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harryspet · 9 months ago

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well kept [2] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, NONCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 4.5k

In which you officially enter into a world of high stakes and intense demands.

well kept masterlist

Your fingers traced the smooth edge of the new work bag that sat on your desk, a pristine luxury item whose brand you didn’t immediately recognize. It was medium-sized, big enough to fit your brand-new laptop, and an off-white color with pebble-textured leather.

“Wow, you clean up nice,” came a voice from behind you. You turned to find Eleanor approaching, coffee in hand.

Instinctively, you pulled down your skirt as she looked you over. You were effortlessly polished, for sure. You usually only get your hair professionally done for special occasions, opting for simple protective styles you could do yourself. However, you had to admit you felt pretty with your hair in a neat, braided rose that reached down to your lower back.

The clothes only amplified this unfamiliar sensation. After trying on eight outfits the previous night, you had settled on a cherry-red cropped blazer and a matching pleated skirt. You’d chosen the shortest heels Rafe had sent—a pair of white kitten heels adorned with gold bows. Your makeup, subtly applied, complemented the overall look.

Eleanor set her things down, straightened, and placed a hand on her slender hips. “Take your bag,” she said. “I’ll show you where Rafe expects you to work.”

“I thought that was my desk.”

“He’ll tell you where you need to be and when you need to be there.”

Her answer was simple enough.

You entered the luxurious space that Rafe called an office once again. Even when he wasn’t in the room, you were intimidated by it, “He had this brought in for you,” Facing the wall on the side of the room that held Rafe’s desk, in the corner, was a simple mahogany desk. The miniature version of Rafe’s desk. A cushioned stool was placed underneath and on top were a notebook, a cup of pens, and a small lamp, “This is where he’ll expect you most mornings. You’re to review his calendar before he arrives, memorize it, and you’ll brief him on the day when he walks in.”

“I’m ssss-supposed to be in here with him …all day? What if I, you know, need you?”

“I’m right down the hallway, or you can email me.”

Eleanor spent the next thirty minutes showing you their emailing system and how to access Rafe’s calendar. She even shared a large cheat sheet she’d made with all of Rafe’s preferred restaurants, coffee shops, hotels, and the names and numbers of his home staff.

When she left you alone, you looked around the room. The view of the office from your corner was daunting. However, your heart had been beating too fast ever since you met Rafe.

You turned your attention back to the calendar system. It was sleek and well-organized, and luckily, it was straightforward enough to navigate. You took note of his key meetings for the day and repeated them over in your head. You wrote down some notes in case your mind drew a blank. It was your first day, and he’d give you some grace, right?

You needed to be able to anticipate these needs, but all you knew about Rafe Cameron was that he was complex and demanding.

The sound of footsteps in the corridor drew your attention, and hurriedly, you glanced down at your note sheet again. Standing from your seat, you smoothed out your skirt, and with your notes in hand, you folded your palms in front of you.

Unconsciously, as he pushed open the doors, you sucked air into your lungs. You held your breath until his eyes met with yours. In comparison to when you first met him, he was dressed down. He wore a short-sleeve black polo black dress pants, black leather penny loafers on his feet and a briefcase in hand. His face was stoic as he looked you over and let the doors close behind him. As big as they were, they were practically silent went they closed, adding to the ominous feeling in the room.

You smiled, or tried to, “Good morning, Mr. Cameron, I’m–”

“I want you right here,” He interrupted, pointing down at the floor a foot before him. You stepped forward, hoping you wouldn’t trip like you had while practicing walking in them. Despite how he towered over you when you were this close, you made yourself comfortable there, “You’ll be right there every day when I walk in. Try again.”

“Good morning, Mr. Cameron-”

“I prefer Sir.”

Try again. Unfortunately, you were pretty used to being interrupted and forced to stop and start your sentences. “Good morning, Sir.” You were smiling as much as you could, but your throat hurt like your body wanted to cry. “Today, you’ll sss-start with three sss-separate online conferences with potential investors: Mr. Daniel, Mrs. Hunt, and Mr. Rivera. After lunch, you’ll have your weekly group meetings with department heads. You’ll start with Finance at one o’clock, Legal at two, and Design and Architecture at three. Your meeting with Property Management at four o’clock was canceled but rescheduled for Wednesday. For the rest of the day, you will be free to catch up with emails and ssss-submit the …. sss-ssss-strategic plan report you’ve been working on.”

He nodded once throughout your briefing, his face remaining impassive. You thought he might cringe at your mistakes, but he didn’t. You couldn’t help but feel like a strange choice for this job. Why would someone like him want to listen to you?

“Good,” he confirmed, and you were relieved only for a moment. You were okay until he started to look you over, “Turn around.”

You weren’t sure why you looked in his eyes to see if he was being serious. Of course, he was being serious. Awkwardly, you face away from him until he adds, “In a circle, please.”

You felt your cheeks heat up from embarrassment before you faced him again.

“I have a question,” You said.

“Yeah?”

“About the clothes. I …I didn’t know if it w-would be okay to return ssss-ssss-some of them. I just, there’s sss-so many.”

“And?” Rafe pressed, his brow furrowed.

“I-I don’t have that much room for them.”

“Hmm,” He thought briefly, “How’s this? You take a picture of yourself in each outfit and then email them to me, and I’ll decide which ones I want you to wear. But everything red can stay. I like the red.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he brushed past you and returned to his desk. Unsure whether you were supposed to move or stay put, you waited in place.

“I’ll take a coffee. Black. Thanks.”

Eager to escape the room and not feel the weight of his gaze, you hurried out of the doors. Panicked, you approached Eleanor’s desk, waving your hands to get her attention. She was on the phone, but you mouthed “Coffee.” Acting as your life vest, she pointed you toward one of the many doors that lined the wall across from the reception area.

Inside, you expected to find a normal breakroom, but the room’s decoration reminded you more of a lounge. Black coffee should be easy enough, but your hands shook slightly as you worked the modern, sleek coffee maker. After you prepared the coffee, you took a breath, and made your way back to his office. You kept yourself as composed as possible, and he glanced up at you briefly as you entered. You set it carefully on the coaster near his computer.

He didn’t directly look at you or the coffee; you took that as your sign to retreat to your desk.

You sat quietly as he attended all three of his virtual meetings. Inevitably, you started to listen. Sometimes, you’d tune in, wanting to learn something, but you gave up a few times after realizing how complex things were.

When he finished all his meetings, he spoke up, “What are the arrangements for lunch?”

“Lunch …” You echoed, thinking about the calendar you recognize, “Is there sss-something sss-specific you’re in the mood for, sir?”

“On Mondays, I have lunch with my COO and CFO. We have standing reservations at several restaurants. You’ll need to pick one, call, and make sure everyone knows the plans.”

“Okay,” You nodded, “Yes, sir.”

Was that on the cheat sheet? Had you missed that? After scrolling a few times, you will find the list of restaurants and senior team members.

You called The Prime, an upscale steakhouse, for Rafe and his senior team, ensuring every detail was perfectly arranged. When it was time to leave, you stood to bid Rafe goodbye, only to be told you were expected to join him. Quickly gathering your things, you followed him down the elevator to the parking garage. Eleanor gave you an encouraging thumbs up and smile as you passed her.

You must’ve looked frightened.

Rafe’s choice of vehicle, a massive black truck with gleaming rims and immaculate leather seat, wasn’t a surprise, but his courteous gesture was. He opened the door for you and gently placed a hand on your hip to steady you as you navigated the high step into the truck.

“Th-Thank you,” You spoke, your voice small before he closed the door.

As you sat during the ride, you felt your thighs were too exposed. You crossed your legs, trying to alleviate that feeling, but it proved useless, “You’ll get used to it,” Rafe’s voice snapped you out of being consumed by your thoughts. You hadn’t realized he was even paying attention to you.

Hesitantly, your eyes roamed over him. His shirt's short sleeves did little to conceal the strength in his arms and the defined lines of his chest.

“You have a boyfriend?” He asked, his tone relaxed. He wasn’t allowed to ask that, but you recalled the words he had used with you the week prior. Would you fuck him? He’d already crossed a line. You needed to get used to his brashness, “A girlfriend?” He continued.

“I-I-I,” Breathe in, slowly release, “I don’t.”

“Have you ever had one?”

The underlying implication of his words made you defensive, and you crossed your arms, “Have you, Sir?”

He let our a short laugh, “You just seem a little uptight,” Your lips parted and eyes widened.

“What-”

“I haven’t dated anyone seriously in a while. But you don’t need to date someone seriously to get what you need from them. I guess I’m just wondering if you have someone who . . . relieves your stress.”

“I really, really don’t want to answer that,” You spoke slowly.

“Relax, we’re just talking. Is this going to be a problem? I’m just trying to get to know my newest employee.”

It felt like a mind game. He wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met before—every word, every glance from him seemed designed to put you on edge, to make you second-guess yourself.

“No, sir,” You replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Are you a virgin, Y/N?” He asked suddenly as if he’d had some brilliant revelation.

“N-No,” You stuttered, lying through your teeth, “I’m not.”

He made a “hmm” sound as he glanced at you, “Of course you’re not. Forgive me; I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

You understood quickly he wasn’t actually looking for your forgiveness. He was testing you, pushing boundaries just to see how you’d react.

When you arrived, Rafe pulled up to the valet stand, and a nicely dressed attendant quickly came over to open your door. You managed to step out with as much grace as you could muster, feeling the weight of Rafe’s eyes on you as you did. He was out of the truck in a heartbeat, striding around to join you, his hand again guiding you with that firm touch on your lower back. It was possessive, a silent declaration that you belonged to him, at least for the duration of this lunch.

The restaurant's setting was sophisticated and private, and you reached the table reserved for your group. The two of you were last to arrive, which meant all eyes fell on you as Rafe pulled out a chair for you right next to his seat. Two men were at the table, and you were taken aback by the fact that they were as young as Rafe.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Rafe gestured to you, making himself comfortable, “Y/N, meet Topper Thornton and Kelce Adams.”

You managed to speak to them, though your words stumbled slightly. They eyed you the same way Rafe often did, like prey. You could almost imagine your name listed on the menu in front of them. But Rafe, with a swift shift in conversation, cut off their questions, his tone a clear warning. When you took a bit too long to decide on your meal, Rafe didn’t hesitate. He ordered for you the moment the waiter arrived, a subtle reminder of the control he held over every aspect of your life, even what you ate.

You couldn’t help but notice that Topper shared Eleanor’s last name. Were they married? Siblings? The thought lingered as you made a mental note to ask her later. Without another word, you pulled out your notebook, ready to take notes for the meeting.

Something in his last meeting had angered him. When he returned to his office, you watched him cross the room; your mouth wanted to form the words to ask, “What’s wrong?” but your lips pressed into a thin line instead.

As he settled in his desk, you pretended to be engrossed in your notes, hoping to avoid his attention. Ignoring the cold air in the room and the dark cloud hovering above him grew impossible. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and tapped at the surface of his desk. Was it anxiety he was feeling?

“Come here, Y/N?”

Startled, you dropped your pen on the floor, the sound making him fully turn his head towards you. Awkwardly, you picked it up and set it down on your desk. You fixed your skirt as you crossed the distance between his desk and yours to keep it from riding up.

“Yes, sss-sir?”

His eyes were dark as he spun his chair to face you, “Tell me,” He began, “What do you think you did wrong today?”

Your mind raced. Did you do something wrong that you hadn’t realized? There were plenty of mistakes, but it was only your first day and you’d been completely thrown out of your comfort zone.

“I’m not ssss-sssure, sss-sir,” Your voice was barely above a whisper, a grimace on your face as you tried to force out the words.

“Not sure?” He echoed.

“I should’ve know t-t-to …” You pushed through that “stuck” feeling, “Make your lunch reservations.”

“That’s one.”

“Uhm,” Your voice trailed off as your bottom lip shook. You felt like a child being scolded. Why did you keep freezing? Why did you let him speak to you that way? “I-I-I-I-I…”

“Does it hurt, you know, when it gets that bad?” Rafe leaned back in his chair, his arms folded against his chest, now looking at you with curiosity and frustration.

You shook your head because it was all you could manage.

“You can’t think of anything else, huh?”

“I’m sss-sss-sorry,” As a tear fell from your eye, he stood from his chair.

He shushed you, grabbing ahold of the top of your arms, “You know I could have chose anyone for this job?”

You nodded.

“But I chose you,” You nodded again, “I do love to see you apologize, sweetheart, but you have to know what you’re apologizing for.”

“I’m sss-sssory,” You couldn’t help the apology that tumbled out again, “Fff-for not knowing.”

“There you go, yeah, that’s better,” He pulled you closer, and you felt his hand brush the strands of your hair over your shoulder, keeping it from your face, “I told you this would be a mutually beneficial relationship. You need money, someone to care take care of you… I need ... I need you. When you’re with me, you’re mine to do with as I please. Do you understand?”

You nodded, feeling like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. He dominated the space, his presence suffocating, and the fear of displeasing him made your breath catch in your throat. The boundaries between you blurred even further, leaving you more trapped than ever.

“Good girl,” one of his hands wrapped around the side of your neck. His gaze pierced into yours, his mind racing behind them, and he sighed as he mentally concluded, “I can’t punish you just yet.”

“Punish?” You asked in a whisper, his face moving in closer.

“You gotta learn somehow, right?”

Your eyes darted from his eyes to his lips, panicked. Nothing could have prepared you for him smashing his lips against yours. One hand was on your neck, and the other wrapped behind you, pulling you into him. Even as his kiss overwhelmed you, your mind couldn’t let go of the word he had just used—punish.

“I have to fuck you. I have to,” He growled between kisses.

Your hands pushed at his chest, but it was like trying to move a brick wall, “Please, Rafe,” You tried to say. Part of you thought using his real name would snap him from his trance, but he groaned into your mouth.

You’d never been kissed like this; no one had ever explored you with their tongue, and part of your mind seemed to rejoice. The other part, the rational one, told you to escape. You started to use your strength to pull from him as you stepped backward, but that only made him grip you harder.

You yelped, and when Rafe opened his eyes again, he smiled. Whatever weighed heavy on his mind before had clearly been relieved by the game he was trying to play. You stumbled back when he let you go, almost falling on your behind, “Go on,” He said with a smirk, “Just makes it more fun for me.”

Of all the games, you liked this one the least. You turned to flee, but before you could reach the door, he lifted you off the ground. You screamed, and the next thing you knew, you were being thrown onto the couch. Rafe pinned you down easily, his weight crushing you as he reached for your legs. You shut your thighs tightly, and his glare felt like a knife in your side.

“Do not!” He exploded, and you whimpered, “Hey, hey, sweetheart, I don’t want you to ever close your legs to me.”

“Rafe, please … please d-don’t,” Someone would hear. Eleanor would hear, wouldn’t she? She’d stop him before he went too far.

“God, I’d beat your fucking ass if I didn’t need to be inside of you right now,” He growled, prying your legs apart and tearing away your underwear as soon as he could feel it. He wrapped one hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to keep you pinned down, while the other undid his belt. “You don’t make demands anymore, do you understand?”

“I’ve-I’ve nnn-never…”

Understanding flashed in his eyes.

“You're a fucking virgin?” You nodded, feeling a small piece of hope, “We can add lying to that list of things you’ve done wrong, huh?”

