or if there was anything he could say to offer comfort. All he could do was hold him. All he could offer him was a warm embrace and a shoulder to cry on. Though from the way the prince shook and held on tighter, Aerys believed that was what he needed.

Aerys was confused about how it had all come to this. Everything had been fine, cordial. Maybe it was just the wine. Aegon pulled back with a shuddering breath. Aerys could see his eyes still filled with tears. The prince leaned forward, and Aerys did not move, allowing the man to press their foreheads together. Aegon placed his hands over Aerys’ knee.

Aerys could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears and the painful sobs Aegon tried desperately to suppress. The air seemed so thick it made it difficult to breathe. The day and evening leading up to this moment seemed forgotten. The only thing echoing in his mind was the soft cries of his oldest friend. He moved one hand to cup Aegon’s cheek and used the other to smooth the prince’s hair down.

“Shhh- it’s alright,” He whispered, like a mother comforting her baby.

Aerys kissed the prince’s head before pressing his forehead against Aegon’s. Aerys peeks through his eyelashes to watch the prince. The dim candlelight made him look so tired.

“Aegon, look at me.”

It’s a command, but not a firm or demeaning one. Just calm and authoritative enough to make the prince obey. Aerys slid both hands onto Aegon’s face. The man’s sobs had turned to loud sniffles and painful-sounding hiccups. He used his thumbs to wipe away the dampened tear trails on Aegon’s cheeks. Aerys could smell the strong wine on the prince’s breath. He could feel the heat of his breath against his face.

Neither of them spoke. They simply stared at each other through dark lashes. Aerys ran his thumb across the prince's cheek. He felt one of Aegon’s hands grip onto his leg. The intensity of the prince’s gaze lit a fire in the pit of Aerys’ stomach.

Aerys wants to pull away. He knows he should. But when Aegon’s strong hand ran up and down his thigh, all logic began to flee from him.

“I’m so fucking tired of feeling like this...” Aegon mumbles tiredly.

“I know...” Aerys whispered.

Suddenly, Aegon is leaning closer. It takes only a second before their lips meet—Aerys stills, unsure what to do. On one hand, he knows he should push him away, but on the other, it’s more complicated. Aegon presses another kiss to Aerys’ lips before Aerys pulls away. Aerys winced as he swallowed the saliva, which was beginning to pool in his mouth. His hands dropped from the prince's face to his lap.

“Please,” Aegon begs. “Please.”

The prince leans forward, their lips softly grazing each other.

“We can’t,” Aerys whispered.

Aegon shook his head, leaning in the rest of the way. Aerys movements are stiff at first, as he tries to ignore the voice in his head telling him to stop. Aerys can feel his emotions battling it out inside of him—a mixture of anxiousness and arousal. The kiss continued. Aegon’s hands gripped tightly around Aerys’ waist, pulling him closer. Aerys tilted his head slightly to cave his tongue into the prince’s mouth. Quickly, it was becoming sloppy and desperate, but that made it more erotic.

Aerys could taste the wine lingering on the prince’s tongue. He finds the taste almost addicting. His hot tongue explores the prince’s mouth, and Aegon lets him in without protest. Coating each other with spit as Aerys feels the rough texture of Aegon's tongue against his own. Aegon’s hand trails down, placing itself over Aerys’ growing bulge. The young lord pulls back with a slight hiss. A string of saliva keeps them connected until Aerys swipes it away. Aegon tries to climb onto his lap, but Aerys presses a firm hand against his chest, keeping him at bay. The young lord uses his other hand to grip the prince’s wrist, pushing his hand away from his lap. A pitiful whine escapes the prince’s throat.

“Please,” he begs again. As if it’s the only word he can remember. “Please.”

Aegon’s eyes are welled with tears. His bottom lip trembled as he let go of what little dignity remained to him. Aerys turned his head, squeezing his eyes closed. He dropped his hands to his lap, releasing the prince’s wrist. This had to stop. They had gone far enough.

“We shouldn’t-” he began but was interrupted.

Aegon shifted onto his knees. His cold hands cupped Aerys’ face, using his body weight to push him on his back. Aerys fell back on the bed with a soft grunt.

“Aegon, I mean it-” Aerys brings his hands to the prince’s shoulders to keep some distance between their faces.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, kissing Aerys’ lips softly.

The prince swung his leg over Aerys' lower body, straddling him. His lips parted to speak, but no words came out. Aerys could feel panic beginning to course through him. They mustn’t. This is wrong.

“I-we can’t.” Aerys sputtered, trying to scoot up the bed.

He gasped as Aegon pressed his weight down on him. He was pressing himself against Aerys’ growing bulge. Aegon leaned down, peppering wet kisses up and down Aerys’ neck. His cold hands slide underneath the young lord’s tunic, slightly pushing it up. The warmth makes Aerys’ skin pimple with goosebumps. Aerys wants to push him away, but he finds himself unable to.

“Aegon,” he groans, feeling the prince’s teeth against his neck.

Aegon retracts his hands, placing them on the sides of Aerys’ head. The prince pulled back just enough so they could face each other. Their noses gently grazed each other.

“I need this Aerys. I feel like I’m losing my mind. Please, help me.” The prince begged, his eyes brimming with tears.

Aerys wanted to say no. He wished that he was strong enough to deny the prince- that he was strong enough to deny himself. But the tremble in Aegon’s voice, the heartbreak in his eyes, and the desperation on his face were enough to break the young lord’s resolve.

“Please,” Aegon whispers, “I need this. I need you.”

Aerys’ hand cups the back of the prince’s head, pulling him in for a tender kiss. It feels nice. It's so lovely that Aerys has no problem pushing away those negative thoughts creeping in, instead choosing to lose himself in the prince’s touch.