He seemed to pause which you felt grateful for. His belt was already undone, his hips sinking into yours, “No one’s ever tasted you?” You shook your head, “You’ve never had a cock in your mouth either?”

You looked away, embarrassed.

“Fuck,” He breathed out, “You’re gonna be all mine.”

“Please-” You tried again, but he silenced you, pressing his lips to yours again.

This time, he was more deliberate with his movements. His hands traveled higher, and he reached into your shirt to gently knead at your breasts. He moved slower like he was savoring the moment. At the same time, you felt even more tortured. Your body betrayed you, responding to his caresses as if they were safe, as if he were someone you trusted. He was making all the right moves and your mind felt even more confused then your body.

Fingers pinched gently at your nipples and your lips parted into a moan. He used it as an opportunity to explore your mouth further. Next, he moved down your jaw and then he nuzzled his face into your neck. There was a place on your collarbone he’d found, one that made you yelp in pleasure, a spot you didn’t know existed. That’s what he wanted. To conquer you.

You felt warm between your legs and a slickness as you tried to move your legs. Rafe was still taking his time. He’d lifted your shirt, pulled down your bra, and placed your left breast into his mouth. You cried out, your back arching in an automatic response. If he kept going, you knew you could finish just from this alone, and the thought filled you with a mix of shame and despair.

Slowly, methodically, he dismantled your guard.

When he sensed you were ready, that he’d successfully turned your body on, he pulled down his briefs. You couldn’t bring yourself to look down. It was gonna hurt, either way, why dwell on the size? “Tell me,” He kissed your jaw, leaning down to your ear, “Ask me to take your virginity.”

You tensed, “I-I d-don’t.”

“I can make it hurt, Y/N,” He warned, “I promise, you want me to be gentle”

He pressed his tip against your entrance, and you were already cringing, “Fucking ask me, or I’ll push it all inside.”

“Will you …t-take my virginity?”

“Please,” he corrected, a dark satisfaction in his tone.“Where’s your manners?”

“Please, take mmm-my vvvv-vvvv-virginity,” He slowly started to enter you, and you pressed your hands against his chest.

You started to breathe heavily, “T-T-Too mmm-mmm-much.”

He pushed in more, “That’s just half, sweetheart. Take a deeper breath for me."

You listened even though he was hurting you. Even now, you believed him to be better than you. Looking up at him, you slowly breathed in and out. As you controlled your breathing, he started to move in and out of you. He cursed and grunted into your ear, soon falling into a rhythm.

Pain began to blur with something else, something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

It was a foreign feeling, being full of him, reaching to parts of you that had never been discovered. The only thing that felt wrong to you was how it was happening. Is this how it always felt? So completely all consuming? You were warm everywhere, a pressure building at your core, and you struggled to make a sound other than a moan.

With each thrust you let out a yip, not realizing that you’d stopped pushing at his chest and started pawing at it. That only encouraged him further. He reached underneath you, lifting your left leg to your chest, as he grabbed a handful of your ass. He pried you open further in this position and he looked down at you …almost grateful. He was savoring you and every moment that he was touching you, infiltrating your body. You’d never had someone want you like this.

Before you were even really aware of it, the pressure inside of you had built to a crescendo, and you’d cried out against Rafe’s lips.

He smiled against yours, “Good girl, sweetheart,” Tears escaped your eyes again, this time because of how confused your hormones were. It felt like an uncontrolled explosion of emotion.

Now, the sensation actually felt like something you couldn’t physically handle, “Oh my god, o-oh my god, ” You spoke over and over as you went back to pushing at his chest.

“Stay,” he commanded, his body pressing you down further as he slowed his movements, his rhythm faltering. “I’m almost done,” he added, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You’re squeezing so tight.”

“Please,” you begged, your legs starting to shake. “Please, Rafe.”

Your words seemed to bring his climax. Your second orgasm came painfully, and you scrambled to free yourself from under his weight after he finished sinking into you. Your legs didn’t stop shaking, but at least you could catch your breath.

Your bare bottom hit the plush carpet of his seating area, listening as Rafe’s heavy breathing slowed. You fixed your bra and top before you started to search for your underwear. To your dismay, they were completely torn.

“I’ll get you some new ones, some nicer ones, yeah?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure why. Feeling his gaze, you pushed your skirt down next. Looking down, you realize his remnants were sliding down your thighs. You just shut your legs tighter. A hand on your back made you glance up at him. His eyes were still dark, but there was more satisfaction than before.

“We’re done for today, but before you leave, uh, Eleanor needs to see you.”

He stood, and you looked away as he started to zip up his pants and fasten his belt again.

“Th-That’s it?”

“Until tomorrow,” He said, his tone returned to business, as if the last few minutes were merely part of the workday.

You thought he was returning to his desk, but Rafe walked to your desk and collected your purse and computer. As you stood, your body ached, and you realized how disheveled you must look. Was your makeup smudged across your face? Did he bruise the back of your thighs?

Rafe brought you your things, his hands finding your lower back, “Go home. Get some rest. And don’t forget about those pictures, yeah?”

You nodded although your mind was elsewhere. The next thing you knew, you were standing on the other side of the door, clutching your bag tightly to your chest. Your mind started to wonder what exactly had caused all this. Was he mad at you, or was that I an excuse to …ruin you.

When you made it to Eleanor’s desk she asked you, “How was your first day?”

You nodded, trying to shake your expression into a smile, “I-It was … o-okay.”

There was no way she could have missed it in your eyes or in your appearance, but she continued, “I just need you to sign that NDA before you go. It’s completely standard procedure. It just assures that everything you see and hear is confidential. Protects the business.”

You took the papers from her and you tried to keep from shaking, “I can explain anything you need-”

“That’s okay,” You shook your head, knowing you just wanted to go home and hug your stuffed frog, “Thank you.”

You flipped through it quickly and signed your name where she indicated, “There’s one more thing. Are you on birth control?”

You stared, knowing the implication of the words. Why didn’t she warn you before you agreed to this?

You shook your head.

“You’ll need a Plan B. Should I pick it up for you, or would you prefer to do it yourself?”

Of course, you’d had friends who’d bought it before but the idea of going by yourself right now made you want to be sick. And you couldn’t tell your friends … at least not yet, “Could you … g-get it?”

“Of course, I’ll have it tomorrow,” She nodded and offered you a polite smile, “Do you need any help getting to the parking deck?”

You shook your head quickly, “I www-walked, thank you.”

As you made your way to the elevator, you wondered how your day spiraled so entirely out of your control.

Please reblog WITH your thoughts on the chapter to be added to the taglist for the story :) Also pls feel free to send me anons about your predictions/what you'd like to see in the story!

#dark fic #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #black!reader #rafe cameron smut #outer banks smut

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xi-vz · 3 months ago

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Look at me back on my BS. HC—Shen Yuan looks like Mobei Jun.

•

Shen Yuan was a cute guy, at least his mom always said he was. He honestly didn’t care much for his looks. He was a teenage boy, and his interests lied with books, gaming, and trolling the comments section of the PIDW forums.

So maybe this whole thing was the forums fault?

Apparently Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was going to make his first ever public appearance at a convention—it was exciting stuff seeing as PIDW just received a live action TV deal. (Shen Yuan wondered if the TV show would be able to transform the utter garbage parts into gold.)

Shen Yuan, with the fervor only a true (anti) fan could muster, scrambled to get his hands on a convention ticket the moment they went on sale. His parents even encouraged him! Happy to see him excited for something other than the internet. Securing his place, he also entered the cosplay competition where Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky would be a judge. Because why not? When else would he get to dress like a xianxia character?

It took him a while to decide who he wanted to dress up as. Look, if it were up to Shen Yuan he’d have been Luo Binghe. But, one, he doubted he could pull it off. Two, there were probably going to be a ton of Luo Binghe’s.

“Be the ice king,” his younger sister suggested one evening while the two fo them were hanging out in Shen Yuan’s room. She was busy on her Switch while he was on his laptop.

“Mobei Jun?” He asked, a skeptical look on his face.

“Yeah! You look like him.”

Which was untrue but whatever. Since he didn’t have any other ideas, he spent weeks (months) perfecting his costume, studying every detail from the illustrations and fan art.

(Shen Yuan learned how to sew for this costume!)

(And spent way too much money on commissioning what he couldn’t make.)

“You need to bulk up a bit,” his second older brother suggested one night. “I read some of Proud Immortal Demon Way, and Mobei Jun isn’t a twig like you.”

“Ha, A-Yuan is more of a twink,” his eldest brother teased.

So…Shen Yuan began to work out. He still had a few months until the costume contest.

It was hard at first, but his doctor had been on board. Granted, Shen Yuan couldn’t really get buff within a few months, but he did wind up with the beginnings of abs, his shoulders broadened and his ass looked great. There were a bunch of girls (and some guys) who made eyes at him at school now. Not that Shen Yuan noticed. But, he did notice that for the first time in his 19 years, he felt healthy.

When the day of the convention finally arrived, Shen Yuan found himself subjected to his sister's meticulous and admittedly skilled hand. She styled his already long black hair, adding extensions to achieve the full, flowing mane of Mobei Jun. She also worked some magic with makeup, highlighting his naturally icy blue eyes, which he had always considered a genetic defect, but today they were his greatest asset.

When he looked in the mirror, he barely recognized himself. There stood Mobei Jun, the demon king, imposing and cold. Shen Yuan’s heart pounded with excitement and a tinge of apprehension as he made his way to the convention center. His siblings in tow, because they wanted to root for him. As embarrassing as that was.

Upon arrival, the crowd was bustling with anticipation. Shen Yuan attracted a lot of attention—both for his stunning costume and his uncanny resemblance to Mobei Jun. A lot of people called out “my king!” As he walked by them, his cloak billowing behind him.

Damn, he felt majestic as fuck.

As he stood before the judges—a voice actress, a manhua artist and Airplane himself—he couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and anxiety.

That was until he saw Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky for the first time. And. Wow. Okay.

Airplane was younger than Shen Yuan thought. Maybe 20; handsome, which was so weird. Square-jawed, in great shape with his DanDaDan graphic tee stretched enticingly over his pecs and biceps. His hair was curly and kept in an attractive undercut. He wore glasses and had ear piercings and a lip piercing and dimples and a sleeve tattoo. What? What the fuck?

Was Shen Yuan experiencing heart palpitations?

Airplane looked exactly how Shen Yuan envisioned Luo Binghe to look.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky's dark eyes widened in surprise and delight at seeing a Mobei Jun cosplay. It wasn’t done often, the king was not a fan favorite. But, his jaw dropped as he stared.

Something happened when Shen Yuan and Airplane's eyes met. A zing went up Shen Yuan's spine. Airplane stopped the contest then and there and declared Shen Yuan the winner while jokingly (not really) asking for his phone number. They did get to chat later, one-on-one, when Airplane began to sign autographs into books.

“Well, My King,” Airplane smiled at Shen Yuan, and there went his heart again! Which was bad, and meant that Shen Yuan probably needed to see a doctor. “What name shall I write out as the receiver of this book?”

“Um,” Shen Yuan’s brain scrambled. Did he give his name? Did he coyly say Mobei Jun? Ah, he didn’t know what he was doing! That was his only excuse as he blurted out, “Peerless Cucumber.”

Airplane froze.

Shen Yuan froze.

And then Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky began to laugh.

#now they should kiss #this will forever be my SQH HC #svsss #Shen Yuan #the scum villain's self saving system #svsss cumplane #modern cumplane #cumplane #Shang Qinghua #shen yuan appreciation #airplane shooting towards the sky #svsss mobei jun #svsss luo binghe #Mobei Jun #Luo Binghe #kind of #peerless cucumber

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kxsagi · 2 months ago

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"𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭"

it had been three years that you and isagi yoichi have been dating for. so you couldn’t help but be suspicious why he was leading your hand to the beach known as the “sea of stars” in maldives, also the same place that you told him you dreamt of being proposed to at.

“your eyes are still closed, right?”

“uh huh,” you nod, heart beating in your chest furiously. was tonight the night?

it could have been. this whole trip was very spontaneous after all. your boyfriend had even wanted to book the whole thing and pay for all your expenses himself, even pre-trip stuff like a fresh mani/pedi and new clothes and bags. it was a nice surprise, but he was extra insistent about everything.

the two of you had just finished eating dinner at a fancy restaurant. your lips still taste sweet from the dessert, too. but after getting lost in conversation for an hour, yoichi all of a sudden said he wanted to “take you somewhere,” but “you have to close your eyes.”

the familiar warmth and texture of the grainy sand hits your bare toes as he takes off your heels. you hear him shuffling to take off his shoes, too, then his large hand grabs yours, gently leading you ashore. the relaxing sounds of ocean waves crashing grow louder and louder with each step.

“you’re not gonna push me in the water, right?”

his chuckle fills the air. “wouldn’t dream of it. plus, i wouldn’t wanna ruin that beautiful black off-the-shoulder dress.”

“... you’re acting weird.”

“am i?”

it seemed as if you wouldn’t shut up, trying to mask the nervousness bubbling in your gut. but before you could begin yapping about your favorite part of the dessert you shared an hour ago, you hear, “open your eyes.”

the sight in front of you is breathtaking. stars scattered above in the sky and in the ocean, dark blue neon dots glowing brighter with every movement of a calm wave. you’ve dreamed of seeing bioluminescent phytoplankton like this before, kneeling down gently to lift your dress and place your feet in the water, watching blue glow around your skin.

“wow, it’s so pretty!” you exclaim.

yoichi nods, watching you from a few feet behind as you play around in the water. he’s not one to get his long pants wet, but he’s all for seeing you happy.

after you’re done, you walk back up to him. “there’s like almost no one here!”

“i might’ve paid them to leave us alone for ten minutes,” yoichi shrugs, earning a playful slap to his chest. with a laugh, he points to your left. “look over there.”

you turn to your left, cocking your head as to what he was possibly pointing at. there’s nothing, no boats, no people. just the water and more ethereal bioluminescence. you turn back around, confused.

“i don’t see –”

you’re cut off with yoichi on one knee in front of you, a hand covering half of his face as the other holds a velvet box with a large oval-cut diamond ring on a simple gold band.

“i don’t even know where to start,” he laughs nervously, removing the hand from his face. it’s a bit dark, the only source of light being from the ocean, but you can tell he’s red. “i’ve been rehearsing since 3 AM in the hotel bathroom and i couldn’t sleep.”

you already feel hot tears brimming at your eyelids. yoichi notices, but for you, for this moment, he tries his best to keep himself composed.

“honestly, i’ve been in love with you since the moment i laid eyes on you. and every single day since then, i’ve fallen harder, deeper, and more helplessly into this love. you have completely ruined me, in the best way possible. i can’t function without thinking about you. i wake up thinking about you. i go to sleep thinking about you. every little thing you do, every smile, every laugh, every time you look at me… i swear, it feels like my heart is about to explode."

he lets out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief at just how gone he is.

“you are my entire world. you are my best friend, my greatest joy, my deepest love, and, honestly, my only personality trait at this point. i would do anything for you. anything. If you told me to swim across this entire ocean right now, i’d ask you if you wanted me to backstroke or freestyle. if you asked me to count every single star in the sky just so you’d know how much i love you, i’d be out here all night, every night, for the rest of my life."

his voice is thick with emotion, looking up at you with complete devotion.