Aerys pushes himself up, sitting the two of them upright. Aegon giggles, a blissful smile covering his face. Aerys leaned forward, peppering kisses along the prince’s jaw and neck. Aegon whimpered, tilting his head to the side. His hand tangled itself in Aerys' hair, holding his head close. Aerys fingers begin deftly untying the laces on the front of Aegon’s tunic. They pulled back long enough for Aerys to pull it over the prince’s head and toss it over his shoulder. Then they're at it again. Aerys pressed sloppy kisses against the prince's neck and shoulders.

His palms gripped Aegon’s hips, which were erratically pressing themselves against his, desperately chasing after some friction to ease the ache between his legs.

“‘m sorry,” he whines, “need to feel you against me.”

Aegon lowers his head, hiding in the side of Aerys’ neck. Aerys hissed, his nails digging into the prince’s skin, trying to slow Aegon’s movement. His cock was straining against his trousers, begging to be released.

“Please, I- mmn,” Aegon whispers, at a loss for words.

“Say it,” Aerys said. The commanding tone in his voice leaves no room for the prince to object. Not that Aerys believed he would.

“I want you.”

The reply isn’t good enough. Aerys lifts his hand, taking the prince’s chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Aegon, look at me.”

Once again, it’s a command, calm and authoritative enough to make the prince obey. His eyes flutter open, and Aerys can see they are glossed over with lust and desire. His hips struggle against Aerys' remaining hand, trying to move faster, but Aerys manages to keep his pace slow and steady.

“Say it again.”

“I want you.”

“How?”

Aegon whines, a pitiful pout forming on his lips. “Aerys, I want you to fuck me.”

The words are crude, but they set the pit of Aerys’ stomach ablaze. Aerys holds Aegon close before rolling them over. The prince lands on his back with a soft laugh, a blissful smile covering his face. He pulls Aerys close for another kiss. Aerys’ fingers unlace the prince’s trousers. He can feel the man’s hard cock throbbing against his palm. Aegon holds the side of the young lord's neck, hissing as Aerys’ hand grazed his aching bulge. Aerys stands to his feet, and Aegon lifts his hips so the man can pull his trousers down. Aerys drops them to the ground. His breath hitched, and his mouth watered as he watched Aegon's cock pulse against his lower stomach, desperate for some relief. Aerys follows suit, ridding himself of his own restricting clothing.

“There’s a vial in my pocket. Grab it, will you?” The prince points behind Aerys.

Aerys nods, reaching down to retrieve the vial. He inspects the glass vial, which is full of golden-yellow liquid, as he pulls it out.

“Oil?”

The prince nodded in confirmation. “It makes it easier.”

Aerys nods, climbing onto the bed. Aegon spreads his legs wider so that Aerys can slide between them. Aerys sat on his knees, breaking the seal of the vial. Aegon lifted his head, watching as Aerys coated his cock with the oil. Aerys gave himself a few strokes, properly coating his cock. His hips bucked against his touch. His body was glad to be touched finally. Aerys let out an amused snort as the prince’s eyes stayed glued to his hands.

“Shut up,” Aegon scorned.

Aerys gives no reply. He tilts the vial, letting some oil drip down to the prince’s hole. Aegon shivers, and the hair on his skin rises.

“Cold?” Aerys asked.

“A bit,” Aegon nods.

“Sorry,” Aerys apologizes, even though it’s not his fault.

“Just get inside me already.”

Aerys stopped, his head tilting in confusion.

“Don’t you need to be prepared first?” He asked, nodding towards the prince's bottom.

“I don’t care, just do it.” Aegon groans, trying to push himself on Aerys’ cock.

Aerys ignores his words, using a finger to work the oil into the prince’s hole.

“Fuck, fuck,” The prince cries out.

Aerys’ index finger circles around the puckered entrance. He used the oil to help coax his finger inside. The muscles clenched as he worked his way inside.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Aegon hisses.

Aerys freezes, unsure if he has done something wrong.

“Keep going,” Aegon groaned.

He continued his work until he could fit three fingers in with ease. Aerys retracted his hand. Aegon writhed beneath him, whimpering. Aerys lifts the prince’s legs before lining himself up.

“Please,” Aegon whines, pressing down on Aerys’ cock.

“Are you sure?” Aerys asks, any playfulness gone from his voice. He needed to know that Aegon was sure if they were going further.

“Mhm,” the prince nodded.

He’s tight, but the work Aerys has put in makes it easier. They both groan as Aerys sinks his cock deeper. Aegon’s eyes are clamped shut, his mouth open wide, as his sinful noises echo in the air.

Aerys kisses the prince’s neck, his tongue gliding down to his collarbones. He hears Aegon take a deep breath through his nose.

“I’ve missed you,” Aerys whispers into the man’s skin.

Aegon mewls at the confession. Aerys continues, planting butterfly kisses across the man’s chest.

“I’ve missed your smile.”

The prince arches his back against Aerys' touch. Aegon’s head was thrown back, his brows pinched, and his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His hip bucked underneath Aerys’ weight.

“I’ve missed your voice.”

Aegon gasps so deliciously, his back arching deeper than before. The tip of his cock looked swollen and red, begging to be relieved. Aerys swiped his thumb over the tip, smearing the leaking precum along the shaft. Aegon yelps and shivers, his hips bucking against Aerys’. The man runs his fingers along the veins of his cock, from the tip to the base.

“Aerys, please!” He moans.

Aerys peers at him through dark eyelashes, amazed by the sight before him. How could a man so beautiful, so ethereal, be spread out before him like this- allowing him to touch him in such a way?

“Gods!” Aegon hissed through gritted teeth. “It-it’s too much,” the prince gasps. “Fuck!”

“Shh,” Aerys cooed, his fingers gripping tighter on the man’s cock. “I’ve got you.”

With a low groan and stuttering hips, Aegon releases. Coating Aerys’ hand with hot cum. For a moment, the prince is nothing more than a flushed, babbling mess. Aerys gives him a moment to breathe.

“That’s it, you’re doing good,” Aerys praises, smiling when Aegon responds with a choked gasp, his face growing red.

Aerys releases a shuddered breath as he sinks deeper. The feeling is overwhelming. Aerys’ body tenses, his nails dig into the prince’s hips, holding him in place as his warmth squeezes around Aerys’ throbbing cock. Aerys struggles to hold out, not wanting to reach his peak so soon. Aegon’s hands grab Aerys’ arms, fingernails digging into his skin. Aerys could hear his breathing stop almost completely.

“Breathe, Aegon,” he commands, “in and out. That’s it.” He praises as he watches the prince's chest move up and down.

“I’m gonna move now,” Aerys whispers before rolling his hips.

Aegon whines, one of his hands sneaking up to the back of Aerys’ neck, pulling his body closer. Aerys allows it, pressing his upper body against Aegons. He can feel Aegon’s cock rubbing against his stomach.

“Fuck,” Aerys whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You don’t have to s-say things like that.” The prince sputtered, grinding against Aerys’ cock.

“I want to. I mean it.”

Before the prince could speak, Aerys rolled his hips again, using the man’s body earnestly. Sweat started to bead on his forehead. There’s a fierce look of concentration on Aegon’s face as he tries to meet the man’s thrusts. The lewd sound of Aegon’s ass slapping against Aerys’ thigh echoed in the air. Aerys leans his face down, peppering soft kisses on the prince’s cheek. Aegon’s hand guides his head, pulling him in for a kiss. It was sloppy and wet. Their hot tongues coated each other with spit. Aerys rested his hands on both sides of the prince’s head, using them to hold himself up so he wouldn’t put too much weight on Aegon. However, the prince did not seem to appreciate his efforts.

Aegon hooked his legs around the man’s waist. His strong arms wrapped around Aerys’ shoulders, pulling him closer so their chests were pressed against each other. Aerys dropped onto his elbows, his hips moving faster, eager to find his release. He pulled away with a gasp; his lungs burned, desperate for air. Aerys buries himself into the crook of the prince’s neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin.

“Gods, I love you, ” Aerys whispers.

He stills as he feels a wetness connecting with his ear. Aerys raises his head slightly, enough to see Aegon’s eyes rolled back, his cheeks puffy and stained with tears. Aerys feels his balls tighten, but he slows his pace.

“No!” The prince whimpered. “Keep going, please!”

His fingers grip Aerys’ waist, and the heels of his feet dig into the flesh of Aerys’ ass.

“ahh fuck,” Aerys moaned.

“F-fuck,” Aegon moaned out with him.

Aerys pressed wet kisses to Aegon’s cheek, enjoying the salty taste of his tears mixing with his sweat. Aerys wanted more of him. No, he needed more of him.

“Fuck, I’m close.” Aerys groans, his hips pounding relentlessly into the prince’s stretched hole.

Aegon’s hands cup the sides of Aerys’ face, pressing their foreheads together. Once more, they stare at each other through dark lashes. Aerys' long hair fell forward, blocking them from the world around them. It was only them. They were all that mattered.

The prince's eyes are burning with lust and need.

“You’re mine, Aerys.” Aegon huffs. “Mine.” He smiles triumphantly.

Aerys says nothing, putting all his energy into his thrusts.

“Say it.”

Aerys can hear the jealousy in his voice.

“I’m yours,” he reassures, blinded by his pleasure.

Aegon hums, pleased with his answer. The prince knits his brows together as he grinds his hips down against Aerys’ cock. Aerys’ nails dug into the prince’s hips, holding them up slightly as he thrusts. His hips jerked forward wildly as he emptied himself inside of Aegon. The prince followed suit, this time spilling his cum against Aerys’ stomach.

The two lay there, boneless. Their heavy breath was hot against each other's faces. Aerys carefully pulled himself from the prince’s abused hole. Aegon hissed, his nail digging into the man’s skin. They shared another kiss. This one was sweet and slow. Neither of them had the energy to kiss each other with the vigor they had before. Aerys pulled back, pressing a soft kiss on the prince’s head before rolling off him. His back hit the thin blanket, and his arms rested on his heaving chest. Aerys turns his head to find Aegon staring at him. The two stare into each other's eyes before breathing a shared laugh.

Aerys groaned, sitting himself up. He moved to the small table, grabbing his goblet. Aegon scooted up the bed, resting on the nearly flat feather pillow. Aerys took a sip of wine before handing it off to Aegon.

“You should probably be drinking water, but I’m afraid this is all we’ve got.”

“How dreadful,” Aegon smirked, taking the goblet in hand.

When the man is done with the goblet, Aerys retrieves it and sets it back on the table before pulling on his trousers.

“Are you leaving?” Aegon asked.

“We should get back to the castle, should we not?”

The prince shakes his head. “We should rest for a bit.”

Aerys shifted awkwardly on his feet.

“Besides, I’m not sure I’m up for much walking right now.” The prince teased.

Aerys felt the heat rise in his face. He dropped his gaze to his feet. Aegon patted the bed beside him. Aerys climbed back into the bed. They pulled back the blanket, crawling under it. The prince decided to lay on Aerys, his head on his chest and his arms curled around his sides. Softening under his touch, Aerys wraps his arms around his prince. One of his hands toyed with Aegon’s hair, patting down the messy locks that tickled his face.