“i have never, not for a second, doubted that you are the one for me. you are my forever, my always, my everything. so, here i am, in front of the most beautiful person in the world, under the most beautiful sky, by the most beautiful ocean, asking the most important question i will ever ask… will you let me spend forever proving that i was meant to be your husband?"

the waves crash softly, the stars above shining brighter, as if the universe itself is waiting for the only answer that could possibly exist.

“yes.”

it was an easy answer, one that needed no hesitation from you. with the happiest smile and a weight lifted off his chest, yoichi slides the ring onto your left ring finger, standing up, picking you up, and twirling you around with joy.

on this night, the stars bore witness to the two of you beginning forever.

𐙚

it’s safe to say that the internet BLEW up after you posted pictures of you with your diamond engagement ring with the caption: “in my fiance eraaa”

everyone knew of your engagement, shippers going crazy and every social media algorithm showing users your beautiful diamond ring that probably cost $1 million easily.

your comments flooded with fans expressing heartfelt congratulations and jealous haters who could only dream of having a love like yours. your family and friends were also very happy for you and so were yoichi’s family and teammates.

a/n: i am aware that everyone has different skin tones, i just used this pic to show off what the ring looks like!

it would be a lie to say you didn’t spend the next day on pinterest looking at wedding inspo instead of enjoying your vacation.

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:

the wedding ceremony was held a year later.

you made sure to keep it private, only inviting close friends and family from both sides, but there were still a lot of people.

though you might need to be studied, because how did you break the internet again?

shortly after releasing your wedding pictures, they went just as viral as your engagement announcement.

it wasn’t just the off-shoulder lace mermaid dress, or the way yoichi basically began crying the moment he saw you, or the fact you opted to walk down the aisle alone to show how no one but you was going to give yourself away to the love of your life, or how bachira had a dance-off moment with a soccer ball on the middle of the stage, or the fact that rin actually gave a speech.

no, it was your long trailing veil scattered across the ground with two words delicately embroidered at the end: “MRS. ISAGI.”

a/n: yes i am gonna keep writing about my man

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi #isagi x reader #yoichi isagi #bllk #bllk x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #manifesting a love like this for everyone who reads this #break the internet

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redsray · 1 year ago

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Batkids playing any kind of board game but make it extra competitive because whoever wins gets to choose what Bruce wears for the next gala.

Bruce, in a sparkly top and skinny jeans:

Reporter: Ah, who chose your outfit tonight, Brucie?

Bruce: That'd be my eldest, dear!

Dick, behind him, full into the gala persona: Flattering, isn't it? He should wear it more often, don't you think, sweetheart?

Reporter, flushed: Oh, absolutely.

Bruce (to Dick): Get a new fashion style. Please.

Dick: Never.

Reporter: Who would be responsible for your wardrobe tonight, Brucie? It's certainly a statement.

Bruce, head to toe in a pink suit and Hello Kitty accessories: Gorgeous, isn't it? All the credit will have to be given to Jason, though, I'm afraid.

Reporter: Your second son, if I'm not mistaken?

Bruce: The very one.

Jason from across the gala hall, trying to not cough up his drink with laughter:

Tim, next to him: He's pulling it off, though. Little spins and everything.

Jason: Still ridiculous. That's Batman right there, Timbo.

Tim, snickering: The Dark Knight, huh?

Bruce, dressed in a collared white shirt, sweater and skirt, looking like he just came out of a light academia novel:

Reporter: Wow, Brucie. Who do we thank for that wonderful outfit choice?

Bruce: Ah, flattering, is it not? Tim's choices when it comes to fashion are wonderful, if not a bit simple.

Tim, nodding from behind him: Only the finest satin skirts. Charming, right?

Tim, to Bruce: Don't call my style simple, Mr. all I wear is black.

[Jason handing Dick $10 in the background because Bruce does, in fact, pull off a skirt.]

Reporter: Oh lord, what a gown! Who influenced your fashion choice tonight, Brucie?

Bruce, in a long green and black gown with gold accessories, nothing short of royal-looking: I fear only one person I know could choose an outfit as gorgeous as this one.

Damian, proudly next to him, in a smaller, matching gown: Only the most exquisite. You lot in this flimsy country cannot compare.

Bruce: Yes, Damian has a fine taste in fashion. He gets it from his mother.

Damian, quieter: Well certainly not from you.

Bruce, dressed in an elegant white dress shirt, long black pants and a corset with red accessories, a fan in his right hand:

Reporter: What an entrance! Anyone to give credit to for the wardrobe, Brucie?

Bruce: That'd be my daughter, she certainly shines with her choice of clothing.

Cass, grinning with a matching fan: Very pretty.

Bruce: Thank you, Cass.

Reporter: Woah, that's certainly new. Any reason for this choice of clothes, Brucie, dear?

Bruce, in a snapback cap, loose jeans and a band t-shirt, complete with rings and a chain around his neck: Well, all of my children are creative, but... Duke might just take the cake for this one, love.

Duke, losing his absolute shit next to Jason, Dick and Tim: You look great, B.

Steph doesn't usually go to galas, but she participates in the game nevertheless. If she wins, god help Bruce, because it's a gamble with her. He either ends up wearing a gorgeous outfit with eccentric and trend-setting accessories or literal checkered pyjamas. Worst yet, he has to say he picked it himself, since he can't directly blame Steph.

#batfam #dc comics #batman #wayne kids #batkids #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #duke thomas #stephanie brown #wayne gala #Steph: hey b #guess who won mario party #bruce: oh god no #steph: thats right. get into the silk bath robe brucie boy!!

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the-offside-rule · 6 months ago

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Lando Norris (McLaren) - Two Hands pt. I

Requested: yes

Prompt: this ask

Warnings: tensionnn and Im making this a two part series

Part 2 Sports Car

The sun was barely peeking over the Hollywood skyline when Y/n arrived on set, coffee in hand and a spark of excitement in her step. The concept for her and Tate McRae’s new music video, Two Hands, had come together beautifully, sleek visuals, a sultry tone, and a storyline that mirrored the tension in their song. Y/n adjusted the strap of her dress as she walked onto the music video set, the sound of crew members shouting instructions filling the air. Tate McRae was standing off to the side, scrolling through her phone. She looked up and waved, her usual bright smile lighting up her face. "Hey, you made it!" Tate greeted as Y/n approached.

"Yeah, traffic was insane, but I'm here." Y/n replied, setting her bag down on a nearby chair. "What's the plan for today?" Before Tate could answer, a familiar voice cut through the air. "Y/n?" Her heart dropped as she turned around to see him. And there he stood, hands casually tucked into his hoodie pockets, his signature grin plastered on his face.

Lando fucking Norris.

Her breath hitched at the sight of him, his familiar mischievous grin lighting up as he looked her up and down. "It’s been a while." He said, striding toward her. Y/n froze, coffee nearly slipping from her grip as her mind flashing back to the string of nights they’d spent together during last season. Miami. Montreal. Silverstone. Austin. Vegas. Each memory was vivid and unshakable, and now here he was, standing on the set of her music video like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Uh, yeah, it has." She replied, attempting nonchalance.

Tate, always attuned to Y/n’s moods, sidled up beside her. "Y/n? You good?" She whispered. "Can we- can you come with me real quick?" Y/n asked, dragging Tate along to the other side of the parking lot. "Dude. What’s wrong?" Tate asked. "What's wrong?" Y/n hissed back. "What’s wrong is that Lando Norris is here, and I wasn’t told he’d be in this video." Tate smirked. "He’s the cameo. PR gold. You didn’t know?"

"No!" Y/n exclaimed under her breath. "And, oh my god- jesus- Tate, we’ve slept together!" Tate’s eyes widened before her lips curled into a sly grin. "Oh my god! Like a one might stand sorta thing?" She chuckled. "More like five seperate nights." Tate raised an eyebrow. "Five? Wow, okay, overachiever."

"This isn’t funny." Y/n groaned. "What are we supposed to do now?" Tate sighed. "It’s a little late to change things. He’s already here. Besides, we’ll just cut his scenes later if it’s too weird. PR can spin some excuse for why he’s missing in the final cut." Y/n groaned but nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But if this blows up, you owe me."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The shoot began smoothly enough. The video was set to showcase Tate and Y/n doing what they do best; giving their fans an iconic music video, with a storyline involving sleek cars, night drives, and bold choreography. Lando's role was to add a touch of glamour as a cameo, driving a papaya McLaren around the streets at night.

The day progressed faster than Y/n anticipated. Tate was her usual cheeky self, keeping the mood light despite the awkward tension simmering whenever Lando was around. The big moment came as the crew prepped the McLaren for a scene where Y/n would ride in the passenger seat while Lando drove through neon-lit streets. "Just lipsync the lyrics while he drives." The director instructed. "We’re going for sexy but understated." Understated. Sure. Y/n climbed into the car, her heart pounding.

The beat thumped in her ears as the car accelerated. She turned to Lando, his hands confidently gripping the steering wheel. His smirk was still there, but something new flickered in his gaze as her lips curled into the sultry line: "I want them all to see, you look good on top of me." Lando’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting to hers as she sang. "At this time, at night I need. Not one, not three." Y/n caught the way his lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, and then, he bit his lip.

Oh, so we’re doing this?

Fine. If he was flustered, she’d make it worth his discomfort. Y/n leaned in, her hand sliding up to tangle in his hair as she pulled his face toward her. Their eyes locked, her lips barely brushing his ear as she whispered the lyrics. "Just your two hands on me. Like my life needs saving." His breath hitched audibly, and for a split second, she wondered if he might slam on the brakes. "Let 'em all know. Can you do it like that?"

"Cut!" The director’s voice crackled through the radio. They broke apart instantly, and the silence that followed was deafening. Y/n avoided his gaze, fixing her hair and pretending nothing had happened. When she returned to set for the dance break, Tate was waiting with her arms crossed and a knowing smirk. "You two looked awfully comfortable." Tate teased, bumping Y/n’s shoulder. "Almost like you’ve done it before."

Y/n shot her a withering glare. "Shut up."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The buzz of the set hummed around Y/n as she sat on the sidelines, watching Tate film her solo dance scene. The spotlight followed Tate’s movements, her fluidity captivating, but Y/n’s focus wavered when she caught a glimpse of Lando approaching out of the corner of her eye.

Damn it.

"Fancy seeing you here." Lando said, casually sliding into the chair beside her. His voice was light, but his eyes held an intensity that made her pulse quicken. "It’s not like I had a choice." Y/n replied flatly, crossing her arms. "I have a job to do and you just so happen to be here." He chuckled softly, the sound low and familiar. "Still, feels like fate."

"More like bad luck." She shot back, keeping her tone cool even as her stomach fluttered. Lando leaned in slightly, his cologne teasing her senses. "You’re as sharp as ever." He murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. "I missed you." Y/n snorted, more out of defense than amusement. "Missed me? Please. You missed me in your bed, maybe." His grin faltered, replaced by something more serious, more vulnerable. "To be fair, you never gave me the chance to miss you anywhere else."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. She turned to look at him, his face so close she could see the faint stubble on his jaw. He wasn’t joking. "Look, I know this is...complicated. But I want to see you. Away from all this; no racing, no music videos, just us." Y/n blinked, stunned. Her lips parted to respond, but before she could form the words, Sean, the choreographer, clapped his hands loudly from across the set. "Y/n! Let’s go! Dance break!" She exhaled sharply, grateful for the reprieve, and turned on her heel. "Duty calls." She said briskly, walking away before Lando could reply.

As she approached the center of the set, Tate intercepted her, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"I’m fine." Y/n lied, waving a dismissive hand. Tate’s smirk told her she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she gestured toward the floor. "Alright, let’s get this over with. Sean’s in full perfectionist mode." Y/n nodded, forcing herself to focus as Sean began shouting instructions, his energy bouncing around the room. She positioned herself in front of the camera, her muscles tightening in anticipation.

The music started, the beat pounding through her body, and she threw herself into the choreography, letting the rhythm drown out the lingering tension in her chest. But as her feet moved and her body swayed, her mind betrayed her, replaying Lando’s words over and over like a melody she couldn’t shake.

Just us

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 oneshots #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x oc #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris one shot

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 2 months ago

Text

See The Road You're On

Elks Chapter 1

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: The man you've had a crush on since he showed up to Jackson just so happens to be your favorite student's caretaker... and he just saw you do a brutal face plant in front of his home. Chapter Warnings: FIX IT FIC ALERT, pov switching (joel is in bold), soft jackson joel, pining, yearning, outbreak and quarantine zone memories, ellie has a smart mouth, anxious reader, mentions of blood and an injury from falling, everyone lives happily ever after, joel and ellie don’t leave jackson (no hospital, no revenge, no bad things happen), early 2000’s indie rock, reader has a backstory Words: 6,565

A/N: Well folks, I did it... another Elks rewrite, as mentioned in this lengthy post. Today marks a year since I posted my first fic. There's a lot of cliche "wow, what a year it's been" feelings, but just know how grateful I am to you for reading my words. I wouldn't be here without @forspringcleaning, I'm forever grateful for her and our shared delulu🪿. Thank you to @mothandpidgeon, @schnarfer, @secretelephanttattoo, and @devineconjuring for being my writing and grammar hand holders. I can't imagine my life now without the five of you, so y'all are stuck with me. (Also, an extra shout out to Mothy for calling Joel a slut in my Google Docs.)

Elks Masterlist Masterlist Playlist Chapter Song: “Myth" by Beach House

Next Chapter

The world ended the day after you bought your first homecoming dress. You had begged your mom for it—a beautiful deep forest green sequined gown with a sweetheart neckline that perfectly framed your prized gold daisy pendant. You twirled in the mirror of the dressing room, feeling like a princess, sparkling under the fluorescent lights of the department store. Life seemed perfect.

On the morning of September 26, 2003, your alarm blared you awake, pulling you from the dream of dancing under glittering chandeliers with a handsome prince. The only concern floating around your teenage brain was the grade you’d receive for your AP English essay.

You survived yet another monotonous day at high school. On your way home, your essay with a bold red A+ was safely stored in your messenger bag. With your guitar strapped to your back and headphones on, you listened to what would be the last lyrics before everything changed:

Hold your glass up, hold it in Never betray the way you’ve always known it is One day, I’ll be wondering how I got so old, just wondering how

Twenty years later, hardened by life in the Denver Quarantine Zone and gently softened by your now-comfortable life in Jackson, you’re still waiting for your first dance.

—-

Art and music have always been at the forefront of your life; you’ve never allowed anything to take away your creativity, continuing to create despite the pain of losing everyone you’ve loved to the plague roaming the earth. You create for yourself, using art as a way to soothe your thoughts and anxieties. You create for the Settlement of Jackson, to give back to the town that has given you a good life for the past five years. Most importantly, you create for your students at the school you’ve taught at since your arrival.

The fifteen years spent in the Denver QZ tried to steal your colors and mute your songs. Joy became more difficult to find as each year behind the imposing iron gates passed. The only sources of happiness were your small group of friends and your students in the desolate school you taught at. You never graduated high school; there was no pomp and circumstance, just a teaching job assigned to you because you were young and still remembered most of your high school education. That’s how your career was decided. It's funny how an apocalypse job search happens.