Aerys was content, happy even. Happier than he had been in years. Yet the knowledge that this night would come to an end began gnawing at his mind. He shook his head. His impending guilt and shame would have to wait.

Dark shadows blanketed the walls of the room. The light nearly snuffed out as the candles burned dangerously low, and every now and then, random sounds of wood creaking would echo through the air. As Aerys took a deep breath, his nose was filled with the mixture of both their scents. It filled his chest with a deep sense of peace and calmness. He was content.

Aerys tensed as he felt Aegon trail his fingers across the rows of scars that now marred his stomach. There were so many now that it was obvious where they had come from.

“Do you still do it?” The prince questioned quietly.

“No,” he answered through gritted teeth.

He felt the prince nod against his skin.

“How are you feeling?” Aerys asked, running his hand up and down Aegon's back, hoping desperately that the prince would move on.

“A bit sore.” The prince sighed, raising his head to look up at Aerys.

Aerys' face must have held a worried expression because the prince quickly shook his head.

“You make love like a woman,” Aegon quipped.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, I liked it.” The prince smiled, nuzzling into Aerys’ chest.

The young lord had lost track of how long they had been lying here. They had both dozed off shortly after they coupled. When he awoke, he found Aegon still curled up in his arms, tracing the lines on his stomach with his finger.

“You know. . .” The prince chuckled. “I used to imagine this very moment.”

Aerys kept his chin resting on the top of Aegon’s head. His hands stilled, slightly loosening his grip on the prince’s arm. Aerys swallowed the spit pooling in his mouth. He winced as it went down his throat harsher than expected. It seemed his emotions were tired of waiting. The weight of what they had done was creeping onto his shoulders. Guilt and shame were beginning to spread through his chest like pesky weeds.

“That night you left was awful, but the morning was even worse. When I woke up, the first thing I wanted to do was seek you out. Then I remembered you were gone.”

There was a slight tremble in his voice as he spoke. Aerys wasn’t used to this, talking after sex. Usually, the whores would happily take his money and wave gleefully as he left. Shouting for him to come again. But this was different. The air that had comforted him felt almost suffocating now.

“Perhaps we should head back now,” he suggested, ignoring the prince’s confession.

The man pushed the prince back slightly, just enough to crawl out from under him. Aerys bent down, pulling on his socks and boots. He could feel Aegon’s eyes burning into his back. He stood to his feet, reaching to the ground to grab his discarded tunic. His skin itched. The need to be cleansed gnawed at him. He wanted to return to the castle to scrub himself clean.

“Did I do something wrong?” Aegon asked timidly.

Aerys turned his head to look at him. That was a mistake. The prince’s brows were pinched together, and his lips were turned into a sad little frown. His eyes welled up with tears.

Aerys shrugged the tunic over his head and shoulders. He shook his head. “No, of course not.”

“Aerys, I'm sorry if it’s about what I said. I understand why you left-”

“It’s not about that Aegon.” The young lord sighed. “Look, can we just. . . go back to the castle?”

“Will you tell me what I’ve done?”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Aerys shrugged.

“Then why are you being this way?!” The prince asked, raising his voice.

Aerys stopped, his eyes narrowing at the prince. He turned with a slight scoff, bending down to fetch his cloak. Quickly, his fingers tied the laces around his neck.

“Wait, wait!” Aegon pleaded, jumping up from the bed.

Aerys moved to take his leave. Aegon quickly stepped in front of him, grabbing him by his forearms. He moved one hand to cup Aerys’ face. The touch sends a shiver down his spine.

“I’m sorry, alright? Let's just go back to bed.”

“Aegon,” Aerys sighed, pulling his face back. “I need to get back to the castle.”

“Everyone is still sleeping, there’s no need to rush-”

“Why must I beg you?” Aerys sneered. “If you will not return with me, then at least let me go on my own.”

The prince dropped his hands to his sides. Aerys watched as his face hardened.

“Why must you beg me?” He snickered. “It is I who should be asking that question. Why must I beg you to stay at my side? Why do you insist on resisting me as if I am some sort of plague?”

“You know why.”

Aegon scoffed loudly. “Because you are a coward. A sad little boy who runs away at the first sign of adversity.”

Aerys' jaw clenched in anger. His hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Are you finished?” He gritted his teeth.

The prince’s face softened, his eyes blinking rapidly.

“Do you think I want to feel this way for you?” Aegon’s voice is low. His lips trembled as he fought back tears.

Aerys shifted his weight between his feet. His breath hitched in his throat, and his blood pumped loudly in his ears.

“Aegon-”

“You don’t think I want to be a better man? You don’t think I want to be the good, honorable man that you’ve always believed I could be?”

“Aegon-“

“I love you, Aerys! You are the love of my life, and it kills me that I cannot be with you. It kills me that you continue to run away from me. I don’t know who I am without you. I’ve spent the past five years waiting for you. I would watch the skies day and night praying to any god that would listen to bring you back to me.”

Aerys looked down in shame, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.

“The first two weeks after you left, I couldn’t eat. I could hardly sleep. I spent my time drinking and whoring, doing anything I could to free myself from these chains you have wrapped around my heart.”

Aegon waved his hands out to the side before dropping them, letting them smack against his legs. His tears flowed freely as he began to sob. He wiped his eyes, breathing in before he continued.

“None of it worked. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was you. My every thought, my every dream, my every wish. . .It’s all you.”

Aerys’ own eyes burned with tears. He swallows the thick lump of sadness in his throat. The young lord prays to the gods to strike him down now. Death would be kinder than this aching pain in his chest.

“You think I want to be in this position? That I wouldn’t give up everything to be able to escape all of this and run away with you?!”

“Aegon, please. . .” Aerys begs, unable to hear anymore.

“I thought we were past this?” Aegon whispers. “You- you kissed me. You made love to me. You told me you love me-”

“Words spoken in the heat of the moment,” Aerys shook his head. “I did not expect you to take them to heart.”

Aegon scoffed, taking a step back. “So it meant nothing to you?”

“Of course it did!” Aerys scrunched his face in frustration. “Aegon, nothing has changed. You’re married, you-”

“None of that matters! Say the word, and I will leave it all behind.” The prince moved closer, taking Aerys’ hands into his own. “I asked you once, years ago. To leave this place with me. The offer still stands. We could go and disappear from all of this. We could do whatever we want. We’d drink the rarest of wines, dine on the finest foods, and be free to be with each other. We could leave all of this behind.”

A small, pitiful smile spreads across the prince’s face. His eyes gleam with hope. A deep silence took over the room as Aerys searched the man’s face for anything to tell him that the man wasn’t serious. But he found nothing. The prince meant every word.

“You talk of wanting to be an honorable man, yet now you speak of running away? Of abandoning your family?” Aerys shook his head in disbelief.

The prince’s smile dropped. His face contorted in a mixture of pain and shock. Aerys pulled his hands free from the prince’s grasp.

“This was a mistake,” he whispered, brushing past Aegon to the door.

He slammed it shut behind him, quickly rushing to the end of the hall and descending the stairs. His eyes welled with tears, almost blinding him. They fell as he attempted to blink them away. The inn had settled down a bit but was still crowded. Aerys slipped through the crowd, desperately trying to get outside. He needed air to free him from the invisible hand squeezing his throat. He needed to feel the cold breeze of the night sky against his skin.

The young lord stumbled out of the building, nearly falling to his knees on the cold cobblestone street. His head turned left and right, unfamiliar with his surroundings. In the end, he chose to head right, walking as fast as his legs could go.

—

The castle was quiet, eerily quiet. Aerys had finally made his way back to the red keep. It took some time, but he found his way. He had felt guilty for abandoning Aegon, but he quickly reassured himself that the prince would be fine. He had been venturing out into the city since he was old enough to do so. Aerys stripped himself of his clothes, leaving them piled on the floor. Cold water droplets trickled down his skin as he scrubbed himself with a wet rag. Aerys did not wish to trouble the maids with preparing a bath at this hour. So he settled for a simple bowl of cold water and a washcloth. The hair on his body stood up as the chilly night air poured into the room.

He hissed as the drenched rag moved over his groin. The lord stared at the stone wall, keeping his own body out of view of the mirror. He could not bear to look at himself.

The night's events replayed in his head over and over again. He had been so stupid, so weak. Once again, history seemed to be repeating itself. Tears stung his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He could still feel the prince’s hands on his skin. The way his fingernails dug into the skin of his arms. The most troubling part wasn’t that it happened, but that Aerys enjoyed it. He wanted more.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath.

He dropped the rag back into the bowl. Aerys went to his bed, not bothering to dry his skin. He needed to stop thinking. The man slipped under the covers and curled up into a ball. Sleep, he needed to sleep.

—

The sound of loud footsteps awoke Aerys from his slumber. He lifted his head from the soft pillows beneath him. Loud voices and equally loud footsteps echoed from behind the door. Aerys moved onto his feet, quickly shuffling around the room to dress himself. He attempted to wipe the sleepiness away from his eyes as he walked to the door. He grasped the doorknob, trying to open the door, but it would not budge. Aerys placed both hands on the doorknob, fidgeting with it. Was it locked? He began to pound his palm against the door.

“What is the meaning of this?”

There was no reply. Aerys used one hand to jiggle the doorknob and the other to beat against the door. The footsteps and chatter began to fade away. Aerys moved to the bell beside his bed to call for a maid. He rang several times before he dropped his hand with a deep groan.

“Fuck. . .” He murmured.

His head was pounding, most likely from all the wine he had consumed the night before. Aerys moved to the window, pushing open the wooden shutters. Down below, all he could see was the empty gardens. The sky was beginning to lighten, and the birds were starting to sing their songs. Though the cold chill of morning still hung heavily in the air. What in the seven hells was happening? Aerys scrunched his eyes closed. None of this was helping his headache. The man moved back over to the door, attempting to pull it open again.

“I demand to know what is happening! I demand an audience with the king!”

Once again, he received no response. Aerys continued to fiddle with the doorknob, but after minutes of no results, he stopped. The man pressed his head against the cold door. Why was this happening? He racked his brain, trying desperately to come up with an explanation. Surely, his grandsire would never allow this to happen. To be treated like some sort of prisoner in his family's house. Unless. . . His blood ran cold. Did he know? Had his grandsire found out what he had done? How he had disgraced himself, how he had defiled the prince.

Aegon.

Aerys' chest began to ache as the man came to his mind. How did everything go so wrong so quickly? It was him. There was no one Aerys could blame but himself. No, Aerys was as willing a participant as Aegon was. He could have left, but he didn’t. The man was weak and had given in to sin. He had allowed himself to give in to his lust and depravity. Therefore, he must take whatever punishment awaited him. Aerys knew his grandsire could be easily persuaded. It wouldn’t take much for him to convince his grandsire of his innocence, but Aerys would do no such thing.

He deserved to be punished. If what he had done were to get out, it would disgrace both of his houses. Aerys was disgusted with himself. No, he had to be punished. The man moved over to his wardrobe, quickly disposing of his simple black robe. He had to get ready. No doubt the king would send for him soon. The morning bells from the sept had begun to ring. Aerys could hear them in the distance. For a moment, he debated whether to pray to the gods for forgiveness or mercy, but he decided against it. He deserves neither of those things. The man had made his bed.