You tried to carve out as much of a life as you could under the overbearing and always watchful eyes of FEDRA soldiers, but it never felt whole. When the opportunity to leave Denver arrived, thanks to your kind neighbor’s sister, you grabbed the few items you could and ran away from the only state you’d ever called home.

Now, five years after your escape through the wasteland of the world to a better existence in Jackson, your life is filled with art, music, and purpose. Art supplied by the jars of paints you learned to make, and what the patrollers bring you back. Music from the CD player in your house and the guitar you strum. Purpose from the weekdays spent teaching your impressionable students, who have actual well-rounded futures, no longer doomed to become FEDRA fodder, along with the Saturdays spent working at the library you run out of your classroom.

It's a good and comfortable life here, even if the nights are lonely and the only company in your small cottage are your cats Ripley and Penny. Some extra lonely nights, when the moon sits high atop the mountains, you can’t silence the thoughts that there’s nobody in your life who creates beautiful things for you. Too many nights you find yourself thinking about the man that lives down the street from you.

Joel Miller.

He’s so intimidating. Handsome and caged off, like he’s your own little museum piece you keep to yourself now that museums are obsolete. You’ve never seen anybody more gorgeous, not even in the faded celebrity magazines you cut up to make collages. Soft, full lips always hidden under a frowning mustache that rests below a large hooked nose. His dark brown eyes often focused forward, always appearing in thought underneath furrowed brows. Dark, wavy hair that matches his eye color, with soft silver streaks painted throughout. His body is strong and broad, often hidden underneath a tan flannel-lined jacket. His hands are large, matching the rest of his features, with thick fingers that seem capable and dexterous; you can tell they’re efficient for any task you ask of them. His skin is golden, born that way and bronzed by years spent outdoors. He’s tall and big–so big. Somebody who has always been a protector. The precious pages of your notebook quickly deplete when you try to sketch and master the lines of his face. Maybe you could get the minute details if only you could stop being so afraid of the feelings he stirs inside you.

You’ve been enamored with him since he first showed up in Jackson. Your life, and all of those feelings you’ve tried to avoid for years, upended by his presence.

It was a normal day, like any other, when you walked into the Tipsy Bison to drop off some extra shoelaces and push pins for the community swap basket. Your eyes paused on the long communal table where your friends Maria and Tommy sat with two strangers.

A small teenage girl with a tight ponytail and a tattered sweatshirt was talking animatedly with her mouth full. You know kids well after all your years of teaching, and you could already spot her tenacity across the room. Sitting next to her, bent over a plate of food and clutching a fork in an untamed way, was a man with a mess of graying hair and a permanent scowl plastered on his handsome face, his eyes staring straight forward, void of kindness. You wondered when the last time somebody created something beautiful for him was.

You quickly flitted over to the corner where the communal basket sat and deposited your items, and as you turned around to head to the exit, you noticed the handsome stranger looking right at you. His eyes darted away right as yours widened at his attention before you made your hasty retreat out of the room.

That night you wrote a song about a once warm and inviting cabin sitting in the woods, now cold and desolate with tattered floor boards and a cracked window.

—-

The girl you saw at the Bison with the handsome stranger shows up in your class the following week. Ellie quickly becomes your favorite student thanks to her love of art and smart mouth. She’s always so eager to learn in the mornings before heading out with the other older kids for patrol and community training.

She doesn’t shut up about your handsome stranger. Joel. You’re able to parse together a few facts you hold close to your heart: he’s Tommy Miller’s older brother, Texas born-and-raised, grumpier than everyone else, and loves coffee. Everything she tells you makes you think about him more.

Sometimes you’ll see him walking down the road headed right towards you, but a quick tuck of your head or dash around the nearest corner helps alleviate the panic of being near him. One night you see him at the Tipsy Bison, drinking whiskey with Tommy in the corner. Your eyes staring unblinking before you realized how anyone could look over and see the way you’re ogling; you quickly created an excuse, telling your friends why you needed to head home, too overwhelmed by his presence just a couple of tables down. Seeing him stirs up so many foreign emotions inside you, but you like the rush. You like having your little crush, as long as you can keep your distance from him.

—-

“Jeez, what were they thinking when they named these bands? The Shins? The Strokes? The Yeah Yeah Yeahs? Did every band just pick a random word and put The in front of it?” Ellie questions as she peruses your CD collection while you grade papers. With training for the older students canceled due to the winter snow outside, Ellie had decided that you needed company in your classroom after school.

“Seems like it, doesn’t it?” you answer. “I’ll have to play them for you one day, those were some of my favorite bands when I was your age.”

“Really? Wicked! I’d love that!” She looks up from your CD book with an enthusiastic smile. You return her smile, happy for the bond the two of you share. “Joel loves music too. Wonder if he’d like any of these.” Your pen pauses and your heart races at the mention of his name. You feel foolish for the crush you have on your student’s “father.”

“I’m sure there’s something in there for everyone,” you say, stacking your papers and capping your pen. “I think we should get going before the sun sets, El. I’ll lock up.”

“Aw man, there’s nothing to do at home,” she sighs.

“Sorry, kid,” you shrug. “I’m helping at the Bison tonight.”

“Fiiiiiine,” she sighs as she grabs her backpack and jacket. “Bye, Teach!”

Watching her leave, the thought plants in your head that she’s only a couple years younger than you were when the outbreak happened. You vow to be there for her in any way you can.

—-

The world thaws as winter turns to spring, the sun stays up longer in the Wyoming sky each day. With clear roads and longer days, patrollers are able to venture farther from the gates, giving them a better chance to scavenge and bring their finds back. The wish list posted above the communal basket in the Tipsy Bison is filled with requests.

Residents ask for a broom, a TV input cable, a glue gun, crayons, and other utilitarian items to help make life easier. You think about writing down the one thing you wish for the most: a new CD player. Your prized possession finally spun its last song a couple of days ago, making your home fall silent without your constant companion of music. The irony isn’t lost on you; your just-as-ancient guitar now lies silent against the wall, the crack on the neck finally broken from overuse. You don’t write down your main wish, instead choosing to note that the school needs chalk and you need a new oven mitt.

That’s how life goes now, you’ve learned to live with much less before, and you’ll learn to do it again.

—-

When Joel Miller arrived in Jackson, he doubted he would ever feel at home. But now, as he approaches the white house with the mailbox labeled MILLER, he feels that feeling he hasn’t felt in almost two decades… a sense of peace.

Hell, he and Ellie have called Jackson home for six months now. He has a job, he’s met a couple people he can stand to be around, and he has a warm bed to sleep in every night. He has a home, even though he still feels like he’s a lost man.

His back aches when he bends over to remove his mud-caked boots by the door, a testament to the hard day’s work he put in helping Tommy haul bricks to repair one of the buildings on the main street. He welcomes the discomfort, it’s just like old times, the Miller brothers working together again.

He’s already thinking about the scalding hot shower he’ll take to soothe his muscles when he opens the front door.

His backpack almost slips out of his hand when he sees you in his living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He quietly closes the door, trying to stay as silent as he can. It’s you… Ellie’s teacher—the one she won’t shut up about. The pretty girl he saw at the Tipsy Bison all those months ago, the same pretty girl he sometimes watches when he thinks nobody is looking, the same pretty girl who he catches darting away each time he thinks their paths might just cross.

You're bent over a large sketchpad, pencil in hand, with Ellie beside you.

Both of you are so focused on whatever you're creating, the music coming from the stereo is loud enough that neither of you notice his entrance. He stands frozen in the doorway, taking in the sight of you in his home.

"The perspective is all wrong," Ellie groans. "I can't get it right."

"Here," you say, angling the paper. "Try looking at the paper like this, and imagine you're standing, looking at the tree."

“Ohhhh, shit,” Ellie happily exclaims.

“Language,” Joel reprimands, surprising himself. “And I thought I told you not to touch my stereo, kid.”

—-

The deep timbre of a Texas-accented voice shocks you. Your heart begins to thud against your chest, goosebumps spreading along your body; you’re frozen on the floor while you attempt to hide your internal panic.

Joel is home.

Of course he’s home. This is HIS home, and you’re in it breaking HIS rules by listening to your favorite mixed CD on HIS stereo system, which is much grander than your pitiful broken CD player. Why did you think letting YOUR STUDENT, who’s half your age, convince you this was a good idea?

He gives you a half smile when you turn to him, mouth slightly agape at the sight of him. Joel Miller is in Joel Miller’s house with you.

“I know, relax!” Ellie’s response drips with her unshakeable sarcasm as she turns the stereo off. “This is the teacher I told you about. Her stereo broke and I invited her over so she could play me some of her stuff,” Ellie reasons. The kid is never not convincing. “I’m being active in the community like you asked me to,”

You quickly stuff your CD case into your backpack and stand, trying to escape the anxiety of being in the cozy Miller household with the not-so-cozy-looking Mr. Miller.

“Mm,” Joel grunts out before turning to you and reaching his hand out. “I‘m Joel.” His big hand envelops yours when you softly grab it to say hello.

You nervously give him your name, trying to calm your panicked heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries. My stereo broke a couple days ago and she knew it upset me.” You nervously stammer feeling like a thirteen year old in trouble again as you begin to fiddle with the gold daisy chain around your neck.

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, glancing at Ellie. “I can look past this if it means you’re getting out of that damn garage.”

“She has way better music taste than you. None of that twangy sad music you try to get me to listen to,” Ellie replies, rolling her eyes. You wonder if every conversation they have is Joel putting a rule down and Ellie defying it.

“I-I need to go, I promised Helen I’d help at the Tipsy Bison tonight.” You’re not due for another hour but you can’t fathom the idea of being around Joel Miller for any longer.

“Well, you’re welcome back whenever you want… right Joel?” Ellie looks at him, angling her eyebrow, knowing she’s going to get the answer she wants from him.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of your chest. It’s almost too much… and then Joel looks at you with warmth in his eyes.

“Of course. S’pose any friend of Ellie’s is welcome here,” Joel hesitates with a smile, his deep brown eyes crinkle in the corners. He’s ridiculously handsome this close, it’s staggering.

“Thank you again Ellie, I’ll see you tomorrow, make sure you bring your notebook.”

Joel opens the door for you and steps aside, as you pass him, your shoulder brushes his chest. You pray he doesn’t hear the way your breath hitches.

You hope the distinct woodsy smell of Joel’s house on your jacket will linger for a while. You almost trip when you realize you’ve left your favorite mixed CD in Joel’s stereo.

—-

Joel knows you’ll never be able to tell how many times he’s listened to your CD, and yet every time he plays it a pang of guilt sits within him. Funny that this is what he feels guilty about after all of his years.

The truth is, he doesn’t recognize any of the songs, and about half of the CD doesn’t appeal that much to him, but damn, he would love to hear you explain why you chose each song.

He hasn’t even taken your CD out of the player, too afraid to hurt a relic of yours. He really likes track 8. There’s a haunting guitar, a slightly whiny voice telling him to “cheer up honey, I hope you can.” He can feel the lyrics in his soul, he likes the way the static sounds, the strumming of the guitar, the hopelessness in the singer’s voice.

He often plays it on repeat, imagining you listening and humming along with your sweet voice.

He wonders how old you were when everything happened, where you’re from, how you got here… why he’s so drawn to you.

The song begins again, he closes his eyes and thinks of you.

—-

Weeks pass. Spring arrives, the ground softens, trees adorned with bright green leaves sway in the gentle breeze rolling off the mountains, and the flowers bloom along the vast gardens of fruits and vegetables. Everyone’s days turn longer with more tasks to accomplish. A sense of hope and rejuvenation fills the air for everyone, no longer bunkered down and locked away by the snowy weather.

Your favorite mixed CD has fallen victim to your inability to be anywhere near Joel. Strangely, it brings a sense of nostalgia to you, kind of like when you'd forget a CD in your friend's car or in your locker over winter break. It's not like you have anything to play it on, your house still sits silent, your stereo and guitar still sit broken and unusable.

Though, during the early days of spring, you’re hardly ever home. You've been filling your time with extra work: assisting with spring planting in the community gardens, organizing the supply room at the schoolhouse, and taking more shifts at the Bison. Jackson is your home and you love making it better.

Today’s a warmer day than usual, the sun shines bright and hot in the clear, blue Wyoming sky; all you can think about is getting home and taking a long bath after helping out at the community garden.

Your quick footsteps pitter patter against the warm asphalt in front of Joel’s house. Your heart always starts to beat faster when it comes into view.

This sweltering afternoon you’ve certainly lucked out, he’s in his yard working on repairing a broken fence post. Your steps begin to slow as you see him set the hammer down, wipe the back of his hand across his sweaty brow, and stretch his back.

Panic sets in at the realization he could look right over and see you in the state you’re currently in. You’ve been up to your knees in soil since school ended, watering and deadheading plants while letting the dirt on your skin bake in the warm sun.

Your anxious steps pick up pace, failing to hop over the divot in the road you always remember to avoid. A trip and a fall ends with you landing hard on your stomach knocking the wind out of you. You can just make out the fall of heavy boot steps on the ground over the sound of your lungs gasping for air as you turn over.

“Whoa whoa whoa, you okay darlin’?” Joel asks. His broad body eclipses the bright sun when he bends over your body splayed out on the pavement. “S’alright, s’alright, breathe.”��

You lose even more breath at the sight of him. The sheen of sweat against his skin makes it glow bright. This is the first time you’ve seen him without a jacket or flannel, you can’t help but stare at the constellation of freckles on his neck that you’ve never noticed. His biceps strain the fabric of his short sleeves when he reaches to put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You can’t tell if you’re still panicking from your fall or the stress of Joel seeing you as pathetic as you think you look. He called you darling and you feel like a fool.

"I'm alright—I-I'm sorry... I'm alright," you manage to say between breaths. A whimper of as you attempt to stand but it hurts far too much.

“Hold on, hold on, there’s no need to rush, you took a mighty fall. Ya’ got a big cut on your knee, let me help you,” Joel says, his eyes scanning you, worry etching his furrowed brows.

“No, no, I’m okay really, I-I’m really okay.”

“S’alright now, I have some peroxide and bandages in my house. Ellie’d kill me if she knew I left you here hurt ‘n alone,” he implores reaching his hand out. "I want to help you, come here."

“I– okay,” you grab his hand, his strong fingers wrap around yours, oh god he’s so warm. “I-I don’t want to bother you.”

“Now, I’ll have none ‘a that, come on,” he helps you stand steadying you with an arm around your waist, the adrenaline of being this close to him makes a bit of the pain fade, though the humiliation remains.

He slowly leads you up his walkway, his hand firmly splayed against your hip. Your head rests against him, close enough to feel the dampness of his sweaty shirt on your cheek.

You’re back in Joel Miller’s house, the realization isn’t lost on you that you’ve felt like an idiot both times you've been here. What is your luck?

Joel gently helps you settle on his couch, placing a pillow behind your back for support. "You alright?” he asks, his voice drags heavily with concern.

You nod, keeping your eyes focused on your bare legs, marred by dirt and gravel mixed with blood.

“Just relax for a second, I’ll go grab everything." He retreats, his loud boot steps get fainter allowing you to take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure.