—

Aerys stared down at the ring on his finger. His eyes trailed over every inch of his mother’s enameled face. Would she hate him? Is she looking down on him in shame or disgust? It pained him to think of it. He was grateful she wasn’t around to see this. She deserved better than this pitiful excuse for a son.

The sound of the door unlocking caught his attention. He raised his head, quickly rising to his feet. Finally, he had been waiting for hours. The sky was so dark it almost looked black. Aerys clenched his hands into fists as he watched Queen Alicent enter the room. She stopped just a few feet away from him, her hands clasped together tightly.

Her eyes were slightly puffy and red, as though she had been crying not too long ago. The room was quiet, too quiet for Aerys’ liking. The queen avoided his eyes for a moment before clearing her throat. Aerys could feel his hands becoming clammy. He could feel his stomach tighten up, bile rising in his throat. Blood pounded in his ears. Fingernails dug into the palms of his hands as he struggled to breathe. Aerys clenched his jaw, ready for whatever she would throw at him.

“The king is dead.”

The man froze. He had not been prepared for this at all. Aerys furrowed his brows, scrunching his face in disbelief. No, this could not be. He thought they would have more time.

“How?”

“In his sleep, there was no pain.”

His eyes welled with tears. The man nodded his head in understanding, quickly blinking away his tears. Aerys dropped his head to stare at his boots. This was all so sudden. He had never imagined that last night would be the last time he saw his grandfather. His mind drifted towards Rhaenyra. How saddened she will be when she hears the news. They both knew it was coming, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

The man shifted back and forth on his heels. His mind started to race, confusion and grief clouding his thoughts. The king had died peacefully in his sleep. So why would they have to lock him up in his bedchamber?

Aerys felt his heart stop. Suddenly, it was all becoming clear. The king was dead, and Rhaenyra was on Dragonstone. Far away from the throne. It would take a day or two for the news to reach her by raven. That would be all the time they needed.

He raised his head, eyes narrowing at the Queen. His hands clenched into fists once again.

“You’re usurping the throne.”

“It was the king's dying wish-”

Aerys scoffed, “I’m sure.”

“Believe me or not, it is of no consequence.”

Aerys hummed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“And tell me, who else was there to corroborate this claim?”

“No one.” She pursed her lips, fiddling with her fingernails.

Aerys chuckled dubiously. He turned away, leaving the queen to stare at the back of his head. His heart was racing, though with anger instead of fear or sadness this time. She’s lying. She had to be. Aerys would not believe for a second that his grandsire had wavered on his decision to name Rhaenyra his heir, especially on his deathbed with no other witness other than his wife, who has been vying for her son to be placed on the throne for years.

“Does Aegon know of this?” He asked, his voice shaking, afraid of the answer.

“That is not important.”

He could hear the woman shuffle her feet from behind him. Aerys sighed heavily, spinning around on his heel. Queen Alicent avoided his gaze for a moment. Her dark eyes trailed every corner of the room before meeting his own.

“Do you truly hate her so much?”

The woman stilled, her eyes widened at the question.

Her head tilted slightly to the side. “What?”

“Rhaenyra,” he clarified.

Tears began to fill her eyes, though she tried to blink them away. She shuffled back and forth on her feet, her hands clenched tightly.

“She told me the two of you used to be friends, close friends. You went everywhere together, did everything together, and shared your secrets. Now you’re stealing her throne and putting her to the sword.”

“I have no intentions of-”

“Of executing her?” A deep scowl covered his face. “Surely you cannot be that naive.”

“I intend to send peace terms-”

Aerys scoffed loudly, his anger rising inside his chest. “Peace terms.”

“If she agrees-”

“If she agrees, then what? Then, she and her children will be allowed to live in peace? If you intend to start a war, you should at least approach it with some pragmatism.” He spat, his words laced with venom.

“That is why I am here, Aerys.” The queen walked forward, taking the man’s hands into her own.

Aerys stiffened, and his lip curled in disgust. The queen ignored it, gripping his hands tightly.

“I came here to ask for your support. You are the only child of her sister, the princess Naerys. Rhaenyra has cared for you since you were a boy. She trusts you; she listens to you. I do not believe she would do anything to jeopardize your safety. Perhaps together, we could convince her to bend the knee.” She reasoned, with a pleading look in her eyes.

Aerys rolled his eyes, pulling his hands away and dropping them to his sides.

“So that’s what this is. You intend to use me as a hostage to keep her in line?!”

“I would like you to join our cause and accept Aegon as your king,” she sighed. “The two of you have always been close. Ever since you were boys, the two of you were inseparable. And I believe your. . . fondness for him has not lessened over the years. As I know, his has not lessened for you.”

Aerys felt his mouth run dry. The time has come. The time he had been dreading his entire life. Since he was old enough to understand the difference between a son and a daughter in this world, he would have to choose. The thought filled his stomach with dread. He could feel the bile beginning to rise in his throat. Surely, Aegon had not agreed to this. He had said it more times than Aerys could count. He had no wish to rule. He had no desire for the iron throne.

And Rhaenyra. Did they believe the woman would bend the knee? Of course not; that would be foolish. They would have no choice but to kill her before she could call her banners.

Aerys cared for Aegon. He truly did. As ashamed as he was to admit it, he loved him. More than he should have. But was that enough to make him betray the woman who had raised him? Even if, by some miracle, Rhaenyra was spared, her children would not be. There would be no way they would be able to coexist. War would ensue. If not now, perhaps in a few years, but it would happen. Of that, Aerys had no doubt. Aerys closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. He turned around, leaving the queen to face his back once again. His fist clenched together, nails digging into the palms of his hands.