Your solitude now allows a chance to look closely at Joel’s living room. The last time you were in his house you were far too anxious to focus on anything. But now you can look around, and realize that despite his reputation for being gruff and irritable, his home is quite warm and inviting.

Wood carvings sit on shelves, a couple of tattered sports magazines lay on the coffee table, a chipped owl mug sits atop a book on the side table next to a chair. All of it presents quite domestic and comfortable for a single man and an adopted daughter in the apocalypse.

Your eyes roam along the beige walls and pause when you spot a familiar painting hung near the front window. An elk stands alone, amongst a field of flowers, large antlers reach into the light blue sky. You painted it just a few months ago, using your favorite water colors. You gave it to Tommy for Christmas, as a thank you for always making sure you have first dibs of paints that patrollers bring in. Why does Joel have it?

“Don’t have any large bandages but I got a gauze roll,” Joel startles you when he takes a seat atop the coffee table across from you.

“That’s my painting? I painted that… for Tommy,” your inner thoughts escape your mouth, surprising you.

He turns and follows your eyes to the small piece of paper pinned on his wall. “You painted that? S’good. Saw it on my brother’s wall and asked him if I could have it. He was kinda reluctant but I told him how it reminds me of the painting I used to have over my bed before… everything.” The last word comes out as a huff, like he still doesn't know what word to use for these last twenty years.

“I love elks, they remind me of where I’m from… I’ve always liked painting the wildlife I grew up around the most,” your eyes remain focused on your painting. “Herds of elk used to live near my Dad’s home in the mountains, I used to hear their calls during the mating season.”

“S’nice to remember those small moments, I guess your painting helps me,” he gently muses.

“I’m glad,” you whisper.

He clears his throat as he begins to prepare the supplies. "Let me clean up those knees," he lowly says.

You nod, grateful, but still embarrassed.

Joel delicately lifts your leg and places it on his lap, resting it against the soft strength of his thighs. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest when you look down at this intimate moment with your dream man. Your breaths escape your mouth in rapid succession, your only hope is Joel blames your panic on the threat of the peroxide and not his close proximity.

“S’gonna sting,” he warns before pouring the clear liquid onto your knee. Your breath catches in your throat when it hits your sensitive skin and burns. You suppress a whimper and feel slightly dizzy at the sight of him bending forward and delicately blowing on your wound. His breath cools the heat of your burning skin but lights a fire inside of your body you haven’t felt in years. He glances up, his dark brown eyes stay focused on your face. “Doin’ alright?”

You nervously chew on your bottom lip and nod. “Y-yes, yeah,” you mumble, “I-I’m okay it just hurts a lot to move.” Heaven forbid you tell him the truth, that you’re acting this way because he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, and now his hands are on you.

"I know, that gravel is a sucker," he gently reassures, picking up your other leg and placing it on top of his lap. “S’bouta sting again,” he warns.

You try to focus on the burn of the peroxide and not on Joel’s fingertips resting against the back of your knee. He blows on the peroxide as it bubbles again, your heart skips a beat when his deep brown eyes meet yours again. You get the sense that he knows exactly why you’re responding the way you are.

He lifts a faded gray wash cloth up and wipes both of your knees with the utmost tenderness. He picks up the fabric bandage, and lifts your knee higher to rest your foot against his broad chest.

“Place a finger here so I can wrap you,” Joel directs just as gently as his touch. “Tell me if it feels too tight.” His hand tightens around your knee while he slowly winds the gauze around your leg and bandages your wound. “How’s that?”

You bend your leg back and forth and place it on the floor. “Feels good, thanks.”

“Course,” he says, lifting your other leg higher to start. He smirks when you place your finger on top of the bandage without him asking, and begins to wrap the gauze around your other leg.

“I’d try to take it easy the next few days, give you a chance to heal,” Joel utters, tucking the bandage in and smoothing it down.

“I will. Thanks for all your help… you really didn’t have to,” your voice breaking with embarrassment.

“You don’t have to thank me, Ellie’d kill me if she found out I left you hurt in front of my home,” he cracks a smile at the mention of her name. “She talks about you a lot, I should be thanking you for giving her a reason to love goin’ to school.”

“She’s one of the best parts of my day,” your smile matches his when you think about her and her smart mouth, “I love having her around, she’s always so eager to learn… and give her opinion."

“She's always showing me some new art way she learned from you or talking about a band she wants to hear that you told her about. You mean a lot to her.”

“She’s a special kid.”

“She is,” he says, his deep brown eyes looking into yours. You’ve never noticed just how much his dark eyes glisten. Like the perfect color of black coffee.

The sweet shared moment turns more awkward as you both maintain eye contact and nod over your shared adoration of Ellie. It feels like he’s looking at you under a microscope.

“Well, I should get going,” you say cutting the tension before scooting forward on the couch.

Joel rises, reaching out his hand to help you. The warmth of his hand sends a shiver across your body as you stand, trying to hide the wince of pain when you put weight on your scraped knees.

"You sure you're alright to walk home?"

“Yeah, I think so,” you respond. “I’ve already taken up enough of your time. Thank you for everything.”

“S’no problem at all,” he says, placing a hand on your back as you walk towards the door. "I'd feel better walking you home… just to make sure."

“Oh, um—” you stammer, caught off guard by his offer. “I’ll be okay, I don’t live far at all. Plus, it’ll be good for me to get used to walking with the bandages on.”

“If you insist, at least take it slow.”

He helps you down the few steps, you spy his tools laying abandoned on the lawn. “I hope I didn’t keep you from finishing your fence,” you apologize.

“I’ll manage… take care of yourself,” his hand retreats from your back when he opens the gate for you.

“Thanks Joel, you too.”

You really shouldn’t have looked back at him to get one last glimpse, he’s beautiful, especially now lit by the slowly setting sun.

Walking away from him as confidently as you can, you feel his eyes follow you the whole way. You’ve never been so thankful to see your little cottage, escaping behind the protection of your front door before you grin and grab your paints and brushes. You sit at your kitchen table and paint a picture of an elk, this time with golden toned fur and deep brown eyes.

—-

His heart beats with an unfamiliar feeling as he watches you hobble down the road, too proud to glance back, obviously too embarrassed for your own good. If only you knew how often he thinks about you, how closely he listens to Ellie when she talks about you, how many times he’s replayed that old mixed CD of yours with your name and the pretty faded flowers drawn on it… maybe then you’d look back at him.

You fell in front of his home like an angel falling from the sky. He picked you up and bandaged your wounds.

Today, you gave him a purpose, he loves having a purpose. Some days he feels that purpose dwindling behind the protective gates of Jackson. Ellie’s comfortable here, she doesn’t need him as much, what with all of her friends and teenage responsibilities. She’s thriving here, and he’s left feeling adrift. He’d never admit it, not even to Tommy. At least there’s always patrol and the freedom that provides him.

Maybe he just needs more of a purpose, more of a reason here, maybe then he’d be satisfied.

He steps back into his home, glancing at the couch you were just sitting on, before retreating to his studio. He unwraps his tools and picks up the perfect block of wood. Running his fingers over the smooth surface, he envisions the intricate lines he’ll carve for the fur, he feels a whisper of intimidation at the thought of shaping the delicate antlers.

Woodworking has been a new discovery for him, he’s always been better at settling his thoughts when his hands are occupied. He thinks of the first time he saw you all those months ago when he makes his first deliberate cut.

—-

Saturday mornings are always busy, running your library never allows you the luxury to eat breakfast at the hall like everyone else does on the weekends. You’re always turning to the left rushing towards the schoolhouse while everyone takes a right heading to eggs, pancakes, and coffee. This particular Saturday you’re moving slower thanks to your injured knees and the large box of books that patrol brought you from their runs.

“Mornin’," Joel shouts, quickly striding towards you from the hall exit. “Lemme take those for you.”

“Oh, hi,” you say as you pause in your tracks. You’re a little flustered to see him, completely thrown off when he stops in front of you, reaching out and taking the box out of your hands. “You really don’t have to take–"

“None ‘a that,” he shushes, effortlessly lifting the box of books higher. "Where are we going with these?"

"Just over to the school house for the library," you nod your head towards the little brick building.

“How are the knees doing?” he asks, slowing his gait to match your slower pace.

“A lot better, thanks.”

“Glad to hear.”

You fish the key out of your pocket, unlock the door, and let Joel follow you down the hallway to your classroom. You flick the lights on, fluorescent bulbs buzz illuminating your second home.

The thought of Joel seeing your second home, filled with your’s and your student’s art makes you nervous. The walls are covered with colorful drawings and paintings, shelves lined with worn books, and various art supplies organized in labeled containers.

You sit in your chair to rest your already aching knees, you’d still be halfway to the schoolhouse if it wasn’t for Joel’s kind assistance.

“You can put the box on my desk,” you direct, rubbing your sore knee.

He places the box on your desk, before his eyes shift to the bright mural on the wall behind your desk. “Wow, I haven’t seen something like this in a long time. S’beautiful,” he murmurs in awe.

A grin lifts your tired face before you swivel in your chair to look at the mural. “Goodness, thank you. I just finished it a few weeks ago. I really wanted to make sure the kids had something fun and colorful to focus on while in class. It was hard for me to work in this plain, white room for so long. It took a long time to save up enough paint.”

He slowly walks over and places his hand on the cinder block wall. “Bluebells. The flower of Texas,” he faintly whispers.

His large fingers trace the lines of your painted indigo petals, it feels almost forbidden to see such soft tenderness from hands that are usually so tough and strong. He had touched you with the same gentleness when he bandaged your scraped knees. There was once softness surrounding all of Joel, the permanent grimace and rough reputation for him brought on by the harshness of existing in this world.

He turns to you, keeping his hand on your mural. “Where you from?” he asks, curiously gazing into your eyes.

“I was in the Denver QZ.”

“No, where were you from before everything?”

“Oh, sorry. Still Colorado, just more in the mountains,” you say, concentrating on the columbine flower painted next to the bluebell. “Florissant to be exact. It’s a little town famous for dinosaurs. I was very lucky to be where I was when everything happened—just far enough to escape.”

“Nice state, I went skiing there once as a teen, had plans to go again before… everything,” he turns to look back at the bluebells again.

“Big of a Texan to compliment Colorado,” you jest, as you stand up, picking up your library supplies from the desk. A smile tugs at your lips as you move around the desk.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Good one.”

You start placting down your hand-painted placards on the tables, each card illustrated with a different genre.

He walks over and picks one of the cards up and admires it. “These are real nice,” Joel says picking up one labeled ‘Science Fiction’ with a painting of stars, and a rocket. “Can I help you?”

“If you want, just pick up a pile of books and put them on their respective tables. Children’s, Mystery, Romance, Non-Fiction, Sci-Fi, Miscellaneous.”

He dutifully picks up a stack of books. “You do this by yourself?”

“Usually. I’ll sometimes have help, but I think everyone here works so hard during the week that they like their slow Saturdays. I wouldn’t want to ask them to give up sleeping in.”

He holds up a thick paperback with yellowed pages and a burgundy cover. On the cover, a muscular, orange-toned man with flowing blonde hair cradles a wispy brunette damsel. “I take it with a title like ‘Burning Tenderness’ it goes in romance?” Joel winks. You’d never imagine you would ever see someone like him joke, let alone wink.

“Well, I’d fire you on the spot if you placed it in non-fiction.”

His bellowing laugh echoes across your classroom. You like hearing him laugh.

—-

The library is set up in record time, a half hour before opening, thanks to Joel’s help.

You take a seat on the edge of your desk to rest your knees. “I’ve never gotten done this early before. Between your help with my knees and today I feel like I owe you something. Is there any way I could repay you for your kindness?”

He sighs, glancing back at your mural. His brows furrow as his eyes move over the painted wall. “Those bluebells you painted,” he inhales a deep breath, “do you think you could paint some of those for me in my house?”

You’re stunned by his request, his words taking a moment to register. Paint for Joel Miller? In his home? “You… want me to paint for you?”

“If you’d be willing,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Oh my, I’d love to,” your face lights with a smile. “I can start it anytime.”

“D’you want to come over Monday after you’re done at the school? I already told Ellie I’d spend the day with her tomorrow.”

“That sounds great,” you reply, not believing your luck that Joel Miller is inviting you over to his house.

“Alright, Monday it is. Should probably get going ‘n start my day,” he says, raising a book in his hand. “Taking this as payment for my work today.”

“‘As I Lay Dying?’ Didn’t pin you as a Faulkner fan,” you muse, opening your logbook to note the title down.

“Liked the horse on the cover.”

“So Texas,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s a good book. Enjoy it Joel.”

“See you Monday. Good luck today.”

“Yes, Monday,” you respond, trying not to smile too hard. “Thanks again for all your help.”

“Course,” he nods before walking out the door.

Today’s going to be a great day, it already started out better than you ever could have hoped.

—-

Back home after a busy day you sit in your favorite chair with your cats on your lap and sketch bluebells until you fall asleep with your pencil in hand. --- Next Chapter

Divider courtesy of @/saradika-graphics

perma tags: @forspringcleaning, @schnarfer, @mothandpidgeon

Tagging some mutuals and those who requested. (As always, let me know if you'd like to be put on or taken off.) @secretelephanttattoo, @sawymredfox, @moonlitbirdie, @arcanefox207, @almostfoxglove, @pascalssbabyy, @toomanytookas

@jolapeno, @goodwithcheese, @msjarvis, @itwasntimethatdidit40, @burntheedges, @magpiepills, @maggiemayhemnj

@ace-turned-confused, @lorettafudge, @jennaispunk, @lotusbxtch

@sunnytuliptime, @sizzlingcloudmentality, @cheekychaos28, @ashleyfilm

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bunny-jpeg · 5 months ago

Text

"i need a curvy girl!", oscar p. - is a phrase that oscar wanted to yell to the heavens. he wanted to shake his hands in the air like a mad-man and call to a higher power that he wanted a bigger woman. he wanted a woman with curves. he wanted them like he wanted his tracks, something he can drag his fingers along and hug tightly like he did on the track.

he wanted soft stomachs, love handles, big breasts and a bigger ass. it felt like an impossible challenge! not that he hated the smaller girls he interacted with often, but he wanted a girl he can sink his teeth into. (among other things). he wanted to love you close, feel your softness under his touch. he believed that angels had round faces and soft curves, and he wanted himself a divine being.

oscar almost dropped his drink when he was at an event during the off-season. he knew there were going to be models at the event, and while they were drop dead gorgeous. oscar couldn't help but be drawn to you. lando could chat up the others. you didn't even really noticed oscar when he approached you at the bar. you were happily content with not having any attention onto you. but like a siren's song you drew the australian in. the sight of your curves in such a pretty gold dress, you should've been the center of attention. not your fellow models.

"would you like another drink?" he asked as he leaned up against the bar. he looked good in the button up he wore, the expensive watch flashed in the low light of the event. you looked up from your phone at him.

"did your friend put you up to this? if you want, amanda is over there if you want to talk to her." then turned back to your phone. you could feel your ears burn from the attention. it wasn't that you were never flirted with, you just weren't the talk of the room.

oscar looked over to see who he assumed was amanda seated on one of the red couches, she was chatting with another guy that oscar didn't recognize. not that he he cared, he looked back to you and said, "not my type." he chuckled, "the drink offer is still open, what do you say?"

oscar piastri liked bigger women. which was a phrase in your head as he led you back to his hotel room for the night. when he kissed you it was refreshing like flavoured water on a hot day. his arms around you were comforting like a warm blanket in the dead of winter. you loved it. he really wooed you all night, he told cheesy jokes and when you kissed him, you could see the pink in his cheeks afterwards. you were enamored by him. number eighty-one was in your room soon after you got the door open. you two kissed briefly before you got your heels off and he toed out of his own shoes.