The woman sighed deeply.

“If war ensues, many will die, Aerys. Please consider it.”

No more words were spoken as she finally took her leave. The door slammed shut behind her. Aerys listened as her footsteps receded from the room and the door locked shut behind her. The second she was gone, he ran to the table, emptying the contents of his stomach into a bowl until nothing was left. When he was done, the man let his body slump onto the wooden chair at the table. The aching pain in his head had returned, even stronger than before. His eyes trailed down to the ring on his finger. Tears he had been struggling to deny now slid down his face freely.

He didn’t want this; he didn’t want any of this. Aerys did not want to choose between the two people in the world who meant the most to him. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, before burying his face in his hands—a sorrowful attempt to drown out his sobs.

Tags: @teamavatar13, @saicherry, @willow-red, @sadpuffpuff

#aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x oc #fire and blood #hotd #hotd aegon #house of the dragon fanfic #king aegon #male!oc #targcest #house of the dragon #house targaryen #aegon the elder #aegon the second #aegon targaryen #king aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii

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oh-saints · 1 year

Text

sweetest devotion (p.1)

despite being written on paper, arranged marriages don't really have a guidance entailed. and mason was trapped into navigating the direction of this huge ship alone.

playboy!mason mount x princess!OC

word count: 2.0k

tw: as mentioned in the masterlist only, but extramarital affair to a marriage of convenience for this chapter

note: due to a stupid accident that costed my wrist, sorry for the long delay but here it is! i promised you next part's longer but hope you enjoy it nonetheless. as usual, i happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet.

tags: @missgaygurl @pingyu-in-wonderland <3 (lemme know if you want to be added!)

sweetest devotion masterlist here <<prologue here - part 2 here>>

but face proven to be not everything needed in this holy institution called marriage.

especially not when the woman-in-question didn’t show that pretty face any where near mason throughout the second week.

mason never thought his marriage would turn out like this, though.

mainly because during the first week, mason and serena managed to stay civil—serena, for the sake of the baby; mason, for the sake of his life. because let’s be honest, there was too much at stake if they fucked up.

but truthfully, mason actually had a glimpse of what their marriage could look like, should they work together immaculately, so he didn’t think he had a point to complain. he reaped the benefits such as having his laundry taken care of—which he once admitted publicly was a total bummer when he was living alone because it’d mean he had to do it by his own self—while she was sheltered nicely and comfortably from the harsh punishment hanging on her head like a bounty.

well, at least until the mastermind behind the grand plan went missing.

no prior words, prior warning or whatsoever.

and mason was left dumbstruck. because now, what the hell was he supposed to do in this house without being reminded that he now couldn’t go out as much as he liked to? or the fact that he couldn’t pop into some upcoming hit nightclub for a relieve of his own without jeopardising both his and serena’s life?

fucking hell, he groaned before landing a well-placed punched to the sandbag he stored in his home gym. lately the poor thing was his only solace to the burning rage boiling that was threatening to combust. he’d never hated himself for what he’d done to his own life more than that precise moment.

once, someone told him that the most dangerous taste in life was the taste of freedom. and god were they right—he’d exchange everything in possession to have his premarital life and the freedom he was entitled with back in his hold. fuck what they said about his reputation of painting the town red.

“mase!” ben’s chirpy voice over the call clearly indicated he was drunk and in need of help. “you should come to the factory! she’s here!”

mason didn’t think twice to put on his usual clubbing garb at ben’s information and pulled out his Lamborghini from his driveway towards his and ben’s favourite nightclub.

and ironically, the place where it all begin for mason and serena.

but if serena was having fun at the night club, he deserved the right to ruin his steak of sombre nights. did he not?

“mason!” ben chilwell had to scream for his name to beat out the pounding music but his ears had never been more familiar at the loud voices more than now. “you’re here!”

“where’s she?”

ben’s smile grew wider at mason’s question. the left-back might not know the reason behind mason’s rash decision to get married—he initially thought the young star was only not wanting to pass up the chance to tie down a princess—but one thing that he did know was that mason mount was like a moth to the fire whenever she was involved in the scene.

“over at the bar!”

mason’s scanned the said bar, and his heart fell at the sight of her. because she wasn’t who mason was looking out for; she wasn’t serena. and all his plan getting even to serena he initially planned went evaporating into the air.

she happened to have the name of elena, the very and only woman who mason dared to describe closest as his lover, despite their constant on-and-off nature.

and ironically, the very reason mason and serena happened the first place.

if it wasn’t because of her dumping him—for the nth time—mason wouldn’t have sought the company of another woman in his bed. he wouldn’t have hunted serena, the prettiest commodity the factory had accrued that night, down on a Friday night too long ago.

elena peered over her shoulder, her eyes gave out away the hidden surprise at the sight of mason coming to the nightclub. surely, the newlywed didn’t come alone, did he?

mason was supposed to feel accustomed to this game of her. it was her signature move—giving off a glance over her shoulder, looking smoulderingly sexy as she did so.

mason knew what was coming, her selling off herself to the highest bidder. and he wasn’t supposed to fall into the jealousy trap of seeing endless men courting her anymore.

but he did, helplessly, like icarus flying too close to the sun. and before he realised it himself, mason had already circled his arms around her waist, surrendering himself to the devil in prada shoes as he lost himself to the demonic sensation of having elena’s lips on his, sloppy kisses be damned.

this was normalcy for mason.