"i love the dress." he said, "but i think it would look nicer on the floor." he helped you out of it, slowly getting your body exposed to him. he licked his lips, but stopped a moment after, "sorry, i don't want you think i only want you for your body... you're... wow." he felt heat flood in his cheeks as he took in the sight of your figure, "you must be the highest paid model at the agency, you could sell water to the ocean." he chuckled lightly and pushed back his hair.

you stood there, in nothing but white panties. you had your hands behind your back as you looked at him. it felt odd being so vulnerable, naked in front of such a handsome man. but as his mouth kept running, giving you compliment after compliment. you found him endearing. you eventually reached for him and started to unbutton the front of his shirt. "and you." you said, "are quite a handsome man." then gave him a sweet smile.

he swallowed before he took off his shirt and his undershirt. he licked his lips, "fuck, you're beautiful." then dropped his clothed to the ground. he took off his belt and felt a heat course through him. he loved it, he loved it. you took off your panties and oscar maintained eye contact with you while he pulled down his dress pants. he admired you, he was worried that he was eyeing you like a piece of meat. but you felt the farthest from it. you felt admired, adored. you knew you were beautiful, but to have someone handsome like oscar only made you smile.

both of you soon ended up in bed together. both soon nude and kissing, oscar's kisses felt good. they tasted a little bitter due to the contents of his liquor that night, but your sweeten them up with the flavoured gloss on on your lips.

he groaned into your kiss as he laid you out on the bed. when he pulled away, he admired you once more. he couldn't help it. a part of him wanted to ask to take a picture to gaze at later. but he thought asking to take nudes of you after your first meeting would be impolite. maybe he could get some clothed photos during your first date to admire on the next leg of his formula one season. you cupped his face and slowly and softly dragged your painted nails down his cheeks. his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. he said, "i know what you are... dreamlike."

you pulled him in for a kiss while his hand was spread across the side of your soft thigh. you pressed your forehead against his and smiled a little, "and you're a prince charming."

he got between your legs and beamed at you, "well, of course, only the best for a princess after all." then he shifted between your legs and propped your hips up on a pillow. he asked earlier in the night if you were on any form of birth control, the answer was yes. so he felt no regrets as he sank into your sweet cunt. he felt his stomach flip as he started to move against you. his hands on your soft hips, he felt the liquid fire of lust through his body as he rutted up against you. it felt amazing.

you looked up at him for a moment and you caught him gazing at your breasts. you reached out for him and pulled him in to your chest and let him kiss at your breasts. it made his cock twitch inside of you as he moved against you. smothered by your soft tits. he loved it. he planted his hands on either side of you on the bed for better leverage as he moved against you. he groaned against your warmed skin as he worked his cock up inside of you. it felt like heaven, you felt like an angel.

he pants were heavy, his head was swimming as he moved against you. it felt amazing, in a way that he couldn't put fully into words. he clutched onto the covers and moved faster. he kissed at your breasts, they were heavy and it made him shudder with want.

"oscar." you said.

he moved up to kiss you on your collarbones, "you feel amazing, fuck. look at you. you're so beautiful." he was happy to finally get the curvy woman of his dreams, but after a night of laughter and drinks. he think he was falling in love. he was at the very least smitten by you. after tonight he was hoping to get a first date.

you kissed him on the lips as the two of you continued to move against one another on the bed. his kisses were soft and it left you excited all over. you moaned against his lips and held onto his shoulders. the excitement bounced through the both of you. the warmth between you two as the kisses grew hungrier.

you liked oscar, not just because he was drawn to you. while he admired your body and it made you blush, you didn't feel like a notch on his belt. he was making love to you, not just a quick fuck in a hotel room. it felt intimate, warm. and you felt admired, adored, rather than just an object to fuck.

and his words only made you feel more beautiful, "i can see why you're a model. if i saw you on a billboard near the track, i'd probably not be able to focus on the race. cause an accident."

"because i'm so ugly?" you jested.

"no." he replied as he looked into your eyes, "because you're beautiful beyond words." then went in for another kiss. the pace was steady. you moved against each other like you wanted to explore each other's bodies. oscar wished he had an entire weekend with you. he'd make it up to you. you were a dream that he wasn't going to give up on, not if he wanted to be in your life just as much as you'd be in his.

"you're beautiful too, oscar." you said as you placed a hand on his chest for a moment after the kiss broke, "you must make many women very happy on your travels."

"not as happy as i want to make you." he said. it was romantic, soft in a way that left you feeling over the moon. he continued to move against you. he knew that he wasn't going to last much longer. the kisses grew heated, the lust bloomed between the two of you.

you wanted him, and he wanted you.

"oscar, please." you let out a small moan between heavy pants. he worked your body beautifully, he took you in a way that no other man could have ever. his pace wasn't bruising but it was enough for you to see stars. the kisses continued, the pleasure swelled. heaven felt in your touch as you clutched onto him.

you came soon after, your thighs clenched around his waist and you moaned into the heated kiss. it felt amazing, you nails dragged across his shoulders as the two of you continued to fuck on the bed. oscar came soon after, you both felt the heated inferno as you two worked each other's bodies through climax.

"fucking beautiful." he exhaled deeply as he slowed his pace to a stop. another kiss was laid on you before he stopped to look at you. when he pulled away from the short kiss, he chuckled.

he soon pulled out and laid out next to you with you in his arms. you were held gently and smiled against his chest. it felt nice.

"i have to go soon, i have a shoot tomorrow." you said after you came down from the sexual high. you hated to leave, but you sadly had work in the morning.

oscar only held you closer and pressed himself up against you, "i'll drive you. i at least owe you a proper date." he kissed your cheek, he enjoyed the warm, "not one for one night stands.... can i take you out."

you looked at him, admired his features before you smiled at him. a smile that lit up your entire face, too much of a smile made your face look too round-but oscar liked seeing your overjoyed- you replied, "of course... i'd love that." you felt a blush in your face at the earnest look he was giving you. he looked over the moon, and you couldn't help but fall even more for him. <3

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djotime-allthetime · 4 months ago

Text

Freaky Redheads

synopsis: interactions between you and fred hechinger at a red carpet event for gladiator ii.

wc: 2.5k+

rpf!!! don't like, don't read!!!

a/n: i love that soft, sweet, adorable man with all of my heart. my inspiration is how fred talks about sherry. the monkey. i'm down bad bro.

italics are supposed to be comments under tiktok clips of these interviews. i definitely have more in mind for these two, but we'll see how this goes. feedback is writer's fuel!

cross posted on AO3

next part>>

The flashing cameras and yelling reporters have started to become the new normal, which was so not normal for you. You couldn't believe how far you'd come.

Granted, your role in the movie was definitely more in the supporting cast territory, but you couldn't deny how massive the production was. But even as a supporting actress, you still had quite a bit of screen time as the unnamed favorite concubine to Emperor Caracalla.

The fans who knew you called out your name from behind the velvet ropes and you smiled and waved as you walked by.

"y/n! y/n! Over here!" A reporter called out. You nodded and smiled as you approached, indicating your acceptance of the carpet-side interview. Your agent had warned you that not every journalist might want to speak with you and that you should accept any interview you came by. Thankfully, as the start of your night would show, that wasn't the case.

"Hello!" You beamed, coming to a stop in front of the camera. The reporter greeted you back and handed you a microphone glued to a mini Romanesque column. "Oh, wow. I love the microphone!"

"Thank you," She smiled. With a quick glance at her blouse, you saw a name tag that said 'MTV UK: Claire'. "It was my idea, actually."

"Incredibly creative! They should give you a raise, Claire."

"If you wouldn't mind saying that directly into the camera..." Claire trailed off with a chuckle and a mischievous glint to her eye.

You shot the camera as serious a look as you could muster. "MTV, if you do not give this woman a raise, I will riot in the streets."

"Alright alright, enough of that." Claire laughed out loud with a few shakes of her head. "You look absolutely stunning!"

"Oh, this old thing?" You smiled bashfully, grabbing at your skirt to twirl it around. The styling department had made sure that all the gowns worn during press had some Roman inspiration behind them. The piece you were wearing was off white in color, representing your character's position in society. Even with your character in mind, your dress was still breathtaking. The gown was composed of yards and yards of fabric, giving it this dreamy, flowy silhouette. The neckline was so beautiful, in the cowl style and draped ever so slightly off your shoulders. To say that you loved it would be an understatement. "Thank you very much, you look amazing yourself."

"But you are on a different level!" Claire gasped, no doubt to return the topic to you. Just like you were media trained, the reporters were too. "What was the thought process behind your look tonight?"

Your eyes lit up as this was something you had wanted to talk about. "Well, the styling department and I actually workshopped this look together. Of course we wanted it to be glamorous, this is the red carpet after all. But we also wanted to show the character through the outfits, you know?" She nodded along.

"Right, your character was quite impactful even with the few lines you had." Claire added, and you smiled in thanks.

"Yeah, thank you." You felt your face heat up at the compliment. "We wanted to still be true to her, under all the glitz and glamour. So that's why we went with the understated color, to not only show her position in society but also her demeanor throughout the film."

"But your jewellery is anything but understated." She laughed.

"Yeah, I couldn't help myself." You laughed with her.

"Give us a quick tour."

You were almost dripping in gold, from your head to your toes. "We've got the hair piece." You brought a hand up to show the gold pins connected with chains littering your up-do. "Earrings upon earrings, all hoops." You pulled a strand back to show off your right ear clearly. Some were clip on earrings as you didn't have quite enough piercings to get them all. "The necklaces, of course. Some bracelets, some rings. But I think this cuff on my upper arm is my favorite."

"And these are all borrowed pieces from different brands?"

"Most of them are, yes." You confirmed with a nod. "But some are from my private collection. And some I might steal." You joked, getting a laugh out of Claire.

"Well, you really knocked it out of the park." Claire smiled, a tone of finality in her voice that showed you the interview was coming to a close. "And before we let you go, we've got one question we're asking everyone tonight. I think we can all agree that the cast of this movie is full of beautiful men." You giggled, a bit surprised at the turn in topic. "But people on the internet have separated them into two categories."

"Oh, have they now?" You asked, unaware of what she was talking about.

"Yes, they have. Gen Z has divided them into the brooding brunets and the freaky redheads." She explained, pulling up two little hand held signs. One with Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, the brooding brunets, and the other with Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger, the freaky redheads.

You couldn't contain the surprised laugh that escaped you at the sight of their little printed faces. "Oh my goodness!"

"So, as the resident Gen Z-er on the cast, who is your pick?"

"Well, I wouldn't say I'm the only representation of Gen Z here." You mused as you grabbed both the signs from Claire. You lifted up the 'freaky redheads' sign and pointed to Fred. "My friend is right there with me in the Gen Z territory."

"Alright, as the representation of Gen Z women, which team is more your style?" Claire asked as you studied the signs. "People are saying they went into the movie for the brunets and came out converted to team redheads."

"That's actually really funny," You chuckled as you looked down at both signs. "This is hard." You mumbled. A small smirk found itself on your lips as you thought of Fred seeing this clip later. Someone no doubt showing it to him, as he wouldn't find it on his own. "I feel like- yeah." You nodded with determination. "I'm gonna have to go with Fred- I'm going with team freaky redheads." You nodded. "I think it would be treacherous otherwise."

"Good choice. You'd break Emperor Caracalla's heart."

"And then he'd have my head." You laughed, stepping back. "Thank you for your great questions."

"Thank you for your time." Claire waved as you walked away. "We're gonna have a tally going throughout the night, and we'll see who wins. Team brooding brunets, or team freaky redheads." You heard her say to the camera as you moved further down the carpet.

'She looks so pretty!!'

'i love the thought process behind the outfit, you can tell she really loved her character'

'the reporter asked y/n if she prefers lucius and acacius or geta and caracalla and this girl really said FRED 💀'

'i love seeing new faces in hollywood, give young new actors a chance!!' ↳ 'right?? im so sick of them recycling the same actors for every big budget movie'

'she mentioned fred, not caracalla, twice, unprompted. i see you, y/n. you're just like us.' ↳ 'have you seen his interviews? he's literally the cutest i cant blame her 🥺'

A few steps down, another reporter flagged you down. This time, the questions were more centered around the acting itself.

"And was it difficult? In a previous interview, you've said that your character's growth was significant, but she had almost no lines in the movie."

"Yeah, I think in the final cut she only has... three lines?" You winced, looking upwards as you tried to recall what was and wasn't cut. "Though I'm not sure."

"So there were scenes where she could've said more?"

"Oh yeah, for sure! There was a lot of experimentation with my character throughout filming. Ridley's a genius and he was kind enough to truly take in my suggestions. There were times where I felt like she would actually stay quiet during a scene, whereas other times I felt like she would speak up. But yeah," You breathed in and furrowed your brows in thought as you tried to focus your answer back to the original question. "It was definitely a challenge. I had to really work on my micro-expressions. Lots of research, lots of practice. And lots of trust, too. With a character like mine, I really relied on Fr- on my fellow actors in those scenes. So yeah, definitely challenging. But who doesn’t love a good challenge?"

"And did you take any inspiration from other people's work? Any source material that helped you out as you built your character?"

"Of course!" You smiled, a hint of humor in your tone as you thought of your response. "Yeah, I did. Actually, one of the biggest inspirations for my role, believe it or not, was Ferb. From 'Phineas and Ferb'."

"The- The children's show?" The interviewer questioned with a grin.

"Yeah, Ridley thought it was brilliant!" You laughed. "We watched compilations of Ferb scenes on youtube together. And I know that Fred- Fred Hechinger, who plays Emperor Caracalla-, he also brought up Sid Vicious with Ridley, as well as other sources like that. Sir Ridley Scott has great taste, there's no denying that."

'ferb as inspiration for a movie like this,,, gen z in the film industry really are the gift that keeps on giving'

'im just imagining y/n and ridley scott curled up on the couch watching phineas and ferb reruns. that man is 86 years old. this is brilliant.'

'bro didn't even have to say anything and y/n still brought up fred 💀'

'the gen z cast members making ridley scott watch cartoons is sending me'

'not her pretending she didn't mean to say fred when she talked about trust, we all heard you y/n'

Unbeknownst to you, Fred's interviews were going much like yours, only a few feet behind you on the carpet.

"You look amazing today!" Claire, the same reporter you spoke to, told Fred during his first interview on the carpet.

"Thank you, thank you." He replied bashfully as he tried to subtly look around for you, but he couldn't see you just yet. "Everyone looks so great, everyone."

She asked him a few questions and then came time for her ending segment.

"Alright, to close off, we've got a little game here."

"A game?" Fred smiled with raised brows. "I love games." He said softly, not realizing that the microphone would pick it up.

"Yes, a quick one. You just have to choose between team brooding brunets and team freaky redheads. We've asking everyone to join."

"Woah!" Fred exclaimed as he received the signs. "That's me." He pointed out his own face in the picture of him and Joseph. "What are we basing our choice on here?"

"Well, the internet is battling on who is more attractive."

"Oh my god." Fred chortled, not expecting that answer. "Who's played the game?" He asked, still examining the hand held signs.

"As of now, we've spoken to Joseph Quinn, Connie Nielsen, and y/n l/n." Claire recounted.

Fred's eyes lit up and his cheeks reddened at the mention of your name. "And what's the- what's the consensus so far?"

"It's two to one. Can you guess who's in the lead?" Claire asked.

"Let me think... Well, Joseph -my brother-, he definitely voted for us." He pondered aloud as he counted the votes off on his fingers. "Connie... I think Connie went for team brunets. I mean, it's her husband. She's gotta." He grinned when it came to you. "y/n chose me, right? We're in the lead?"

"Yeah, you're right on all counts! You really know your cast members." Claire laughed. "y/n didn't want to anger Emperor Caracalla."

"Oh, she couldn't. I’ve got too much of a soft spot for her." Fred shook his head emphatically.

"So, are you keeping team redheads in the lead? Or will you give us a tie?"

"No, I'm going team redheads!" Fred exclaimed. "I'm not helping out my competition, no way!"

'this man has bewitched me with his beautiful eyes and calming demeanor'

'he always calls joe his brother im CRYINGGG'

'did you see his face when they mention y/n, this man can't hide his crush for the life of him 🥺' ↳ 'neither can she lol'

'what do yall know about fred hechinger 🗣️🗣️🗣️'

'fred immediately knowing that y/n chose him, kill me right now.' ↳ 'mind you the choice was caracalla. she still said 'fred' and he said 'me'. can they be more obvious?'

'the way this man said 'i love games' protect him at all costs'

‘he said ‘i’ve got a soft spot for her’ is this the year of men yearning?’ ↳ ‘it’s just the paul mescal effect’

It was during his next interview that he saw you. He was talking about his experience building the character of Emperor Caracalla with Sir Ridley Scott as well as Joseph Quinn when he finally caught sight of you. You had spent a bit longer with a specific reporter down the carpet, causing Fred to catch up to you.

“Of course, y/n was a great help as well.” He smiled, reaching over to brush against your elbow to catch your attention. At the perfect time, too, because you had just finished talking to the reporter in front of you.

“Oh, Fred!” You beamed, coming over to give him a hug.

“Look at you.” Fred spoke against your shoulder. He pulled away from the hug and brought you into his side in front of the camera, almost like he was showing you off. “Look at her, isn’t she stunning.”

“Stop it,” you rolled your eyes as you tried your best not to show how his compliment affected you. “I’m sorry for interrupting, I just had to say hello.”

“No worries,” the reporter reassured you. “Fred was actually saying how you helped with the building of his character.”

“Yeah, we worked really closely during pre-production actually.” You nodded, acutely aware of Fred’s hands on you. He had one hand casually tucked into his pocket while his other arm draped across your waist, his hand resting against your hip. “My character was almost like Caracalla’s sidekick, so the motives for all her actions are really based around him.”

“I’d argue that she was more of a mirror, actually.” You turned to look at Fred, never passing up an opportunity to hear his view on these things. “She’s the complete opposite of Caracalla, but in a way she represents who he truly is under all the pressure of being in Geta’s shadow.”

“And under all the syphilis, of course.” You added, causing Fred to giggle.

“Yeah, and under the syphilis.”

‘he seems like such a sweet guy 🥺’

‘did you see his face when he saw her??? 😫😫😫 theyre in love, your honor’

‘him showing her off like that is peak soft boyfriend behavior’

‘they just called me single in seven different languages’

‘his laugh is actually so cute, who is this man and why am i in love with him? 😍’ ↳ 'get in line' ↳'behind y/n, you mean?'

‘the way he’s touching her???? im just gonna go take a nap in front of an oncoming train’

‘im calling it, new hollywood it couple’

‘look at how he looks at her!!! may this love find me 🙏’

#fred hechinger #fred hechinger x reader #emperor caracalla #fred hechinger gladiator #gladiator ii #rpf #fred hechinger x you #emperor caracalla x reader #this fic didn't fit the vibe of my other blogs #and this blog is barren #just one rpf fic #so i guess it works here #might change the aesthetic tho #another day #thoughts comments concerns?#please feel free to share #this has been the plot for all my mal-adaptive daydreaming as of late #so i genuinely have a whole life written for these two #as well as a rewrite of the gladiator script to include y/n's character #havent been this in love with an actor in yeeeeeaaaarsss #wrote this in like 2 hours and am hitting post no lie #i usually ruminate on stuff like this for a while but i just love this man so much #anyways #if youve read all these tags send me a blueberry emoji in my ask box #paul mescal #joseph quinn #pedro pascal #connie nielsen #ridley scott #sir ridley scott

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stargrltara · 5 months ago

Text

Kinda Outa Luck II

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader

summary: based off of the song "Kinda Outa Luck by lana del rey. 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩. Reader is kinda inspired by catwoman in the batman, she works in a club, and on the low she's gothams most wanted female thief. She is gorgeous, and she uses it to her advantage.Oh, did i mention she has a thing for the Red Hood? And, honesty, he does too, though he is pretty shit at hiding it. PT 1 PT 2 PT 3 ?

warnings: 18+ MDNI, it’s quite long im sorry, mentions of clubs, tying up, begging, mentions of sexual natures and strippers, slapping, unprotected sex, p in v, teasing, some fluff and angst, enemies with benefits??

a/n: guys this is part 2!! wow this is longgggg long. it was originally meant to be all in 1 part but i couldn’t be arsed and thought it would b easier like this xoxo. and sorry for the wait i’m so unbothered bye

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“ before i get bad

i gotta get drunk

so get over here

pour me a cold one „

Sliding on your skimpy, silver dress, you began to contemplate which hairstyle you desired for tonight’s shift. The sequins reflected a soft hue against the moonlit sky and the rain trickled down the windows softly. Brushing through your locks, light specs of gold and white stardust lingered on your fingertips as remains from doing your makeup not too long ago.

As you arrived to the Iceburg Lounge at roughly 9PM, you immediately strutted past the countless amount of people. Aromas of cheap and expensive cologne covered your nostrils like a blanket while you shoved your way past and behind the bar, eager to make yourself a drink before getting started tonight.

Pouring a shot of tequila through the glass, taking an easy swig and tapping it back onto the cool slate; a content sigh escaped your lips.

After a few hours of working, cleaning tables and serving drinks, a man walks up to you. His attire classy, a black suit along with a silver tie. His hair slicked back, sophisticated. “ The Penguin wants you in his office. “ The man grumbled sternly. Nodding, you hesitatingly set the bottle of vodka down and walked towards the Penguins office.

Thoughts corrupted your mind into a clueless haze. Of course, you were his favourite worker, but why did he randomly want to see you at this time? Sheepishly, you knocked on the door before intertwining and fiddling with the nails of your thumbs, sighing under your breath and waiting for what felt like an enternity under the gates of Penguins Office doors.

Finally, a muscular sihlouette opened the door before you. Taking in the unwelcoming sight, your brows curved into a disconnected frown after you noticed the scarlett steel layered on the mans face; orbs painted in a bleached clad. You refrained from widening your eyes too much from the illusion displayed upon you, blinking rapidly as you believed your eyes discieved you; attempting to hide the sceptism through your aurburn soul.

Does he know who you are? And all of a sudden you felt as if you weren't the bravest seductress in Gotham, instead, a neusiating ember arose from the heart of your chest, catching fire to your limbs and your delicate spirit. Suffocated with undervalue and engulfed under the weight of the Red Hood, he moved out of the way for another man to stand infront of him.

" Ah— finally, youre here ! " Penguin grinned at you as you lingered around his office while he communicated with the Red Hood. " So.. I.. Uh— Anything you need, sir?" Your voice shuddered, a hint of reluctance in your voice in front of the powerful image. You couldn’t help but dally your gaze every few minutes onto the rugged frame beside him. “Pour me a drink, will ‘ya? I know you make the best, honey. “ The New York accented man spoke, a wink left his eye before he carried on his conversation with Red Hood; never looking back at you.

Complying to his orders, you made your finest cocktail, which happened to be his favourite before handing it to him. A small nod in validation he gave you before going back to his conversation. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t eavesdropping. 3 words stood out to you. “Guns.” “Illegal.” “Shipment.” Your brow raised each time familiar word like those itched your ears, and all you wanted to do was to interfere with Penguins Illegal Gun Shipment. You were eager to hear more of this, hence the reason you were spending longer than needed to clean and put away the glasses.

You were also taking longer than usual because you were attempting to catch longer glances at Red Hood. He’s massive; his toned abs trapped beneath his suit. The back of his shoulders massive, you could tell by the way he sometimes clenches it. And his thighs? They’re plump, but they also look solid, like you’ll be crushed between them if you ever try to suck—

You were getting ahead of yourself, your mind corrupted with arousing thoughts between you and Red Hood. What was it? The way he grabbed your mouth to cover the sound of your voice, and the raspiness of his filling the misty atmosphere? Maybe it was how he trapped you underneath his body against the cold bricks, and the contrasting temperatures between the breeze and his body warmth.

God the things you would do just to taste that man. Just to pin him down, put him at your mercy for once; get him on his knees and beg. Though, you also wanted to beg. Beg for his erotic touch, electrifying against your skin and sparks clinging to your skin.

Maybe you were staring and dreaming for too long, lost in your daze before reality hit.

It was happening tonight. And there was no way you were going to miss it. You could sell those guns, you could make so much money.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆˚｡⋆

“ is it wrong wrong

that i think it’s kinda fun

when i hit you in the back of the head with a gun? „

You were ready, at the sight. Hopping out of your truck and inching closer to it. There was a lot of shipment men, and a lot of guards at the gates of the scene. And then something else caught your gaze. Red Hood. It’s fine, you’ll be in and out, like no one was ever here. You’ll be sly, like a serpent. He won’t even notice you.

Swiftly making your way past everyone, through the shadows, which sounds oddly familiar, you fall upon the specific gun crates which twinkle your vision. As one of the guards back is turned, you open the crate and take out 2 highly advanced guns, and bolted, grappling to a roof. Sighing in relief, you turned around, just to be greeted by the Red Hood, but he was clearly occupied with.. something.. arguing with one of the guards before the guard eventually gets fed up and struts of. Red hood just scoffs at the action.

You acted quickly, afraid he would take you down and turn you in. Hitting him in the back of the head with the gun, earning a small grunt, and for him to fall unconscious beneath you. Fuck. You couldn’t deny the shot of ecstasy that ran through you, the feeling of sinning but with a spec of thrill.

Your apartment was a few blocks down. Perhaps, you could carry him drag him to your truck, and then up the stairs to your apartment? You know, to avoid him from finding you and beating your ass.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“ my daddies in the trunk

of his brand new truck „

The drive back to your apartment was quiet, but your mind wasn’t. What if he woke up in the trunk? After dragging him into your apartment and avoiding the weird stares from your neighbours, you locked the doors and tied him to your chair with a whip-like rope. Though, the situation was quite ironic since it’s usually him capturing and interrogating criminals like this, you couldn’t help but smirk eagerly to see his helpless reaction.

As he awoke, he glanced around, still in a haze from the sudden attack. “ You…” He muttered, a little muffled from his helmet, which you kept on as you planned to do something soon. A giggle escaped your mouth as you watched him glare up, avoiding the embarrassing position; small grunts leaving his mask as he struggled against the rope.

Red Hood let out a low guttural growl as he watched you stand so proudly, proud to have captured someone so much stronger than you; the sound of pain reverberating through his body. You aimed a gun at the base of his helmet, a threat but you both knew you’d never pull the trigger. A flash of surprise crossed his face. Despite the situation, he chuckled through the pain, clearly entertained by your resistance.

"That.. was a dirty move, doll face." He grunted, before you shook your head. “Stop—“ You order him, authority radiating off of you as you slowly inch closer, the gun still aimed at his head, and you place the metal right onto his helmet. “i’m talking now.”

He raised his hands up as much as he could in surrender, amusement still clear on his face under his mask. The supremacy in your voice and your unwavering stance had caught him off guard, and the sight of you prowling towards him with a gun in hand was more attractive than he cared to admit.

"Alright, alright." He said calmly, a smirk still on his lips. "I'm not speaking. Satisfied?" Even the way he man-spreaded was hot; it took everything in you to not pounce over onto him and suck the soul right out of him. Your cheeks fluttered a soft pink at the thought. He even noticed the way you were peering down at his crotch, and his thighs. Honestly, you didn’t really have much of a plan. You weren’t sure what to do with this tank at your mercy in the middle of your living room.

“I—“ You stammered, thinking of what to say. He just raised a brow at you, you’ve done this before but not to anyone like him. You could never take him in a fight, you could never try and overpower him even if you tried.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” His voice filled with snark and impatience. He had things to do, he was a busy man, and you were stalling him. “I said shut up.” You repeated sternly before preparing your finger on the trigger. You think of something quick, and in that time, your consciousness decides to untie him, the rope falling to the floor but he remained seated, glaring up at you waiting for your next command.

“Get.. Get on your knees. “ You spoke quick, reluctance and hesitation behind your vocals, and you licked your lips in anticipation. His smirk faltered briefly as you ordered him to get on his knees. The thought of actually submitting to you filled him with a mix of irritation and reluctant curiosity. There was something about you in this dominant state that he couldn't quite place, and it made him wonder what you were up to.

Slowly, he begrudgingly obliged, lowering himself to his knees in front of you, his eyes still fixed on your face, studying your movements and your shy remarks. He knew you weren’t an amateur in this region, but he you both knew how he could easily pick you up and throw you against the wall if he wanted. You wouldn’t even realise a swift movement that he would do, as he could easily tackle you.

Your heart was beating out of your chest with anticipation. “Now..” Your voice trailed off slyly. “Take that pretty helmet off ‘f me.” He gritted his teeth as you shoved the gun against his skull. The feeling of the cold metal against his helmet sent a jolt through him, adding to the mixture of anger and mild attraction he was feeling. He knew he should be fighting back, but something about your commanding attitude was making him hesitate.

“Absolutely not.” He huffed, even now it was obvious that he had some sort of authority. You just sighed in annoyance, he was supposed to be fearful right now, except he barely even took this situation seriously. “I’m not asking, Red.” You spat through gritted teeth, warning him. His eyes narrowed as you bit your lip, an action that made him feel a mix of annoyance, and something else he couldn't quite place. He could feel himself getting riled up and it was only making things more complicated. He could also sense your impatience and the determination in your voice, but he stood firm on his refusal. “—and i’m not listening.” Stubborn.

You scoffed. “Jesus— i’ll just do it myself.” You mummer little nothings as you were pissed off, before inching closer, forgetting that his hands are free just behind his back as you kneel down enough to be alighed with his mask and you search for the way to take it off. “You seriously can’t be that bad under there, honey.” a soft whisper — Red Hood couldn't help but let out a low rumble of annoyance as you approached him, attempting to remove his mask. Your ignorance to the fact that his hands were free behind his back only added to his irritation, and ignited the burn in his eyes as you bent in front of him, feeling around for a way to undo the mask, he couldn’t help but revel in your naivety.