this was what he could’ve had, and he’d never hated serena more than now for stealing this away from him.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

for the rest of the week, going back to elena’s place was all mason did. god knows doing what, but if whatever-it-was brought back the happy spirit to mason’s body and his old self, the rest of the Chelsea team didn’t question it.

only when he needed a fresh change of clothes did he come back to his home, did he realise serena was already back occupying the 1st floor of the building. he might not see her in flesh and blood, but the fresh scent of lavender told more than words could never convey.

he dashed for his bedroom, putting his pieces of clothing as much as the duffel bag let him to, before heading out again towards elena’s place. mason managed to reconcile for the good now—because elena also realised that having mason in the arms of anyone else didn’t settle with her well—so he didn’t want to waste time away from her anymore.

halfway downstairs, mason got stopped by serena’s figure at the other end of the stairs. the woman looked like she was going to catch up on mason, but as her eyes travelled to his packed bag, mason noticed she was dawning in the reality.

good, he thought inwardly. it should serve her place.

mason let another 10 seconds passed by before he continued galloping down the stairs, breezed past serena the way she left him a week ago—empty. indifferent.

like nothing.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

weeks passed and it was another weekly dose of mason fetching another pack of his clothes.

mason had certainly hired a cleaner so he could dump his dirty clothes one week and get another set of fresh clothes the next. despite his indifference towards serena, he prided himself on sparing her the smell of another woman standing in between them like the elephant in the room.

as soon as his feet graced the living room, a messy bun he wasn’t familiar at all was what came to his eyes, the hair colour so striking in the midst of mason’s all-white living room. while it wasn’t unusual, serena had never bothered crossing his way whenever he was back home to do this, as if they’d silently fallen into an inexplicable routine.

only at times like that was he grateful of marrying the right person. the princess’ pedigree certainly didn’t lie.

but still giving him her back, the owner of the highlighted scene spoke up. “you’re home.”

if serena wasn’t spurting the obvious information, mason would’ve shrunk at how eerily chilled her voice was. “you think?”

mason’s voice didn’t bother her at all—just like any other time during their short pre-wedding prep, the only time when he questioned her unwavering resolve only to be answered by “it’s just who I am.”

she just stood from her place so gracefully like a feather dancing ballet. “good, because we need to talk.”

“about what?”

“about us,” mason was seriously questioning how the hell she could spin her body into facing him with shoulders so squared she would’ve put kendall jenner to shame. “boundaries and all.”

oh, the audacity, mason scoffed. “the time of talking was a week ago, serena, which—in case you forget—was the time when you decided to disappear from the face of the earth.”

mason’s jab at her didn’t shake off her resolve, still. “where were you?”

“why do you care?”

“I care because the palace called,” mason appreciated she cut to the point because elena would be waiting for the dinner reservation he made for them. “I don’t care about you keeping a lover, mistress or whatever it is outside this house as long as you keep it under the wraps.”

shit, the palace must’ve found out somehow about him and elena. or the paparazzi did, who then contacted the palace to release the pictures. alas, mason must’ve been too reckless lately about his rendezvous. “okay.”

“and as long as you are to show up for the social gatherings the royal family may see fit,” this one, mason had to groan. who said marrying a princess was going to be a good stroke to his ego? “if it kills you so much, we can mingle for an hour tops before citing I’m not feeling well.”

“I don’t have problem with that,” the footballer crossed his arms as he bit back his response. he couldn’t possibly spew off his honest reaction at this time, not when this topic came up due to his carelessness. “I take it that includes my public appearances?”

“I’m not going to tail you to every of them if you don’t want me to,” yes, good, don’t come. “I’ll only go to where it concerns your club.”

“okay,” mason sighed, shifting his weight from his left leg to the right one, indicating he was uncomfortable and wanted to end this conversation already. “anything else?”

“that is all,” serena shook off her head before directing her feet to move towards her room. “good night, mason.”

“where were you, anyway?” serena halted her steps at mason’s question. “the past week?”

“why do you care, mason?”

mason knew serena only did that to get back at him but it still annoyed the hell of him. “just answer the damned question.”

“I was hospitalised.”

what? “how?”

“I fell off the stairs.”

what the fuck?! and she didn’t bother to share this piece of information? “okay… how about—”

“the baby? they’re safe, mason,” serena felt the need to turn around to show that she had indeed been doing a good job becoming a mother, no matter how bad mason was at doing his job as the father. “need not worry about it.”

serena might not show it in her words but mason could feel the slight annoyance at the way she turned herself around to him, to blatantly show him that all the reasons he didn’t need to put the blame on her for endangering their child. and it rubbed off in all the wrong way to mason because why was he getting the sticks now?

“I was meaning to ask how about we tell each other about our whereabouts, Jesus Christ,” mason grunted under his breath. serena was truly testing his patience this time… “your beloved palace surely wouldn’t appreciate it if you have a bad husband that doesn’t at least know where you are, no?”

that, serena could take a good moot point when she saw one.

but before serena could open a negotiation to mason’s suggestion, the man shook off his head as he dragged his feet towards his own bedroom. “hospital, of all places… good God.”

next chapter contains:

“how about having your friends over?”

“mason,” serena sighed, a bitter smile making its way to her face. “you’re the closest thing I have to a friend.”

mason couldn’t hide his surprise at her admission. despite being drunk, mason did remember that she went to the club where he was at, the night that led to their situation now, with so many people in tow. “didn’t you have so many friends when going to the club?”

bitter smile still intact, serena looked up this time and levelled mason’s gaze. “welcome to the lonely life of a princess, mason mount.”

#oh-saints writes #mason mount #mason mount x oc #mason mount fic #mason mount fics #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfics #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount angst #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #footie fic #footballer x oc #football fics

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