Unfortunately, he saw this as a chance. And with a swift power move, he tackled you to the rough of the ground, a loud gasp laced with pain left the pale of your lips. He straddled your body, pinning you down with his weight. His hands grabbed your wrists and held them firmly down above your head. His eyes darkened in anger as he stared down at you, breathing heavily. “Pretty things like you never learn." He growled so close to your ear that his breath was fanning onto your fair skin, an almost animalistic roar through his helmet as he was full of rage, and a slight hint of lust.

Soft groans of agony escaped you as you struggled and squirmed beneath him, weighing you down and ruining your chance to be free. Your body rubbed against his as you grunted. He let out a dry scoff as he felt your struggle beneath him. You were feisty and strong, but he was stronger and had been in this exact position plenty of times before. He tightened his grip on your wrists, pinning them harder against the ground as he leaned down closer to your face. “—What's wrong, doll? ..Not used to being the one on the bottom?” He teased, his voice low and raspy, and a little disoriented from his helmet.

“—you wouldn’t be able to handle me on top.” You muttered between sharp inhales as his weight on you took some air out of your lungs. You voice having a snarky edge but also a hint of a cunning tease to it as you narrowed your hazel eyes at him, lashes fluttering. He chuckled again, this time it was different. Your snarky comment making him more amused than annoyed, and ironically creating heat to pool in his stomach. He liked your fire, your determination to keep fighting, even when he had you completely immobilized beneath him.

“Is that so? ” He purred, his face only inches from yours. Despite your situation, your words had only fueled his desire to put you in your place even more. You just hummed at his words as you could barely form words of your own out of your mouth; your chest rising and falling from each hitch. He shifted his weight above you, trying to hide the raging hard-on you were giving him, and he just gazed at your stunned face.

And in that moment, you both felt it — the volt of electricity that ran down your body and through your ultraviolet veins. — Both of your bodies warmth and laced with lust and arousal. You gave into the feeling of need and desire as you melted beneath his touch as he ran a glove-clad hand down your abdomen, the buzz seeping through your latex suit and causing the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck to rise. His hand stopped right at your thigh, edging you onto feeling an ache, the ember igniting in your chest causing gasps to leave your mouth as you accepted the way he leaned in, inhaling your scent.

You were so lost in the moment that you didn’t realise the way he picked you up and carried you to your bedroom before tossing you onto the bed, the mattress bouncing onto your back as you waited. He turned the lights off, so all that lingered was the soft dim of the billboards and the lighting that struck down as rain trickles onto the glass of your windows.

He must’ve stripped after he turned off the lights because you felt a heavy sink in the bed when he laid on top of you, and the clank of his helmet onto your carpet. You ran your hands down his toned chest. Of course, he felt heavenly, you drew your fingertips and traced the way of each perfect muscle, but just as you were done, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand. He tightened his grip and you winced slightly, though that shot of pain wasn’t from your wrist but from how eager you were to fuck him.

“..I ain’t gonna play nice.” He warned, his real, ragged voice soaking into the air; you took the opportunity of his bare face to interlock your fingers into his locks, earning a small grunt in approval from him. “I’m used to fighting dirty.” You breathed before you pulled him up by his hair, and latched your lips onto his. He tasted different than you expected, sweet and his lips soft, although the hot kiss was aggressive and passionate, eating at eachother’s mouths. He deepened it, sliding his tongue against yours and a light moan flowed from your mouth to inside his, coating his tongue in your hot, shuddering breaths.

You pulled away, filling air into your lungs but just before you could prepare, he leaned in, cupping your chin with his free hand before he wrapped his lips around yours again, this time your teeth colliding and as he pulled away slowly, a string of saliva connected between each of your lips.

After moments of heavy making out, he traced small patterns on your suit, feeling for the zipper before zipping it down. You lifted your stomach up as he sat in between your opened legs, right in between your core as he stripped you bare. You remained in your lace bra and panties and it was unfortunate that he couldn’t see such a sight and you can’t see his true features.

It felt like heaven was having a bubble bath in your stomach as he planted small, open mouth kisses around your neck, each leaving a trail of his saliva. He licked a long stripe from your neck to your ear, nibbling on your delicate skin. “..you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting to do this..” he muttered into your skin, gaining a soft moan in agreement, as you admit, you also wanted to do things to him.

His touch felt like it originated from Eden’s garden, his lips creeping down your stomach, sucking and licking at your flesh, knowing there’ll be marks by the morning; the vision sending a jolt down through your body. A sudden fire ignited in your veins and in your limbs, a shot of ecstasy. He could feel the way your body shook and jolted at each touch he laid upon your skin. It only fuelled him.

He reached at your panties, and he pulled it down slowly, slow enough that it made you grunt in impatience. “please..” a low whisper escaped from you, you didn’t even realise what you said, you were lost in the moment. “ patience, baby ” was all he spoke before he spread your thighs wider, his fingers gripping onto your flesh, marking his fingerprints and leaving a surprise for the morning. The scratching of your skin against your blankets filled the air along with the soft grumble of rain hitting against the glass.

A thick finger glided across your puffy folds and a hiss left your mouth in return. You were unethically wet; the slick noises painting the atmosphere. His now wet fingers slithered up your stomach, and through the bridge of your chest, coated in your arousal. He plunged them into your mouth and a “hmmgh..” left your lips.

You willingly allowed the intrusion, fluttering your eyes closed and sliding your tongue around the two thick digits. Cladding them in your saliva, you bobbed your head up and down on them. “ good girl.. yea— get ‘em nice ‘n wet ‘f me..” he trailed off, everything sounding a haze as you continued to suck on his fingers. He pulled them out and ran them up your folds again, before shoving them into your hole unexpectedly.

An erotic gasp echoed through your bedroom walls, and your aching hole squeezed around his fingers, trapping them as soft moans rumbled from the midst of your throat. He continued to plunge his fingers in and out of your pussy, the slick noises and your moans fuelling his admiration. “ love those noises you make..” he breathed into your ear before licking the burning flesh, his tongue tasting the electricity beneath your blood.

You felt yourself reaching your peak when he curled his fingers just right, a bolt of heat shooting out of your lungs. “ mm.. right there..! right there ! “ feeling so surreal, his thick digits fit inside of you like a puzzle; you moaned before he ripped his fingers out, not allowing you to have your release and your orgasm. All you wanted was to paint your bedsheets white, stain them with the mix of both of your juices, all you wanted was for him to have the hottest orgasm of your life. “ wha…?” you breathed when you felt him take his fingers out of you, you felt empty, and you found yourself craving more.

He brung himself up to your lips, so close you could feel his murky hair ticking your forehead, “ not yet, doll. not until you take my cock “ he grunted before he dragged you to the edge of the bed, earning a loud gasp and you to be very confused. He leaned down, and spat a string of saliva onto your folds; the wet sticking to your skin and charging your arousal.

You felt it, it was big. He filled you up so much, you could barely breathe after he aligned himself with your hole and rammed into it without mercy. Euphoric moans from you, and vicious growls and grunts from him arose from his chest, grumbling out of his throat. Tightening his grip on your waist and sliding it down to your thighs. Hearing a man like this was beautiful. His firm grip tightened, squeezing your skin as he felt himself get deeper and deeper, until he bottomed out. Your puffy hole taking him so nice as you felt him sink inside.

He pulled your legs over his shoulders to get a better angle as he thrusted in and out of you, the bulge from his fat cock inside of your stomach visible and his cock hitting places you never knew existed inside of you. Slamming and shooting arousal to form inside of your body.

Re-arranging your insides, he deepened and quickened his pace and your nails scratching at his shoulders and his back, leaving your mark. Your skin slapping against his pelvis and his right hand paved its way to your breast; fiddling with your bra to pull it down before he leaned in to suck and flick at your nipple. As he leaned down, his cock deepened inside of you and another sharp moan existed your throat. “ do ‘ya feel how deep I am inside ‘f you? “ he was so deep and abusing your tight core. he cooed into the skin of your breast, still lapping at the hardened bud and bringing his other hand up to wrap around your throat. You could only nod as you felt his grip around your neck tighten, the feeling was so euphoric. All you wanted was to be chocked by him, to have your airways cut off by this heaven-sent man.

“ f..fuck.. so— so close..” was all you could let out as the figure inside of you bullied himself around your guts. Between sharp breathes, you could hear that he was close. “—You gonna cum for me, baby? Do it. Cum on my cock, doll. “ His mushroom tip twitching inside of you and his teeth scraping onto your skin. That nickname has never sounded sexier as he emphasised how eager he is for you to release yourself on his shaft. He leaned up, to glare at you from below as he watched your face as you painted his cock white, spilling yourself on him soaking the sheets below as he lightly slapped your cheek before holding your chin to glance at him as you release your juices onto the girth of his cock. “ that’s it, baby..”

Your jaw slacked open as the filfiest moan escaped, this had to be your best orgasm as it hit you hard. Even leaving after shocks, your body was jolting, and your breaths have never felt heavier. He wasn’t far behind as he came right inside of you, water colouring your walls with his seed as he gazed at your face when thunder struck outside the windows, a light flare of your facial features on display. And you could quite make out his piercing emerald orbs, along with his coal hair.

A pornographic groan of pleasure exited his lips and his head fell onto your neck, laying lazy kisses and inhaling your raw scent. All you could do was trace your nails on his neck, drawing small circles and shapes as he lifted you up against the headboard, laying between your things and cherishing your chest and collarbones. The soft gesture was contrasting with how he acted a few seconds ago, ruining your hole, and also with his whole Red Hood persona. This was someone different.

Your fingers lingered on the back of his neck, and slowly slithered down to his broad shoulders and you feel where you left scratches and marks. A small giggle erupting from your throat. “ what’s so funny there, doll-face ? “ he sounded so worn out, and exhausted from how he let go all inside of you. “ oh..nothing, baby,” you chuckled as you played with his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and you could hear the soft almost purr like noises he was making, a smirk creeping onto your lips. “ you’re pretty hot.” you admit, earning an eyebrow raise from him. “ ..that so?” he breathed, unimpressed before he was tackled around, now he was laying on the bed and you were straddling him, pinning his arms beside his head by interlocking your fingers.

Normally, he would be annoyed at such a lack of dominance he holds. But he’s in such vulnerable state, coming down from his high so he just parts his lips, unable to form the snarky words he desired. “—uh oh.. cat caught your tongue?” you don’t know what has gotten into you, you could tell he was completely lost in the situation, but you were feeling more energetic and eager for a round 2. You were grinding bare skin on skin against his, stroking your clit against his lower stomach, right above his pelvis, and you could feel his dick getting hard beneath you. Snaking a long patch of your mixed juices, you leaned in to plant a warm kiss on his chest, and you traced a heart against his fragile skin.

His hips jolted lightly before a low murmur arose from his chest. “..you know how this’ll end baby.” you hummed in response. “ i could easily flip you over right now, and take you again. and again. and again. until your neighbours recognise every slap of our skin, and memorise our moans by heart. “ he growled, though it was low, it was powerful, and it was hot. You felt a not so foreign heat pool inside your stomach again, and it only encouraged you to keep going, to keep rilling him up again.

“..but you won’t.” you ordered before licking a stripe up from his neck to his throat. ironic. and a rugged moan departed from him, which made you ache to make him feel real good. You ached to do everything you imagined in Penguins office, to him. You lowered yourself, kissing above his belly button and tracing his abs with the wet of your tongue. You nestled between his thighs, pecking sweetly at his happy trail, short gasps from him.

It was surprising to know how hot it was to have so much dominance over a man like Red Hood, especially in a state like this. You continued down until you felt the hard base of his shaft, bringing your hand up to it and slowly rubbing it, and taking your lips to press a tiny kiss on the tip. “..stop playin’ games ‘w me “ he groans lightly when he feels the tease of your lips against his fragile tip; feeling impatient as you took your time to pleasure him.

He glared down at you, and although the scene was dark, he could slightly make out the way you both stared at each other before he nodded in approval. You wanted to take his whole dick into your mouth, but before that, you wanted to tease him a little. So, you took the base of his cock and stroked slow strokes before spitting down onto it, saliva rolling down and seeping into his cock and landing on his balls.

Your ears weren’t deceiving you when you heard soft moans and whimpers come out of him and you scoffed at how ironic this was, and how vulnerable he could be when getting his dick sucked; the warmth of your breath sending chills down his skin. Your hand played with the soft of his balls, massaging them as his head flew back, moulding into the pillows under him and you finally took his dick down your throat. He placed his hands upon your head, making a makeshift ponytail out of your hair before slamming your head down onto his cock and guiding you. Unable to beneath, your noise colliding with his pelvis and rough chokes left your mouth.

His cock was girthy, thick and long. Though you couldn’t properly see it, you could feel the single vein that ran along the side. He pulled your head back, landing a slap to your cheek and a tight grip on your chin while he allowed you to breathe; both of your sharp breathes ricocheted through the air. The pouring rain outside added to the chaotic harmony and you leaned down to lick a stripe along the vein of his bulging cock, earning sighs in pleasure.

Without warning, he shoved your head back down onto his cock and you bobbed your head up and down,feeling the bulge in your throat while his was chest rising and falling with each thrust of your lips. Your lips wrapped around it, sucking the soul out of his spirit as an ember of arousal burned through your eyes. Picking up the pace, you could tell he was close by the way he jolted and shuddered, stammering nothings into the room. “..that’s it— keep— keep goin’..” “jus’ take it, all ‘f it. “ whilst you choked on his girth; spit collecting at the side of your mouth and dripping onto his thighs.

You used your hands to stroke what you couldn’t reach, and he let you up for air before slamming you down again, and again, and again, until eventually the wire in him snapped and a pathetic whimper left him, you glared up, allowing him to see the mess he made inside of your mouth and on your face. All of his juices milked onto you, and you took your fingers to wipe yourself and your mouth before licking them clean with your tongue.

“..what was that about being on top, honey ?” you teased, referring to your comment earlier, and how he couldn’t handle you being on top, clearly from his pathetic moans he was unleashing when you sucked the spirit right out of him. “—Shut.. up..” he grumbled, attempting to assert but it came out shaken, the opposite of what he wanted. You chuckled in response and found yourself laying on him, and he was engulfed in your scent.

Your sweaty skins sticking together, but you sort of felt at peace. Resting your face into his neck, both of your eyes fluttered shut, and you wrapped your arms around his body, his around your waist, pulling you closer, trapping you in the erotic heat.

You two were only like this for a few minutes before he got up, leaving you on the bed glaring up at the figure who was putting his clothes back on. “ You leavin’? “ you asked in a huff, but he didn’t respond. “ Red..?”

“..yea. I think— I should go. ” his voice had a hint of reluctance as you heard the sound of clothes being put on, and his helmet shoved onto his head. “okay..” you nodded, sounding a little on edge by his sudden urge to leave, knowing you two were enemies and leaving you sitting on the bed and feeling a need to push the duvet up to cover yourself. you knew he was a busy man, but in this moment, you wanted nothing more than to hold him tight in your arms, listening to the soothing patterns of his breaths as you two fell asleep together. “.. i didn’t.. see your face if that’s what you’re worried about.” you called out as you could see the figure disappear into the shadow, opening the door and standing in the doorframe.

Your lips parted as you heard the thuds of his boots to your front door, and the slam of it closing. Shit.

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Part 3 ?? ☺️

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